Chapter Text
Tom comes home drunk, tries to get in, but can’t. “You’d better not drink inside. You always leave everything scattered and broken,” Edd told him at the door. Tom sits down on the grass and keeps drinking.
Melancholy washes over him; for some reason, that feeling is stronger than yesterday. He lies down, thinking about how the birds seem to sleep less each morning. “The days go by. Everything is better now. But I still can’t be satisfied with anything.” Tom had spent every weekend drinking. Drowning himself until he threw up when he looked in the mirror.
A tear threatens to fall, but then he hears the front door.
Tom jumps to his feet. He wipes his eyes and turns around. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, relaxing his shoulders.
“Aren’t you going to come in yet?” Tom remained silent. “…I haven’t been able to sleep lately either, Tom… Do you think you can stand me for at least an hour?” he asked, holding up a bottle of vodka.
Tom looked pensive. Was he feeling lonely enough to be willing to spend time with him? “…All right, Tord.” He immediately put his hands to his face, regretting what he’d said.
Tord closed the door behind him silently.
As he sat down on the grass, to Tom’s right, he had the feeling he wasn’t alone in this. “It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it?” he asked.
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tom took a sip from the bottle. Then he looked to the left, avoiding his eyes.
"...I thought you felt it too," he fiddled with his fingers in the grass, pulling up some dead grass. "...Maybe I’m just hallucinating... But I feel like the days are passing faster and faster. Something’s coming, something big that I won’t be able to handle... And not knowing what it is makes me feel even worse." He took a sip, staring down at the grass.
"...Yeah..." Tom turned his head forward. "Have you been drinking in your room?"
"I’ve been doing it lately. More than before," he said. "Edd hasn’t noticed yet; it seems like no one’s seen me doing it..." He wrapped his arms around his legs as he spoke.
"Well, I have," Tom said, turning his attention to Tord. "Edd’s too wrapped up in his own world to notice that something’s wrong… And well… Matt… You know." Tom scratched his head. They both fell silent.
"We haven't seen much of each other this week, Tom," Tord said. He took a swig from the bottle and passed it to his friend. "It's weird going this long without fighting."
"..." Tom took a drink from the bottle. "It's weird fighting with you."
"You think it's weird?" he asked Thomas. "You're always the first to throw the first punch. Although I admit that most of the time it was my fault, haha."
"..."
"... Well. I appreciate that you do it." Tord rubs the back of his neck. "It’s a form of cis-passing you’ve given me. Thanks."
Tom falls silent. He takes another sip from the bottle. "You’re welcome." Neither of them realizes that the time they spend staring at each other in silence is strange. Their substance-filled heads don’t allow them to process anything at that point.
"Tom," Tord called out. "Since when have we hated each other so much? I thought we were good friends. That's why I moved in with you guys." Tord fixed his gaze on his counterpart.
"...I don't know..." He felt a void in his chest wash over him, sending a chill down his spine. "Things just happen." Tom tried to hand the bottle back to Tord, but Tord pushed it away, causing it to slip from Tom’s hands.
"Thomas," he said, stepping closer, "do I disgust you?"
Tom stepped back. The question was sudden, and Tord was closer than usual. He looked him in the eyes; they were red. “Did you start smoking again?” Tom asked.
“I thought we were something, Thomas.” Tord stood over him. “I never understood why you suddenly started avoiding me.”
“Tord, stop it.” Tom placed both hands on Tord’s shoulders, trying to push him away. “Please, I can’t talk about this. Not now.”
“We haven’t spoken in months. I just need to know why.” Tord placed both hands on Tom’s face as he sat down to steady himself. “Please, Thomas,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on him, his vision blurring with tears.
They both fall silent, staring at each other, until their lips meet in a kiss. They’re crying as they do it. Feeling something so heavy and releasing at the same time.
During the kiss, Tom can feel Tord’s facial hair; somehow he likes that sensation, but he’ll never admit that because it embarrasses him, it makes him feel dirty. With the alcohol spreading across the grass and soaking Tom’s clothes, along with the friction between their genitals, they both eventually surrender.
They get up and head to Tord’s room as fast as their intoxicated bodies will allow.
They continue kissing and rubbing against each other there. Tord was still on top of Tom. As they both undress their bottoms, Tord keeps telling him how much he misses him, how much it hurts that it all ended so suddenly. This triggers a wave of feelings in Tom that he wasn’t ready to face, but he keeps removing his underwear.
Both are naked from the waist down, lying side by side. Tom stimulates Tord’s micropenis, swollen with testosterone, and spreads the lubricant from Tord’s vagina with his fingers. Tord repeats Thomas’s name in a low voice. “Please… I need this, Thomas,” he says as he guides Tom’s penis toward him.
Tord sighs as Tom pushes his way in. He repeats “Thomas” softly as he breathes heavily. Tom holds Tord by the hips as he increases his speed, trying not to make a sound. Then he leans in toward his partner’s neck and kisses him. He begins to slide one hand up Tord’s back, while the other continues holding his hips to keep going.
Tord moves forward and climbs on top of Tom again, pulling off Thomas's top. He gently touches Tom’s collarbones while lightly riding him.
Tord, out of breath, finally takes off his top, revealing the Trans Tape he was wearing that night.
Tom falls silent.
Tord lies down next to Tom again, placing himself at Tom’s mercy. Hoping Tom will grab his hips again and continue fucking him. But that doesn’t happen.
“Thomas?” he asks. He takes Tom’s cheek in one hand, feeling the tears sliding down Tom’s face. Before he can ask, Thomas hugs him tightly. And he tries not to look him in the face.
“Why?” he says between sobs, his voice clearly intoxicated. “Why did you take her away from me?”
Tord remains silent. Ashamed of what he was. Of what he had become. He says nothing. Why would he?
Tom hugs him, his grip weakening with sadness, but without letting go. Tord holds him close, clinging to Thomas with a lost and dull look in his eyes.
Suddenly, the birds begin to sing. The night was short again. But at least Tord finally knows what that earlier premonition was.
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