Archive of Our Own

Well. This wasn’t how Tord anticipated he’d wind up back at home.

It had been nearly ten years since he’d moved out to fully focus on his plan of world conquest with Paul and Patryck. Of course, he told his friends something along the lines of “trying to make a name for himself” that would only vaguely hint at his true motives, but no one could be bothered enough to stop him. Tord and his new friends were doing great in the first few years, mostly collecting resources and building up public tension. They were making themselves known, even if little by little.

But then they found each other on wanted posters all over Britain and knew they had to get out of country fast. It was amazing publicity, that was the most they were ever recognised, and sure, they had weapons and nuclear waste, but if the whole government were to tackle them, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves. They had to lay low somewhere safe for the time being.

And since all three had destroyed all their documents for the sake of completely erasing their past lives, they would have trouble sneaking out of the UK, let alone doing it somewhat legally. However, Tord got struck by a genius idea: he remembered he stored some blueprints for a giant robot at his old place, and, as far as he remembered, had even built a pretty close physical model back in the day. While yes, all three had agreed on never going back to what they once were, that was an emergency. They wouldn’t be able to last even a few months otherwise.

So, Tord, Paul and Patryck created a plan: Tord would go back to the house, giving updates to Paul and Patryck through a microphone and an earpiece, gather up all the necessary stuff he had back there, shove it down his robot and make a grand escape, picking up Paul and Patryck on the way.

It was foolproof.

First of all, it wouldn’t require any fake documents. Of course, the trio was capable of printing an official paper redacted in Photoshop, how else would they get their hands on those sweet barrels? But good God, was forging passports a migraine. The three once tried to get themselves new passports after burning their previous ones, but they only managed to make a single one for Patryck, because that alone took them three whole months. Needless to say, he was the only one travelling, since getting passports for Tord and Paul would not be worth the trouble.

Second of all, it would be an incredible publicity stunt. The Red Army was still relatively small, and while was seen as something of a local gang in pretty much every corner of UK, it wasn’t a worldwide, international political issue. And that was exactly what the three strived for. Seeing a giant red robot fly over the entire island would surely cause enormous headlines and get other countries involved.

The plan was great. It was fast, loud and would look like something straight out of an action movie.

Surely it was foolproof?

"Tord? Tord, do you read me?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m here…"

…It really wasn’t.

Tord would never say it out loud, but he was absolutely terrified of returning to his past friends. Of finding out how they had been. Of missing them. Tord had told himself many times that he didn’t need anyone, that he could kill someone he loved for his selfish needs, that he wasn’t growing “fond” of anyone anymore, that he grew out of that. But he wasn’t any of those things. He missed Matt, he missed Tom, he missed Edd- God, he missed Edd so much.

Edd hadn’t written to him once. Tord told him not to, so he didn’t. But Tord really, extremely, horrifically missed Edd. He was on the verge of buying a plane ticket back to his home, all because of how much he longed for him. But Paul and Patryck anchored him to stay. Tord remembered crying in the bathroom almost every single night from how much he missed him and from how he couldn’t even do anything about it.

And there Tord was, on Edd’s doorstep. About to flip his world upside down. Again. But even worse this time.

What was he supposed to say? Sure, he texted Edd a few weeks ago to let him know he’d be coming back, but they hadn’t seen each other’s faces, hadn’t heard each other’s voices, hadn’t felt each other’s touch in years. Tord was sweating bullets and his teeth nearly clattered against each other from the anxiety. What if Edd had changed? What if he wouldn’t like Tord as much as he did back then? It was supposed to make things easier if he wouldn’t, then he wouldn’t try to keep Tord to stay for “a little longer”.

But Tord… really missed Edd. He couldn’t stand it.

"Hey, it’s alright. You can do this." Patryck encouraged Tord into his earpiece.

"I’m okay. Just… waiting for the right moment." Tord brushed the affirmation away, hoping it would calm him. It didn’t.

A few silent seconds passed. Tord glanced behind his shoulder. Not a soul in the whole neighborhood. Out there alone, everything had changed so much. And the house had got a second floor, why would that be? Were there more people now? Tord physically cringed from the idea, shivering.

No, he wouldn’t be able to stand the tension any longer. Summoning all the courage he had, Tord rang the doorbell. He heard his heart hammering violently in his chest.

…

A whole minute of waiting passed. No reaction.

"…I… don’t think they’re coming." Paul broke the silence.

Tord’s anxiety was instantly replaced with confusion. It would sure be inconvenient if the guys were out.

"Do you think they’re not home?" Patryck asked.

"No idea, but if they’re not, then that would sure be convenient. Tord, maybe try the back door." Paul said.

"No need. If they’re really not home, then I have just the idea…" Tord prayed that his memory served him right.

He walked up to the nearest window and gently pressed his hands into it. Like magic, it fully opened and the path to the house was clear.

"Woah. How did you know?" Patryck sounded genuinely surprised.

"Matt hates hot air in the house, so leaves the windows open when everyone goes out." Tord simply said, climbing into the window and swiftly closing it behind himself. A little smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth. Why did he remember that? "Breaking into my own house… never thought I’d get around to that."

Tord went quiet as his surroundings settled in.

He could hardly believe his eyes. Nothing had changed, not a bit. Except for the new staircase and an oddly empty living room, there was hardly anything new in the house. The fridge still had the same postcards and magnets slapped on it, the few photo frames that hung on the wall were in exactly the right places, there was the exact same amount of dust on the furniture. Tord felt like he had just opened a time capsule and he couldn’t contain a smile.

It was… nice.

"Where’s your stuff?" Patryck jumped straight back to the point.

"Err… in my room, I think." Tord answered, slowly returning to reality. The whole reason he was there, right.

He hoped that Edd was kind enough not to throw any of his things away. Not only would it partially ruin his plan, but it would also be… somewhat hurtful.

Tord immediately decided Edd would never do that to him and quickly walked up to the familiar door. His. He gently twisted the doorknob and stepped inside…

When his jaw fell slack with shock.

That was not his room.

Disturbed and offended, Tord slowly looked at every little invasive thing in his, rightfully his room, that were all so petty it felt mocking. The walls were a different color. He never picked that carpet. His room was never that dirty and unkept.

Tord‘s body nearly radiated with rage.

Tom.

Of course he’d do that.

Tord had almost forgotten how much he hated Tom and his cockiness. His sheer audacity. Tord had to take a few deep breaths and run his hands through his hair so he wouldn’t lose his shit and take it out on his- Tom’s room. There was still a chance he’d have to sneak out without leaving a trace.

"…Not here." was the only thing Tord managed before storming out of Tom’s room, slamming the door behind him, much harsher than needed.

Already, the visit was somehow going even worse than Tord expected. Growing a bit more nervous, he wondered where his things could had been stored in. He really didn’t like the idea of Edd letting his friends throw everything away, but it was getting progressively more plausible.

Tord glanced at the mysterious stairway leading to the second floor.

"…I’ll check somewhere else." he muttered to his friends.

Almost every step beneath him creaked, as if wishing to build up even more tension, to drive him even closer to his limit. Paul and Patryck’s silence wasn’t helping, Tord felt uncomfortably self-conscious. If they’d thrown his things away, that wasn’t even his house anymore. Nothing except shared memories would link him to that place.

Tord held his forehead. He didn’t want to think about the implications anymore.

When he reached the second floor, he barely saw anything to look at. A few doors, maybe a hung photo frame or two.

What really caught his attention was a lock secured on the door to his left.

If he was slightly irritated before, then he was absolutely furious at that point.

"I think I’ve found it." he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Cool. Grab it and get out of there with your robot then." Paul said. Tord kind of regretted not setting up a camera somewhere on his clothes, since both Paul and Patryck must have been a bit confused with his situation on their end.

"It will take a minute, okay?" he replied, pulling the little lock picking gear he had on himself out of his front hoodie pocket.

Tord always carried that stuff around. Neither he, nor Paul, nor Patryck knew what urged him to bring it along whenever they did as much as go outside, but Tord always had a weird sense of paranoia itching somewhere in the back of his head, like he knew that the exact moment he forgot his gear, it would be absolutely necessary.

What do you know, it actually came in handy after a few years of dragging it along.

Tord knelt down slightly closer to the lock, slowly beginning to pick it, listening in for any movement, gently rotating and turning the little chamber, trying to find the right angle to crack at. He mentally thanked Paul and Patryck for staying quiet for once.

As his hands worked on their own, Tord allowed his mind to wander. If all his things were really in that room, he would be madly pissed. Sure, he’d been away for a long time, but Tord would never do something like that to Edd if he was the one to move out. If the circumstances were different. If Tord wasn’t supposed to forget about him.

Tord’s face twitched. Did Edd want to forget him? Did he want someone to replace him? Was it really all Tord was? Something to have fun with almost all his life and then to just forget like a bad dream? Was it weird to remember Tord? Was it awkward when he was brought up in a casual conversation?

Tord bit the inside of his cheek. He knew it. He knew he couldn’t trust anyone. He knew no one needed him, he knew Edd didn’t care. Tord was right to move on. They hid him behind a locked door like he was an embarrassment.

Fuck Tord, right? It’s not like he would ever show up again. It’s not like Edd and Tord had something. It’s not like Tord hadn’t been able to sleep at night anymore, sobbing from how much he missed Edd. They didn’t need him. He didn’t need them. They didn’t want him. He didn’t want them. They didn’t miss him.

He didn’t miss…

"Who goes there!?"

Tord was pulled out of his thoughts by a voice he knew all too well. In a matter of moments, whatever was once piled up in Tom’s arms was falling to the floor, clanging loudly. Tord cocked his head to the side to look at Tom’s expression. It was absolutely priceless. Tord would’ve burst into laughter from how uncharacteristically shocked Tom looked at that moment, but decided to contain it for now. He would have a great opportunity to laugh evilly to his heart’s content in the next few days.

Then, a painfully familiar head popped out from behind a corner. Tord felt paralyzed for a moment.

Something in his chest ached from seeing the familiar big brown eyes, the soft short hair, even the little corner of that same green hoodie. His fingers twitched, his whole body went rigid, his legs threatened to lose all strength and make him collapse to the floor. He could have fainted from the dizziness. His arms begged to hold Edd there and then.

Tord forced his eyes back at Tom and felt like his vision wasn’t as blurry around the edges anymore. He sighed and got ready to put on an act unlike any other.

He plastered a wide grin on his face and started the show.

"Hello, old friend!"

…

The plan faced some unexpected difficulties.

First of all, in the very first hour Tord spent inside the house, he already managed to end up in an adventure catching-up montage. It wasn’t boring or stressful, on the contrary, Tord had a lot of fun. But he couldn’t help but feel himself losing hours upon hours of precious time. To escape possible judgement from Paul and Patryck, he had to turn his earpiece and microphone off for the majority of the spree, switching to sending quick texts on his flip phone that were something along the lines of “Working on it” and “Busy rn”.

Second of all, Tord found out that his things were not, in fact, stored in the locked room on the second floor. Apparently, that was a giant closet that was made specifically for storing all junk that Matt bought. While it was a disappointment to be back to square one in Tord’s searches, it was also somewhat a relief. He felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders from knowing that. He was supposed to feel anxious and nervous from not knowing where all his world-threatening weapons were, but he was strangely calm. He was even a bit happy.

As if that alone wasn’t derailing the whole plan already, there was a third inconvenience, way worse than the first two.

Tord had really underestimated how much he missed Edd.

Tord clung to him like onto a life-ring in an open sea. He constantly tried to hold Edd’s hand, pat his back, rest his head against his shoulder or even just brush his fingers against the fabric of his hoodie. Tord couldn’t get enough of him. That three-second hug when they saw each other again- that he was absolutely sure was going to be a kiss at first- just didn’t manage to fill the Edd-shaped hole in his chest.

What made matters even worse, Edd felt the same.

Edd made everything about Tord on the day of his arrival. He went out of his way just to let Tord go through everything he’d missed in the last few years, dedicating the entire day to it. And even with how busy he was looking for all the right places, finding the right people, managing all those adventures in one go, Edd always found the time to meddle with Tord in some way: he had their shoulders pressed together, held the back of his head, stroked his knuckles. Neither Tord, nor Edd would be able to count the times they hugged that day.

And that closeness, that intimacy they shared with each other after nearly a decade of no contact scared the living shit out of Tord.

Tord had worked through that. He had spent all that alone time recovering from the softness Edd had inflicted on him. He was supposed to grow numb to it. He was supposed to be able to push Edd away. He was supposed to not care. He was supposed to not need him.

But he kept reaching for his hand. And that hand always held his. And it scared him so much.

After the day ended, a lot of weird things had managed to happen. Tom stormed out of the house and was showing no signs of returning anytime soon, Tord went through possibly the strangest day of his life with that montage. And after all that, the three remaining men in the house decided to just chill out and try to marathon all parts of “vampire zombie pirates from hell” or whatever that failure of a mockbuster was called. It was an oddly normal thing to end such a crazy day with. Then again, when was anything ever normal around there?

By the time they started watching the third part of the film series, Matt had already fallen fast asleep on the brand new sofa with Ringo curled up comfortably in his lap. Some terrified screams tore from the television and a gory scene of another kill was shown on the screen, but all four remained unamused.

Tord stole a glance at his phone. Then looked at Edd, who was more or less invested in the story of the movie and wasn’t paying attention to him. Tord bit down his lip and opened his phone, skimming through the latest messages.

"OK. Write back in an hour." by Paul from four hours ago.

"You good?" by Paul from three hours ago.

"Hello???" by Paul from two hours ago.

"how do we know if you’re dead" by Patryck from two hours ago.

"If you’re actually alive and well you will never hear the end of it." by Paul from an hour ago.

"paul is starting his second pack of cigs. pls write back" by Patryck from twenty minutes ago.

"third*" by Patryck from fifteen minutes ago.

Tord felt a hand press on his free one. The sensation made his breath hitch. He hastily closed the phone and hid it in his front hoodie pocket, turning to Edd and giving him a nervous smile. Edd was grinning at him. Like he always did.

Tord missed that grin more than he would’ve liked.

"Tord?" Edd spoke in a hushed tone, presumably not to wake Matt up. Even though the television was twice as loud. "Can we talk?"

Tord’s heart flinched in his chest and his stomach twisted. He never liked that phrase.

"Sure. What about?" Tord toyed with Edd’s fingers idly, voice much calmer than he himself was.

"Not here." Edd glanced behind himself. "Can we go to my room?"

Tord really didn’t like where that conversation was going. He quickly nodded and forced a relaxed expression onto his face. The two walked out of the living room with their fingers interlocked.

When they reached Edd’s room, the first thing the owner did was lock the door. Tord felt an odd sense of anticipation burn the back of his neck. The action reminded him of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He didn’t know if he was excited or just scared.

Both men sat on the edge of Edd’s bed, staying silent for a minute. Tord held his hands to himself, thoughts going back to Paul and Patryck. He should’ve really written to them earlier. At least just tell them he was okay. What if they were going to drive to the house to check? God, that would be a disaster. Tord already breathed in some air to excuse himself for a bathroom break to tell his friends to stay right where they were, but Edd was quicker, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Like magic, all troubling thoughts had vanished, and suddenly, the only people in the world were Edd and him. Tord looked at him, quiet and dazed. Hypnotised.

"Tord…" Edd started, smile weakening. "I… I should apologise." he shook his head, shoulders rising in mild anxiety.

"Huh?" Tord’s eyebrows flew up. That wasn’t what he was expecting. "Why? For what?"

"You know, for…" Edd looked desperately for the right words, squeezing Tord’s shoulder. "You’ve only just got back. We haven’t seen each other in almost ten years and… there I go, snogging you the first chance I get." he looked away.

It was quiet in the room for a moment. Tord’s throat went dry. He swallowed thickly, unable to tear his gaze away from Edd.

"…I remember how you are with attention and- and with alone time… I haven’t been considerate enough. I’m sorry about…" Edd looked down at his hand holding Tord in place. "…that."

Tord… should have been enraged beyond comprehension.

He should’ve yelled at Edd for how weak he was making him. For how he was keeping him from his big future, his ultimate destination. For how loving he was. For how dependant Tord had grown on Edd because of him.

But instead of any of that, only a quiet mumble got out.

"Edd, I never wanted anything less."

The air in the room went still for a moment.

And then they kissed.

Their lips crashed together, hands clinging to every fold of their clothes, fisting the fabric. Edd licked Tord’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, as if asking for permission to go further. Even after all the things they’ve been through, he didn’t want to accidentally get too caught up in the process and hurt Tord.

Edd was such a sweetheart. Tord missed him.

Tord opened his mouth. Edd held his jaw with both of his hands- that felt a lot bigger than they usually did- to angle Tord just right. Edd trailed every last corner of Tord’s mouth: his whole tongue, both rows of his teeth, every single little spot he had to mark, to reclaim. Tord held his wrists, sitting obediently, letting the occasional whimper slip out, waiting for Edd to be finished with him. Like a dog waiting for orders.

Edd kissed the corner of Tord’s mouth. Then his chin. Then his throat. Tord covered up his mouth in fear of someone hearing him and his pathetic moans. The two collapsed onto the bed. Tord kept pulling on the collar of his hoodie to grant Edd more access, more freedom, more of him. Edd gently bit his neck and Tord arched into him. Edd sucked on his scars and Tord whined.

God, he missed that.

Edd pulled away for a moment to admire his work so far. Tord’s neck was covered in hickeys and bites, sweat was starting to bead up on his forehead, he was gasping for air, staring at Edd looming above him, his the light above carding through his brown hair like he was God. They hadn’t done this for so long.

Tears suddenly welled up in Edd’s eyes. He tried to hide them with the back of his hand, pulling away for a moment, praying that he wouldn’t sob too loudly. His forehead pressed into Tord’s chest. His back twitched.

"I missed you." was the only thing he managed to get out without his voice cracking.

Tord propped himself up on his elbows, fog in his head slowly dissolving. He gently took Edd’s face into his palm, locking their gazes. His thumb brushed a stray tear away.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to say it.

"I love you."

But he did.

In only a few minutes, hoodies, tees, pants and boxers were on the floor, discarded and forgotten. A flip phone was peeking out of a front pocket of a red hoodie. A new text was on its screen.

No one was going to answer it for a long time.

…

You: Hey. Sorry, I was busy

Even at six in the morning, Tord knew perfectly well that the excuse wouldn’t work on his friends, but it was the only choice he had. What else was he supposed to say? “Sorry for not replying when you clearly needed me, I was busy being fucked in the ass by the most beautiful and gorgeous deity to ever grace the face of Earth”? Even though that was sincere, both Paul and Patryck would most likely refuse to consider his personal wants. So he just rolled with the safest option.

Seeing how he wasn’t getting a response anytime soon, Tord tossed his phone onto the nightstand and looked at the ceiling, throwing an arm over his face, sighing deeply. His whole body was filled with pleasant aching. Like he was sore after a busy day of exercising, but… better. He softly brushed over the marks on his neck, on his wrists, somewhere on his abdomen. Tord shivered from the idea of not being able to sit properly in the next few days. He missed that.

He rolled over to look at Edd. He was sleeping peacefully, snoring a bit, holding onto Tord’s arm like it was a plush toy. He was slightly hunched, back peeking out from below the covers, pink trails of scratch marks just barely out of view. Tord couldn’t contain a smile. He was so scared he would find out that the whole night had been some kind of sick joke of a dream and he would never be able to fall asleep again.

But there he was. Lying in bed with Edd. After all that time, they were together like nothing happened.

Tord planted a chaste kiss on Edd’s forehead, light enough to not wake him up.

The phone’s screen lit up and Tord’s smile disappeared. Well, there went his good mood. He carefully pulled his arm out of Edd’s embrace and turned over to reach for his phone, afraid to even wonder what might’ve been written there.

Paul: I swear to God, this better be a fucking joke.

He quickly typed out an answer, not wishing to find out what would happen if he didn’t.

You: I know. Sorry

Paul: You will NOT just sorry your way out of this. We thought you died or something.

You: I know

Paul: If you knew, why didn’t you write???

Tord glanced at Edd.

You: I was busy

You: I said I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it up to you two

Patryck: you kind of only have to make it up to paul. he was the one worried

You: I’ll make it up to Paul specifically

You: McDonald’s?

Paul: I hate you both so much.

The dead silence in Edd’s room was getting progressively more awkward.

Patryck: ok

Patryck: any progress on the plan?

Tord bit down his lip.

He was… getting a lot of second thoughts on the plan.

Edd would be devastated. It was only at that moment that Tord had fully realised that. He made possibly the gravest mistake of his life by underestimating how much Edd actually missed him. How much he wanted him back. How much he was willing to give for him to stay. Edd watched Tom, one of his best friends, storm out of the house and not return by the evening, and he still decided to entertain Tord the best way he could. To spend some more time with him. That was how much he missed him.

What would he do if he found out what Tord really was? Would he grow miserable? Would he be mad at him? Scared of him? Or just… disappointed?

And what would he do if Tord left again?

…

Tord closed the phone for a moment, biting into his knuckles. This was bad. Horrible. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. He somehow ended up in a lose-lose situation. On one hand, he was afraid of breaking Edd’s heart. He knew that if he did so, Tord would end up spiralling into another depression, and he just wouldn’t have any time for that. On the other hand, he had worked so hard on everything he and his friends did up until that point. They destroyed their documents, they appeared on the news, they were being searched for in the entire country, they had weapons and nuclear waste. There was no going back. Plus, Paul and Patryck were like a family to Tord. He had no idea how to tell them. And as far as he was concerned, Edd hadn’t changed. He still didn’t like Tord’s idea of conquering the world, of making themselves known.

What was he supposed to do in that situation?

…

You: Working on it

Tord shut his phone and curled into a ball next to Edd, holding his hand.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore.

…

Later.

He… was going to decide later.

…

But Tord already knew what he had to do.

You: I know where my stuff is. Get ready to set out today