What Are We?

Bar fights

Tom, filled with a sudden surge of rage, launched himself into the air and forcefully swung the bottle in his hand. It collided with the older man's head with a loud crunching noise, shattering the glass and sending shards flying in all directions. The sound echoed through the room, and the older man, blood streaming down his bald head, let out a low, rumbling growl. He then proceeded to toss Tom's frail body onto the ground with an ominous thud.

The older man threw multiple punches at Tom, hitting his face repeatedly. Soon, bruises were forming as a result of the brutal attack. However, Tom was quick to react and delivered a powerful kick to the man's stomach, causing him to bend over and kneel. The spectators in the bar were visibly excited, cheering and shouting as they witnessed the intense battle.

Tom reached for a bottle and struck the man's head with force again, causing him to lose consciousness. The other man fell to the ground with a loud thud, motionless.

Tom, feeling frustrated, let out a heavy sigh and dropped the shattered bottle onto the ground. Several onlookers merely stared rather than offering assistance. Blood trickled down his face and onto his hoodie, the result of the altercation that had just taken place. His hoodie had received a small tear at its front, exposing his injured torso beneath.

His gait was slow and unsteady, his balance and coordination combined by the large amounts of alcohol that he had consumed in the bar. The dim street lights only made the path ahead harder to navigate, but he knew that his destination was nearby.

Tom cautiously opened the door, feeling a chill run up his spine at the dark silence. He couldn't see much in the pitch-black room, and he wasn't sure if anyone was even there.

But just as he was about to close the door, he heard a sudden burst of noise from somewhere in the room. It sounded like a mix of anger and concern, and it was clearly coming from Edd. "Where HAVE you BEEN?!" Edd's voice echoed, and Tom immediately recognized it as her motherly and loud tone.

Edd switched on the light, causing a sudden change in the ambiance that caught Tom's attention. Edd was immediately startled, his demeanor shifting from anger to alarm in a heartbeat.

"Tom, are you alright?!" Edd said frantically, rushing to the injured blue Brit.

His concern was evident in his voice and actions, as he quickly tended to Tom's needs.

As Matt and Tord rushed out of their rooms upon hearing Edd's frustrated question of "Where have you been?", they were surprised to see not only the intense drama and scolding going on, but also Tom, covered in bruises and blood.

"What happened to you? What's going on?!" Edd asked as he helped Tom to the couch. His face was bruised and covered in blood from his nose and the back of his head.

Tom waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, it's nothing, really. I just fell."

Edd raised his eyebrow, clearly not buying that excuse for a second.

Edd sighed. "Tom. Tell me what happened."

Matt and Tord stood by their door frames and keeping a good view on them.

"Just... just a little... brh feih..." Tom mumbled hesitantly, not wanting Edd to get too worried.

"A what?" Edd asked, not hearing correctly. "C'mon! Spit it out chump!"

"A-a little bar fight..." Tom said more clearer.

Edd sat there, feeling his anger rising within him. But he took a deep breath to calm himself down. Maybe it wasn't Tom's fault; perhaps he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Well, how did it start..?" Edd asked, his voice filled with cautious hope.

"I drank his beer and called him a cracker."

Yeah. Completely Tom's fault.

Edds eye twitched, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. With a heavy sigh, he said, "Please go wash up. I don't want to have to clean up a bloody mess."

Tom shrugged and limped his way to his room. He fumbled here and there, Smirnoff still in his system.

Before Tom knew it, the floor got closer and closer.

Oh my.

Then everything went black.

Was this heaven?
Wait no. It's pitch black.

Was Tom dead?

Did he loose so much blood he died?
No. He didn't even loose much blood.

This is actually probably hell, no way he was going to heaven.

...

Tom opened his eyes to find a moist cloth resting on his forehead. He sat up and groggily rubbed the stiffness from his neck. His head pounded like a drum, throbbing with every heartbeat.

"You finally up, sleeping beauty?"

Tom flinched at the sudden voice, his heart racing. But he quickly recognized the voice, and a sense of dread washed over him.

In a slow, stiff moment, he turned his head to the left where the voice was. There, sitting casually in Tom's favorite bean bag chair, was Tord, reading a book as if he had been there all along.

Tom kept his gaze fixed on Tord, glaring cold daggers on him. He surveyed the room for any signs of his personal belongings being tampered.

"Your gonna ignore the person to tended your critical wounds?" Tord asked in a nearly amused and sarcastic way.

Tom sat up in bed, feeling incredibly exposed as he realized he had no clothes on, just his boxers. He had a few bandaids dotting his chest, with fresh wrapping around his wrist.

"Perv..." Tom mumbled angrily, coving his thick poofy blanket over himself and faced his painted wall.

Tord's sigh conveyed his frustration as he closed the book and set it aside. With a quick motion, he pushed himself from the bean-bag chair. Resolute, he made his way to the door, standing in the doorway as he awaited the response of the others.

"You have to eat," Tord's voice rang out, the annoyance still lingering on his tongue. The sound of bacon sizzling and eggs crackling indicated the meal that lay ahead, its scent wafting through the open door.

"Edd is out, and Matt is asleep, so I had to make us breakfast," he added.
Tom didn't say anything. He didn't even look at him.

"Whatever." Tom hissed after some hesitation.

He heard his door close. He took the hint that Tord left his room. Tom covered his face with his cold hands.

"Bitch."