Tom flipped through the channels with a dull face, only landing on the news when he caught a glimpse of... something. It seemed to be a huge car wreck near the nearby police station. Yet apparently the police believe whatever caused the explosion that then caused the wreck, was aimed to explode at the police station. They even fear the suspect would've prefered for it to be in the station. But just as Tom's attention was grabbed, waiting to hear what kind of psychopath would dare directly target a police station, he heard a knock.
           The first one he ignored easily. The second one started to make his focus hazy. By the third he was beginning to annoyed as hell. Then the fourth finally set the mark. There wasn't even time for the fifth one to began its beat since Tom was already at the door, practically slamming it open. But his narrowed eyes widened and his furrowed brows raised as he found himself face-to-face with an Edd lookalike.

          "Heya Tom." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the empty-eyed Tom.

          "Eduardo? What need some sugar?" Tom chuckled as he put his hands in his pocket, surveying the distant acting man.

          "Haha, very funny."

          "There's the tone we all know and love!"

          "Why you little-" Eduardo stopped himself with a sigh, his sneer stayed on his lips though. "Listen, miss Jon's funeral? And you'll end up like that damn Norwegian shit!" Eduardo snapped at Tom, his teeth gritting in anger.

          "Why are y o u inviting me?" Tom questioned, of course he wasn't going to deny the invitation, but it was still odd for Eduardo of all people to invite him. Though that passive aggressive tone was spot on to the usual.

          "Listen and try to open your thick skull- Jon always wanted people tooo...." Eduardo trailed off, as if he forgot what the word peace or friends even was.

          "To at least not fight over everything?" Tom finished, receiving a nod from Eduardo.

          "Yeah, he was.... a great frien- Just don't be late! It's at 11 in the morning!" Eduardo tripped over his words as he walked away, screaming the address at Tom and his other two friends most likely.

        Tom shrugged away the odd scene, letting it slip off his shoulders as he looked back to the TV.  The story was over, and probably has been paused for some time. Unfortunately, Tom had no recording of tonight's broadcast and Edd was probably busy with his computer. So his last resort was YouTube on his phone, but while he was on it, he might as well try to see if Matt or Edd even saw the story. With a nice inhale of air, he opened a group chat with his two friends.

       "Matt, Edd, what are you too up to?!" Tom typed hurriedly as he made his way to the kitchen, a sudden jump in his heart beginning to make him panic.

       "Well I'm just animating a cute little cat!" Edd's reply sent a nice cool breeze into Tom's head, replicating the wind exactly. A wind that didn't come from an exact place, and no one even knows why it's blowing.

        "Matt, are you just being a narcissist and fanboying over yourself in the mirror as always?" Tom urged for his blonde friend to reply.

         "Indubitably!" Matt's awaited text finally let Tom sit on the couch as he let alcohol lull his worries away. At that point the alcohol only made his smile lazy as Matt soon texted, "wait... H E Y!!!!"

          "A n y w a y s," Tom texted quickly, trying to jump away from his friend's rant.

          "So when are we getting the fancy clothes and stuff?" Edd sided with his tipsy friend on that matter.

          "Fancy clothes?" Matt texted, then soon followed that text with, "OH! You mean clothes like collared shirts and tuxes?"

         "Yes Matt," Edd replied. Tom could just imagine the tired boy sighing at his phone.

          "Oh boy!" Matt texted in glee, painting a frown on Tom's face.

          "Excited too see a, d e a d, i n o s e n t, b y s t an d e r, a commie that fooled u s,  m U R D E R E ED?!" Tom texted back angrily, his thoughts beginning to blur.

         "Woah Tom, calm down," Edd warned Tom, hoping to god that his friend wasn't having an episode.

          "I was just glad we're getting fancy clothes...,"

          "FOR A FU NE R AL!" Tom interjected, his fingers rushing across the screen.

          "I," Matt seemed to pause, trying to figure out how to word what he actually wants to say, properly.

           "I WHAT? "I'M A S B A D AS TH COM IE???" OR mAyBE "I A M EnJO Y IN G THE MO M EN T O F SOMEONE'S DEATH!!!!"" Tom interjected before Matt could finish typing.

           There was a pause in the chat, no one even started typing for awhile. Not Edd. Not Matt. Not even Tom. The reason for the silence hit Tom like a sledgehammer. He felt like the walls crumbled and piled on top of him for a second time. It made his heart skip a beat for the wrong reason. But right as Tom was about to finally text out an apology, he saw the faded text.

"Matt has left the chat."

          Tom looked at his phone blankly, slumping on his couch as he took another swig of his beer. His eyes soon glazed over to the TV, it's light screen stood out in his dark room. The curtains over his windows were pitch black, swallowing the natural sunlight before it even made it into his room. He wished for that to continue. For the dancing colors and hazy sounds to hook his attention, distracting him from everything else.

           "Jesus Tom! Are you drinking again?" Edd finally texted Tom. When he received no reply, he resorted to spamming his friend's phone instead.

           "No." Tom finally replied before throwing his phone aside and taking another swig.

          The buzzing of his phone from Edd's virtual lecture did nothing to get Tom's attention again. The drunk was too busy staring at his TV, trying to figure out why. Why he always felt on edge, as if he expected the commie to bust down his door like some vengeful zombie. It wouldn't be the first time Tord went all zombie. Maybe he was thinking like that because of him binging all the "Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell," movies. But if he knew this, why did he continue to have that gut feeling. After all, he even saw Tord's robot explode mid-air! Who would even be able to survive that! He knows that... he knows that. So why did he have this constant feeling that the worst, and most impossible, outcome would happen?
           Christ, the headache he was getting from all his confusion was starting to drive him off the walls. He even preferred a hangover, OVER THIS! Yeah he really needed a few more swigs of beer. Which is all he planned to drink, until he made his way to the fridge and opened his second bottle. Just the cool, nullifying liquid hitting his tongue was such welcome feeling. The effect of their friendship was just as pleasing, that nice effect traveling to his thoughts was a bliss. It was a haven he didn't want to bring down, so he kept it up with more and more. The beer clouds holding down all of those thoughts he loathed.
          But all of it was preferable until he remembered the hell that balanced the blissful heaven. The demons of lung failure, and all the organ problems his drinking could bring seemed so far. He felt like it would never touch him, but he knew it still could. He knew those claws were just an inch away from the clouds, his fear reaching out to the claws from the inside. He preferred it though, but that weight of guilt grew heavier when he remembered his friends. All the things that could happen between them all from some simple drinking binge seemed tremendous. It was always too late to back out when he remembered it, before that thought slipped away with the rest. Then, he finally reach his ignorant heaven of thinking everything was alright and nothing was wrong. With him. With the world. Or with how bad his friendships have been getting since the incident.
         So, he just grabbed his guitar and began to hum. He forgot how it got cracked and messed up like it was, but he didn't have the enough will to care at this point. He didn't have much will to worry about anything at the moment. Even the news releasing a new story about some suspect person. The story was going right over Tom's empty head. He was too focused on nothing.