late night talks. || TomTord||. •oneshots•

the bridge

tw:
suicide mentions
- depression)? Idk, i just vented a little.

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He didnt get it
It should be more difficult.
Everything has more turns that made his mind lose and find itself.
The right answer.
That's what he wanted.
But he knew his conclusion wasn't assertive. He hadnt felt the well-known confusion, that is part of the process of a good desition.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't the right choice
Right?
Is this the only moment in his live he does something good?
Is this really his final message?
Something just doesn't feel quite right.
Its not that he was different to the others.
In fact, he preferred it that way.
If you dont stand out and do not attract attention they will not notice you. Your past and your mistakes will eventually be forgotten over time.
They will forget about you, your essence, your opinion, your beliefs, yourself.

"God have mercy on your sinful soul ..."
Was it a sin?
"By being born with the contaminated blood of your ancestors, you are marked for life, and your only salvation is to cover yourself with the veil of the almighty ..."
Why was this repeating over and over again on his head?
he sighed wearily as he ascended to the last step of that long bridge.
He carefully removed his characteristic chess-patterned shoes and placed them on the predecessor step.
Feeling the cold coming from the iron under his feet.
And with his gaze downward, one last doubt occurred in his head.
"Should i call someone?"
His own question made him laugh.
"Why hadn't I thought about that before?" He whisper in an almost sarcastic tone.
Leaning slightly on one of the bridge beams, he took his phone out of his back pocket.
He unlock it with ease, having so many years with the same password makes your body memory develop.
Right? He didn't really know.
He never paid attention to the classes of that subject.
Especially because the teacher was a witch.
He didn't hate anyone.
He just passionately despised some people.
It's like his brain is clinging to feeling something.
He had read in some articles that this was a symptom of an emotional instability.
But he couldn't remember which one.
he scrolled through his contact list, quickly dropping names.
He wasnt going to contact his family.
he couldn't call Edd. he was too noble and sensitive.
He couldn't tell Matt, he was too fragile.
He was running out of options.

Was he really having a panic attack over this situation !?
Not even dead would they leave him alone, right?
His heart was pounding in his ears.
In a desperate attempt to calm down, he breathed the icy wind again.
Turning his breath into a trail of smoke.
Curiously, another young man was crossing that lonely bridge.
It was a rare thing to see someone at this time of night, but this guy with long and tousled hair was not common at all.
Walking on that old, worn pavement, wondering what time he would get home.
He had some things to finish, would it be too hasty to order food for his house? .
By mere chance he raised his head noticing a familiar sweatshirt.
He thought it could be anyone, he didn't know if he should interrupt.
He was approaching at a slow pace, but still watch out for any movement .
The closer he got to the man the more nervous he felt.
He didn't want it to be true.

"T-Tom" there was a tone of concern in his call but it was masked by his strong accent.
The young man in front of him stiffened upon hearing his name.
He turn shyly.
Feeling the almost forgotten itch on the tip of his nose.
He wanted to cry.
But not like he had done previous nights.
He wanted to mourn his mother like a child.
He wanted to believe again that his sorrows would be wiped away with tears.
He wanted to be able to return with his mother.
Sit on her lap and hide on her chest.
But it was too late for that.
The Norwegian stepped closer and held out his hand.
It was his decision to make it.
He will try again.
- Tom, let's go home-
It was his decision to trust again in a better tomorrow.
It was his life.
he was already conscious enough to know where to end it.
Unsure, he reached out his hand to the other man.
Maybe they didn't fit perfectly, but who really did?
His weak knees were shaking.
And with the help of the Norwegian he slowly go down the step.
But, his foot slipped on the top of the step, causing them to push toward the sidewalk.
His arms couldn't anymore, it was too much emotion for today.
The one with the basins got up shakily.
And he helped lift the horned young man.
They both shared a small smile and started walking to their home.
They walked together for a while until they reached their so adored destination.
Tord took out the keys with his free hand and opened the door.
All the lights were off except the one in the kitchen.
Where on the table were 2 dishes served and a small note;
We order food we saved you some -Edd.

Tord arranged things so they could eat it in the morning.
But Tom never left his side.
The communist could see how lost the young man was.
He look down and fell into account that there hands had never parted.
But he couldn't care less.
In fact you could tell that he liked the British's hands.
Those coppery, rough hands from playing that old bass so much.
Something a bit curious about the boy was that his hands were the warmest of all.
Well it's not like he measures it or something.
Only they became temperate at the ideal times.
He felt the alcoholic tighten the grip.
They began to get closer.
he could feel the British's breath on his neck, and how his arms settled around his waist.
Hiding his face in his neck, he could feel him trembling.
His heart rumbled on his fingertips, hearing the sob from the tallest of him made him react, puting his arms around his back.
Trying to calm the hiccups and cries of the guitarist he began to make small circles on his back.
The norski tried to calm him down and although he didnt know very well what to do he only had something clear.
He was going to be with him for as long as he will need.
He wanted to be enough.

[•••]

The sound of his phone woke him up from that placid dream.
Stretching his muscles a little,  trying to find the source of the sound.
When he found it it was too late.
They had already stopped dialing.
He sighed and sat on his bed, checked his notifications and found something that caught his attention.
Casandra (therapist)
↓↓↓ 3 missed calls.

"Shit," he muttered, and  got up to get ready for another boring morning.
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Done.
Thanks for reading
please if you find any misspelling let me know so I can correct it thanks ^^
Word count: 1206.