[Tord's Point Of View]

'I wonder if Tom has finished cleaning up the office...'

I stared up at the clock in the dining hall, tapping my fork against my beer bottle. I let out a soft sigh and motioned for the cook to come over. "Get a plate ready, and send it up to the prisoner's room, ja?" The cook nodded obediently, walking to the kitchen to prepare something. 

Grabbing my beer bottle, I headed up the stairs and knocked on the door of my office.

....

No response, weird. Knocking again, I pressed my ear against the door.

Nothing, just pure silence.

I felt a wave of worry wash over me, as I burst through the door. "TOM!"

The moment I stepped foot into the room, I felt Tom's hard body slam into me, pinning me to the ground. "What the-" Quickly putting up my defence, I bucked my hips against Tom pinning him to the ground, quickly straddling on top of him. I was leant in, nose to nose with Tom... I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips, my one good eye looking at his robotic green glow. I gripped my hand firmer on his wrist, leaning away. I took a good look at Tom seeing a bright blush on his face. 

I quickly got off of him, clearing my throat. "What the hell was that Tom?" I growled, glaring at Tom who was still trying to process what just happened. "I... It... Forget it... I'm sorry." Tom looked down, clenching his fist slightly. I let out a soft sigh, closing my eyes for a brief moment before glaring down at Tom. As much as I wanted to beat the living hell out of him, I just couldn't. He was just too... I-I just couldn't hurt him...

Kneeling down, I extended my hand to him. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room," I spoke softly. I couldn't help but feel butterflies swell in my stomach as Tom finally lifted his gaze up to mine. He scoffed and pushed my hand away, helping himself up. "I can walk back just fine, thank you very much.." He muttered under his breath. Sitting up, I brushed my knees and curled my mouth into a smirk. "I'm not giving you a choice." I could hear him breathe the word "figures" under his breath in annoyance, but I didn't care. There was no way I was going to allow him to wander freely around the fort.

The walk to his room was sickening, in a good and bad way(for me at least). I felt blessed to be able to walk with Tom, alone. No Edd, No Matt, No Paul and Patryk. Just him and I. But the thing was, I wanted to have him by my side. I wanted to hold his hand, I wanted to nibble on his earlobe, but I knew that Tom wouldn't allow that. I felt my stomach churn because I knew why Tom didn't feel the same. It was because I had hurt him in the past. I always left him out, I left him, and most of all I tried to kill him.

Tom couldn't love me, not now. But I'd be damned if I'd let my stupid past mistakes stop me from chasing him.

I want Tom to know I love him, I want him to know I've changed. I messed up badly, and I want to make things right. Even if Tom doesn't accept me...

-------------------

Arriving at Tom's room, I glanced over at Tom. "We're here," I held my breath, thinking for a quick moment, "I want you to join me- er, us for breakfast tomorrow. If you're now working here... I want you to meet your soon-to-be comrades in arm." Tom was quiet for a moment but nodded in agreement. I felt a quiet breath escape my lips as I look away. 

"Good night,-"

Before I could finish my sentence, I felt the door slam in front of me. Jerking my head up, I realised Tom had entered the room. Hearing the lock click, I let out a soft breath looking down. "...-min kjærlighet(my love)..."

Walking back to my office, I hung my head down deep in thought. I kept replaying the moment when I snapped. When I choose power over my friends - over Tom. Trudging into my office, I made my way slowly to my now organised desk. Taking a seat, I looked around in amazement. Tom was efficient at what he did.

I couldn't help but smile like a child, looking at what Tom had done. It was as if he put thought into every single detail. I laid my head on the desk, examining the way he had organised my files. I closed my eyes, thinking of the way Tom would read.

When reading, Tom sat up straight but tilted his head downward to read his book. The book he read would always sit in between his legs, slanted upwards towards him. He'd always have his fingers ready to turn to the next page, firmly pressing down the pages he already read with his thumb. No matter what book Tom read, he always looked disinterested.

I bit my lip gently, playing the memories I had of Tom over and over in my head. Somewhere along the lines of thinking of him, I drifted off to sleep.