What Are We?

Bar fights

Over the following days, Tom's growing resentment towards Tord continued to fester and build. The tension between them was palpable, causing constant bickering and even nearly escalating into physical violence.

Each day, Tom always found himself angry. He ate in anger, showered in anger, walked in anger, hell— even breathed in anger, and it was just getting increasingly difficult to contain.

Tom was fully consumed by the challenging levels of Geometry Dash on his phone when he suddenly heard a knock at his door. Still focused on the game, he called out, "Come in." without even glancing up from his phone.

Edd told him that both of them would be going to the grocery store, leaving him home alone. Tom felt a rush of excitement. He could do whatever he wanted without being bothered when he was alone.

"With tord."

Toms life was ruined. A whole few hours with him? He felt his world shatter, his heart ache, his brain fuzz, his eyes w-

As Tom was caught in his own thoughts, Edd approached him with a concerned look and asked, "Tom, are you going to be alright?"

"Huh? Oh yeah yeah. I'll be fine." Said Tom, snapping back to reality.

"Ok..." Edd mumbled, clearly knowing one of the two would cause trouble.

With a sigh, Edd closed the door and Tom set aside his phone. He sincerely hoped, with all his heart, that Tord wouldn't bother him today.

Tom looked around his room. It was.. quite a mess. He hated living like this... Like a slob. He stood up from his seat and grabbed the basket of clean clothes. He folded and hung up his clothes, since he needed to take out another load of dirty ones.

Tom picked up some empty beer cans from the floor. He swept away the glass shards, and before he even realized it— he was deep cleaning his room.

Now, Tom was looking at his room. It seemed spotless. He felt strangely proud of himself for some reason... he hadn't really done much ever since Tord arrived. It satisfied him. Infact, he was gonna reward himself with some nice, cold beers down at the bar.

...

Not much times fly and Tom was sitting at the bar, already down on his 6th shot.

He didn't want to feel those stupid emotions and feelings. He wanted to feel numb. He didn't want Tord in the house. He wanted him gone.

He wanted Tord gone.

"Keep 'em comin, -hic-..." Tom murmured to the bartender.

Tom drank whatever was handed to him. He even drank stuff that wasn't his.

He drank a long glass of golden beer that had belonged to a man with a white beard. With alcohol overflowing his system, Tom grumbled, "Move you fucking cracker.."

The man's fists clenched, showing a deep anger that Tom wasn't prepared for. He knew that this man was not someone to be messed with.

The white-bearded man let out a sharp gasp of fury, before swiftly hooking Tom in the face with a powerful right jab that sent him stumbling backwards. Tom's eyes widened in surprise, before his vision was replaced by a flurry of stars. He felt the cold air rush past him as he fell hard to the floor, his body tingling from the impact.

As he lay there on the ground, Tom's hand instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of the empty glass bottle that had fallen beside him. He knew that he couldn't fight this man toe-to-toe, but he could fight dirty. He felt a surge of determination as he scrambled back to his feet, the bottle clutched tightly in one hand.