You've Only Just Arrived (a Tom Hiddleston fan fiction)

Part 72

  Previously in YOJA: If it didn't just feel like tempting fate, you'd definitely call the last few days the worst holiday ever. You'll certainly never be able to feel quite the same way about Thanksgiving... similar to the way Tom will evidently never be able to feel the same way about you as he once did. What hope do the pair of you have if you can't communicate enough to work through this? 

---

You're starting to hate the space you were so thrilled to be able to call your own all those months ago. At the time it felt like a triumph. No longer wandering, no longer solely living out of a suitcase. You made it your own, decorated to your own liking, putting pieces of yourself out on display, and then invited someone to share that space with you. Now everywhere you turn something reminds you of the man who seems to want nothing more to do with you. And it's all your own doing. You have no one to blame here but yourself.

The only way you've managed to get through the past 24 hours – every minute crawling by since touching down in LA – is determined cleaning. When all your focus is on getting the stain out of the carpet the ache within doesn't cripple you. The shower becomes completely free of water spots or even a hint of mildew or calcium buildup. The result is that your place is within inches of looking like a staged home. Every last surface sparkles, even if you don't.

Your phone is a continuous fountain of words. Some of the incoming calls are tempting to answer. Most are ignored. They do, however, make you jump for the phone every time the device alerts you to incoming communication. Each time there's the faintest glimmer of hope within you that it's the one person you want to hear from.

So far, no such luck. With each additional call, from everyone but him, it becomes harder and harder to summon that hope.

Picking up the phone introduces a whole other problematic area. The internet. Even though Mark assures you he has a handle on it – that the PR team is figuring out the next move – you're on step-brother watch, watching and waiting for their version of the events to appear in a tabloid. Be it Reggie or Joel, or one of the surrounding neighbors who might let something slip, it's inevitable that the story will come out.

Waiting for the unseen blow is getting old. Waiting is getting old. You're waiting for fallout from Reggie and Joel. Waiting for Mark and his team to tell you what the next move is. Waiting for Tom return your call. Waiting. Waiting.

"But sweet-pea," your father reasons during your early morning phone call, "What good is it doing? This stubbornness? Call him again. He'll answer."

"What if he doesn't? What if he won't?" Seated on the loveseat he had given you, you can't help but dart your eyes to the corner where the notes from him hang on the wall. Evidence of better times. That Tom would have called you already. He's changed, since then. You changed him. Not for the better.

Your father doesn't miss a beat. "He will."

Feeling the sting of tears and not wanting to sit there and have your father listen to you sob over the line, yet again, you rush through a quick goodbye. "Love you, Dad. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Alright but ---"

You end the call before hearing his final words, shoving the phone into your lap before swinging your body sideways, collapsing onto the cushions of the love seat. Your father's faith regarding relationships is nothing less than amazing. But then – he's found love again. It's easy to be so optimistic when your heart is full. Right now finding and holding on to hope is something you're struggling with. Despite your father's conviction, you're not sure Tom will answer. It's uncertainty – not stubbornness, as your father claims – that you're fighting against. As much as it hurts not knowing, knowing he hates you would be so much worse.