chapter eleven

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Sorrow

(n.) unhappiness, woe.

Sunlight flittered through the blinds of the window, basking the living room in a calm, yellow light.

Tord's stomach was flushed against Tom's back, his arm wrapped around the Brit protectively. Tord watched as his chest rose softly, his other hand petting his hair.

Tord smiled gently at him. He looked so sweet, so serene as he slept. And Tord loved it. He loved how Tom looked so pure, eyes closed.

They had decided to just sleep on the living room floor after they had their fun, given the fact Tom's bed was too messy for them to share. So, they laid out a blanket and a couple of pillows and slept together.

It was nice. Tord enjoyed it.

Then, Tom jolted awake, his eyes snapping open. Tord raised an eyebrow as Tom brought a hand up to his face, pressing his palm against his forehead.

"Good morning, min kjære."

Tom squinted, shaking his head gently. "Morning, Tord."

He placed a hand on Tom's neck. "Are you alright?"

Tom shrugged. "Just a headache," he explained, rolling over to face Tord.

Tord leaned in so his nose was touching the Brit's. "Hi."

Tom let out a small laugh. "You're so dumb sometimes." Despite the insult, Tom was grinning.

"Oh really?" Tord mocked and in a moment, he shifted Tom's shirt up and let his fingers dance up and down Tom's side.

The Brit immediately responded with a squeal, pushing away from Tord. "No, that's not fair!" he said with a laugh.

Tord climbed on top of Tom, grinning like an idiot as he added his other hand into the fray. "If you apologize, maybe I'll stop," he teased, but he wasn't sure if the Brit heard him.

"Never!" Tom said, wiggling under Tord.

His hands flew under Tom's shirt, the Brit retaliating with a screech of delight. Well, not really delight, but the way he was giggling made it seem so. "Come on, Thomas, give in!" he cooed, refusing to quit his attacks as Tom's toes curled.

Tom let out one more screech before crying out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" while giggling and twisting under Tord.

He let out a laugh of his own, rolling off of Tom. "I can't believe you gave up that easily."

Tom glared at Tord, pouting. "I hate being tickled," he whined, and a part of Tord whispered, cute.

He shook the thought off. "Oh, but you looked so delectable wiggling underneath me!" he cooed, pushing his forehead against Tom's.

Tom's face turned as red as a tomato, eyes widening. "Do you always have to say such perverted things?" he said.

Tord laughed gently. "You're even more adorable when you're red."

The Brit only responded by pressing his lips against Tord, though the kiss ended just as quick as it started.

A simple peck in the lips, it seemed.

He would have to work on that.

Tom stood unsteadily, letting out a soft sigh.

"Are you going to grab painkillers?" he asked curiously as he stood as well.

"Those don't work with this kind of headache."

Tord raised his eyebrows but didn't respond, following Tom into the kitchen. "Then what are you doing?"

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