Questions, Answers and Total Randomness

Entry 8)

    A/n: An idea came to me last night for a Tom Hiddleston song fiction. So, enjoy!

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

    "I had a dream about a burning house..."

    The familiar house stands before me, engulfed in flames. The crackling of the enormous fire fills the otherwise silent night. I feel a tugging sensation, a compelling need to approach the inferno. The doorknob, although hot, doesn't burn my hand.

    "You were stuck inside, I couldn't get you out..."

    As I traverse the rooms, my eyes are caught by an unconscious form, prone on the floor. My mind tells me to rush over to see if he's alive, but my feet carry me in the same steady pace. Rolling him over takes a lot of effort as he's really heavy, more strength than I want to admit. I place my hands under his arms and pull, attempting to drag him from the room. My effort is in vain as I only land on my bottom.

    "Laid beside you and pulled you close..."

    I refuse to leave him, to be separated from him a second time. I curl up on the floor at his side, my head resting on his chest. My face relaxes into a smile as my eyes drift closed.

    "And the two of us went up in smoke..."

    The roar of the fire draws closer, filling the room with its sound. I nuzzle my head further into his chest. If I can't save his life, then mine will end alongside him. The smell of the smoke permeates the room, slowly filling it. The heat of the flames warms my skin, the room losing its oxygen...

    "Love isn't all that it seems, I did you wrong..."

    "Forgive me, Tom," I whisper though he can't hear me.

    "I'll stay here with you, until this dream is gone..."

    Just as I feel myself slipping away into peace, I snap awake.

    My body shoots bolt upright in the bed, cold sweat dripping everywhere. I throw off the smothering sheets and swing my legs off the mattress. My feet hit the freezing floor, making me hiss at the burning sensation in the soles. I make my way to the refrigerator, craving a glass of milk. Grabbing a cup from the drain board, I pour the beverage.

    "I've been sleepwalking, been wandering all night,
    Trying to take what's lost and broken, make it right..."

    I still feel so lost, even though it was two years ago that he left. The marks of his presence remain, the pictures we took together still hang on the walls. His Shakespeare books still reside on my shelves, the golden font on the spines glistening in the light of my glowing fireplace. My eyes land on the armchair which is practically calling my name.

    "I've been sleepwalking too close to the fire
    But it's the only place that I can hold you tight..."
   
    I stare into the fire, recalling every detail of the dream with perfect clarity. I'd been having it ever since he'd left, unable to subconsciously let him go. But I am glad to still be able to hold him in my arms, even if only for about twenty minutes in my mind.

    "In this burning house..."

    Of course it would be my house burning. Tom spent so much time here. Often, he would visit me during the day and we would spend hours talking about anything and everything, half of that time spent laughing our butts off. My gaze is hollow as I stare at the ashen wood. I have no more tears to shed; I used them all up that first year.