The noise was loud, sudden. Unexpectedly. It was like static. But it sounded like fire. It was loud. So loud. Too loud. /Tord, Tord, Tord--/ It wasn't silent anymore. It hurt. The entire thing hurt. /Tord, Tord, Tord-/ Screaming. Laughing. Pointing. Sneering. Everybody. He's weak. He's pathetic. They know. They all know. They /knew./ They were just waiting to /see/ something. To hear something. Looking for something to call out. The fire, the thing that burns. It's starting to reach out again and again until he's fully-- "Leader." Tom had reached out, his hand on Tord's shoulder. Tord didn't answer, not at first, anyway. He just hesitantly glanced at Tom, backing away from Tom's hold. His former friend stared at him blankly, still smiling. But that tone-- that tone held concern. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real. He swallowed, his chest feeling tighter than usual, glancing at Tom, noticing Paul and Patryk had entered. Paul kept his gaze on Tord, while Patryk hesitantly looked back and forth from the leader and Tom. Both soldiers kept their hands behind their backs. Tord's heart dropped. When did they-- "I let them in, sir." Tom said, seeming to see the confusion and panic in his expression. Patryk opened his mouth to say something, but shut it instantly, looking at the ground. Paul just glanced at Tom for a split second before returning his gaze to Tord, smiling softly. Tord stared at them for a second, swallowing, glancing at Tom. "I-- appreciate that..but why'd you let them in without, waiting for me to say to let them in?" Paul took a step forward, smiling. "Sir, Tom here knows that we're the higher ups. We don't have to wait for you to say anything to enter, really." "Paul, he wasn't asking us..." Patryk muttered quietly, trying to get Paul to shut up. Tord glanced over at Paul and Patryk again, staring at them as they exchanged a look, about to start arguing, but Paul cleared his throat, staring at Tord. "I can answer the question if I know what the answer is." He hummed, dipping his head down to Tord for a second. Patryk rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. Tom stayed silent, staring at Tord. Tord glanced at Tom for a split second, then cleared his throat, looking down. "Well, I-- Patryk..?" He said, looking over at the soldier, who instantly looked at him. "Yes sir?" "Tom--...wants to join the Army. So that I can get back to..my work, I want you to go outside with him. Train him, or...something." Tord said, mentioning to Tom, who blinked once, just once, before bowing down, turning around and walking over to Patryk. Patryk stared at Tord for a few minutes, his gaze softening with worry, before he cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Come on, Tom." He said, turning around and walking off. Tom followed without a complaint, leaving the room silent. But the silence was louder than anybody yelling could be. /Tord--/ Why was his head pounding so much /now/? Why was it so much worse than every other time it had started aching? He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry. To look for comfort. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Paul's sudden voice made Tord flinch, his body instantly tensing up, looking at his second in command. 'I forgot you were here.' He bit back the words. Paul smiled softly, taking a step forward. "I have work to do, Paul. I just wanted them out of my room to do it so they don't distract me." "Right..." Paul hummed, keeping his eyes locked on Tord, taking another step forward. Tord's breathing hitched, half tempted to back up a step backwards. 'Stop being a coward. Just ask him. Talk to him.' /TORD...--/ "I...I have a question for you." Tord muttered quietly, staring at Paul, trying to keep his breathing under control. Paul paused, his smile faltering. "Yes sir?" "I..." He swallowed. 'Just talk. Talk to him. He's not going to bite you...other than the fact that he--' 'Stop it. Stop thinking. Just stop. Speak to him. Please.' "..Do you...I-- I don't know..." Paul's smile completely vanished, staring at Tord quietly. "Do I what?" He asked, lowering his voice, trying to keep his composure. Tord stood there for a few minutes. He didn't know how to word it. He didn't know how he could word it. The pressure was building. Crushing. /Bone-breaking./ He couldn't breathe. He felt sick, thinking about it like this. He's hoping it's not true. He's hoping that Paul would never--- Paul acts kinder around him. Only him. Like Patryk said. ...He doesn't like thinking about this. He wants to hope he's wrong. Paul stared at Tord's face, trying to read his expression. Trying to read his thoughts. Trying to see what he's so nervous about asking. /Tord, Tord, Tord--/ They're all looking. They're all trying to see. They're all laughing at him. All planning something. Oh god. OH GOD OH GOD PLEASE STOP LOOKING LOOK SOMEWHERE ELSE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. STOP LAUGHING STOP POINTING I'M NOT PATHETIC /TORD, TORD, TORD--/
(continued) "Sir?" Paul said calmly, still staring at Tord, his hands behind his back. Tord stood there, hesitating. On one hand, he could try to answer this. Try to fix this rotting feeling inside his chest. Try to fix this ache, this pain. He swallowed, his chest feeling tight. No. No, don't ask anything. Don't say anything. Just stay quiet. 'It's your own fault, anyway. What Paul does isn't anything. I don't remember anything clearly. He couldn't have actually done anything. Maybe it's just me. Maybe--' He took a breath. "Never mind. I forgot what I was about to say." He said, forcing a smile, staring at Paul. Paul stood there, before smiling softly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, alright. Do you want me to go?" He asks. Tord hesitated, keeping his hands by his side. "No. Y-You can stay." He said. He had to force it out. It's just him. He has no reason to be over reacting like this. He doesn't care how his mind's screaming at him. He doesn't care how the pressure makes it hard to breathe. He doesn't care that his vision is swimming, blurring. He's fine. It's just him. He doesn't care. It wasn't real. None of it was real. This pain... Tord swallowed, staring at the ground. He deserves this. Every bit of it. Paul stared at Tord for a few seconds, then grinned, walking in front of him, running a hand through Tord's hair- getting a strand out of his face. "So, what are we doing first?" Paul asked, staring at the leader patiently, his voice smooth. "I...I don't care. What do I even have to do?" He asked quietly. Paul didn't hesitate, he grabbed Tord by his wrists, pulling him towards the door. "Ah, right! There was something you had to do.." He purred, his eyes never leaving Tord. Something about that stare made Tord feel more sick. He deserves this. He knows. He doesn't care what happens to him anymore. Whatever happens won't fix anything. It won't fix the rot. It won't fix the pain. So why try to fix it at all? He's the only one trying to hold himself together with tape, when he's already broken. Everything's falling apart.
