Darling (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

23: stuck, a proposition, a declaration

Tom pulled his trainers on, stretching his legs as he moved. It was barely six am, but sleep was elusive these days. It was best that he just got a start on his day. Otherwise, he'd just spend another hour tossing and turning in bed. Gemma was still asleep, as was Becca, and it would be some time before he'd have to truly prepare himself for the day.

The past week had been a whirlwind. First, Gemma breaking her arm. Then, Becca showing up. Out of nowhere. It had been like seeing a ghost. Or some fictional character from a book. Someone he'd read about, but never truly known. He wasn't sure he'd ever see Becca again. He'd been content with that, too. It had taken his lawyer weeks to track her down, and then months to get her to sign over her parental rights. Having her show up, so easily, seemed almost impossible.

And yet, here she was. Out of nowhere. As easy as pie. Currently, she was sleeping on an air mattress on the family room floor. He knew it wasn't the most gentlemanly thing for him to do—make his houseguest, and the mother of his child, sleep on the floor in the main room of the house. But, then again, his gentlemanly feelings toward Becca had dissipated years ago. She was lucky he hadn't tossed her out on her ass.

Gemma had been confused, an rightfully so, when Becca had shown up. Gemma only knew Becca by photos. Pictures that Rosie still had around her home. Tom didn't keep any at his house. Gems knew that Becca was her mother, but she was also, heartbreakingly, aware that she had left. Had left her, and Tom. Despite his attempts to protect her from that brutal truth, a five years olds curious mind often left no questions unasked. And he'd done his best to tell her the truth while cushioning the blow.

But it had been hard for Gemma to adjust. Confusing too. And it angered Tom that Becca thought it was okay to just drop in, with no warning. He'd spent the last few days, when he wasn't working, paying extra attention to Gemma. He didn't want her to think that things had changed. That she wasn't his best girl still.

And he was worried that when Becca left, and she would leave, that Gemma would think he'd leave too. He couldn't have that.

Tom stepped outside into the early morning. The air was damp still with lingering night—dewy and crisp. Fall was just around the corner, and summer a mere afterthought.

He began running as soon as his feet hit the sand. He made his way down to the packed, hard sand near the surf, and went for it. He hadn't bothered waking up Sam. Tom knew he wasn't very good company at the moment. He didn't want to bring anyone else down.

Tom took a deep breath and forged forward, running hard and fast, making his muscles burn. He was moving at a burn out rate, but he didn't care. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to match the pain in his chest that had been there for days, and the numb blur in his brain that had refused to leave for just as long.

He stared straight ahead as he ran, looking at everything but seeing nothing. He could feel his blood pumping, his muscles burning, his lungs aching. If he was alive—his body was definitely alive, then why did he feel so dead inside? Unattached. Gray. Amorphous.

Billie had said that she was in love with him.

She'd said it so simply, and with such hesitant joy. Hesitant on his reaction. And he'd completely imploded at the thought.

It was one thing to have her in his bed every night, as they'd been doing. She was like a dream to him. She made him feel alive again. She made the monotony seem desirable. Like he'd be okay toiling away his days, as long as when he came home, she was the one that greeted him. Her and Gemma.

And they'd become a pair. Or a threesome, perhaps. Tom clenched his jaw, and pushed harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had known from the start that Billie would leave them. And he'd lied to himself, and told himself that he wouldn't get attached. And that it would be fine for Gemma to have Billie around for just the summer. Because he had been feeling lonely, desperately lonely. And he'd simply not been able to stay away from Billie.