my eye feels like it's being pushed out of its socket. poor eyeball, having the feeling of being forced out of its home.

(Tord's POV)

I hesitantly knock on the door that led to Tom's room. I heard shouting and what sounded like roaring wind inside earlier. Now, I only hear mumbles.
"Tom?" The mumbling stops. I try the knob. Locked.
"Tom, I heard glass breaking, are you okay?"

Silence.

I knock again. I expected him to yell at me to leave him alone.

What I didn't expect was to hear quiet sobs from inside. After a moment of stunned silence, I pull out a bobby pin from my hoodie pocket.
"Tom? Are you okay?" I repeat. The sobs grow louder. I start to pick the lock.
"I'm coming in—"
"NO!" He suddenly yells at me. "DOn't..come in..."

I raise my eyebrow at this.
"What's wrong?" I ask him calmly.
"..I'm fine, everything's fine." He tries assuring me. Doesn't work.
"Yeah, that's not working with me. I'm coming in." I reply with a huff, unlocking the door and turning the knob. Opening up, I already see shattered glass all over and embedded into the carpet flooring.

I walk carefully, keeping my eyes on the floor for any shards. Finally looking up, I notice Tom covered in blood. I rush over to the tear and blood stained man.
"Tom! What happened?!"
He stays silent, but breathing heavily. Paralyzed.

I notice the multiple slashes all over his arms, overlapping previous..scars...
"How...how long have you been doing this?" I ask him quietly. He only responds with a sob and grips the cuts with a crimson hand. The other hand holding a large glass shard.

I carefully try to pry the glass away from his hand. He just weakly pulls away.
"Tom, please, we need to stop the blood." I quietly tell him, concern coating my voice. He just barely shakes his head, his eye lids start fluttering to a close. He starts to fall, loosely dropping the glass onto his carpet with the rest of them.

I catch him in just a split-second's time, Cradling his bloodied body, I tread lightly out of his room and into the bathroom. I place him down into the bathtub, trying to keep his body in a comfortable position. I leave him in there as I rifle through his medicine cabinet for the first-aid kit.

I pull out the white and red box. I frantically open it, seeing the roll of gauze, first. I pull it out with some hydrogen peroxide and a pair of tweezers. I messily unroll the bandages and turn back to Tom. I gently take Tom's hand and examine the damage with a shaky hand. I pick out small pieces of glass from inside his flesh with some difficulty. I wipe his blood with the rubbing alcohol and start to wrap the gauze tightly, but loose enough to be comfortable, I hope.

As I wrapped him up, I couldn't help but let a few tears slip loose. Why? Why would he do such a thing? I thought he was doing okay..besides..that night, of course.

Once I had successfully covered and cleaned all the open wounds, I lift Tom up again, walking back to his room. I push the door open and was about to put him down on his bed, but then I remember all the glass. And blood.

I quickly relocate to the living room couch and cushion him with throw pillows. Then I get to work on cleaning the mess of Tom's room.

~Timeskip because I don't wanna type about cleaning~

(Tom's POV)

I just barely am able to open up my 'eyes', the feeling of something glue-like keeping them closed. I am immediately hit with a huge throbbing headache and my arms feel like someone set them on fire. I just want to go back to sleep, that was much better than having to deal with this pain.

The thrumming in my head never stops, it only seemed to intensify once I open my 'eyes'. I try looking around, but it feels like someone was trying burn my non-existent retinas with light. I try to move my arms, and immediately feel bandages wrapped tightly around them. And also, they fUCKING BURN.

I give up on trying to move and just lie there on the sofa, trying to remember how this happened.

Argument?
Fighting with words, yeah.
Crying?
Lots of crying, that's for sure.
Pain?
So much pain. From punching something...the mirror. Glass. I used glass to cut...

Right. I fell unconscious because my stupid self lost too much blood. Of course. And I forgot that my quick-healing went away because Kov...he...

I let out a sigh that sounded much more exasperated than I intended. He's gone. Then I stabbed myself. I almost fucking died. Why am I still alive?

"Oh, Tom, you're awake." The same goddamn Norwegian accent pulls me out of my thoughts. I make a sound of acknowledgement and try to sit up. Bad mistake. I tried to push myself up with my arms. And I thought the pain couldn't get any worse.

"Hey, stop! You're still healing." Tord gently pushes me back down. He looks at me worriedly.
"Do you need anything? Medication?" I give a small nod and he heads off to find some. My groggy mind finally decided to work and I realize I'm lying on my couch. Tord found me cutting. And I assume he took care of me. I didn't know he cared so much.

Oh, shit. He found me cutting. He saw me and my fucked-up mind hurting myself on purpose.  He probably thinks I'm more insane than before. He's going to tell Edd and Matt and everyone I know how fucked-up I am and they'll send me to a mental asylum and I'll be alone because I pushed away the only other entity that cared for me because I'm a selfish worthless piece of shit that doesn't deserve love or kindness or care and I don't want to be alone anymore pleasepleaseplease—

"TOM!" A yell just barely cuts through my thoughts. Where am I? Who was that? What am I doing—

A pair of arms wrap around my trembling body. I'm trembling. And...hyperventilating.
"Shh..Tom, it's okay. You're okay. You're safe and nothing will happen to you." The soothing voice murmurs in my ear. My breathing steadies slightly. I'm in my apartment.

"You're doing great." The voice coos. The voice is Tord. My breathing deepens.

"Perfect, you're okay. Everyone's okay." I was having a panic attack. I feel sweat running bullets and tears slipping. I choke, my breathing hitches, and I hug back as tightly as possible.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." I repeat, whispering it into his back. I adjust myself, sitting up to give him some space to sit on the couch as well. He takes a seat and hands me two pills. Ibuprofen. Painkillers.

I grab them and nod at him thankfully. I swallow them dry and he hands me a glass of water that I just noticed was on the table. After I gulp down some water, I lean on him and he rubs my back.
"So, Tom..."

"What happened?"

a/n:
how are y'all today?
this wasn't edited—