Cat Eyes || Tomtord

Tired

Tord glared at his lover, as if asking about his mental state was a felony. "I told you, I'm fine," he said more harshly than he wanted to.

Tom frowned and said, "No, Tord. I don't think you are fine." His expression softened. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"It's nothing, I'm just being dumb."

"Dumb about what?"

Tord's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. He clenched his jaw and tried to keep the words down. He wanted to tell his lover. He wanted to but he didn't at the same time. He swallowed his words and instead said, "Nothing."

Tom huffed and turned to look at the passing scenery, cross with the Norwegian boy. He was quite lost in the blur of traffic and buildings until something caught his mechanical eyes. A wanted poster. Not only that but a wanted poster of Tord. It was the same poster as before.

He reminisced about the last time he had seen that poster. The house was destroyed only a few moments later and after that came his death. But now he wanted to stop and tear the poster apart instead of giving it to the police with Tord in tow.

"Park the car," Tom demanded. The communist looked confusedly at his partner before turning and stopping on the side of the road.

Tom hopped out of the car and walked over to the poster. He tore it off and went back over to his boy. "I didn't think they'd still be looking for you," he remarked.

"Oh, yeah, I guess," Tord shrugged, getting more boring and monotone with each syllable. He looked at his old cocky self with that gun in his hand and shook his head, think about how he used to like those bloody scenes and desperate screams.

Tom saw that there was something clearly wrong. He stared into his lover's eyes for a second before the commie looked away.

"Thomas..." Tord said gloomily. "I'm sorry."

The brit was going to say something about how much he hated his first name but stopped himself as he heard the rest. He wrapped his arms around the boy beside him and cooed out, "It's okay. Can you tell me what's wrong now?"

"I'm thinking about turning myself in," Tord said simply in a monotone voice, that being the only way he could say it without bursting out in tears.

Tom was shocked. "What...?"

"I'm tired, Tom. Tired of being on the run. Running from the law, running from my army. But I'm too tired to run into things either, and running into things is all I knew how to do back then but I'm tired of it, and... and..." Tord broke off into tears. He pressed his face into his boyfriend's neck and sobbed.

"Tord, you don't have to do that. If we were going to get caught we would have already. You don't have to do that," he replied. Tord's words had awakened a spark of fear. Fear that Tord, the man he loved, would go to jail or worse. No, jail wasn't even a possibility; he'd be on death row in two seconds flat.

"Thomas..." the Norwegian spoke. "Please understand. I can just go to prison, spend my time, and then come out and we can be happier. I won't be feeling guilty anymore."

Tom gritted his teeth. "Can't you see, Tord!?" he spat. "They'll kill you! Or at least sentence you for life, then we won't see each other ever again." He broke off into a sob and together they cried like two sad souls. "I can't live without you."

A pause, before Tord spoke again. "Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. The guilt is-" A lump formed in his throat, forbidding him to speak, and sent rolling teardrops down his face. He pushed past the boulder that was seemingly lodged in his throat and whimpered, "It's tearing me apart."

Tom kissed his boyfriend on the forehead, and then on his lips. "I love you. And that guilt? That guilt you feel can go fuck itself. You quit, you stopped leading the army. You left them. They're done. Now we move on, Tord. We move on together."

Tord looked into Tom's digital eyes. He kissed his boy and smiled, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, love. It's okay," Tom reassured, half to Tord, half to himself.

Tord nodded and started the car.

Through the next days, Tom kept his eyes glued to the Norwegian. One look away could result in Tord running off to the police, yelling, "I'm the red leader! Come and get me!" It was worth it, the constant watching of the commie, to know that he was safe.

As the days swept past, Tord seemed happier. Seemed. He acted fine, although he was suffering a painful stress on the inside. He didn't want Tom to worry on their last days together.

Of course he noticed that Tom wouldn't leave his side. He'd grown bags under his eyes from staying up watching him; watching him sleep. He was too smart to ignore the fact that Tord would plan on leaving at night. Coffee would sustain him during the day but of course, one faithful night, he just had to fall asleep a little too early.

The brit not sleeping for so long had made the sleep that he did get force him down into dreamland, never to be disturbed until his body decided it was ready. Tord took that to his advantage.

At first he thought, Was today the best last day ever to have with my beloved? He decided that yes, it was enough. He would never leave on a bad day, that would end up hurting Tom more than it should. He might have thought that it was his fault for Tord turning himself in.

The Norwegian turned away from the sleeping boy and picked up a piece of lined paper from the nearby desk. He began writing his lover a note. It was almost like a suicide note, as he might be executed for his crimes. He was hoping to give the brit some peace of mind.

He gave one last kiss to his boyfriend before opening the door and walking out into the night.