SCP-5043

Breakfast

The sound of voices arguing was what woke him up. Strange it woke him up in the first place, since the argument was taking place through whisper-yelling. Shifting, he pulled his arm out from under his body, leaving his hand buzzing just as much as his head. Flexing his fingers over and over to work the blood back in to the digits gave him something to focus on. Once the pins and needles left his fingers, he propped himself up on his elbows. He appeared to be on a couch, with a thin but warm blanket draped carefully over his legs. To his right, the two people who were still bickering back and forth. After groggily rubbing his eyes, he noticed a third figure curled up in a bed behind the arguing pair.

He made an attempt to spit out a 'Hello?', but all that came out was a rough cough that felt like it was going to tear him in half. In an instant, the two were right next to him, rubbing circles into his back and talking in their too loud voices. His face twists into a grimace as he tries to shrink away from them, but they are unrelenting. He knows they want to help, he knows that he knows who they are, but his brain is pulled in a million different directions.

His voice was hoarse, but he managed to croak out a single "Stop," and they backed off. Nervous glances were shared between the two as he curled a hand delicately around his head.

"Tom?" a nervous voice said.

That's you, his overloaded brain supplied.

"Yeah...no shit." he groaned in response, running his fingers lightly over his face. A few scratches and nicks caught on his rough fingers, sending small flicks of pain into his skin. What the fuck happened to get him roughed up like this?

"How does your head feel?" one said, moving closer. He was wearing a green hoodie, and the other was wearing a dark gray t-shirt with some text that Tom couldn't quite make out.

"Ugh...fine, I guess." Tom retorts dryly, leaning back into the comfort of the couch he was sitting on. He in fact did not feel fine, as the throbbing that settled in the back of his head was a pretty good definition of not fine, but he didn't want to worry the people who he didn't quite recognize yet. Running nimble fingers through his hair, small flecks of dried blood caught in his nails, which he then promptly flicked away. When he looked up, the two were whispering back and forth, as if they were unsure of what to do.

Looking at them, then at his nails, then back at them, he asked a single question.

"Do you guys have a shower?"

...

Finishing off drying his hair with a towel, Tom looked up to the mirror. He really was worse for wear, small cuts and scrapes littered his face, leaving dull red scabs that still stung to the touch. The bags under his eyes were big enough to carry a whole damn shopping mall. The skin around his eyes was rough and scarred, but the lines of scarring were thin enough that he didn't think about it a whole lot. He glanced back to the still dripping shower and his eyes landed on the red stained floor. As soon as he started to lather soap into his hair, his hand came back red. Luckily, there was no open cut to be found, but the amount of blood and grime in his hair was...disconcerting to say the least.

Picking up the gray t-shirt and shorts that Edd had given him, he dressed quickly and opened the door. A savory smell wafted towards him, and Edd looked up at him from his spot by the stove.

"Hey Tom! I'm makin' eggs and bacon! Want some?" Tom thought about that last time he ate and came up blank.

"Sure!" he replied with a grin. Soon he was sat at the table, nibbling on his food. Munching idly, his eyes drifted around the room. Edd and Matt said it was their apartment, but it was more of a large bedroom with a bathroom and some kitchen appliances. The couch he woke up on was against the wall his back was facing, and it was accompanied by a thin coffee table and a small TV stand to the left. A bed was stuffed in the corner near the door, with a desk on the foot-board. His eyes lingered on the bed for a second before he noticed the sizable lump that shifted under the covers.

"Is Matt on the bed?" He asked through a mouthful of egg.

"No, Matt left for work while you were in the shower." Edd replied, finally sitting down with a plate piled high with bacon.

"Then-" he paused to swallow his mouthful, "Who's on the bed?"

Edd opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut when he realized what the answer was. "Oh uh- just a...friend of mine! He's in between jobs at the moment so I let him crash here!" he smiled as he shoveled more bacon into his mouth.

Tom squinted- something didn't quite sound right about Edd's statement, but he didn't know quite enough to dispute it.

"...O..kay then. Who is it then?" tom asked again, curious to know just who it was.

Edd shifted in his chair, visibly not wanting to answer. "He's just. A friend. Frommm... college. Yea I uh, I met him at a.. class!" he answered, using his fork to punctuate the end of the sentence. Hoping to avoid any more questions, he shoveled more bacon into his mouth. Tom looked less than impressed, very obviously seeing through the lie. He decided to just quit it for the time being, and went back to picking at the food.

He would find out soon enough.

...

Edd left not soon after finishing his hearty breakfast of bacon and cola, leaving Tom, and his mystery friend, alone in the apartment. Before he left, Tom was instructed to leave the person on the bed alone, as they were sick and needed some rest. This only added to Tom's curiosity. Who could this mystery friend-from-college-leave-him-alone-he's-sick be? Edd had sat him down on the couch and explained the TV remote, and left.

Tom watched about 20 minutes of TV restlessly before coming to the decision of just seeing who it was. He crept not-so-quietly, as the floors were very creaky, over to the bed. The person groaned and shuffled as he hovered over them, solidifying his choice.

He gently tapped the person's shoulder, hoping to elicit some sort of response. The person groaned ans rolled over, facing Tom now.

He squinted as he scanned the face. The right side of their had some sort of scarring, looking like dark red lightning stretching across their features. Nothing was connecting, up until Tom looked up. The hair. Two prominent spikes among scruffy dark brown hair.

Dr. Larkson.

Tord.

edit: hi yea ummm. this story is kinda old and a little gross but it get a lot of love so. there is a very slight chance ill finish it. sorry !! it says last updated like. a week ago but its been like a year yea no sory </3