Tom Hiddleston Oneshots

Starting Fresh Part II

Our house was bigger than expected. As he pulled up into the driveway, I saw the rolling hills off in the distance, filled with large pine trees as far as the eye could see. He had stopped the car, got out, and opened my door by the time I even had a chance to unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Thank you." I climbed out, a little wobbly from not walking for an entire week. My muscles had grown weak from my stay in the hospital and I had lost a significant amount of weight that my jeans were sliding down my hips. Tom had frowned at the sight of me once I finished putting on my red sweater and skinny jeans, clearly noticing too that the clothes were handing off my body.

"Come on, I'll show you inside." Following his lead, we walked into our house, and stepped into the grand foyer. A wooden staircase on the side of the wall led to what appeared to be the upstairs were bedrooms were located. Looking directly in front, I saw the kitchen, and glimpses of the living room and dining room as I continued walking.

Without even thinking, I walked into the kitchen, and pressed my hand against the sliding door that led to the backyard. My hot breath fogged the glass in front of me as I looked at the pond that I famously fell through.

"How long was I under water for?" I asked Tom, not bothering to turn around.

He paused, seemingly reluctant to tell me. "About five minutes. Bronx, your sister's dog, ran to me and led me to where you were."

"You pulled me out?" I turned sharply around, my hair whipped my cheek in the process.

"Yes." Tom fixed me with his blue eyes. He looked at me as if I had asked the stupidest question fathomable on earth.

"You could have drowned yourself." I said incredulously, waving my hands for emphasis.

"I would have died for you, Jenna." He said simply, not missing a beat.

Taken aback, I was left speechless as I looked into his eyes, knowing fully well, he meant what he said. How could someone love me so much and yet I feel nothing? Swallowing the hardening lump inside the back of my throat, I licked my lips and decided to move on.

"I would like some rest now. Can you show me my bedroom?" I asked politely, feeling like a stranger in my home. In a sense, I was. I didn't know where anything was. The closet in the upstairs corridor where I thought toiletries were held turned out to be storage space for the ironing board. 

And the room where I thought was the washroom turned out to be his personal library that was absolutely packed with shelves of books. A quick glance at the paperback, hardcover, and sometimes, leather bound books, told me he loved reading, very much so.

"This is... um, our bedroom." He opened the door and stepped aside for me to assess. Peering in, I saw a big bed with many decorative pillows on top of grey satin sheets. It looked untouched from the last time it was made. It was then did I remember me fluffing the pillows up and pulled the sheets to their corners till the lines were crisp and straight.

"I remember..." I trailed off as I stepped inside the room. He must have never slept in this bed since the accident, I thought to myself. Running the palm of my hand against the sheets, I looked up to see an eager smile on Tom's face.

"You remember what, darling?" Tom walked up towards me, still holding some distance back.

"I remember making this bed and remembering me in this room..." I answered. My heart fell when the look of disappointment crossed his face. "I'm sorry."

"No, no." He shook his head. "Don't apologize. This is a start. This is a good start." Tom reassured me. "Listen, Jenna. I know it must be really strange to stay in a house with a near...stranger but if you do feel immensely bad about it, I can always live with my sister for the time being..."