Darling (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

27: warm tea, clean, a meal

A/N: Sorry it's short. Hope everyone is having a fantastic weekend!

When I wake up, my bedroom is dark and nearly eerie in the silence. I can't remember the last time it was this quiet here. The shades have been pulled closed, though I can see the low, late afternoon sun burning gold around the edges of the window.

I sit up, immediately regret it, and lie back down. My head throbs, like the dull, low thud of a base drum. My body aches—the sort of ache that comes after being terribly sick, or in my case, extremely intoxicated.

I close my eyes, the silence settling into my bones and muscles. I imagine beaches with white sand. Flat, glass like water in cerulean blue and turquoise. Neverending cloudless skies. All the things that yoga teachers, therapists, relaxation specialists, have tried to tell me will send me to a place of soft, mindless, thoughtless bliss. I try to imagine being boneless, melting into the bed.

Sometimes it works, sometimes not. This is one of those not times.

I open my eyes again, slower this time, as I roll to my side. In the din, I can make out a mug on my nightstand. I reach forward and wrap my hand tentatively around it. It is still warm to the touch. I lift my head enough to tilt the mug to my lips and am rewarded with warm tea. Not hot enough to be truly good, but not completely lost. And in my state, it is more than enough. The sweetness floods my parched mouth, and it's like nectar from the gods. I take a mouthful and let it sit for a second, before swallowing, feeling the liquid coat my empty stomach.

Tom is here. Tom is still here. The tea was definitely an act of a thoughtful British man who thinks and plans ahead. I'm relieved I didn't hallucinate that. I had thought at first, that I had. It wouldn't be the first time I had gotten so drunk, and had conversations with imaginary people. Dreams can be an intensely disorienting thing. But no, when I woke up for the first time, however long ago, he was here. And the warm tea is an indication that he's not far away still.

I had studied him in the early gray blue light of the morning. The arch of his brow, the slope of his strong nose. The dip under his cheekbones, and the few days worth of stubble on his angular face. A face I had studied before, in the mellow, fuzzy afterglow of sex, memorizing the planes. In the cool blue shadows of my room, he is the same and yet somehow different.

My conversation with my sister had been short. Short and painful. She'd been angry with me, sad, disappointed and mostly worried. I'd been angry as well, though mostly with myself. The small amount of emotion I had left in me, was directed at her—frustration that she'd sent him, of all people. The one person that I didn't want to see me at my lowest, and here he was. Riding in on his white horse, picking up the pieces, trying to put humpty dumpty back together. Again. I had yelled at her, in the heat of the moment, blamed her for things that were not her fault. Said things I didn't mean. All because she'd sent the one person I truly wanted, but was too weak to ask for.

Flashbacks to the last few nights—like watery, blurred snapshots, filtering through my mind. Partying with the twins, Yvonne and Sharon. It was their idea after news of Shorty had broken. They said we needed to celebrate my new found "freedom", and yet I felt more confined than ever. They'd invited over friends. A lot of "friends". The party had pretty quickly spiraled out of control. It lasted longer than one night, too. People would come and go, and the party would ebb and flow. And I stayed perfectly out of reach the entire time. Drunk enough not to care, not to feel, not to think.

I climb out of bed, slowly. If my legs give out on me, I want to make the least amount of noise possible. I'm not surprised to find that I'm nearly naked. I remember the shower from the other night. More like a dousing in hot water. I'm thankful for it, thankful I was somewhat clean, but the thought of it makes my stomach churn with embarrassment. He was doing what he had to. Trying to help me. And I was a complete wreck.