After being pulled home against his will, Tom sat in the living room of his apartment, phone in hand. He knew he could easily contact Tord, but was scared to. It has been a year since he last had a proper conversation with the norski, and he feared the worst. I mean, it's not everyday you hear the song Pork Soda play as if a four year old is screaming at the top of their lungs, and then be met with the sign of the person you thought was in a coma desperately trying to climb through a window, only to fall into the bushes below.
Tom took a deep breath, opening up his contacts. He went through his various contacts, searching for Tord's. After about thirty seconds, he opened up their page of texts. It wasn't the group chat, however. Tom read through all their texts. He recalled when he had helped Tord out of a difficult situation, telling him to lie. Then their was also when Tom asked him about the additional injuries. He furiously began typing.
'Tord' The blue brit texted, hoping Tord would reply. After about ten minutes of waiting for a reply, Tom was ready to give up. However, when he glanced at his phone screen, the text message he had sent was marked as read. Five minutes afterwards, Tom finally got a reply.
'Yes?' The message read. This meant Tord was still alive which was good. He know he had seen him just a few mere hours ago, but he didn't know if the scars would start bleeding out or not. Tom got to typing, guilt lingering over him, due to the fact that the alcoholic had hurt Tord. More than once.
'How long were you in a coma for?' Tom messaged. He hit the send button, already anxious to see a reply. It took a few minutes before the reply came.
'Five months' Tord texted. For the past year, he had been told that Tord was still in a coma, which was now known to be pety lies. Tom weighed his options, but decided after a couple minutes.
'Can I tell you something?' Tom asked, ready to complete what he was doing. 'It's might sound cheesy though'
'Sure I guess' Tord texted. Tom readied himself, prepared for what was to come. He took deep breaths, and got a few bottles of smirnoff ready from after this.
'I know that after all the s**t I did to you, you won't agree but I have to get this off my chest. Ever since I ran into you on the streets over a year ago, I didn't feel the same hatred that I felt every single day of my life before. It wasn't a bad hatred, but a good hatred. When you had told me that you had fallen for me, something in me definitely changed. I felt different about you. Both times you were unconscious, in a coma and after your gadget blowing up, I sat waiting for you to wake up, lying to Edd and Matt where I was going for after you had fallen unconscious from your eye. What I'm trying to tell you Tord, is that-' He stopped himself there. He sighed and deleted it all, not sending it. Of course, he made sure to copy it first in case he was actually brave enough to tell him a different day. 'I missed you.'
'I missed you too. There's something I'd like to say as well.' Tord wrote. Tom was confused. It wouldn't be a confession of love or anything.
'What is it?' Tom questioned, wondering curiously as to what Tord had to say.
'Open your apartment door' Tord texted. As if on cue, there was a knocking on his apartment door. Tom jumped up, frightened. He hesitantly walked over to the wooden door, his hand hovering above the door handle. He placed his hand on the knob before turning it, opening the door. What was there, surprised him. Tord himself was standing there, phone in hand.
"What the heck are you doing?" Tom questioned, forgetting Tord couldn't hear him. Luckily, Tord had this all planned out. He's known Tom long enough to know how the British man would react. Tord smiled warmly before speaking, his face slightly red.
"To tell you this. I love you."