Never too late

Leading an Army

           Tord began the day, by getting dressed. They had stripped him of his clothing before bed, and he was in nothing but his boxers. He looked in his closet. Inside, was a fancy blue jacket, a gold name tag with the inscription "Red Leader" on it, some black shirts, pants, and socks, two pairs of navy blue boots, and his signature red hoodie. It was a little torn, but Tord didn't mind. He loved that hoodie. Tom had given it to him for his 12th birthday, and he and his dads had kept buying bigger for him to continue wearing ever since. Tord put on a shirt and pants, then gingerly slipped on his hoodie. Next he put on a pair of socks and boots. Tord looked down at the blue uniform before him. This is it. He thought. I cant ever go back. He slipped on the jacket, buttoned it up, and pinned the name tag on the left side of his chest. He sighed, then went on to explore his new living quarters. Tord walked out of his room, to discover a large, luxurious living room, with a large red couch, and a huge flat screen TV. He moved to the next room and saw a big kitchen, with marble counter tops, a fancy electric stove, a sleek fridge, and a almost bottomless sink. Everything he saw was pristine and spotless, his bathroom with the huge claw-foot tub and tall stained glass shower, his walk in closet with its countless birch wood shelves, his own room with its big fluffy pillows and wall to ceiling mirror, all of it. And in every room, there was a camera-even in the bathroom. It was all so fancy, but at the same time, it was dark, and unnerving. There were no windows. Tord went back into the living room, and faced, what he assumed was, his only exit. He clenched, than unclenches his fists, and opened the door.
The first thing Tord was greeted with that morning was a fist to the face. It had gotten him right in the nose, and it hurt like hell. He cussed as he slowly got up, whilst an unknown figure apologized over and over. Tord opened his eyes to see Patryk, standing there, his eyes shut tight, apologizing over and over, whilst Paul looked off into the distance smoking a cigarette. Tord couldn't believe his eyes. There they were, his fathers, right there, virtually unharmed, despite what had happened the day before. "P,Patryk? Paul?" He stammered, his eyes tearing up. At that, Patryk stopped apologizing, and looked up, opening his eyes, whilst Paul just turned his head slightly. Patryks eyes widened, and suddenly, Tord was on the ground.
Tord, lay on the ground, laughing and crying as Paul embraced him tightly, and Patryk watched in surprise. Paul wasn't the kind of person to give you a hug attack. "Oh my god, Tord, son, I thought you were dead!" Said Paul, stumbling over his words slightly "A, and so did Patryk! Your alive! I didn't think . . . oh my god . . . " That was when Patryk knelt down and started hugging Tord as well. "We were so worried about you . . . " Patryk said, cupping Tords face. "Don't worry dad, I'm fine" replied Tord "Honestly," he said, turning to Paul, "I was more worried about . . . Pa . . ." At this Paul slowly stood up, and helped Tord up, just to hug him again. "I'm ok," he reassured. "As long as you and Pat are safe, I am ok." He pulled away from Tord, revealing the many layers of bandages covering the empty gap that had once housed his right eye.
Tord winced a little at the sight of Pauls bandages, but nothing more, than continued to help Patryk up from the floor. "So . . . why are you here?" Asked Tord "Because . . . I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have known where my room was without a reason for coming to it. Since I am the . . . "Red Leader" now, despite how much I'd rather not." Paul and Patryk gave each other worried glances, and Tords heartbeat picked up a little. "What is it?" Said Tord, his fear rising every moment. "Well," replied Patryk, obviously nervous. "We were sent to come and bring you to your new office, to talk to . . . Gunnar," Paul noticeably grimaced at the name, "so you can figure what's going to happen next . . . or something like that. He said that he'd waited long enough, that it was time for you to go through initiation." At that, both men recoiled, and clutched their shoulders absentmindedly. "Waited long enough . . ." Said Tord, taking note of his fathers exaggerated actions, "But we've only been here since yesterday, right?" Paul stared at Tord with a weary look. "You dont know?" He asked "you've been asleep for three days!"
Tords head was still reeling by the time he and his fathers had gotten to what would soon be his office. He had been there for three days and was soon to be leading an army he had never wanted to lead, and now he had to go through a supposedly painful initiation?!?! Things just kept getting worse. He glanced around, at his dads on either side of him, the many soldiers milling about, the cold grey floor beneath him, until the office doors opened, and Tord was beckoned inside. His fathers shut the big office doors behind him.
           In front of him, Tord saw a big chair, with the silhouette of a somewhat tall bearded man sitting in it. Behind the chair was a big fireplace, with a roaring fire inside, and an oddly shaped poker, resting on the wall nearest to it.Tord looked upon the man again, and recognized him immediately as the man who had captured him yesterday-the one who had singlehandedly unearthed Pauls right eye from his skull. Tord felt his rage from his previous encounter with the man coil in his gut, but he kept it down, not wanting to further worsen his current situation. "Why, hello, Red Leader, how kind of you to grace me with your presence." Gunnar said, his words like daggers, "I assume you already know why you are here?" Tord forced himself to look up, as Gunnar spun around in his chair to face him. Their eyes locked on one another, and Tord poured as much rage as possible into his gaze, as he forced an "initiation, sir." Through his clenched jaw. Gunnar clicked his tongue, and replied, "Nei (no), after today, I'll be the one calling you, sir." Tord looked away, and down at the empty floor to the left of him. Gunnar sighed, stood up, and beckoned Tord over to the left of him, close by the fire. "Do you know why I picked you, as our next Leader, Tord?" Tord shook his head, finding it easier not to beat the man beside him into a pulp if he just kept quiet. "You," Gunnar said, poking Tord in the chest, "Have the potential, to bring this army to great heights. You're a fighter, Tord. I can see it in your eyes, in the deep hatred you have for me, and all I represent." Gunnar paused, absentmindedly setting the end of the poker in the fire, "Just know, that from this day forward, what I represent, will be what you represent, and you, shall never be alone, ever, again. I implore you to embrace this fate I have bestowed upon you, and lead your new army with pride." Tord was disgusted, but managed to keep his face calm, as he spoke. "All right. Ill lead this army. I see my place now, and I shall embrace it, wholeheartedly." Gunnar gave Tord  a prideful smile, patting his back and saying "Now thats what I like to hear!"
           Tord nearly collapsed, right then and there. He had just agreed to lead an ARMY. To spill the blood of countless innocent people waging a war he didn't truly believe in. And all for what? So his three friends dont die? He'd rather kill possibly hundreds of civilians over his three friends? But of course he would. Edd and Matt were the best companions anyone could ask for, and Tom . . . he loved Tom so much . . . he couldn't let them die, not even if countless others had to take their place. He just couldn't. Tord was so deep in his own thoughts, to busy drowning in the guilt of crimes he had yet to commit, that he didn't even notice Gunnar sitting him down, and rolling up Tords right sleeve. He didn't notice Gunnar picking up the poker, and pressing it into his arm, scalding his flesh into the mark of the Red Army. He didn't feel the pain of the poker, pressing against his skin, burning his body. He didn't feel the bandage being wrapped around where the poker had made contact. He didn't even smell the scent of smoke and blood that lingered around his figure. He could feel no sensation-only guilt, and the instinct, to survive. And in his case, that meant, to lead an army.
Patryk shifted from foot to foot. He was worried. Worried about what commander Gunnar could be doing to his son right then. He thought about, the poker, how he had almost vomited at the sight of his own skin being put through such disfigurement. Than he thought about Paul. He glanced over at his beloved. Pauls face was stone cold, glaring straight ahead with no expression. But Patryk knew he was worried too. He could see the minuscule beads of sweat, rolling down his forehead, and he could practically feel the air vibrate Pauls hands were shaking do much. Patryk glanced over at his eye, and cringed a little. As much as initiation had hurt for him, Paul had definitely been through much worse. Patryk heard the door being opened from the inside and straightened up, sliding forward a ways than facing the door, so as to formally greet Tord when he came out. Despite being the ones who raised him, being soldiers now meant they had to bow down to Tord, or else suffer the consequences. What Patryk saw when the door opened was terrifying. Tord, his son, his little boy, who when he was little, would cry if he got a paper cut, was standing in front of him with a dead look in his eyes, a bit of blood splattered on his face from initiation. There were no tears, no faces scrunched in pain, just Tord, looking down on Patryk with no emotion whatsoever. "Tord-" Patryk began, but was cut off by none other than Tord himself, saying "That's Red Leader to you, soldier. Now, get back to your posts." Patryk stood still, staring, open mouthed at his son. Was he willing leading this army? "Well?" Said Tord, his voice hostile, and authoritive "Get to it!" Patryk stumbled backwards a little, than replied with a "Yes sir Red Leader sir!" Than dashed off the hallway after Paul whom had left immediately after Tord first spoke.
           Paul couldn't believe this-Tord had joined the them, the enemy. He had given in to the "temptation" of having an army of his own! How could he? Both me and Patryk knew about Tords violent tendencies and trigger happy mentality ever since he had first started going to school (He got in a lot of fights) but this? He never thought Tord could do something like this. suddenly, Tord, or "Red Leader," as he was now so arrogantly addressing himself as, shoved Paul to the side as he rushed past him. Paul backed into Patryk, and they both fell over each other. Some of the other soldiers snickered at the couple, as Gunnar followed quickly behind Tord, yelling for the soldiers in the hall to convene outside to hear an announcement from their new leader than was extremely urgent. Paul helped Patryk up, and glared after Tord as he hurried away. "Look!" Patryk said, suddenly, pointing at a slip of paper sticking out of Pauls chest pocket. It was a note Tord a slipped to him in the brief moment of contact they had had when Tord had shoved him aside. Paul unfolded the note, and let Patryk look over his shoulder as he held it out before him. In messy shorthand, Tord had written the following:
" I'm sorry if any of my further actions hurt you in any way, but this is my only option. If i do not pretend to be one of them, you, me, and my friends shall all most likely come to an early end. Please, forgive any further actions I do that hurt you, for until we can find a way to escape with our lives, this is the way things must be. I'm sorry.
Love, your son, Tord Larsson."
           Paul almost cried, right then and there. He knew, that this would be the last he'd probably hear from his one and only son for months-no, years! He heard a soft whimper, and looked beside him to find Patryk, sobbing gently into his shoulder. He had read it too. He tucked the note away, and faced his husband, and caressed his face. They were alone now. Everyone else had gone. Outside to hear Tord-no, Red Leaders announcement. This would probably be the last chance he'd get to be intimate with his partner for maybe years to come. He put one hand on Patryks cheek and the other behind his neck and he kissed him. He kissed him long and hard, until at last they had to pause for breath. Paul pulled away, his face wet from both Patryks tears, and his own. He could hear Red Leader giving his speech in the distance. "Its ok, Patryk. Everything is going to be alright." Then the pair joined hands, and walked outside into the new reality they would now have to face.
           Tords speech was brilliant. It must have been, considering all the soldiers had raised their fists and cheered at the end. Tord couldn't remember. So much had happened. He had left his home with Edd and Matt and Tom, he had been kidnapped, and now, now he was leading an army. He couldn't believe that wasnt what he was thinking about that night, as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He wasnt thinking about the army, or him dads, or even his speech-whatever it was. Instead, he was thinking about Tom. How was he doing? Did he miss him? Did he hate him? Does he really not love me back? That was all Tord could think about. He thought he had moved on-his confession had happened months ago, and he had been rejected, there was nothing more to it. But . . . still. Tord couldn't help but wonder:

"Does Tom know how much I love him?"