/I'm still working on my Breakfast Club story, don't worry. The next chapter of that's almost done but I took a break to process some Eddsworld-related things into an angsty fic about Tord and his regrets. I'm only good at writing depressing shit, aren't I?/
Tord sat in contemplative silence as Patryck worked on tuning up his new robot arm. He could hold things with it okay, but the fingers weren't very stable, which meant he had to rely on his soldiers to button up his overcoat like a child. Weeks had passed since the incident. Four weeks and three days to be precise. He'd been keeping track. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. After climbing out from the wreckage of his robot, half his face burnt off and his arm rendered useless, he'd sat on that cliff edge for hours. Watching his old friends pick up and leave the home they'd had so many adventures in. Since that day there'd been a lump in his throat he couldn't get to go away. He might have sat there till he died had Paul and Patryck not brought him home. They may not be the best soldiers, but they made good company. Tord was convinced they were the only thing keeping him from going of the deep end.
Tord let out a tired sigh. Patryck stopped working and leaned towards his commander, concerned. He thought for a second, then put down his tools and carefully detached the robot arm from its owner.
"What're you doing?" Tord asked quietly, his voice rough and scratchy. The explosion had damaged his vocal cords, too.
"Maybe you should go to bed," Patryck suggested. "I'll keep working."
Tord raised an eyebrow, about to say something, then seemingly decided against it. He sighed again and rubbed his remaining eye.
"Alright, fine," He grunted, standing up. "Have a good night, Patryck."
"Good night, sir."
Tord left the room and rummaged in his hoodie pockets for one of his sofa machines. He set it in the middle of the room and let it unfold itself, then lay down and shut his eye. As every room on the base slowly went quiet and he was left alone for the night, an all-too familiar feeling folded over him. Regret.
The events of weeks earlier played themselves out for him again. That strange warm feeling when Edd hugged him. That small pang of hurt when Matt didn't remember him. He'd even been happy to see Tom again, despite everything. Those resurfacing memories of all the fun he'd had before leaving. Second thoughts as he spent more time with his friends, but still deciding to go through with it. Losing his temper. Hurting his friend. Losing control the moment he was within the confines of his robot. Only registering the pain in his friends' voices after it was too late. The numbness overcoming him and refusing to go away as he stood on that hill, looking down at the smoldering wreckage of the house he once lived in with his friends. Fully aware of the damage he had done. Wondering if he could call them friends anymore. Wondering if it had been worth it.
That was a question that surfaced in Tord's mind daily. Was it worth it? He'd thought back on his actions often in those four weeks and three days trying to answer it, and he still hadn't quite figured it out. In terms of his initial plan, all he'd really figured out was that it would've been more efficient to just get in, get his stupid hat and his stupid robot, and get out. No talking. No reminiscing. No distractions. But that hadn't happened. Maybe it was because Tom had caught him, or maybe it was because deep down he really did want to see his friends again. He'd never intended to hurt them, that was the one thing he knew for sure. Get in, get his stuff, get put. That was his plan. But he'd ended up staying with them for a month. Driving Tom out, causing harm he never intended, losing all their trust. He didn't deserve it anyway, but it still hurt just the same. He'd known those guys for years and in seconds any relationship they'd had was destroyed entirely at Tord's hand. He'd had plenty of second thoughts. Plenty of opportunities to turn back, and yet he'd gone through with it anyway. He'd kept going until he'd destroyed everything, even killing someone in the process. And when he was confronted he denied ever having been friends with Edd or Matt. That may have been what he regretted the most because even if he knew what he'd said wasn't true, he would never be able to convince Edd and Matt. He knew he could never earn their trust back if he tried. He usually tried not to think about that, but tonight it didn't seem to want to leave him alone.
"I thought we were friends!"
"No! What would I need friends for when I've got this? I'm unstoppable!"
The image of Edd's hurt expression flashed behind Tord's closed eye. Matt's look of betrayal and mistrust. Tom's pure white-hot fury. All caused single-handedly by Tord. All he would never be able to truly fix, no manner how hard he tried. He could feel hot tears filling his eye. He tried to steady his breathing, but suddenly that lump in his throat became too much to bear. He shot up in his sofa and let out an ear-piercing, terror-inducing, anguish-filled scream. The scream shredded his already-damaged vocal cords, burning his throat. His tears flowed freely. Moments later the door flew open and his soldiers were at his side.
"What happened, Red Leader?" Paul asked, holding Tord's shoulder tightly.
Tord struggled to catch his breath as tears streamed down his cheek.
"I..." He choked. It was all he could get put before erupting into a tizzy of violent sobs.
He buried his face in Paul's shoulder and cried. Unsure of what else to do, Paul held him. Patryck sat slowly on Tord's other side, making uneasy eye contact with his partner. The three of them sat there in the dead of night for what felt like hours. Gradually the sobs calmed down and grew quieter. Eventually Tord regained his composure. He put his head in his hand, running his fingers through his hair. Silence.
"I... I don't know what to do anymore." He spoke finally.
"We're with you no matter what, sir," Patryck replied, squeezing Tord's shoulder reassuringly.
"If I asked you to kill me would you do it?" Tord looked up at his soldiers with a bloodshot eye. He shook. "I just wish I could go back..."
Silence.
"Is this it, then?"
More silence. A long, heavy breath.
"Yeah. This is it. We're done."
Tord stared at the ground. More tears rolled off his cheek. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving an empty pit in his stomach. Suddenly he felt himself enclosed in a warm embrace on either side.
"We're not going anywhere,"
For the first time in weeks, Tord smiled. A genuine smile. More tears streamed down his face, but now he knew he had someone to catch them. He sat back into the embrace.
"Thank you."