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Tord was leaving.
It was the kind of news that should’ve hit hard, the kind that should’ve lodged itself somewhere deep in Tom’s chest and stayed there. Instead it made his heart jump for entirely different reasons, the news almost made him feel giddy inside.
“I thought this day would never come,” Tom said, his voice edged with teasing. A full smirk stretched across his face. Tord only gave him a half-assed smile in return.
Tom shut up after that.
The conversation dragged on longer than it needed to, filled with questions that circled the same point over and over.
“Are you completely sure?”
“You don’t have to go, you know.”
“It’s not going to be the same without you.”
Tom saw the glint of sadness that reflected in Edd’s eyes, the confusion that rested in Matt’s. There wasn’t much emotion in Tom’s eyes, (quite literally.) He couldn’t make himself feel anything. No grief. No melancholy. Not even the dull ache he figured should’ve been there. He debated if even a little part of himself cared. And he came to the conclusion that he didn’t.
Tord was leaving on a Friday, only a few more days before then. It was a Monday night, and Tom wasn’t phased at all.
He sat in the living room, a game controller resting loosely in his hands. A full bowl of popcorn sat beside him on the couch, forgotten between button presses.
“’Sup.” The voice came from behind him, thick with an accent different from his. Tom knew who it was out of instinct.
Still, he glanced over his shoulder anyway.
Tord stood there in his usual red hoodie.
Tom gave a small nod. “Hey, dude.”
“Mind if I join you?” Tord asked, his tone sounded bored.
“It’s not multiplayer.”
“Meh.”
Tord walked over anyway and dropped down beside him. He nudged the bowl of popcorn out of the way to make room, accidentally spilling some in the process. Tom clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn’t say anything, keeping his focus on the game.
It wasn’t before long when the screen flashed with a red light, lettering that boldly spelled out “GAME OVER.”
“This game blows. I can’t beat this stupid level.” Tom tossed the controller onto the coffee table with a frustrated huff.
“Give me that,” Tord muttered.
He grabbed the controller, restarting from the last checkpoint like it was nothing.
This was how it usually went when they played together. Tom would mess up the game, and Tord would step in and come to his rescue. And for what seemed like the last time, he proceeded to do just that.
Within minutes, Tord cleared the “stupid” level Tom had been stuck on for definitely not half an hour.
“Thanks, man.” Tom let out a short laugh, glancing over at him.
Tord smiled. Tom did too.
It was Wednesday now, Friday was etching closer and closer. Tom had time to sleep on his feelings.
He realized that Tord leaving would be SOMEWHAT of an inconvenience. He helped open pickle jars when no one else could. Cooked the morning bacon when Edd was too tired to bother. He was the best gamer in the house (annoyingly good actually.) Even on some nights, he’d help Tom piece together melodies on his bass.
It wasn’t like any of that mattered. Tord being here just made things easier. He wasn’t actually needed. Tom leaned back, arms crossed, settling into the thought like it explained everything. Tord leaving wasn’t a big deal! Just inconvenient.
Edd and Matt were helping Tord pack up the mountain of crap he’d collected over the years. Tord’s room was a chick’s worst nightmare.
“Oh, bloody hell—Tord, what the fuck?!”From the sheer horror in Edd’s voice, Tom could only assume he found a rock-hard tube sock buried under the bed.
Yeah. That tracked.
Tom snorted from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to look up. He was very glad to be out in the living room instead of in that absolute monstrosity of a room.
When Tord had asked him for help earlier, Tom had just laughed in his face.
Matt walked out holding a trash bag. “It’s such a shame Tord is leaving.”
“Shut up, Matt.”
Well, it was Thursday night. Tord was leaving first thing in the morning. Without really noticing when it started, Tom had spent the entire day with an inescapable sense of doom sitting heavy in his chest. It followed him everywhere.
They all went out to eat together for lunch for one last time. Every time the topic of Tord’s departure came up, Tom mentally checked out. The voices blurred together, words losing meaning as he focused on anything else. The clink of silverware, the hum of the room, the way his food went cold on the plate.
Anything but that.
Now, he leaned against the kitchen counter, the room dim and quiet. A bottle of Smirnoff dangled loosely from his hand.
“Huh,” was all he managed to say to no one in particular.
“’Sup.” Tom heard it from the kitchen doorway.
Tord stood in the frame, a blunt pinched between his fingers.
“Hey… dude,” Tom managed.
Tord walked over, the smell of weed clinging to him. It was strong, familiar. If there was one thing Tom knew he’d miss the most, it was that. Tord was fun to be around when they were both out of it. No thinking required. Just a drunk and a stoner enjoying the moment
Tord leaned against the counter beside him, letting out a quiet sigh.
“Turns out this is taking more of a toll on me than I expected,” he admitted. “I’m going to miss this place.”
His eyes drifted around the kitchen like he was trying to memorize it.
Tom took a long drink before responding, buying himself a few extra seconds.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “I know what you mean.”
Tord took a slow hit, exhaling just as slowly.
“Thomas, I know we don’t see eye to eye sometimes,” He paused for a split second, “Most of the time….But I appreciate you and the company you’ve given me during my time here.”
Tom let out a short, drunken laugh, shaking his head.
“Dude, you’re acting like we’re never gonna see you again.” He took another swig from the bottle. “Telephones exist. Just… shoot a call.”
He bit his lip. “Shoot a call anytime, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Tom glanced over. Tord was already looking at him. He smiled. And, then Tom smiled too. The silence settled in. It was thick, heavy, somehow louder than anything either of them had said.
Tord lifted his free hand, hesitating just for a moment before bringing it to Tom’s face. Tom didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in. Just slightly, just enough.
They stayed like that for a few long seconds, unmoving, as Tord’s thumb brushed lightly against his skin. Careful. Almost unsure.
Then in such a gentle manner, their lips embraced.
It wasn’t rushed, there was no urgency to it. No heat or desperation, just something sweet. Not something Tom was used to.
Tom didn’t move at first, like he was still deciding if this was actually happening. But then he did, just barely tilting his head, letting the moment settle instead of pulling away from it.
Tord’s hand stayed against his cheek, grounding him there.
The kiss lingered, soft and uncertain, like neither of them wanted to be the one to break it.
Tom’s grip tightened slightly around the neck of the bottle, his other hand twitching at his side before finally coming to rest against Tord’s arm.
Then they back away, just enough for their foreheads to almost touch.
“Huh.” he muttered again, quieter this time. “Dude… that was kind of. Really gay.”
Like that explained anything.
“Yeah… I guess,” Tord replied, his hand still lingering against Tom’s cheek.
Then Tom felt the tears coming. He just let them. He didn’t stop them from overflowing.
“Well, it’s time for me to go.” Tord mumbled after loading his final luggage into the trunk of his car.
“We’ll never forget you, Tord!” Matt cried out. “You or your memory eraser gun… so many memories!” He pulled out the device and hugged it like a prized possession. Stupidly, Tord had decided to hand over his old inventions.
Edd crossed his arms, unable to meet Tord’s eyes. With a quiet sigh, he muttered, “I can’t believe Tord’s leaving.”
“Yes, Edd,” Tord replied, his voice firmer now, eyes steely. “I have to follow my dream… make it in the big city.” The sadness that had lingered yesterday was gone, replaced with determination.
Tom stood beside Matt, who was already fiddling with some device that should definitely have never been given to him.
Truthfully? Tom was hungover as hell.
He looked at the man who was leaving, the man who had somehow slipped past all of Tom’s walls last night. The softness from their kiss was gone now. All that remained was one harsh glare.
Tom snatched the gun out of Matt’s hands before any disasters could happen, then turned sharply to head back inside.
“Fine by me!” he shouted over his shoulder as his final goodbye.