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“GUYS GUESS WHAT!” Tom busted through the door, beaming like he had just won the lottery. In a way, he had. “I JUST GOT FREE TICKETS TO STREETLIGHT MANIFESTO THIS FRIDAY !”
Matt looked over from the couch, “Who?” “It’s one of Tom’s ska bands.” Edd replied, not looking away from the television, which was playing one of the stupid sitcoms that they watched every day.
“Who’d you have to suck off to get those?” Tord snorted from the kitchen. Tom shot him a glare before turning back to his more supportive friends. “The giveaway only had two tickets though.”
“No way I’m getting anywhere near a mosh pit with this beautiful face.” Matt caressed his chin, making his point. Edd turned to face Tom, “Well me and Matt are going out Friday anyway. Sorry Tom.”
Tom deflated, “Ugh, but you guys are the only people who would want to go with me!” “I’ll go with you.” Tord walked into the living room holding a bowl of cereal.
“What??” Tom flipped around.
“Y’know Tom that's actually not a bad idea. I mean you’ll need a ride home.” Edd reasoned, turning back to his show. Tom scoffed, "There's absolutely no way I'm going with HIM. All he’ll do is make fun of me and leave me stranded and wasted.”
“Oh come on Jehovah, it sounds fun!” Tord smirked, leaning against the wall. “Shut it Commie.” Tom shot back.
“Well you two better figure it out, me and Matt aren’t dealing with you.” Edd rolled his eyes, turning to focus on Matt, who was now scooting closer, holding onto Edd’s green sweatshirt.
“Ughhhhh, fine. Be ready at 9.” Tom stormed off to his room. Tord smiled to himself, “Anything for you princess.”
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Friday arrived and Tom was jumping around his room, screaming lyrics he knew he would be hearing later tonight. He tore through his closet, as if he hadn’t been planning the perfect outfit all week. Studded belts and jewelry tossed on his bed, while shitty graphic tees laid crumpled on the floor.
Tom finally dug through and grabbed his white and black checkered tie, wrapping it around the flipped up collar of his plain black polo. He threw on his baggy pants and held them up with a matching checkered belt. He grabbed his checkered wristbands and followed by throwing a ring on almost every finger.
He ran to his dresser, swearing black eyeliner underneath his already pure black eyes, and grabbed a chunk of hairgel, spiking his hair straight up. He fixed his septum ring, and made sure all his piercings going up his ears, through his eyebrows, and across the bridge of his nose were straight and even. He looked in the mirror one last time making sure his snake bites were out and proud before he threw on his vans and ran out of his room, grabbing his flask and shoving it into the abnormally deep pockets of his jeans.
Outside the door, leaning in the hallway was Tord, wearing a red and black flannel, open just enough to show the white tank top hugging his lean physique. He twirled the car keys around his fingers and looked up to the man across from him. “Ready Thomas?” Tord looked him over with the smug face he always seemed to have.
Tom stormed past him, pushing past his shoulder, "C'mon asshole.”
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They pulled up in a red truck to some downtown bar. Tom had stolen aux, and was talking all about Streetlight Manifesto, completely distracted while he shared every piece of information he knew about Tomas Kalnoky and his many musical projects. Tord usually never listened, and he hated when people stole aux, but something about how the short man next to him was shaking with excitement made him smile. He tried not to think too hard about it, turning instead to focus on parking.
When they walked in, Tom headed straight for the pit. “I’m gonna get a beer, you want something?” Tord leaned back, surveying the place. Tom asked for a beer as well and Tord nodded, heading off while Tom made his way through the crowd. They had arrived late, and the opening bands had already finished. Finally, the headliners stepped up and Tord leaned against the bar, hearing the roar of screams drowned out by drums, guitar, and brass. His lips couldn’t help from turning up as he saw spiky hair jumping through the mosh pit that was starting to form.
Tord grabbed the bottles from the bartender and made his way to the edge of the pit. Tom was in the middle, laughing and pushing around and being pushed by a bunch of drunk 20 year olds. He chuckled to himself, watching how he flailed his arms around like an idiot, thinking that it was sort of endearing. Tord stood, spending a bit more time staring at him than he would ever admit, until Tom was pushed towards him.
He reached out and grabbed his friend's shirt, pulling him to the edge to hand him his beer. Tom's hands fell onto the Norwegian's chest, looking up while screaming a verse that was going way too fast for Tord to comprehend. He was suddenly very glad about the colored lighting shining off of the stage, hiding how his face flushed while he looked down.
He held the beer out and Tom grabbed it and took a big swig, before shoving it back into the flustered man's chest and pushing off back into the pit. Tord just huffed to himself in disbelief from seeing a side of Tom he really never got to see. He spent the rest of the night chugging beers and admiring his roommate, who was getting progressively more wasted from the beers and the smirnoff in his flask.
By the end of the night, Tom was in the passenger's seat of the truck, excitedly recounting how awesome the bass player was. He suddenly turned to the man across from him, smiling shyly, “Hey thanks for coming and stuff. It was fun.” Tord wasn’t used to this gentleness from Tom, he grinned back, “Anytime Jehovah, I had fun too.” They pulled up at the house and Tord laughed as Tom stumbled out of the truck and to the door.
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A few days later, Tom stared at his ceiling, a standard occurrence every night. He sighed and sat up, deciding to at least not waste his time if he was going to be up anyway. He stepped out of his room and headed to the living room, hearing the muffled sound of screams and cheesy sound effects. He walked in on Tord, watching some bad old horror movie, and silently sat on the couch next to him.
Ever since the concert, Tom had kind of softened up to Tord, even though he would absolutely never say it out loud. He scooted closer to getting under the blanket that Tord had on his lap, brushing sides with the man. Neither of them said a word, sharing a silent sort of peace. Tom fell against the cushions and felt his body relax as he just enjoyed the company.
After a while, feeling fatigue take over, he leaned on the Norwegian's shoulder, still staring at the television. ‘Thomas?” Tord asked quietly. “Shut up.” Tom mumbled into his shoulder. Tord did just that, and opted to enjoy the weight against him. He pulled his arm out and wrapped it around Tom's shoulder, letting him rest on his chest. Tom shifted, resting his arms against the other man as he mumbled again, “I guess you’re alright.” Tord smiled to himself and moved his hand up to pet Tom’s hair, listening to his breathing even out as he finally fell asleep.