TomTord Oneshots

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TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF CONTROL OVER A HUMAN BEING (UNHEALTHY AND NOT CONSENSUAL DOMINANCE), MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Personally, I don't see future tomtord as unhealthy. I see them as old men trying to rule the world together. But for the sake of angst, in this it will.

Don't romanticize or sexualize domestic abuse. Don't take this as something that should be condoned. Don't think I'm trying to condone abuse.

Additional tags: Hurt/slight comfort, regrets.

Summary: Tord goes to the past. He sees him again.

Word count: 2935
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Tord held the device in his hands.

He touched this before, his very own hands brushing against the handle. His fingertips tapping against the pad to enter a date and time.

Tord clenched his jaw.
It makes him almost want it savour it. Touch it, feel it, inhale the scent and jack off to it. All because he had touched it.

He really affected Tord, didn't he?

The Leader regretted it. His hands touched this device too, in the past when he grabbed it and Tord yelled at him for it, yelling at him only for wanting to find happiness in life again.

That may be the day when he had snapped.

Tord felt his heart pound deeply at that thought.

He stood up from his chair, setting his tacky helmet on the desk and stared at the device for a good solid minute.

Would this be worth it?

Tord looked back at the picture of himself on his desk, when he and Tom both were happy ruling the world together. Tom's smile was sweet and genuine.

Rubbing his tired eye, Tord entered the date into the device and hesitantly held his finger above the button. The year 2008, January 16. Before he left, after he decided to leave.
The perfect time. Maybe.

Tord pressed the button as light as his fingers could dance on it, blinking when an instant flash of nostalgia hit him.
The same light yellow walls. The natural white shine of the moonlight dancing through the window and the warmth of the air conditioning letting Tord sigh in comfort. It was early January in Britain after all, warmth is a bliss.

Tord chuckled bitterly to himself. It's not like this anymore.

What was Tord and Tom even during this point of time? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits?
All he remembers is that it definitely wasn't a relationship. Yet.

Tord took a deep breath, gentle steps towards his door. Tom's room, the one that use to be his until he decided to have Tord's room after he left. But that was in the future, so it didn't matter now did it?
Tord didn't want to think about the time he came back after eight years anyways.

The Leader rested his hand above the cold doorknob, his eyes glazing.
Just one look, one more touch. One more run through his soft, silky hair.
He turned the knob, slowly opening it while wincing at the creak of the old door.

His breath hitched.

There he was.

Tord closed the door behind him, creeping up towards the lump in the bed.
Soft snores; he never appreciated those cute snores he had.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pinching the sheets between his fingers and slowly pulling them down to reveal the alcoholic's face.