Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Immovable force meets an unstoppable object

Calling...
Commie Bastard👹🤬

Ten minutes had agonisingly crawled by, the cracked, oily screen of his phone shoved determinately against his sweat circled skin. When the choppy message of Tord's voicemail began to leak out of his speakers, he tutted mutely, hung up and tried again.

"Here comes the beep: you know what to do~"

BEEP

Pressing the dial button, Tom huffed impatiently under his breath, listening to the monotone beeping that squawked irritatingly in his ear. He bit at the excess flesh of his thumb, jiggling his leg up and down from nerves.

At the back of his mind, beneath the panic, fear and rapidly building aggravation, he could have sworn he heard a little voice, desperately scrabbling at the edge of his subconscious. It whispered lowly, clearly distressed; chanting that he probably looked like the most clingy boyfriend to ever exist.

He told the voice to go fuck itself.

Tord wasn't even his boyfriend.

Yet.

Mouth going dry, he swallowed roughly, churning his parched throat, hoping to get it working again. A ball of tight pressure had lodged itself snuggly inside of his oesophagus, making it near impossible to talk. Coughing slightly, he tried to clear away the discomfort, only vaguely aware that Tord's gravelly had started speaking to him down the phone.

Of course, the bastard would pick up at the exact moment he decided to choke.

It was also nice to know that, despite everything, he was still deathly allergic to commitment.

Character development took time, he guessed.

"What?"

His voice sounded strained and tired; bubbling with an exhausted annoyance that he came to know a little bit too well over the years.

"Tord, it's time I cashed in that 'IOU'." He whispered, licking his lips nervously- obsessively conscious of the amount of noise that he had been making.

Really, he would make such a shit spy.

A cracked growl vibrated through the line, "Now really isn't the time, Thomas."

"No, I mean- I need your help." He croaked back, unyielding, "I've found a message that was sent by a higher up- they're planning to kidnap me."

A stony, tense silence cut through the atmosphere. It was thick and tight, as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room.

Tom gripped the phone tighter, knuckles whitening as the force. Trembling, his pulse thudded loudly behind his ears, "Tord, please."

An odd noise erupted from the speaker- it seemed like a strange mix between breath hitching and a low, muttered whimper.

Finally; "Are you alright? What is your current situation? What do you want me to do?"

Shuddering, Tom squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that for once, his brain would actually work, "I'm fine. For now. I'm hiding in the changing room- I need you to pick me up. Employee exit is through the back and I really don't trust it."