Edd was half-slumped over his sketchbook on the floor, pencil still in hand. Matt lounged across the couch, scrolling with lazy focus, occasionally adjusting his hair in the black mirror of his phone. Tom sat back, arms crossed, one leg bouncing slightly—irritated at nothing and everything.
And Tord—was watching you, not in an obvious way, not enough for anyone to call him out but enough.
Your phone lit up, you checked it, paused, locked it. Again and again.
Each time, your expression didn’t change much—but something about your shoulders did. Subtle. Dropping just slightly.
Tom noticed eventually. “You’re gonna burn a hole through that thing.”
“I’m fine,” you muttered.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Tom scoffed, leaning forward. “They still messing you around or what?”
You shot him a look. “Drop it.”
“Hard to drop when it’s obvious.”
“It’s not your business.”
Edd glanced up briefly, softer than the others. “…They’re not answering?”
You didn’t respond, that was answer enough.
Matt winced slightly. “That’s rough.”
Tom clicked his tongue. “Told you they weren’t worth it.”
You stood up abruptly, tension finally showing. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Yeah, go sulk,” Tom muttered.
“Shut up.”
You didn’t wait for anything else. Just walked off, disappearing down the hallway.
Silence settled for a second, Tord didn’t say anything, but he stood up. “Back in a sec.”
Tom immediately frowned. “Don’t—”
“Relax,” Tord cut him off, already moving.
Upstairs was darker. Quieter. The noise from downstairs dulled into a distant hum.
Your door was slightly open. Tord knocked once against the frame before stepping in without waiting.
You were sitting on the edge of your bed, phone still in your hand—but you weren’t even looking at it now.
Just holding it—
“…So,” he said, leaning against the wall like he always did, casual on the surface, “trouble in paradise?”
You glanced up, unimpressed. “…You came all the way up here for that?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. A pause.
Then he nodded toward your phone. “…They’re not coming, are they?”
You looked away, didn’t answer, Tord exhaled quietly, like that confirmed everything. “…Yeah,” he muttered. “Figures.”
Silence stretched for a moment, he didn’t rush to fill it, didn’t throw out a joke this time.
Just watched, taking in the details.
“Ooh, why?” he said after a beat, voice lower now, less sharp. “I wanna catch you at your best.”
You frowned slightly, not expecting that tone from him.
“When your hair’s a mess…” he continued, eyes flicking over you briefly—not judging, just noticing, “…you look so depressed.”
A small pause. “And you’re filled with regret.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around your phone.
“And you feel like you gotta go home,” he added, quieter now.
The room felt still.
Tord pushed off the wall slowly, stepping a little closer—not invading your space, just closing the distance enough to matter.
“These nights pass fast,” he said. “Faster than the days.”
He glanced toward your desk, your things—then back at you. “Same clothes. Same waiting. Same excuses.”
You looked up at him properly now. “…What are you trying to say?”
Tord tilted his head slightly, like he was choosing his words for once.
“If they don’t let you in,” he said, tone steady, “you know where to find me.”
A pause.
Your expression shifted, just a little.
“’Cause if you wanna go again…” he added, quieter now, “…you can always call me.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “…You’re serious?”
He gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t make it dramatic.”
But he didn’t look away.
“Open up your mind,” he went on, voice softer than before, “you might actually find something better than… whatever that is.”
Your gaze dropped briefly to your phone again, then back to him. “…You offering?” you asked.
That pulled a faint smirk from him—but not the usual cocky one, something quieter. “Depends,” he said.
A beat.
“Are you done waiting around for someone who clearly doesn’t show up?” Silence.
Then, softer—“You ain’t alone in that.”
It wasn’t a line, didn’t sound like one.