"ugh," tom groaned as he slammed the itchy pillow down on his face. 'i miss my bed,' he thought to himself. it's not that the couch was uncomfortable, no, it was surprisingly cushy from years of use. however, there were times he would wake up and a popcorn kernel would be stuck to his face, or one of his friends would come in and disturb his sleep, forgetting that the living room was his new place of residency.
another problem: tom was incredibly bored. he didn't know what it was that always kept him up so late, but his mind was racing. thoughts of his friends, and…others..flooded his brain. the past few days had been a mess, all thanks to the arrival of a certain red-clad foe of tom's. he shows up out of nowhere, claiming to be from prison, and edd accepts both him and his story with open arms. matt doing the same, although after a few days of warming up to the idea.
tom still wondered how he had survived. how he was still in one piece. the man must have had help, no ordinary human can survive a harpoon to the body and a hundred-plus foot drop from a robot onto rocky ground. but, then again, tord was no ordinary man.
In a sense, tom hated tord. but, in another, he had always admired him. his cunning intellect in everything, cynical outlook on life, his strength and his resiliency. hell, how he had managed to keep his ulterior motives under wraps all those years ago was a mystery in and of itself. he lived as an enigma in tom's mind. something about the way he loftily positioned his cigarette between his fingers or the way he always stuck his tongue out slightly whilst deep in thought drew him in, his mannerisms entranced him in such a way tom felt physically ill. a rotten man, tom hated tord, and that was final.
letting out a huff, tom threw his arm over his face. he needed to calm down and shut off his brain from rapidly conjuring up any more strange thoughts surrounding his new roommate. at the moment it seemed the only thing that would help him in his trek was playing his bass, susan. it had been a few days since tom had sat down and played, actually, it had been since tord had moved back in, subsequently taking tom's room, which housed susan.
shedding the small blanket covering himself, tom hopped off the couch and started towards his room. he hoped to jehova tord was asleep so he could slip in, grab susan, and return to his couch to relax his mind. arriving at his door, tom slowly pushed down on the handle and carefully slid his way into the dark. turning towards the right, tom could make out the shape of someone curled up in a ball in the middle of his bed. to anyone else, the sight would have been endearing, but to tom, it disgusted him. How could he sleep so casually in a house of people he had tried to kill?
turning his attention back to finding susan, tom scans along the walls of his room, until finally he spots her next to his trashcan in the corner of his room. who moved his bass? various papers were scattered around her, some crumpled, some stained, and some appearing weathered from age, or perhaps a cycle in washing machine. tom swiftly bent down, grabbed susan, and was about to make his escape when he felt a sharp pain in his foot. one of the papers had gotten stuck to the bottom of susan, and sliced the side of his ankle. tom watched as a small line of blood trickled down from his ankle onto his sock, beginning to stain it red. turning his attention back to the perpetrator of his injury, tom grabbed the stained paper off the floor, and began to read.
dear ,
first and foremost, let me offer up an apology. my actions and my treatment of you in the past have been hurtful. though it took my life flashing before me eyes, and a long journey to realize this, i have finally come to-
the letter cut off abruptly, leaving tom with a multitude of questions. this wasn't written by him, nor was it written by edd or matt, the grammar was just too precise, and the handwriting was incredibly neat. besides, neither of them had gone on any sort of 'long journey,' at least to tom's knowledge. left with an unquenched desire to solve the mystery, tom crept back over to the pile of papers and bent down to pick up another that looked weathered and had bled-out splotches of ink, and began to read it hastily.
—,
i apologize for my actions in the past, as well as my actions in the present. i regret them deeply. i regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. i regret the punches the moment i throw them. i regret it when-
yet another note left unfinished. swiftly and urgently tom begins rifling through the rest of the papers found of the floor of his borrowed bedroom. all the notes seemed to detail common theme's of 'sorry' and 'forgive me' and 'lets fix this.' was it tord that was writing these? it just had to be, there was nobody else that it could have been. then who would he be apologizing to so feverishly, almost as if his life depended on it? tom picked up another letter and read its contents quietly under his breath.
dearest,
you don't know this, and i never intend on telling you, but i think of you frequently. you infuriate me to my core, yet you soften my heart. i forgive you for everything. i care for you so incredibly much and it feels as if you occupy every cavity in my heart. the words, the blows, the glares, they hurt. we don't have to be friends, but we could try something different? i was wonder-
"thomas," tom heard from behind him. he had been caught. "what are you- oh." tom turned around to face the communist, eyes wide and slightly scared, but tord's facial expression did not fully match his confident tone. a guilty grin was plastered on his face, yet his eyebrows were upturned in fear, confidence wavering. He looked like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "tord..i-" tom started, but was interrupted. "tom, why are you in my room?" questioned the red-clad male. "ok, for starters, this is MY room?!" tom stated, already irritated, "and i shouldn't have to explain this to you, but i was coming by to grab my bass. by the way, what's with all the love letters?" tord paused for a moment and looked back over to tom, and retorted. "not like you would get it..." pausing for a moment, tord took a shaky breath, and continued, not wanting to explain anything too detailed, "...but i found someone a while ago. it took 8 years for me to realize how i..felt about them…and what i needed to do, but this doesn't concern you thomas." and with that, toms body decided to move on its own, abruptly shooting up, arm grabbing his bass, and legs stomping towards the door. "well, if you destroy her life, i wont be surprised. have a good night," tom's autopilot mouth chided as he closed the door with a soft thud.
as his body started down the hall, tom could hear tord faintly whispering to himself. something along the lines of 'stupid stupid' and 'why didn't i say anything' and something the vaguely sounded like 'why can't i be honest.' with a sigh, tom regained control over his limbs and plopped back down on the couch, a newfound weariness overcoming him, and drifted off into a slumber.