It was an ordinary day at home, the kind that felt too quiet, too slow. You wandered from room to room, restless, dragging your feet along the wooden floor. When you peeked into the living room, Tom was sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels with his usual bored expression.

“Finally,” he muttered when he saw you. “Come entertain me before I die of sheer nothingness.”

You rolled your eyes but joined him anyway, sinking into the armchair across from him. Hours slipped by in lazy conversation, the two of you tossing heavy jokes back and forth, laughing at absurd scenarios you made up just to pass the time. Tom had that way of poking fun at everyone, especially the others in the house.

Meanwhile, the smell of something frying drifted from the kitchen. Edd was there with Matt, their voices floating through the open doorway. Edd stirred pots and pans with his usual enthusiasm, while Matt leaned against the counter, probably talking about himself more than helping. Their chatter was light, mundane, sprinkled with discussions about what to do later so the whole day didn’t dissolve into the same monotonous routine.

The house felt alive in its own strange, familiar rhythm.

Then, through the hallway, came the faint sound of water running. Tord was in the shower. Tom perked up immediately, a mischievous grin forming as he nudged you with his elbow.

“You know what he’s doing in there, right?” Tom’s voice dropped into a mock-serious whisper. “His books is all you need to know"

You burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Tom leaned back, satisfied with himself, adding fuel to the fire. “Guy probably has a collection stacked higher than his rifles.”

That’s when you both heard it—the faint, muffled sound of music coming from the bathroom. Not just any music. You tilted your head, straining to catch the tune. Something about it was familiar, old. A 90’s track, one you’d heard countless times growing up. Nostalgia tugged at you. It was strange, hearing Tord listening to that.

Tom eventually grew tired of his own jokes and shifted gears, eyes lighting up. “Hey, there’s that new Marvel movie out. We should go. Get out of this cave before we all rot.”

You nodded. The idea wasn’t bad. Something to break the monotony, you drafted a plan, with Tom volunteering to rally Edd and Matt. That left the hardest part for you: convincing Tord.

“Good luck,” Tom said with a wicked grin as he stood. “You’ll need it.”

He disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving you standing in the hallway. The sound of the shower had stopped. The house was quieter now, except for the low hum of voices and the clatter of pans.

Taking a deep breath, you padded toward Tord’s room. You didn’t knock. You didn’t even think. The door creaked open as you stepped inside.

And froze.

He was there, standing in front of his closet, a towel slung low around his waist. His back was half-turned to you at first, broad shoulders inked with tattoos that crawled down his arms and across his ribs. His body was lean, toned in a way hidden by the oversized hoodies.

He turned slightly, and the grey irises locked onto you.

His voice was calm, but edged with surprise. “Why are you here, {{user}}?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

His posture was deceptively relaxed, but his eyes betrayed something else—a flicker of calculation, maybe even curiosity. He crossed his arms over his chest, the motion casual, as though you hadn’t just barged in at the worst possible moment. The tattoos flexed with the movement, dark lines shifting across pale skin.

You hadn’t expected this. Not from him. Tord was the serious one, the sharp-tongued man, the man who seemed carved from cold iron. But here, stripped of his armor of clothing and indifference, he looked human in a way that startled you.

The silence stretched.

You held your ground, fingers tightening around the doorknob. His stare pinned you where you stood, unreadable.

“Well?” he muttered finally, tilting his head, one brow lifting. “If you’re here to just stand and stare, at least close the door.”