"You... can't?" Tom echoed, frowning. "What do you mean you can't?"

Matt looked even more guilty once Tom seemed disheartened. "I'm really sorry, Tom... Unlike you and Tord, I actually have a job, and am much more busy." He explained, turning away from the black-eyed male with a sigh. "I'd love to join you two. But I can't just leave..."

Tom certainly wasn't lost for words. "Matt, we need you." A weak protest; he for once wished Tord was there to help. "We- we're trying to reform our group and we can't do it without you." Where was Tord when he was needed? Perhaps he was struggling to get upstairs or something.

"And you can't do it without Edd, either. None of us know where he went." Matt replied solemnly. 

"You're right, but I know we'll find him somehow..."

"You don't know that, Tom! For all we know he could have left the city, the country, maybe even the continent! You have no way of contacting him since you still have his only phone, so how can you be so sure you'll find him?" Matt shot back, Tom's eyes widening at his tone. After realizing how much his voice had raised, and how he had surprised Tom, he added, "I'm sorry... I'm just as stressed about this as you two.."

"Then come with us, Matt. Please."

Matt whirled around to face Tom, expression more frustrated than resentful of his angered tone. "I already told you, Tom, I-" He was cut short by the sound of a door creaking as it opened.

Both of them turned to face the bedroom door, where a panting Tord stood. He looked completely worn out, still hunched over. His stormy grey eyes widened when he saw Matt, and he smiled just a little, not noticing Tom's focused frown.

"Can't..." Matt finished, lowering his gaze guiltily once more. Clearly avoiding Tord's eyes, he turned away slightly.

"Can't.. what?" Tord queried, stepping into the bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. He took a deep inhale to regain a steady breath.

Tom spoke in Matt's defense, glancing at the ginger. He knew he wouldn't be able to persuade Matt to change his decision, and Tord wouldn't be able to either. The hope he had once had that they would find Edd was suddenly and painfully split in half. "He can't come back with us, Tord." Tom answered plainly, walking away from Matt's side and to the dresser against the dimly lit wall. "I doubt we'll ever pull this off... we should just give it up now."

"But we came all the way here to get you... It can't just be a waste!" Tord protested, forcing his back straight- with a seeming struggle, as he stumbled sideways after trying to do so. "Matt, I don't plan on leaving empty-handed." His tone grew more pleading as each word tumbled out.

"I know, I know, but I seriously can't come with you both. Tom's right, Tord. There's no use continuing what you two are doing. You need me, right? Well it isn't going to happen."

Tord's once excited demeanor was completely shattered, as Tom had predicted the worst. The storm began to brew in his cloudy gaze. Tord's teeth clenched with a dull collision, and Tom could have sworn he saw a watery shine to those dark grey clouds. "Fine! Have it your way! You've always wanted this life, so why would you just throw it away now? Believe me Matt, I'm very happy for you. But sometimes I wish you'd start thinking about other people and their feelings than making money off of your good looks." He spat, pivoting quickly and carrying his mighty storm out of the room entirely. 

With the hurricane on the move and presumably dragging its havoc elsewhere, it left the two survivors in silence, what some would say peace. It wasn't exactly the worst Tom had expected, the worst would be a lit match hitting the lavender curtains, and harsher, inflamed words to follow with it. Tord was the storm, the hurricane, and the blazing fire was his pain.  

There was no havoc in the bedroom, nor in the hearts of Tom or Matt. Tom had grown to become used to the volcanic blasts from Tord; after spending the last couple years with him since they had graduated college. Matt, on the other hand, was left in thought, but luckily not heartbreak. 

"Maybe..." Matt blinked his icy eyes slowly, then turned to look at Tom. Their gazes met when Tom looked away from the door. "Maybe you should go after him." He murmured out finally. 

Tom nodded, and without replying he headed to the bedroom door. Just as he had reached the door frame he heard Matt say a final, "I'm truly sorry," before he left the room.

 He had a sliver of pride in himself as he walked out the main door to the large home and saw the three guards collapsed beside a bush, snoozing as if they had nothing better to do. His heart only fell gradually as he turned away from the sight, realizing that there really wasn't much to be proud of at that moment.

---

 Hitched, pained breaths filled the empty room. Almost on the brink of depression, as that was what he thought to be the last hope. Almost openly rejected. In physical pain from the challenge and it was all a waste of time and energy. 

Tom wasn't home yet, and the rain had returned to patter against the tall windows. It was offbeat from Tord's panicked, racing heart. 

He hated himself greatly for yelling at Matt, but, when news like that is just simply thrown at him, how was he supposed to react? Calm and accepting? How could he when this had been the moment he was waiting for ever since they had been separated. He didn't even want to imagine how Tom was coping. It would be twice as hard to find Edd now, since Matt was the closest to him as a friend. Closer than Tom wished he could ever have been with Edd. 

With practically white knuckles Tord gripped the tissue, his other hand holding the box. His own saddening rain trickled down his face, with the storm subsiding and becoming a miserable downpour. 

Tord had begun to wonder why he was even devastated about this news the first place. That he didn't keep it as well hidden as Tom, and that he couldn't even try to stop the raindrops from falling onto the dull white tissue. 

Letting his eyelids droop, he leaned back into the couch. He didn't want to go back to his home; no apartment could satisfy his desire for comforting silence. It was better than the storm in his head, and the frustrated tone of those around him that he wished to be close with. 

Couldn't they have gotten a better ending to this chapter? Why did everything have to always swerve in the wrong direction whenever Tord wanted them to go right? He saw himself as weak for breaking down like that, especially in front of the ones he partially admired. Absolutely pathetic. And being pathetic and weak wouldn't get him anywhere great in life. 

He absolutely did not want to be stuck with Tom for the rest of his days, two years was already long enough. And if they ever shared a single house together it would be worse than a nightmare. Now, as much as Tord didn't necessarily hate Tom, the Brit was just very dense and irritable sometimes, along with his constant mixtures of alcohol overloads and musical numbers on the bass it only made things harder to deal with. To Tord, Tom was like that little brother he never wished was born. Like they're only alive to make you annoyed all the time. 

With a sniff and a silent heave, Tord threw the tissue box over to the table as he slumped on the couch wearily, watching as its corner hit the table and it bounced to the ground with a soft thud. He huffed in annoyance and turned over, looking into the back of the couch for a few quiet moments before closing his eyes. No luck in reality didn't exactly mean he wouldn't get his way in his dream reality. 

However, as much as he wanted to try and get some sleep, two factors kept him wide awake. 

The pain of defeat that still lingered, and the front door slamming against the wall as Tom arrived. It shut more quietly, thankfully. 

"Tord?" Tom called, said male keeping his eyes shut and his lips sealed. 

The Brit's footsteps shuffled against the carpet as he made his way into the living room, where Tord lay. He sighed, "Tord, I know you're not asleep. You always snore. Really loudly." 

"I do not snore. You're the one who snores loudly." Tord mumbled in reply, lifting himself up with much regret and opening his eyes to be presented with the same dull light of a single lamp in the room. To his surprise, Tom was seated on the arm of the couch, down where Tord's feet were.

Tom never replied, and Tord couldn't see his face to make a guess why. So he chose to bring something else up. "Are we still going to try and find Edd? He can't be too far, surely." Tord asked, adding a bit of assurance in hopes to not dishearten Tom. Their heartbreak situation as a whole was already bad enough. Didn't need to add more gasoline to those flames. 

"What's the point? Matt was totally right when I had no way of reaching him, and I doubt with your records we'd ever be able to ask anyone with files to help figure out where he could have gone. We're wasting our time with this." Tom frowned, slouching in his posture. They were both sad, Tord presumed. But he wasn't sure who was more distraught. Tom might still have hope; at least he hadn't been given a direct rejection. 

Shifting his position, Tord brought himself further upright. "It never hurts to just check all the places we can. Ask locals for help. Someone's ought to know." He pointed out, forcing a slight smile. If they found Edd, three out of four might be better than two. 

A nod from Tom seemed like a weak response. "I guess so." 

"You still have his old phone, right?" 

"Yeah,"

"Well," He offered, "Why don't you try calling his parents and see if they can tell you where he is?" Tord blinked in thought. It did occur to him though, why didn't Tom think of this before?

Tom was silent again, probably hiding something. But Tord shrugged the idea off. The Brit only decided to respond when Tord had opened his mouth to add on. "I would, but he always had a different brand of phone than the rest of us. It died a week after I first had it... I can't charge it." He admitted, sinking into the side of the couch next to the arm. Tord groaned slightly. It seemed idiotic to him that Tom never grabbed Edd's charger. 

"Oh, great. So our only other option isn't even an option? Why'd you keep bringing it up?" Tord pressed, his irritated tone seeping through his calm persona. 

Shrugging vaguely, Tom replied with, "Thought it might give me sense of hope to think we still had a chance." He turned his head downwards, and Tord guessed he was guiltily staring at his shoes. 

It seemed their two years hoping something would happen were useless, so why should they spend even more time hoping? Losing all that valuable time they could be doing something. Things don't just happen. That would be a miracle.

Both boys could have really valued a miracle right then. 

>>>

So very tired. So very rushed. I'm sorry if this didn't turn out so well, filler chapters are a little harder to write ":)