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...man Tom was tired.
It wasn't that he hadn't slept well, or that he'd gone for an uncharacteristic run for once in his life. It was more the kind of tired that comes from nowhere, that seeps through your brain and clings to every fibre of your muscles, weighing you down until you feel like you might fall through the earth. Nothing had triggered it, nothing that he could think of anyway. He was just so, completely, utterly, exhausted. He'd been moping around in his room for god knows how long now, hoping the feeling would vanish without him needing to do anything about it, because of course the tiredness sapped his energy enough to stop him from fixing the tiredness. Typical.
But of course, it wasn't going away. He knew logically he should get up and do something, but the duvet was just comfortable enough for him to feel like he was glued to it, despite the pervading discomfort slithering throughout him. Sighing, he buried his face further into the covers, trying and failing to will away the headache.
He groaned a bit pathetically. Which also didn't help. Goddamnit.
Flipping onto his back he stared at the ceiling, tracing every crack he'd long since memorised, absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of his hoodie between calloused fingers. The action pulled his mind back to himself a bit, but it just wasn't enough. Afternoon sunlight filtered weakly through the crack in his curtains, bringing disproportionate pain with it, forcing his attention back to that godawful headache.
Alright. No. That's it. Fuck this.
With a surge of motivation - one that really could've afforded to come sooner but whatever - he sat up abruptly, ignoring the protesting thud of his skull, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Feet firmly planted on the floor, he took a moment to reorient himself, and pushed up, only swaying a little bit.
Grumbling under his breath about nothing in particular, he let his feet carry him down the hall to the kitchen where blessed water awaited.
He honestly might've zoned out a bit because those three cups were downed in a haze. Damn he must've been a bit more dehydrated than he realised. Whatever, fixed now. Or at least, it will be soon.
Now he just had the question of...what to do now? He felt a bit better but still just so fucking uncomfortable. Like his body was floating apart, and he would soon drift away, leaving a sad sack of skin on the ground.
Shaking his head to get rid of that lovely mental image, he ended up just wandering to the living room, spying a familiar mop of dark brown hair from over the back of the sofa. Edd. The guy was watching some kind of shoot-em-up movie, though honestly Tom couldn't be assed to pay any more attention to it than that.
He felt a bit of a toothy grin stretch over his face, and stilled himself, creeping silently over until he was right behind the fucker. With bated breath, he brought his arms to the sofa, tensing, before vaulting himself over onto it, landing with an oomph, and greeted with a shriek.
"Tom you ASS!"
The ass in question just cackled, paying no mind to the playful glare sent his way.
Well up until he got a pillow to the face.
It was only logical for him to respond with a bite.
Which landed him with another pillow smack.
Black eyes narrowed, he hissed at his opponent, Edd staring back unshakable, far too used to his friend by now to be intimidated by a hiss or two. The seconds ticked by, neither moving in their standoff..
Until a particularly loud explosion sounded from the movie, which Tom definitely did not jump out of his skin over. He only grumbled for a moment, before realising his devastating mistake.
"Son of a bitch-"
Too late he whipped his head back, only to be greeted by a smug grin of victory. "I hate you."
"Love you too!" came the far too cheerful response. Asshole.
Merely flipping Edd the bird, he settled back to watch whatever the fuck was happening on the TV, catching the tail-end of the volume being turned down. Softy. Honestly the movie seemed way too complicated for his frazzled mind to keep up with, but he was bored and needed a distraction from that fizzling under his skin, sue him. Though who the fuck decided it was a good idea to make half of the main cast almost identical? Absolute moron. It was impossible to keep track of who was doing what. All he knew was there were guns and some blond fucker died maybe? Or no was that the other blond fucker- oh screw this.
Feeling his poor squishy brain complaining louder about being forced to try and comprehend the bullshit on the screen, he instead elected to sink back into the cushions, and hope that maybe the sofa would eat him. At least then his brain might shut up about his headache. God he should probably get some painkillers huh. Unfortunately for both his brain and his sanity, all his energy had been sapped from the arduous trek from his room to the sofa. Oh well, time to do what he does best. Tough it the fuck out.
He was snapped from his thoughts by the sofa shifting, and cracked open his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see Edd getting up and walking out of the room. He shut his eyes again, resolutely ignoring the squirm of upset in his chest. Why would he even give a fuck? Edd can leave if he wants to. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.
...it was fine. He was alone a lot anyway. His own fault of course, the self-isolating little bitch that he was. He could deal with it. What had he just been thinking about the headache? Oh yeah, 'Tough it the fuck out.' Dumb thing to get upset about anyway.
He sighed, twisting into the sofa, somehow even more deeply uncomfortable in his skin that he had been before, that ridiculous feeling of loneliness gnawing through his ribcage, leaving a terrible ache in its wake. But before he could practise his well-honed moping skills any further, he felt the sofa dip. Something was thrust into his hands.
Blinking his eyes open once again, he stared at the little box on his lap. Painkillers. Oh.
He turned to stare at Edd, who'd gone back to watching the movie without even a sign he'd ever gotten up.
...
He clutched the box, that nasty burn of upset from earlier smoothed over by a soft, fuzzy feeling. Shaking his head to disperse the confusing emotion bullshittery, he popped out a couple of pills. Water, he needed water-
He blinked once again, staring at the cup of water that had materialised onto the table. He blinked at Edd, who did nothing. He blinked at the cup again. ...He was starting to feel like a damn owl with all this blinking.
Finally his fuzzy-as-shit brain caught up with the turn of events, and he managed to corral it into taking the pills. Relief flooded through him; even if it would be a hot minute before they kicked in, just knowing he'd taken painkillers made him feel better. It was about time for that headache to fuck right off anyway.
Right. What was he doing? Oh yeah, lying on the sofa and zoning the fuck out. Exhilarating, really.
The exhaustion seemed to be catching up, and soon he felt his mind starting to drift in that tell-tale way. He could handle passing out for a bit, maybe he'd feel more grounded when he woke up. Giving in to the pull of sleep, he draped himself like a limp noodle over his seat, eyes slipping shut once more. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes really, but he vaguely noticed in the back of his mind that he was slowly slipping sideways. Too half-asleep to do anything about it, he ignored it, right up until he felt himself collide with what was certainly not sofa.
Startled into a semblance of awake (tragically), he realised he'd flopped part-way onto Edd's lap.
....huh.
Well that was interesting. Time to sleep.
Unfortunately though his mind kept niggling at him and forcing him more awake, until he finally processed the situation. His head was on Edd's lap. And Edd had gone very still.
ShitfuckfuckshitfuckFUCK. That was it. That was IT. He, in his complete lack of social skills, made Edd so uncomfortable that he had completely and utterly ruined their friendship forever. He was going to get kicked out onto the street and become homeless and live in a cardboard tent and get mugged for his hoodie and stabbed in a back alleyway and fucking DIE.
In his panic he just froze, hoping that somehow Edd hadn't noticed, which was dumb as hell but what the fuck else could he do?! Edd was his first and closest friend, he didn't know what he'd do if he lost that.
But before he could spiral any further, his panicked thoughts screeched to a halt by the feeling of a weight settling in his hair. Slowly, but surely, Edd started to run his fingers through his locks.
Staying very, very still, he assessed the situation. Ok. So his head was laid in Edd's lap. And Edd...didn't...seem to mind? And was in fact, essentially petting him? The stillness from before had all but vanished, Edd having relaxed as he likely focused back on the movie, not seeming to care at all. Was this another one of those times where Tom would psyche himself up that he fucked everything up and it turned out it did not even slightly matter?
Fuck. Probably. Man he was a dumbass.
Sighing in no small amount of relief, he slumped into his impromptu pillow. It was actually kind of comfortable. Scratch that, really comfortable. Edd's lap was nice and soft, not to mention how surprisingly nice it felt to have his hair played with. Each gentle scratch had him practically melting.
The sleepiness from before was rushing back with a vengeance, and soon he found himself unable to keep his eyes open. The fuzz in his mind had tripled, the sounds from the movie fading into obscurity, only the warmth seeping into his cheek and the gentle petting registering in his mind.
Fuuuuuck that felt nice.
He vaguely registered a swaying sensation, and realised Edd was laughing. Oh...had he said that out loud? ...oh well. That's a problem for Future Tom to be embarrassed about.
Present Tom simply nuzzled his face further into the warmth and breathed out in contentment, the prickling, floating sensation of disembodiment seemingly having fucked off to who knows where. Too sleepy to question it, he just let the calm take him away.
He hummed softly as his mind was tugged upwards from the haze of sleep by sounds around him. Voices. Giggling?
Eyes refusing to open, he laid there, supremely comfortable and warm thank you, and paid half-assed attention to the noises that had woken him up. Said noises trickled in slowly, muffled like they were coming from several rooms over.
"..so cute! It's...love it...he's...sleep!"
Matt. Gushing about who knows what. Tord snickering somewhere near him.
Edd, sounding much closer, voice warm with affection. "Come on...he...let him sleep..."
Tord snickering more, quieter than before.
Whatever.
He felt too fuzzy to care what was happening, snuggling into the warmth surrounding him. Safe.
Matt was squealing louder for some reason. Someone shushed him.
The soft tingly sensation came back in the form of fingers carding through his hair...it was nice.
...it was nice.
He was just so comfortable.