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He comes back, and Matt doesn’t really remember anything about him, but the thoughts in his head keep pushing through anyways. He doesn’t know what they mean, and frankly, he doesn’t really care. He never dwells on what significance they could have.
He recalls when Tord first left, and he almost says, I wish you’d never left at all.
He finds himself looking through old mementos with Tord, collected from years and years of adventuring, and he thinks, I wished you were with us. We would’ve had so much fun together.
They go on adventures, just like old times. They go to the sea, like that very day he left. Matt picks up a pretty seashell from the ocean floor and remembers collecting them on sandy beaches, a long time ago. He remembers Tord thinking it was a neat thing to do. He remembers Tord joining him the next time he went. He remembers wishing they could stay like this forever.
Tom storms out one day, and Matt tries to brush the whole thing off. He wonders, why are you and Tom like that? What went wrong between you two? He almost asks him that, but instead asks if he’d like to see another one of his collections. He registers the insincerity in his reply, vaguely.
He gets hurt not long after that. He wants to ask what he did wrong. He wants to ask why. He never does.
And then Tord hurts everyone else, and he doesn’t think of anything.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Tord pushes the rubble off of him. He’s in pain, but he doesn’t really pay attention to it. He thinks of a lot of things. He wonders what the army will think. He wonders why he can no longer feel his arm. He wonders how much blood he’s lost, and he wonders if this will leave a scar.
But on the car ride to the base or the hospital or the infirmity or the graveyard, he doesn’t know which and frankly he doesn’t have it in him to care, he only thinks of one thing.
He wishes he had said he’s sorry.
But he never does.