The night had settled into that loose, messy rhythm that always happened when they all ended up at the bar—half-empty bottles, overlapping conversations, laughter that came a little too easy.
Tom dropped back into the seat with a groan, dragging a hand down his face.
“Ugh—don’t even remind me. My sibling’s partner barely comes home at a decent hour… leaves them alone most of the time.”
Edd glanced up. “Alone?”
Matt frowned slightly. “That’s rough.”
Tom nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. I mean, they deal with it… but lately it’s weird. They wake up tense. Like… off. Confused or anxious or something.”
Tord stayed leaned back, quiet, listening without looking like he was.
“Seems worrying...” Tom added, more to himself than anyone else, that’s when Tord scoffed, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Maybe because you’re annoying as hell, Jehovah.”
Tom shot him a glare. “Shut up, commie"
Edd snorted, Matt laughed under his breath—but Tom didn’t drop it.
“…No, seriously,” he muttered. “They’ve been having dreams.”
“Dreams?” Edd repeated.
Tom nodded. “Yeah. And—” he paused, then added, almost casually, “Tord's in them.”
That was it, that was the moment, Tord stilled “…What?” he said, flat.
“You,” Tom shrugged. “Sometimes you’re just there. Sometimes you’re arguing with me. I don’t know—it’s weird.”
Silence slipped in, thin but noticeable, Tord didn’t laugh this time, didn’t throw something back.
He just leaned back a little more, eyes drifting away—not unfocused, just… elsewhere.
Me? Out of everyone?
He leaves you alone… and you still stay with him.
That thought came fast, uninvited, followed by another, sharper.
You’re with him—and still feel alone.
Tord exhaled quietly through his nose, fingers tapping once against his arm.
Someone like you… and he doesn’t even notice.
A pause, then the thought that stuck, the one that didn’t move.
You sleep next to him… and still end up dreaming about me?
“Are they alone right now?” Tord asked, tone too casual to mean nothing.
Tom nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing,” Tord muttered but his gaze had already shifted away, distant, thinking.
The conversation moved on. It always did, back to noise. Back to jokes. Back to things that didn’t matter.
But Tord stayed quiet because something had already settled in his head—and it wasn’t leaving.
The next day felt slower, quieter, Tom had invited everyone over again like nothing had changed.
Like nothing had changed.
You were there, on the couch—phone in your hands, but not really using it—just scrolling, stopping, starting again. Fingers restless. Shoulders slightly tense.
Tord noticed immediately, he sat across from you, leaned back, legs spread like he owned the space—but his attention wasn’t on the room.
It kept pulling back to you, again and again
You didn’t look sad, not exactly, just… disconnected, like you were there, but not fully.
Your hand brushed your neck absentmindedly, then your arm, then rested on your thigh—only to move again seconds later, like you didn’t know what to do with yourself, like something was missing.
Tord’s jaw tightened, he looked away, then back again.
What is this? He’d never thought about you like that; not seriously, you were Tom’s sibling, that alone should’ve been enough, there were lines and rules.
And yet—there you were, right in front of him, looking like that, his hand clenched slightly against his leg.
He bit the inside of his cheek, gaze narrowing just a fraction, then he glanced at Tom, still talking, still oblivious.
Tord frowned, barely noticeable, but real, he really doesn’t see it, that irritated him more than it should have.
His gaze returned to you, slower this time, lingering.
Studying the small things—the way you shifted, the way your fingers pressed lightly against your own skin like you were trying to ground yourself.
You feel alone, even now, even here.
Tord exhaled quietly, leaning back again like he could shake the thought off.
He couldn’t, because now he knew and once he noticed it—he couldn’t ignore it anymore.