~~~
"You still cheated," I say firmly, crossing my arms as a tear threatened to slip down my cheek.
Thomas pushes a hand forcefully through his hair. "I said I was sorry, why do you keep bringing it up--"
I scoff, my eyes widening. "Why do I keep bringing it up? Because it happened a month ago and I'm finding out now, that's why I keep bringing it up! I didn't even find out because of you, I found out in People fucking magazine!" I yell, pointing to the article opened on my phone. The treacherous tear falls.
"I said sorry," he says tiredly. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to try harder." I saw, my lips pressing into a thin line.
There's silence, before I lift my phone up to my face and turning it off so I could look at my reflection. My mascara had started to run, so I sigh, running my thumb tenderly underneath my eyes to remove it and cursing softly. "Look, I need to go to work. Go do whatever." I say, looking back at him.
"Y/n, please..." he walks towards me, taking my arm gently.
I pull away, touching the pads of my fingers to my forehead for a moment and closing my eyes to catch my bearings. "No. I need to go to work," I repeat. "You fix this one."
How I was to manage not falling apart at work was beyond me.
***
"Rough day, hun?" Loretta, the elder lady sitting in the desk across from me, asks.
"Huh?" I look up at her. "Uh, yeah...guy troubles, no big deal."
"Your eyes are still puffy, and the others know that you were in the bathroom crying in the morning."
"Fuck." I mutter.
"How is Thomas, anyway? What did he do?" She asks, resting her chin on her fingers. She was a nice woman, one of the first to welcome me into my position when I began to work here.
"He's alright, I guess, no big deal," I say politely. I didn't want to disclose any information when I knew she would be able to see it on the news anyway - plus, I was sure she knew already from the look she was giving me. I decided to move the conversation elsewhere. "And how is your grandson?"
She smiles affectionately. "Oh, Blaine celebrated his second birthday last night! Well, it was a couple of days ago, but his mum was sick, and we couldn't go out, and his dad was where? Nobody knows, although Sarah insisted that he was a good man when she married him, although I still doubt the fact that they actually got married..." She continues, and I shamelessly zone out. Propping my cheek on my closed fist, I watch her with unfocused eyes.
What would Thomas be doing right now? I think to myself. Well, I'm not really sure how this day was to go out, but as if on cue, my phone buzzes on the other end of my desk. I snap out of my thoughts, smiling at Loretta. "Sorry, but I need to take that. Wish Blaine a happy birthday for me!"
She smiles. "Of course," she says, before turning back to her computer.
I grab the phone, looking at the text that Thomas had sent.
>>> bby boy: when are you getting home?
I furrow my eyebrows. I always get home around the same time.
>y/n: Normal timings, round 6ish
>y/n: 6 30 if traffic is shit
A cruel thought seeps through my mind. Why is he asking - so he can send the other girl home before you get there?
I shake my head, rubbing my eyebrows. No. It was a one time thing. You know it. Before I can think about it any further, my phone vibrates again.
>>>bby boy: okay. i wanted to talk to you
>y/n: we live together. that was going to happen anyway
>>>bby boy: yeah i know, but i set something up
>>>bby boy: because i love you
>>>bby boy: and because it's necessary
There's a pause where neither of us respond, before he types again.
>>>bby boy: it's kind of like a date. i'd ask you to wear something nice but you always look nice
I bite back a tiny smile.
>y/n: cute. I'll try and be there on time
A few moments pass before he sends another text.
>>>bby boy: thank you.
>>>bby boy: i want to say that i love you again but it can wait for tonight
I scoff lightly with a smile.
>y/n: don't push it
>>>bby boy: NO I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT YOU KNOW THAT Y/NN
>>>bby boy: but you know you've said it like that a couple of times 😏
I roll my eyes.
>y/n: there's gonna be some talking before that happens
>>>bby boy: yea i know. go work, i'm keeping you from doing that and you're keeping me from setting up our date.
>y/n: alright alright
>>>bby boy: get home safe. love you.
>y/n: i thought you said you'd wait till tonight to say it
When he doesn't respond, I send another message.
>y/n: love you too
***
When I step into our flat, I smile, a soft breath leaving my lips as I kick off my heels at the door. It's candlelit, and a small pizza box is set on the table, plates set impeccably with a vase of fresh flowers in the centre of the table.
Thomas walks into the living room where I stood, dropping my bag off to the side while he watches. He waits for me to stand straight before speaking. "In case you haven't noticed, I cannot cook."
A small smile sets itself onto my face. "I love pizza."
"I know. Which is why I started to cook but then stopped, because you were gonna love pizza lots more than you were gonna love a burnt house."
We stand there for a moment before we make a mutual silent decision to step towards each other. He pulls me into his arms, and all he does is hug me tightly. I rest my arms around his neck, closing my eyes and hugging him back. Every doubt and cruel thought in my head dissipates, and I keep my hold on him. "I love it."
He breathes heavily into my neck, slumping slightly. "How was your day?" He says, words muffled into my shoulder.
"Good. Tiring. And yours?" I ask, pulling back.
He glances at the table he'd set up, his hands resting on my hips momentarily before he pulls away. "Erm...busy. Ish."
I smile, eyes crinkling slightly, and he gives me a smile back before clearing his throat. "Well, wouldn't want it to go to waste by letting the impeccable food get cold." I grin, walking past him as he quirks his eyebrows. He rests a tentative hand on my back, leading me to my chair, and I smile.
We take out a slice of pizza, eating a few bites before he sets the slice down, looking at me curiously.
"What?" I ask, swallowing.
"Nothing. Everything. Um..." He scratches the back of his neck. "I take it you read the entire article."
I nod slowly. "About how they saw you and pictured you with Kat McNamara."
"...yeah." He says quietly. "We were drunk, it was late, one of the last days of shooting and I don't know what I was thinking, Y/n, I was missing you and I couldn't imagine not being with you and-"
I shake my head. "Tom. Please."
He sighs defeatedly. "I don't know how to make up for it, love," he says. "I don't know how to try the way you wanted me to."
I don't say anything immediately. I look around, looking from the many candles in the flat, to the plates set on top of each other for no other fancy food than pizza, to his fingers, with small slight burns marks from the candles. Taking his hand in my own, I lean forward slightly, brushing lightly over the minor burns. A small smile creeps unto my face as I look up at him.
He raises his eyebrows. "What?" He asks, adjusting the slight grip he had on my own hand.
I shift, lacing our fingers together. "You did try," I murmur softly with an affectionate grin. Internally I wanted to kiss him really bad because I loved it. I loved what he did so, so much. "And you won me back. Congrats, Sangster," I murmur softly.
He opens his mouth, then closes it. "I- Well- I didn't know I'd be able to that fast. I had this entire little dance thing waiting, I have the song ready to play, I didn't know you'd be okay with this so fast-"
"Go for it," I say, smiling and standing with his hand still in mine. He pulls out his phone, pressing play to a familiar, nostalgic song.
"Oh my god," I say, covering my face with my free hand. "I don't believe it."
He grins at my flustered reaction. "I knew playing the song from prom would change your mind." He walks closer to me, setting both his hands on my waist. My arms go around his neck as I blush deeply.
"Oh my god, Thomas Brodie-Sangster, I can't even right now." I mumble into his shoulder.
His laugh rumbles through his chest. He brings his lips near my ear, murmuring the song lyrics as I feel myself fall into a puddle internally. "I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I've been, lucky to be coming home again..." He's the only one moving now, swaying the both of us as I watch him.
He leans down, pecking my lips softly. "And they told us we wouldn't last."
I smile, threading my fingers through his hair as the music continues in the background. "Would you look at us now."
I smile, closing my eyes and resting my head on his shoulder again. He leans down, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "Thank you," he says softly.
I look up at him. "For what, Tom?"
"Everything." He kisses me again, and I comply, moving to the step of his feet.
"You're welcome," I say with a small chuckle between his lips. The music is long forgotten as his lips fall against mine again.
His lips shift down to my neck, and I feel his grasp on my hips tighten. How'd we get to the bedroom?
"I love you," I mumble as I run my hands through his hair, giving better access to my neck.
He looks up at me for a moment, before nudging me against the bed. "I love you too," he says, and then the covers are over us.
~~~