Patryk stood outside, hands behind his back, guarding the door, taking out his phone and checking the time. 5:09PM. He turned it back off, turning around and heading inside, closing the door behind him, making sure it locked, glancing over at Paul, who was flipping a blowtorch in his hand. Patryk's eyes instantly locked onto it. "Hey." "Hey, Pat!" Paul smirked, his voice cheerful, putting the blowtorch on a table. Patryk watched the blowtorch like it was an active grenade, before looking back at Paul. "What were you doing with that?" "Work." "Okay, what type of work?" "Just work that needed a bit more of a flame." Paul said calmly, turning around and walking off. Patryk didn't hesitate, moving forward quickly, grabbing Paul by his shoulder, stopping him before he could leave the situation. "No, that doesn't answer my question, Paul." Patryk said, glancing at the blowtorch again as if it was going to grow legs and walk away. "What could we possibly do here that needs fire included that you deal with since /you're/ usually around Tord all da-" He stopped, grabbing Paul by his other shoulder and pulling him closer to him. "Paul. Where's Tord at." Paul's smile faded. "He's fine." Patryk's heart dropped as he stared at Paul, a smile slowly showing up on his face. But it wasn't out of happiness. "Excuse me?" "I said, he's fine." "Okay, that's great and all, but why'd you answer with that? That doesn't help with anything. That doesn't /answer/ anything, Paul." "Well, how about you go check on him?" Patryk opened his mouth, getting closer to Paul's face, about to say something, but closing his mouth, sighing, chuckling in annoyance, letting go of Paul's shoulders. "Okay. I will...gladly do that! But I don't know where he is." He hummed, smiling forcefully. Paul just grinned in return. "He's in his room." He said, before turning around and walking off. Patryk stood there, watching Paul go, his eye twitching. He exhaled slowly, turning on his heel and quickly walking through the hallways. Soldiers turned their head and stared at him with confusion. Patryk just ignored them, walking faster. He soon neared the door to Tord's room, sighing, knocking with his knuckle. "Sir? Sir, it's Patryk. Can I come in?" Silence. Patryk clenched his jaw tightly. "Sir?" The silence continued. It was deafening. Stressful. Worrying. Concerning. But Patryk didn't just want to barge in. It was wrong. But what could Tord be doing in there? He swallowed down the nervousness, knocking on the door a third time. "Sir. It's just Patryk." He hummed quietly, putting his hand on the knob. "I'm going to enter. I just want to see how you're doing, sir." He said, before turning the knob and walking in. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Tord didn't seem anywhere close to his bed or the door, not even near his desk. Patryk glanced over towards the windows, narrowing his eyes. Did Paul lie to his face and say Tord was in his room? Is Paul seriously that desperate to be alone with Tord? God, he's pathetic. Patryk's eyes locked onto the bathroom door. It was closed, but there was a light dimly showing underneath the crack in the door. He instantly walked over to it, placing his hand on the knob, but stopping himself, and knocking. "Sir?" He stared at the door in silence for a few seconds. "Just a second!" Tord hummed from inside, his voice full of cheer. Patryk lifted a brow. What does Tord have to be so happy about? Nothing, really. Patryk swallowed down a question and just moved his hand off the knob, standing straight, his hands behind his back. He didn't want Tord to feel rushed or anything. 'What am I doing, worrying about him? It's obvious he didn't want my concern. It's obvious he didn't want my help. He can deal with this alone. He's the leader.' Though, he didn't move. What was he doing still standing here? What was stopping him from leaving right now? ... Patryk turned around, keeping his hands behind his back and walking off, staring at the ground, leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Whatever Tord was doing in there, that was his business. Patryk didn't have anything to do with it. If he did, Tord would've called him. Would've given him instructions. So Patryk's not going to dig into things that he shouldn't worry himself with. He's not going to be nosy. 'Just forget it.' He told himself. 'It's better to mind your own business so that you don't get in trouble later.' He walked back down the hallway, instantly looking at Paul, who was walking slower, smiling. "And what are /you/ going to see him for?" Patryk demanded, before pausing, shaking his head, raising his hands. "You know what? Nevermind. Go ahead. I don't care." He said, continuing to walk his own way. Paul watched Patryk go, grinning more, before turning his head and continuing to make his way down the hallway, walking into Tord's room without knocking, humming quietly, looking around, glancing at the bathroom, walking over to it, placing his hand on the knob.
(continued) He hesitated for a half second, before smiling more, opening the door. His smile instantly dropped. "Tord?" Tord was hovering over the sink, water running quietly, not looking up into the mirror, but Paul saw it. The glass shards. The bIood dripping into the sink. For once, looking at Tord, Paul didn't feel happy. Didn't get any ideas, any plans. Just stared at him quietly, before swallowing the lump in his throat down, smiling and taking a step closer to Tord. "Hello, there." Tord tensed, splashing his face, slowly grabbing a shard. Paul tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms. "Something bothering you, hmm?" He hummed, his voice almost a purr, leaning closer to Tord, who just gripped the shard tighter, before sighing, dropping it, grabbing a soft towel and wiping his face, pushing past Paul. Paul's smile faded, watching Tord. He's covering his face. .... Paul thought back to the blowtorch, his eyebrow furrowing slightly. It wasn't that bad. Paul made sure of that. 'He needs to stop being so over-dramatic.' Being a damn baby for no reason. It wasn't that bad. It's not that serious. Nothing that Tord hasn't gone through before. It was just a bit of fire. Hell, Paul could've made it much worse if he had wanted to. But he didn't. Because he's kind. Because he didn't want Tord to ache, to cry. He just needed one thing from Tord. And now that he's got it, it'd be perfect. Tord sat down at his table, taking out a few red robot parts, starting to invent. "I'll take my leave." Paul said calmly, dipping his head with a grin, before turning and walking off. Tord looked up for a single second, adjusting the towel to just press against the right side of his face, before looking back down at his desk, sighing, muttering quietly. Patryk noticed Paul leaving the room, leaning on the wall. He stayed in there longer. Surely Tord was good now? ... Nope. He didn't care. He turned his head away from Paul, avoiding eye contact, pushing himself off the wall and walking off. It didn't matter what Tord and Paul talked about. What they did. Paul's the second in command. He's helping with work. And if he's not? Well, Patryk doesn't have anything to do with that, does he? It's not his business to care. But why did he...still feel so concerned for Tord...? Why did he still feel like- The hallways seemed to hold their breath for a second. "...Paul." Patryk slowly muttered, turning his head slightly to glare at Paul, who was following him, he lifted a brow. "Pat." He hummed in return, keeping his voice calm. Patryk just glared at Paul for a few seconds, before exhaling slowly through gritted teeth, trying to keep calm. Paul stared at him for a few more seconds before chuckling. "What? What is it?" Patryk just stood there for a few minutes before shaking his head. He didn't have anything on Paul. Though this hatred for him, and growing fear for Tord was just going to keep getting worse until he figured out what was going on. But he didn't have enough time for this. And he shouldn't care about this. That's obvious. Paul blinked, then smiled, turning a turn, leaving Patryk alone in the dark hallway. Patryk sighed, turning around and continuing to walk. It doesn't get much worse than this. It can't. Solskinn, dette speilet er allerede knust, tiden er ute. Det er for sent å vende tilbake til mørket, ettersom spotlightene skinner sterkt på deg. Tiden er ute. Tiden er ute. Tiden er ute. Tiden er ute. Nestkommanderende kan oppføre seg som en leder, men det er mye mer ved det enn som så. Det er mye mer ved det enn som så, noe du aldri, aldri vil forstå. Han er ikke bekymret for deg. Han kunne aldri være det. Men det er heller ikke kjærlighet.
