17 days before
The house was silent. A peaceful kind of silent. The kind of silence that was more soothing than eerie. Then again, Tom's house was always more or less pretty quiet. His parents were usually gone at work, and Tom was either reading or spending most of his time at Tord's house.
It was early. The house filled with the sounds of songbirds from outside the windows and beams of soft morning sunlight. Tom and Tord were still holding each other in a dead sleep, their legs wound together like thread. Tord shifted momentarily his sleep, his messy bedridden hair moving along the pillow. Tom was holding him loosely, one arm lying under his head against the pillow and another resting over his torso. It was peaceful, quiet. And completely and utterly calm.
That is it was. Until Tom's alarm began to fill the room with some sort of lively tune. The song rang and rang, leading to a groan coming from a tired and disturbed Tord. "Turn it off.." He muttered, his eyes still shut to hide from the brightly lit window. Tom let out a tired moan as he turned and reached out for his alarm clock, patting it repeatedly before finally finding the snooze button and silencing the music. His eyes opened as he looked up at the glowing red numbers. 8:01am. Tom sighed and sat up slowly, Tord's arms sliding down from his sides.
"Nooo..." Tord whined while trying to pull at Tom's button up shirt. "Come back... I wanna cuddle, It's cold..." Tom chuckled and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, making his eyes flutter open and look up at him with a tired glance. "Time to get up, sleepyhead.." Tom smiled, pushing Tord's unkempt hair from his face.
Tord sighed and sat up, groaning as he stretched his arms over his head. "My parents won't be home for a bit, you want to get some breakfast?"
"Yes please.." Tord said softly, sliding out of the covers and onto the edge of the bed. Tom smiled gently and inched over until he was seated next to him, kissing Tord on the cheek while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Tord didn't feel like getting properly dressed, considering he was too tired to even stand for more than a minute. He looked up from his half eaten bagel as Tom entered the room. "I put your clothes in the dryer, they'll be done in about forty minutes."
"Thanks.." Tord smiled, taking another bite from his warm buttered bagel and yawning. "You okay?" Tom asked, walking over and sitting next to Tord at the island. "You look exhausted."
"I don't know, I just don't feel all that great."
"Maybe you have a cold or something."
"Maybe." Tord took another bite, chewing as Tom stood up from the spinning seat and went around him towards his back to wrap his arms around Tord's waist, just on the rim of his boxers. Tord smiled softly and turned his head around to look at him, giggling quietly as Tom kissed his neck. "I love you." He purred, Tord sighing with a grin. "I love you too." He responded in a yawn.
After the laundry was done, Tom brought the pile of warm clean clothes to the living room, setting them down on the couch beside the tired Tord. "You should keep that."
"Hm?" Tord looked up confused. "That shirt, I never really wear it. Plus it looks good on you." Tom smiled as Tord looked down at Tom's shirt that he was wearing, slowly smirking and meeting his eyes again. "Oh, thank you. I mean I was gonna steal it anyway but," Tord continued, standing up next to Tom. "I appreciate th--" Tord suddenly stumbled back, falling onto the couch and back into the sitting position.
"Whoa, you okay?-" Tom crouched down with a conserved expression, holding onto Tord's shoulders as he held his head.
"Yeah, I just.. Got really dizzy for a moment-"
"Did you stand up too fast?"
"No not like that. Like a... Buzzing." Tom blinked and leaned down to look Tord in the eyes, since he was staring down at the floor. "You want some water?"
"No, no I'm okay. God when did I get so sick like this-"
"Probably from walking to my house in the middle of a storm." Tord chuckled and stood up, his arms shaking slightly as he pushed off from the couch. "Are you sure you--"
"Yeah, don't worry about it." Tord gave a weak smile as he picked up the clothes from the couch and took his pants into his hands, leaning against the arm of the couch as he slid them on. Putting on his hoodie shortly after and leaving his original shirt in his hands. Tom watched nervously as he coughed into his arm, clearing his throat.
A few hours passed and the clock now read 10:46am. The two spent most of their time cuddling up on the living room couch, watching a movie as they talked about endless topics. Pausing every so often for a hard coughing fit from Tord. But once the clock hit 11:00 Tom figured it would be best for Tord to head home before his mom showed up. He didn't want to risk her coming home to an unfamiliar boy in her home. That wouldn't exactly end well. So after a short explanation, Tord understood Tom's concern and gathered his things. Which was really just his shirt and shoes, slipping them on before running his fingers through his messy hair. Tom only giggled, Tord shoving him lightly and heading out the door with Tom shortly behind him.
As the two began their walk Tord took Tom's hand in his own and swung their arms in between them, giving Tom a light smile. The world was still damp and dim from the previous night, giving the neighborhood a lively scent of dew and fresh morning air.
Everything was normal. Everything seemed normal. But he could tell something was up with Tord. He was weaker, skinnier, and much more tired than he used to be. Before he used to race him to his house, yelling with the loudest and alive voice you'd ever heard. But now, he rather take it slow, take the easy route. And Tom was picking up on this quite often.
"Can we stop for a moment?" Tord asked, letting go of Tom's hand to rest them on his knees as he leaned forward, his legs bent. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just a bit tired." Tom furrowed his eyebrows in a slight worry. "We've only been walking for a few minutes." Tom heard Tord gulp quietly, standing up straight again and whipping the small bit of sweat from his forehead. "I know, I'm just getting a cold is all. It happens." Tord brushed it off once again, taking Tom's hand once more and continuing the walk down the wet pavement.
"Maybe you should sleep some more once you get home.." Tord nodded, walking somewhat behind Tom as he pulled him up the cement steps to Tord's front door. "Yeah, that would probably be better." Tord said, opening the mailbox and taking out a key, most likely a spare, to unlock the door. Tord stood in the open doorway, facing Tom still standing on the steps. "Thanks for letting me stay over, it was nice." Tord said with a weak smile, stepping close to Tom and embracing him, Tom returning the hug. Tord seemed so tired, sure they woke up at an early-ish time. He didn't seem to have as much energy as usual. It made him worry, even if Tord always told him it was nothing.
"Oh! That reminds me," Tord grinned, "wait here." He said as he raced into the house and up the stairs, disappearing from Tom's view. As he stood in the open doorway waiting for Tord, Tom noticed a figure standing in the kitchen and staring down at what looked like a phone. Damien, in a black and red hoodie with a white streak through the center of the sleeve. But it was a bit hard to tell since he was standing on the other side of the fridge, so he could only see a little bit of him. Tom was a bit startled when he suddenly looked up from the phone and made eye contact with him from across the house. A slow, sly smile spreading across his face.
This is when Tom began to silently panic, watching still as Damien turned and started walking towards the door. Then Tord came, slowly making his way down the stairs. Out of breath, and carrying Tom's ukulele in his hand. "You forgot this here last time." He said in between breaths. "You okay?" Tom chuckled. "You didn't have to run."
"I didn't want to keep you waiting." Tom turned his attention back to Damien as he approached Tord from behind, slamming his hands down on his shoulders and yelling to scare him. Which worked. And Tord let out a short yelp as he flinched, holding his chest as his breathing grew a bit more rough. He coughed a few times before turning his head and glaring at his older brother. "Don't do that!" He snapped, making Damien laugh. Tom just stood there awkwardly and unsure of what to do. "Oh relax, I just wanted to say hi to my baby brother and his boyfriend." Damien said, his accent slurring the word 'boyfriend' as he put his hands back on Tord's shoulders and glanced at Tom. Tord just groaned and put his forehead in his hand, clearly annoyed. "I'm sorry." Tord said to Tom with a tired chuckle. He handed him his ukulele and sighed with a smile, Tom smiling in return and holding it to his chest.
Damien leaned down until he was within earshot of Tord, turning and whispering something to him that Tom couldn't make out. But he only assumed it was bad based on Tord's reaction to whatever he said. Tord stood with an annoyed expression for a moment, but as it sunk in his entire face lit up into a deep red, his ears basically glowing as he glared at him from the corner of his eye. He reached around and slammed his elbow into his chest, making him groan and giggle. "You know you want to." He sang as he walked away, soon disappearing back into the kitchen.
Tom raised a suspicious eyebrow at Tord, but before he could even ask Tord cut him off with a "don't even ask" and a shy half glance. Tom had a feeling on what Damien had said, but he didn't even bother asking.
They talked for a minute more until Tord started to cough more frequently, Tom reminding him that he should get some more rest to try and sleep off the cold.
"I'll call later to check up on you, okay?" Tord nodded and smiled, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek before waving goodbye as he turned and walked away from the house. He stood and smiled until Tom turned the corner.
As he shut the door he could hear Damien start to walk up behind him quietly, so he turned around quickly before he could get too close to scare him. Damien froze, frowning. "You're no fun." He mumbled, going to the basement door and opening it before stopping and looking back at Tord. "You wanna watch a cheesy romance movie in my room or something? We can make fun of it together, as long as you don't start crying this time-" Tord sighed and smiled, rubbing his eyes. "I should really get some rest, I haven't been feeling too good. I think I'm getting sick."
"Your loss then." He said, shutting the door behind him as he walked down the stairs. Tord chuckled. Despite being an inconsiderate, annoying and not to mention spoiled brat, Tord loved Damien. Even after all the tough years they still had a solid relationship. And Damien wasn't all bad. As much as he wanted to hang out with him, Tom was right, he should really try to sleep off this sickness.
He felt terrible, and sick of course. But this was a different kind of sick. He felt like his chest was being pushed on. He figured it was just the cold, since he's had some pretty bad days when it comes to being sick. It just seemed worse this time. And he felt tired. Unbelievably tired. Once he got into his room he pulled off his hoodie, looking down at his shirt that Tom had given him and smiling. He flopped down onto the bed sheets with a huff. Being sick was always extra hard for Tord. Since his lungs really couldn't take all that much he always felt like he was short of breath, and everytime he coughed it felt like nails were being thrown around carelessly inside his throat. And that's only when he's sick.
It's never been a secret that Tord's lungs were getting worse. As he grew older he started to get weaker, and over time he just couldn't handle all that much. This year however it seemed to take a turn. A few months ago Tord had been given some medication to boost his lungs a bit and help them work properly. He could run, play and he always had a good amount of energy. Until about two weeks ago, the medication wasn't working as well as it used to, and Tord was slowly realizing that his lungs weren't really as strong as he hoped they were.
He sighed as he stared at his ceiling, his arms lying limp to his side. He wanted to see Tom, wanted to go back to his house and cuddle with him in the warmth of his bed. He could tell that Tom was starting to catch on to Tord's weaker state, but he didn't want him to worry. Because he really was fine.
Tord turned his head to look at his carpet, his eyes landing on the pale stain of blood. He's fine. He just needs to take it easy.
Yelling had always been hard on his throat, it's just the stress from it. Just a few more weeks, the medication will work again. He just needs to be patient.
Tord sat up and got up from bed, walking past the stain and towards his dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and dug through it, picking out a small orange pill bottle to look at the label with a sigh. "You better start working like you're supposed to." Tord said to the bottle, obviously not expecting a response as he popped open the lid and tossed a pill into his mouth. He was tired of his stupid breathing problems, why did this have to happen to him of all people? Life would be so much easier if his lungs were normal. But it's too late for that now isn't it?
Tord found his mind wandering off as he threw the pill bottle back into the drawer, making his way back to bed and crawling into the covers. He thought about what his life would be like if he was born normal, if he didn't have the scars. And then he thought about the nightmare, and he felt a cold rush flow through his body.
He tried not to think about his dad, after all it's been years since the accident, ten now to be exact. So long that Tord had forgotten what it was like to even have a dad in the house. And yet pictures covering the walls were always a constant reminder.
Tord slowly got out of bed, crouching down beside his bedside table. He hesitated before reaching a hand underneath it and holding onto a small object that he had hid within the carpet almost a year ago. A picture frame. He stopped, taking a deep breath before flipping it over and looking at the picture.
"Hey, dad.." Tord said quietly, holding the small picture frame in his hands and smiling weakly, the smile soon fading. Tord had never really known him all that well, since he was so young a lot of his memories of him were blurred and hard to remember. But he still felt like he recognized him. The familiar messy orange hairstyle was something he could never forget, it's almost like that was the one thing that Tord knew about him. And he hated it. He hated that he didn't know him. Without anyone to fill that father roll Tord even started to hate him for not being there. But it was never his fault. Tord was so damn young.
Tord thought for a moment, setting the picture face down on the bedside table as he stood. Then he turned to the door and left the room without looking back.
Pictures of him were littered all over the house, some on shelves, some on walls along with the rest of the family. So it was almost impossible for Tord to fully forget him. He didn't think too much of it as he made his way downstairs to the basement door, opening it and walking down until he reached Damien's room. His door was open about halfway, Damien lying on his unmade bed with his phone in hand. Tord stood silent before pushing the door open fully and knocking softly on the wood of the frame.
Damien glanced up from his phone for a moment before looking right back at the glowing screen. "Changed your mind?"
"No."
"Then what?" Tord swallowed hard, fiddling with his hands before softening his voice. "Well.. I was just wondering if I could talk to you, about dad?.." Damien looked up from his phone for a second time, sitting up slowly. "What about him?" Tord looked down at the floor. "Well, I just wanted to ask you some questions."
The room went silent as Tord let himself in, kicking past dirty clothes lying on the floor and sitting on the foot of Damien's bed. He said nothing, setting his phone down next to him and moving to the edge of the bed as Tord stared down at the floor. "Are you having nightmares again?" Damien asked quietly. Tord shook his head, lying of course. "I just don't really know him that well, and I guess you were around him for longer so.."
"Oh." Damien said, running his hand through his messy dark caramel coloured hair. "Well what do you want to know?"
Tord thought for a moment. "What.. Was he like? In general I mean." Damien sighed for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well I don't remember too much. But I do remember him taking us out to the park a lot, and he'd always push us on the swings until his arms got tired. And then mom would freak out because he would push us too high."
"I remember that.." Tord smiled softly, hearing Damien chuckle from beside him. "He loved us, a lot. I remember him always saying 'Jeg vil elske deg til jeg ikke har mer kjærlighet å gi'." Damien said, mimicking a deep Norwegian voice. "He never did like English all that much did he?"
"No, he didn't. He really wouldn't like it here." Tord chuckled. "I remember him yelling at the TV every time the signal was bad."
"'kom igjen!!'" They both said in unison. "Yeah, I remember that too." Damien laughed. "And then mom would get mad at him for screaming."
"Yeah. She got mad at him for everything." Damien laughed again, a genuine smile across his face as he looked over at Tord. Stopping when he saw tears starting to drip down his face. "You okay?" He asked.
Tord only smiled. Wiping his eyes and chuckling lightly.
"Yeah.. Yeah I am.. I just miss him, even if I didn't get the chance to really know him.." Damien sighed and inched closer to his side, wrapping an arm around Tord's back and setting his hand on his right shoulder. "Me too.." Tord looked up at him with a soft smile, looking forward once again and leaning into his side.. "Jeg elsker deg.. Even if you're an ass sometimes." Tord said quietly.
"Dad wouldn't like you swearing you know, especially in English."
Tord said nothing. Damien chuckled lightly before opening his mouth to respond a second time.
"jeg elsker deg også.."