Because You're Mine (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic) #Wattys2016 #pfcc2k16

Chapter Twenty-One: Lunatic, Highly Volatile and Inconsistent.

"Actually, this was my older sister's house. I bought it from her when she moved away and I haven't changed anything rather than just add a couple of things... Like the pictures or the books" He explains while taking a seat next to me and gently yanking my legs towards him and onto his lap.

He begins to rub my feet so skillfully; I just drop my head back and enjoy the moment.

"...and the candles" I add with a laugh.

He squeezes my foot a little too tight in some sort of a scold and he laughs when I whine in protest.

After that, he just keeps on massaging my soar limbs in silence. I am so close to fall asleep but I try my best to stay awake even if my eyelids feel as heavy as rocks. I gather all the will I can get and I lift my head back up, opening my eyes. He is dedicated to his task but I can see he has that look on his face: The same expression he had on the ride here. He is clearly pondering over something and my mind goes back to the words he murmured when we walked in.

"What's on your mind, Hiddleston? You look... pensive" I finally ask, giving him the perfect opportunity for him to spit out what he really wants to say.

He looks at me and he seems rattled. He clearly wasn't counting with me calling him out and something in the way his eyes flicker and his mouth comes up with this crappy excuse of a smile, I know this is not about what I think it is. It is serious.

"What?" I push, a little more worried than I would dare to admit.

An unexpected and forceful wave of fear flushes over me as I try to see beyond his troubled eyes. He didn't look this concerned a few seconds ago and I start rehashing the last moments in my mind, making my best effort to recognize the moment where it all changed.

I come up with nothing.

"There's something that has been on my mind for quite some time... And I don't know how to say it without... you know" His voice comes out in a whisper. On the edge of his every word I can distinguish the doubt, the hesitation. Even the fear. He is clearly scared to say whatever it is he need to say.

"No, I don't know. Without what?" I sit up straight in the couch, pulling my feet away from his lap, as if putting some physical distance between the two of us would soften the impact of the words about to be said.

I realize, somewhere deep in my mind, that I might be overreacting. I know that I am preparing myself for the worst even when I don't really have much reason to do so, but I do it anyway. I can feel the walls coming up around me, cornering me inside this safe but lonely and suffocating place.

I don't recognize myself in this position; feeling so helplessly vulnerable and exposed, and knowing with certainty that one single word from his lips holds the power of ripping my heart right out of my chest.

"Without coming off like an absolute self-absorbed dick..." he responds.

There go his damn hands, running through the dark curls form the top of his head and sliding all the way to the back of his neck. His eyes drop to his legs as he bends himself forward, gathering the courage to speak his mind. As he does this, my own strength begins to fade away. Fear quickly turns to panic and panic becomes into something scarier and indescribable.

I feel like my heart has sunk into the pit of my stomach and I might throw up at any moment. I wrap my arms around my torso, trying to keep my emotions and symptoms at bay.

"With everything going on with Rose, I didn't want to bring this up earlier. But I don't think I can stall around it for much longer... And I don't want you to think that I'm a heartless bastard. Because I'm not" He is not looking at me and that freaks me out even more. If he can't bring himself to make eye contact with me then it must be bad.