Bloody Hell

Chapter Three

Tord can see Thomas walking in front of him with his arms up behind his head, light blinding anything but the boy in blue. He turns back toward Tordssen, who wears a regular red hoodie instead of his usual fancy clothes, and he gives his friend a ear to ear grin as he begins to say, "I love y-!"

That's when the sleepy male's alarm goes off, making him open his eyes to see the giant mirror on his ceiling reflecting his morning imperfections right back at him.

He lifts his arm and in an instant his clock smashes underneath his tight fist, falling off the bedside table with a slight crash from it being rather heavy even in pieces. Tord then pulls the blanket off him and swiftly sits up on the edge of his bed, wiping away the slight drool off the corner of his lips and rubbing his dusty eyes.

The man takes a deep breath as he stands up and walks over to his bathroom, lazily flicking the light on and looking at the mess his angered self made the night before from the irritating realization. He tiredly sighs as he mutters, "I'll use the downstairs bathroom..." and flicks the light off, closing the door and heading downstairs in his pajamas.

Whoever had made the rumor about him "Always looking dashing, even in the morning" either desperately needed glasses or was so in love with him they were delusional at the time, because even after a shower and a scrub to his fangs, he still looks like he needs a good trip to the spa. He isn't a morning person, as most of his kind aren't; but unlike how others just hate it because of natural nocturnal instinct telling them it's not time to wake up no matter what, his disliking is more of a "I wish I didn't exist right now" kind of feeling.

After putting on some proper stereotypical vampire attire, he heads to the kitchen to grab a refrigerated blood packet that's infused with caffeine to help him wake up. He opens the refrigerator door and snatches a packet from one of the drawers on the bottom of the several shelves, he then walks over to the counter and grabs a mug from a cabinet as the fridge slowly closes on its own.

Tord pours the thick contents of the packet into the cup and sprinkles a bit of sugar into it before bringing it up to his face to drink, but just before the rim of the cup reaches his lips he hears a phone ring; he looks toward the living room where his phone lays on the couch and grunts with slight irritation.

He walks over with the handle of his drink gripped tightly in his hand, knowing full well the fluid in it is incredibly easy to stain just about everything. He picks up the phone and answers without looking at the caller, he says, "What?" into the phone with a hoarse voice as he takes a long sip of his drink.

"Well good morning to you too Tord," Tom says from the phone with a sarcastic tone, Tordssen then spits out all the liquid he just drank from his cup from surprise.

"Tom!-" Tord replies as he goes to wipe his mouth, but accidentally uses the hand he's holding his cup with too quickly and all of the red drink splashes on his face and clothes. "Fucker!" he shouts as he drops his cup onto the hard carpet from the shock of the intense splatter, the glass shatters once it hits the floor and the wet glass becomes absorbed in the dark, thick fluid that was once Tord's morning "coffee".

"Bloody Hell Tord, what the fuck is happening over there?!" Tom asks in a worried yell as he places a sassy hand on his hip.

"Nothing!" Tord says as he runs to the kitchen to grab a bunch of paper towels. "How is your morning going Tom?" Tord asks into the phone to make the conversation go into a better direction as quickly as possible, while he frantically tries to dry up the mess on the floor with the quickly reddening paper.

"Uh... It's going alright," the blue hooded male says with a raised eyebrow as Tord blushes a little in embarrassment. "Anyways, I wanted to thank you for bringing me all the way home last night and wasting your gas. I hope I wasn't too much trouble, I know I can get annoying to others when I'm shitfaced."