Chapter Text
The clouds looked a little different this time around.
Everything else? Everything else stayed the same. The trees, the house, Tom's flask on the kitchen windowsill and the bullet holes piercing the walls (and, eventually, Tom's flask). Matt at Edd's side? Check. Tord situated in his robot, his machine? Affirmative. The house blown up, Tom buried in rubble? You've got it. It was just like the real deal, and despite the fact that Edd lived this memory a thousand times over it never stopped scaring him.
It was like the wind stopped and all he could hear was his own breathing, heavy and labored and terrified. There was always this moment smack in the middle of the nightmare where Edd and Tord looked straight at each other, the Norwegian with a look of malicious delight and the Brit unable to swallow down his own fear or even comprehend it. And then, almost like a stalemate, the two would look away at the same time, and as Edd would move for Matt the ginger was already pressing all the right buttons.
And then, crash . Tom rose from the rubble, shouted, and shot his weapon.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Explosions and harpoons and button-pressing alike were causing absolute mayhem, and the yelling of his friends rung in his ears like sharp bell-tones.
Tord had been leaving again ( again ), but he was struck. Hard. He would have died if he had been sitting correctly. And--
And then Edd found himself waking up.
The sun was blisteringly bright through the gaps of Tom's bedroom window shades, so Edd reached over and fiddled with them until they were down, giving himself at least a little less light to adjust to. It was nearly lunchtime and Tom had seemingly gotten out of bed before his boyfriend (which would have been somewhat of a surprise, had Edd been feeling well lately). To this, Edd couldn't help but sigh, scrubbing his face with his hands and trying to fix his mess of brunet hair a little bit (it was certainly mussed to the maximum).
This recurring nightmare shit had to end, and it had to end fast. Edd didn't have many days to take off of work, and when he did have days off he spent them with Tom and Matt; there was no way that he could keep sleeping in so late and waking up in a state of sweat plagued panic. The panic itself got on Edd's own nerves simply because it had to do with Tord. He felt responsible for the Norwegian's actions, having allowed him back into the house after such a long absence, and guilt hit him like a bus what seemed like every day; he felt betrayed that Tord had come back simply to use his friends and the house like a leech; he felt broken down knowing that Tord had left again and that he was most probably never returning.
Perhaps the fact that Tord was most probably never returning did get to Edd more than it should.
So maybe once he stopped obsessing, he would stop having nightmares.
Regardless, it was hard to not blame himself. He let Tord stay with them, and he focused so much on him that he did not even realize how badly Tom needed a friend. At the end of the day, Tom could have died because of Tord’s whole plan, and Matt had already been injured by him. Edd couldn’t let that go. They all had scars and they were all dealing with Tord’s repeated disappearance in different ways.
Edd pulled himself out of Tom’s bed and made his way out of the bedroom, wandering to the kitchen to see his black eyed lover making some sort of lunch. “Morning, Tom,” he greeted him gently, his timbre still touched with light sleepiness. He fought back a yawn with effort.
Just as the clock struck a new hour, Tom turned to look at Edd, dropping everything that he was doing in the process. “How’d you like my bed?” he asked. He only turned back to what he was doing prior to Edd’s entrance when he cracked his own grin. It was always nice to see Edd get some bed rest; he did so much for everybody, and so often too. Whatever break the shorter could get his hands on was a break that he deserved.
“It was nice. Sorry I slept so long.”
“No big deal. Hungry?”
“Um. No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Tom turned back to the lunch he was making while Edd moved for a chair, pulling it out and plopping down lightly. The room fell silent; only a couple of times, Tom looked over his shoulder to Edd with an audible sigh before returning to his activity. At this point, it had been months since Tord had been around. Months. He hated seeing Edd so exhausted and worn out; he hated seeing that his boyfriend had bags under his eyes, fatigue practically spilling out of his system. And to think that that bastard Tord was to blame. Tom still relentlessly hated the Norwegian and wished that he had never shown his face a second time. Nobody had left the situation without scars; unfairly, Edd had gotten the worst of it. It made Tom’s stomach ache.
As he become aware of the clock's tick-tick-tocking in the background, Tom finished up with the food and pushed it aside, turning around to lean back against the counter a bit. His arms crossed over his chest while he noticed Edd’s newly assumed position; the smaller Brit had one elbow against the tabletop, eyes closed with his hand supporting his cheek. Exhaustion.
Speaking of exhaustion, the past couple of weeks had been tiresome. Edd was staying with Tom just across the hall from his own apartment, mainly because he was planning to move in with him anyway in weeks to come but for other apparent reasons as well. He couldn’t imagine being alone every day as he tried to get a grip on this nightmare stuff. Matt was still down the hall in his own apartment and visited often. Things were going relatively well if anything that was not mental stability had anything to say about it.
He had just gotten out of bed, but Edd still was beyond tired because of how badly he had been sleeping lately and Tom understood that. The latter pushed himself away from the counter and uncrossed his arms so that he could pull out a chair. He sat next to Edd. “Hey,” he said, a hand moving up to cup Edd’s free cheek. “If you still need rest, go back to bed. I’ll come with you.”
Edd had been dozing off. Taking in a slow breath, opening his eyes to look at Tom’s, he responded, “I don’t need that. I’ll get rest tonight.” As much as he would have liked to think that that was true, it wasn’t, though he didn’t correct himself. There was little reason to do so. He blinked slowly and let his forearm lower and rest flat against the table now, leaning his head into Tom’s hand instead. He reached for Tom’s uncovered arm and traced his thumb once or twice along the deep scar that was etched into his soft, vanilla aftershave scented skin before dropping the hand once more. “Scarred up already. Usually it takes longer. Especially with how deep he’d gotten you there, and…” Edd’s voice trailed off, and he figured that he had said enough to drop the sentence where it stood.
That was...enough.
Unable to help his frown, Tom nodded and rubbed a thumb against Edd’s cheek before pulling away from him a little bit. He insisted gently, “Edd, you’ve gotta lay back down. I’ll be in there in a minute, lemme clean up out here and stuff.” While he thought of what to say next, he paused, eyebrows raised marginally. “You don’t gotta sleep. Don’t make yourself, um, you...I’ll be in there in a minute.”
He failed to finish up what he had meant to say. He just wanted Edd to take care of himself.
“Alright. Alright, can do,” Edd finally agreed. Though he found himself slightly apprehensive yet, he stood up with a yawn, waiting for Tom to stand as well before he pressed a kiss to his jawline. “Thanks.”
And with that, he was off to the bedroom.
Tom followed Edd’s beeline for the bedroom in a matter of minutes. He had given the situation some thought, and, damn, was he glad that Edd was around right then; had he been in his own apartment, Tom would be drinking well into the early afternoon to spare himself of his own fury. He hated Tord. He hated that Edd was doing great until Tord came back a second time, only to do what? Take over the house with whatever sort of disgusting charm that Tom couldn’t even put a finger on? Retrieve his robot? Try and kill Tom? Destroy the house? And to top it all off, the Norge native had left Edd in a state of panic and was the trigger for his nightmares. It infuriated Tom. He had to watch his boyfriend struggle despite the help that he and Matt offered constantly and it broke his heart. Edd didn’t deserve this.
The brunet was slipping into his bedroom with a huff at his own thoughts, closing the door and finding Edd laying on his back in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling before the bounced over to Tom. “Hey,” Tom greeted him, quick to climb into bed and under the covers next to his love.
Edd responded, “Hey.” His eyes drifted back to the ceiling again.
“Are you going to sleep some more?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re gonna be up so long that you’re not gonna remember how to say your own name, aren’t you?”
“No, of course not! Don’t even be silly, Tom.”
They both laughed, but they were both tense. It was clear to both of them that being lighthearted was nice, but it didn’t fix the situation.
Edd was scared to sleep, or even to close his eyes for too long.