Tom Hiddleston One Shots/Imagines

#25 - Unexpected Proposal

You were stuffed in your room, the fan the only source of air as it pushed the humid oxygen around.

You room was a tip. Used clothes and bags kicked under the already spaceless bed. The dust blowing around the bookshelf as they lay untouched for days. The files of work your boss had given stacked beside in a messy order, the week you'd been given off taken to your advantage. There was a line of lilac plastered on the otherwise white wall as you'd knocked the shelf with his belongings down using a hammer. Days worth of cans on your bedside table accompanying useless bits and bobs, wrappers and the occasional tissue. You were happy it had happened in some ways, the idea you were free appealing to you, and you'd always knew you loved someone else - your best friend to be precise. But you told yourself it would happen between the two of you and Jeremy was someone who you begun to care for.

A stuck thin, petite framed, B cupped blonde. He'd left you, for a B cupped blonde. You pulled the covers tighter around you remembering how you'd caught him. His grim face showing regret, but not at his actions... At getting caught.

"Hey Jeremy, I know I'm early but I was given time off. My boss - Sam - said I was doing great, so I thought I'd-"

You opened the door to the spare room slightly after hearing muffled sounds coming from the direction, to see the bed bobbing up and down, the blonde bimbo tucked with him under the covers as he occasionally grunted down at her and the springs moving making the screeching sound vibrating against the walls. Her body shaking as she looked over to your stunned expression, before questioning if you'd come to join in, in a breathless voice. He stopped confused causing a whimper from here before turning to spot you and jumping up to cover himself.

"Shit. Princess I didn't know you'd be home-"

"Oh no please, don't stop on my accord."

So much venom in one sentence astounded you. You'd never sounds so bitter in your life, not even when your ex neighbour ran over your cat 3 years ago - and man had you given him hell.

You slammed the door shut behind you, making your way down to your bedroom. You scoffed to yourself realising he hadn't done it in your bed, which in some senses you were thankful for, as you didn't think you could even look at it again if he had.

You pushed the chest of draws in front of the door, blocking his only entry way. The thuds from his fist making contact with the wood only spurred you on as you chucked all his clothing and belongings into a suitcase and threw it out the window with a loud, satisfactory BANG noise when it hit the concrete.

Your knees then crumpled as you sunk to the floor in tears, realising the man you had spent 2 years with had been getting it from somewhere else, and that's why he hadn't wanted you.

You wrapped yourself closer in bed with tears streaming from your eyes. You hadn't called anyone but Sam who'd sworn secrecy as given you a few weeks holiday off, apart from her nobody knew where you'd disappeared too. After numerous missed calls from family and friends you'd turned your phone off and threw it across the room.

You'd been in bed for 4 days now. 4 days in the pit if a home, barely eating or sleeping. You'd only moved to pee and get a water from the kitchen before retreating to your den again.

Your ears perked up as you heard the front door click open by a key and you remember locking it, the sound of expensive shoes hitting the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut knowing there was no time to move the draws back in front of the door - you mentally cursed yourself for ever moving it away - and you brace yourself for Jeremy's rage.

"Oh my, Darling Girl... Why didn't you phone me?"

Your face swooshed around instantly, climbing out of bed and running towards the English treasure you called a best friend; regardless of the fact you were in one of his baggy T-shirts and your knickers. His voice was as smooth as silk, the accent standing out with such a sincere tone. Tom's posture was tall, his usual attire of a suit shirt and trousers placed firmly over his muscly figure as he lifted your body off the ground and into his frame. Your eyes started crying again against his neck, but this time it was tears of relief seeing your best friend back in London. He was meant to be away for a few more weeks filming in Toronto, but you don't care. You were wrapped around him in an instant missing the feel of him close.