Fantasy and Putts - t.h. series [18+]

Meta-Fore of Love - part four

words » 17k

warnings » she gets kind of angsty, pals ; David, although I do love him at the end of this one; smut: they get handsy at one point but nothing too explicit

~ ⛳️ ~

The pitter patter of the rain leaves drop-shaped doodles on your bedroom window while you're getting ready for your first day at work. It's way too early on a cold Tuesday morning, and your alarm took a quite harsh hit when it went off at ass o'clock, but you wanted to go through the whole deal of getting ready without rushing. So here you are, in a decent, comfy outfit, properly showered, hair and make-up ready. Everything for your first shift to be perfect.

You make a quick stop by the bathroom again to hang your towel on its rack, and on your way out, you spot something that you haven't seen in a while. There's a pair of socks by the boys' laundry basket. You shake your head at it.

The odd part is that you've been alone in the flat for the last couple of days. Even the group chat was awfully quiet the whole time. You did find yourself wondering if the boys were talking in the other group chat. It set a somewhat bitter rhythm to your heart, so you tried to settle it by focusing on planning things for your channel instead of on them.

Tuwaine never really talked to you unless it was a group thing, so that was fine. The Harries came and went from the flat whenever they pleased and you barely caught sight of them, but Tom vanished completely after Saturday night. The next morning, you found a note from him on the fridge door saying he'd gone out for a jog and that he'd probably end up spending the rest of the day at his mum's. And then you didn't see him again. It looks like he's back now, and his return must be recent because you don't remember seeing the socks there when you went in for your shower a while ago.

There's a loud noise in the kitchen that grabs your attention as you're walking through the door to the living room. Surely enough, when you check it out, Tom's out there in joggers and a baggy t-shirt, humming a song under his breath as he moves bowls of different sizes around and checks whatever he has going on on the counter.

"Hey."

He turns on his heels immediately, a kiwi in one hand, knife in the other. "Y/n! Good morning!"

"You're bright and shiny," you mock his cheerful greeting.

Tom laughs. "Yeah, sorry. I woke up early to work out and, um, yeah. Anyway, how'd you sleep?"

"Fine, I guess, but, uh," you hesitate, peeking around his torso and seeing the remains of at least three different types of fruit on a cutting board on the counter. "Where the heck have you been?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've disappeared since Saturday night."

"Oh. That." He chuckles and swivels back around to keep chopping. "I came back late on Sunday and have been around the whole time."

You notice a couple of mugs on the table though the kettle is turned off, but if you look closer, you can tell it's releasing a bit of smoke at the top.

"You've been in the flat since Sunday?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't see you yesterday," you say, supporting both hands on the back of a chair. "At all. Didn't hear you in the bathroom, nothing. What the fuck?"

"I, um, to be fair, I wasn't feeling the greatest, so I spent most of the time in bed," he says. His back is still turned to you so you have no idea how to read him just yet.

"Is everything okay?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, everything's fine." Tom grins over his shoulder, whirling around next with a big bowl filled with small pieces of fruit.