Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Oh, boi

A tight, niggling pressure swelled up in his suddenly dry throat, high and tight, slowly unfurling in a vicious attempt to choke. Pulse throbbing in the visible bulging vein in his neck, it fluttered maddeningly fast, mimicking the harsh frenzied motions of a hummingbirds wings. Sweat circled his skin, anxiously cold and prickly numb- goosebumps swallowed up his flesh, every inch high on alert, the distinct echoing scrape of imaginary claws grinding against the side of his skull.

Oh boy, here we go.

Despairingly willing on his own suffering, Tom doubled down, gritting his teeth with a harsh clack as his messy, turbulent thoughts magnified. Delving within the deep, lurking corners of his brain, and gingerly leafing through the dusty deserted vanilla envelope of repressed feelings and ingrained destructive behaviours.

Surprisingly, it was quite easy to find; he had helpfully filed it away under, "Oh bitch, no."

Being loved by another person, honestly and purely- filled with the whimsical heart flutterings and stomach butterflies that he grew up to idolise as something so far out of his reach, something that he didn't deserve and would never achieve- was such an alien concept to him. Love and kindness were reserved for humans- the rest of the population that was placed upon a pedestal, so far high up above him, out of reach and past his league; the people that had the right to cast judgement upon him for being the numb, disgusting ball of slime everyone knew he was.

He wants to be happy.

But happiness was for the people that felt things, that didn't feel numb from the inside out, that didn't chug down litres of vodka like tap water.

Connections with others were always hard for him to construct, an obvious outsider looking in on the action, desperately wishing to be a part of something that he truly didn't understand. Affection was foreign and hard-earned- acting on instinct a dangerous path to follow.

He wants to be happy with Tord.

"I want you- and you may think that I don't know what love is but I'm trying; I'm trying for you."

Tord, hurt and hesitant- every instinct screaming in a bloody cacophony of warning, senses scampering for him to jerk away from the foaming, rabid monster that ruined his life- reaching out with his only remaining hand, fingers curled invitingly. Blind trust and watery affection reflecting back in the lifeless grey gaze, a willingness to try again despite the crushing fear that wracked his body.

"I want you to show me how."

How? How could he possibly do such a thing?

Snarling at the words, he pawed savagely at the pounding side of his temples, hot trails of tears seeping out of the corner of his clenched lids, trickling sluggishly down his cheeks in a heated rush of denial.

Why? What was the point? What did Tord think he would get out of any of this? A weapon? An ally? A warm hole to fuck?

Well, he got his wish.

Heavily disfigured, the leader stood with half of a destroyed army base, a rapidly dwindling medical supply, a half-abandoned plan, a rapidly declining amount of precious time, and a group of irate soldiers that were itching to either castrate or experiment on his lovable monster maid.