Chapter Text
It was a rainy night. The kind that you would see in a 80s horror movie. The last brown leaves where falling from the trees onto the soaked grass. Hiding it from the cold of the falstly aproatching winter.
It was on that night that Tom, had noticed that they he was out of milk. So he went to the supermarked (wich was conveniendly still open for a solid half an hour when he arrived)and got some milk. After safely storing the milk in his car, decided to have one drink at a local bar. Only one drink. He wouldn't be able to drive home if he would get more.
Four hours later he stood in front of said bar. He had a lot more than one drink and now needed to somehow get home. Unfortiunedly Edd wasn't going to pick him up. Because Edd was in Canada. Obviously. He was visiting his cousins for a fiew weeks. Toms other good friend Matt was already asleep. Wich was also unfortioned, because trying to wake that man from his beauty sleep was something that the ginger would consider murdering/ consider arson for.
Fortunedly Tom had a drivers licence, a car an keys. The only reason why he technically shouldn't drive was the fact that he was drunk. But what where technicallitys in the face of Tom's genius driving skills. He had also decided that he wasn’t drunk, just a tiny bit tipsy So this would be fine (and only slightly illigal.)
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It was also on said night that a man wandered the outer parts of the city. He was wearing a, once brigh red hoodie. It Now looked a bit worn out. At least the part of it that wasn't hidden beneath a navy blue trenchcoat. He had his hood up. Successfully hiding parts of his face. Two lage spikes of hair were sticking out beneath his hood.
The man walked alone. Avoiding the gaze of the view people he passed by.
The only thing accompanying him was the sound of raindrops hitting the wet asphalt.
It was quiet. Quiet enough to let his thoughts drift. Something that he rarely allowed himself to do. Nowerdays
Because he was edgy and dark and very serious now.
He was hihing that night. Even though he knew that he would be found soon. Responibilty always has been a good seeker. But at least for one walk he would manage to not be found.
Nothing would find him tonight he decided. It was just him, and his pondering thoughts.
And the man was almost right. Nothing would find him.
Nothing except an ugly car that was rapidly approaching him.
How poeti- Wait FUCK.
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Tom just hit someone with his car. Like a the genious he was. Well shit.
Before he started the car, he had decided that it was way smarter to drive down some sady looking back streets near the outside of the city, so that the police wouldn’t notice him, test him, and take his driver's license away. It was also not as likely to run someone over. There were usually little to no people around here at this time of night. Appperently not. Tom just hit someone after all.
(Tom mentally patted himself on the back for such a smart assessment of the situation. He was truly a genius)
Now he just had to find out who he just hit, so he could decide if he would act like nothing had happened or drop them off at the nearest hospital.
After Tom had stumbled out of his car and made his way around it, he found himself standing in unmoving of a body.
So killed a man.
Great.
So pretending it didn't happen then.
He still wanted to know who he just killed. So he approached. It was a man in a tacky blue trenchcoat. The half of his face that hasn't been smoshed into the road was scarred. His chest was slowly rising and falling.
He is not dead then.
Great.
(Tom tried to do a little victory dance after finding that out. He had nearly fallen onto the body.)
Since the man on the ground was still alive (and he was pretty sure he didn't know the guy. He would remember a scar like that. So he wouldn't know if he's
an ass) the Brit decided that he would drive him to the nearest hospital, drop him off in its waiting room, and then forget this ever happened.
Determined to be a good citizen and do that, Tom hoisted the man into his arms. Carrying him bridal style to the backsead of his car. The man's face lulled against Tom's chest, his hands lifelessly dangling from his body. Feeling truly heroic, Tom plopped the liveless body onto the seats.
While looping the seatbelts around the man, he turned the light on the inside of his car on, so he could properly strap him in. It was then that he got the first good look of the mans face that night.
It was slim and sharp, with a pointy nose and a slight stubble. There were deep wrinkles between two unkept eyebrows. Most like likely from frowning. The lips of the man looked ruff and chipped. As if he often chewed on them. There was a big burning scar stretching across one half of his face. Tom almost hadn’t noticed. It was hard to miss, but somehow the Brit found that it wasn’t as prominent as the familiarity of the rest of it. That’s what the man was. Oddly familiar.
Yet in his drunken state, Tom just couldn’t pinpoint why that was. So he kept staring at the man.
Looked at every little detail his face had to offer to find out where he had seen him before. There was a warmth unwillingly blooming in his chest. It made his blood boil and his gaze soften. He had felt that before. But where?
Toms eyes drifted to the mans hood. Red. A red hoodie. Two messy looking hairspikes stickig out.
Tord.
Fucking Tord.
How is he even still alive?
How dare he be still alive?
He had shot him with his harpoon. The robot exploted. How was he still alive. Tom thought he killed him. He lived with that guild How dare he be still alive?
Tom stared at the uncontous face.
Tord.
He thought he would never see him again.
But wasn't that good? The man blew up theyr house after all.
He should probably throw him out of the car. Leave him here.
But that would be what Tord would do. And Tom wasn’t Tord.
He still had no reason to helpp him. When did he ever help him? He had always thought him. Verbally. Physically. Maybe that would be it.
Fight Tord.
Tom wanted to fight Tord. The alcohol in his system told him that that was a good idea. Tom would fight Tord as soon as he woke up. Be really mad. And pissed. And then he would wrap his arms aroundhim and squeeze him till he couldn't breathe anymore. And then he would not let him go until the other man punched him. But he couldn't do that unless Tord actually woke up.
To assure that would happen Tom took him home.