Built To Last

Ch. 3

Y/n's POV:

"I don't have any songs, yet," he responded, the crease between his brows returning. Y/n paused for a second to reciprocate the look, unsure what to do.

"Hey y'know what, you've probably just got me confused with another guy, 's alright," Tom said, trying to play it cool. "What is he thinking? Did I say something wrong?" she thought. If she had, she didn't know what it could possibly be. "Maybe he just wasn't a fan of Tom Petty? But then why would he make a joke that he is Petty? Wait but does he think I think he's actually Tom Petty? Does he not know who that is?"

"Wait dude what? You don't think I mean you are Petty, do you? He died in like 2017," she responded, trying to keep her voice from sounding mean somehow.

"What the fuck do you mean he died? I'm right here?" he retorted, his voice raising a notch.

"Woah calm down, I think we're both kinda confused here," y/n tried to reconcile with him. Obviously something she had said seemed to tick him off, but what?

Tom's POV:

"Hey y'know what, you've probably just got me confused with another guy, 's alright," Tom said. He tried to play it off, but it seemed a bit obvious he was upset. "Shit" he thought, "now she's gonna think something's wrong." He fidgeted with the end of his hair a bit to seem uninterested. Maybe if it seems like he doesn't think it's a big deal it won't turn into one. Something was wrong though. She obviously got him confused somehow. Not the best way to make an impression with someone. From now on he'd never be Tom, he'd be the guy that looked like...whoever it was she thought he looked like. 

"Wait dude what? You don't think I mean you are Petty, do you?" she responded, her voice sounding condescending. Who did she think he was? He just told her his name after all. Did she think he was lying? What right did she have to tell him he wasn't who he said he was?

"He died in like 2017." Tom was through listening to any more of her bullshit. The words "he died" set him off, and he didn't hear anything past that. After years of being told he might as well have never been born, he sure as hell was going to make it clear that he was alive.

"What the fuck do you mean he died? I'm right here?" he said. He didn't mean to raise his voice, but when he noticed that he had, he figured he might as well. As far as he knew, it would only help drive his point home. Unfortunately, his accidental plan backfired. Her already uneasy demeaner turned frightened. "I'll be damned if I'm gonna scare her away now" he thought. But how could he fix this. 

"Woah calm down, I think we're both kinda confused here," she replied, her voice trying to be calm. 

"I'm calm, I'm calm" he said, looking down at the ground. He was telling the truth, sort of. He wasn't as upset, but he knew he wouldn't be able to calm down completely if he kept looking into her eyes like he had been. The reason being simple, they told everything. "What do you think is going on here? Because I don't know what you're thinking."

"Look, all I said was that you look like Tom Petty," she said, just above a whisper, "I mean I didn't mean it as an insult or anything." She laughed a bit to ease the tension. It didn't work.

"Well, I know that. But I am Tom and I don't know why you're saying I'm dead," Tom questioned.

"But," y/n started, beginning to look just as confused as Tom, "you aren't Tom. Can you be honest with me? Otherwise this isn't going anywhere and I might as well leave now."

"What no, I am Tom, why are you so convinced I'm not?" he asked, his tone darkening again.

"Dude what the hell do you mean? Even if you somehow weren't aware of the fact that he died about 5 years ago, you at least know he's old. He would've been turning 72 this october," she continued on. "Why does she sound so sure of herself when she makes no sense?" he thought.

"No the fuck I'm not, both I mean. Like I'm not old, and I'm not dead either. And why do you know when I'm born?" his voice kept gettin deeper and his accent stronger as he argued.

"Y'know what, fuck this I'm done. You're not taking me seriously so I'll just leave," y/n muttered. She turned to walk away, and Tom was painfully aware she had nowhere to leave to.

Y/n's POV:

"No the fuck I'm not, both I mean. Like I'm not old, and I'm not dead either. And why do you know when I'm born?" Tom said. His voice was darkening, and it scared her. He seemed so nice before, but what now? Would he reach his limit and do something to hurt her? Y/n knew she was in an unfamiliar place with a strage boy and was sure she couldn't have been more scared than she was right then. She decided the best strategy was to remove herself from the situation.

"Y'know what, fuck this I'm done. You're not taking me seriously so I'll just leave," she said, quietly so as to not escalate the situation. She had really thought Tom seemed nice, it sucked to be leaving. Chances were she'd never see him again. But what outweighed her dissapointment in the lost possibility of friendship was the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Tom had said they were in Gainesville, but now she didn't know if she could trust him. After all, it might have just been part of his whole "I'm Tom Petty" shtick. That was, until she saw a sign for a bus stop a few feet away with the city name on it.

"Hey, Y/n, wait!" she heard Tom call out after she had only taken a couple steps. When she kept walking, he added, softly, "Please."

Y/n couldn't help but stop in her tracks. She was angry with him, that was for sure. But he sounded so genuine, so hurt. "But you're hurt! He's the one messing with you!" she thought, "But you can't leave him like this either, did you even hear how he sounded?"

She decided if she wouldn't continue walking away, she would at least keep her dignity by not turning around to face him. So she came to a stop, and looked at the floor in silence. Hoping, he would make the first move. Apparently noticing she was sticking around a bit longer, he quickly solved that problem. He came around in front of her and sat down on the ground with his legs crossed. 

"I do take you seriously, y/n, please don't leave," he said quietly, "I just don't understand why you won't believe me."

Y/n sighed before responding, "Because Tom Petty is dead. It's 2022, and he died in 2017." Hearing her answer led him to clench his jaw, obviously frustrated, but trying his best to keep cool.

"It's not 2022, and I'm right here," he said. His voice was calm, but he was clearly struggling to keep it that way.

"Alright then Mr. Petty, what year is it?" she asked, sarcastically. Her arms were crossed and she avoided eye contact with him. In a way, she feared what he might say. He had been right about where they were, and that was crazy enough. Maybe he wasn't lying about ...everything else.

"Well Ms. Y/l/n, it's 1966," he stated, "and I should know because I turn 16 this fall and I was born in 1950." 

"Mhm, and I just won the lottery for a million bucks," she replied, not satisfied with his answer, "Sorry bud, but im not buying it." He laughed. He fucking laughed.

"And I'm supposed to buy that you're from 2022?"