The Bebop Blues - [Animal Crossing | Tom Nook x Reader]

Chapter Two | Oh My God, They Were Business Partners (Part 2 of 2 | Your POV)

You grab the roll of paper towel and bring it close to your mouth, using it as a microphone when the music starts.

Tom stares at each of your movements, and -- though you know his intention is far from bringing any sort of pressure over you -- his gaze summons forth a subtle case of stage fright, one you try to mask by smiling and striking a pose before beginning with the lyrics.

If he'd been kind enough to offer his help, the least you can do in return is push through your fears and give it your best shot.

Thankfully -- the second you start singing -- it's as if you forget about your surroundings and everyone in it. Your heart races on par with the music's pace, and you can feel your mouth stretch into a smile. The lyrics are the only thing in your mind, while the makeshift microphone is the only thing you can sense. Your body grows lighter the more you carry on, until it feels like you're walking on thin air. It's only when the song starts to level down that the sensation lessens in intensity, though most of it remains until the very end.

You don't realize you've had your eyes closed the whole time until the last bit of melody ends. Add to that your dry throat and sweaty hands, and it's now that you grow full-aware of just how ridiculous you could've likely looked for the entire song. You can hardly bring yourself to say thank you, despite how many lyrics you'd voiced out loud. Moving from the stage -- this one a simple and worn, wooden box -- feels like a challenge bigger than it was agreeing to having Tom help you out with your worries. Before you can panic any further though, you see Tom stand up from his seat, smile, and then clap. The gleeful look in his eyes is more than sufficient for you to smile back and snap out of it, albeit after a few more seconds of steady breaths in and out.

His encouragement is like a glass of cold water on a hot day -- refreshing and aiding with the suffocating feeling that came along after the song ended.

"H- How did I do?" you ask, words barely a question as you find yourself still unable to speak up in a proper manner. "My head's spinning," you then add, managing a laugh.

Before you know it, Tom is standing right in front of you, now having to stare up as a result of the box causing you to be taller than him. He offers his hand out to you and brightens the look in his eyes as he asks, "Would you like me to help?"

Though it takes you a while, you nod at him and give into a grin. "Please," you say, flaring your nostrils. "I don't think I can make it down from here without breaking a bone or two."

He bursts out a chuckle and squeezes your hand when you place it over his. "Good to know I read the room right, then." His gaze then shifts to concern as he brings you out of the stage and off to firm ground. "Are you alright?" he asks. "Your singing was beautiful, but you seemed a bit tense, at the end."

You follow him back to the desk, let go of his hand when arriving there, and sit on one of the empty seats available, taking up the one closest to the mini-fan on top when he suggests you to do so. "I…" You scratch your throat and take in a quick breath. "I went straight into overthinking after the song ended." Your gaze meets with his, and you thank him when he offers you a cup of water. "When I realized how sweaty my hands were and how fast my heart was going, I… I kind of just froze, and stage fright gained control of me -- just when I thought I was learning how to fight against it."

While having him listen already feels like more than enough, having him pull his seat next to yours and place a hand back on yours turns out to be a surprise -- but a welcomed one, to be sure. In spite of his current actions, he doesn't acknowledge physical contact or what such an action implies and rather meets your gaze, his softened up by an emotion you're not quite able to decipher by full. It makes your heart and stomach feel strange for similar reasons, though you brush it off as you simply being too nervous to stay still. 

"But then I saw you smiling at me, and…" You let out a sigh, shoulders slumping along with it. "And I felt better, knowing I wasn't alone -- knowing I had someone by my side."

His hand tenses over yours and brings forth curiosity into your mind, one you use to spare a longer, more detailed look at him to notice his ears are perked along with his tail. His nose -- similarly -- twitches with what appears to be a mixture of shock and excitement. "Of course, (Y/N)," he says, almost stuttering over his words. "You... You are important to me, so supporting you in your endeavours is only natural." He lets go of your hand and scoots further back in his seat. "Though I must confess, I wasn't sure how to offer that support, at the beginning. Even now, I still hesitate as to how I can approach you."

You shake aside the odd sense of disappointment that comes with hearing it's 'only natural' for him to support you and focus on more important things, such as that of acknowledging his last statement and bring some sort of clarity over his doubts on the subject. "Honestly…" You smile at him and wink. "Just do what you've been doing this whole time, 'cuz it's been working well until now."

The fear of you having said something wrong arrives when you see his eyes widen and his shoulders tense. Your brain scolds you for not coming up with a better response, while your heart urges you to ask him if he's okay. You end having no opportunity to listen to either one of them, as he soon snaps out of it and says, "Do you truly mean that, (Y/N)?"

A nod is what you can manage when leftover worry prevents you from forming a reply. "I…" You grab the cup of water and take a few quick sips from it, needing it more than ever now to carry on. "I do. There's nothing more I could ask of you, really." You set the now empty cup down and huff, allowing your body to unwind. "What you've done for me here is… It's already proof enough."

The brightness of the stars pokes through the windows and aims right at your face, almost reminding you of what your original purpose is all about and what the rain stopping means for you.

With it now being such a late hour and the night so cold and wet, you figure it's only proper to wrap things up and leave.

You'd stayed at his office long enough -- overstaying your welcome was a thought beyond your mind and heart's capabilities.

"Thank you again, Tom," you say, standing up. "I had a wonderful time."

"Wait."

His words are what your heart hoped for, yet you refuse to acknowledge that.

Instead, you turn back to his side and ask, "Yes?"

"Would you like me to walk you home?"

Tom's question comes out bold enough to send a chill down your spine; still, you recover with a few minutes and some reasoning over your feelings, and proceed to reply with a quick and simple 'sure'.

Except, that's how you wish you could react, as you end up saying, "I'd love to," with an enthusiasm far too noticeable for your face not to grow warm. "As long as it isn't much trouble, though."

He shakes his head. "Hardly so." Then, he picks up his jacket, offers it out to you again, and swipes a set of keys from his desk. "Shall we go now, or do you need some more time to recover?"

You take the jacket and suppress a flinch when nearly brushing your hand with his. "I'm okay now -- Let's go."

That's the last thing you say as you accompany him out of the building, whereas his office is the last thing you see as you look behind you. 

Perhaps, it's how the lights have been turned off and how silent the night is, but there's something about leaving that makes your heart ache. It's a faint feeling, and one you could likely brush off easily enough, yet your mind resists just as much as your heart does, both of these who force you to assess the meaning until your face is too hot for you to handle. Ignoring it is almost impossible now, and it leads you to hope for the walk to be over soon -- regardless of it having only just begun.

No matter what though, you can't express your true feelings out loud; burying them back down is the only viable, logical solution available -- so as to prevent you from making a complete and utter fool of yourself.