Part 3

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It's been two weeks since he's been home. I haven't heard a word from him. His mother said he's been sleeping all day, and wondering around town at night.

I lay in my same small apartment I've living in for what feels like forever, trying to sleep. I've had a hard time trying to sleep the past two weeks. I wonder why...

A hear a soft knock on my front door. It's 11 at night and I don't have to work tomorrow. Go away. I wish to myself, hoping they would give up and go away.

They stop knocking and just when I think they've gone, I hear the door squeak open.

I sit up quickly, startled. I get up and quietly grab the baseball bat that's in the corner- Tommy and I would play when we were younger in his parents' backyard.

I slowly walk into the living room to see someone standing there, they're back turned to me. The person had turned on the lamp beside my couch and is holding a picture of Thomas and I at my 16th birthday. In the picture, he's kissing my cheek- it's my favorite picture.

A floor board underneath my foot squeaks. Bloody hell, I think and raise the baseball bat as the figure turns around.

"Is the baseball bat really necessary, Y/N?" His thick voice washes over me. His blonde hair shines in the light from the lamp and my heart stops for a moment.

"Why are you here? It's 11 at night and I was trying to get some rest." I say angrily, keeping the bat raised.

He sighs and walks toward me hesitantly. "Just put the bloody bat down, Y/N."

"I..." I drop the baseball bat as a single tears falls down my cheek. "I missed you so much, Tommy." My voice cracks.

"Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry. I wanted to call, I did. But they didn't want me being distracted. And when I got here... I didn't know if you'd want to see me or not. After not contacting you all these years... I thought you would hate me." He whispers the last part, his eyes shining with tears.

"Oh... Tommy." I rush towards him and throw my arms around him. "I could never hate you."

He buries his head in my neck and whispers into my ear, "You promise?"

"I promise." I respond quietly.

He pulls away slightly and puts his forehead against mine. "I don't know what I would've down if you hated me." He caresses my cheek with his hand, the other staying around my waist.

"Thomas-" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Y/N. I should've told you this a long time ago. However, it would've made it so much harder for me to leave." He pauses and pulls away. "But if I tell you and you don't feel the same..." he backs away slowly.

"I love you," I blurt out. His eyes widen. "I love you. I've loved you since we were in middle school. Yet there was always some other girl. A girl I could never compete with because they were so much prettier or smarter than I was." I say quickly before he can interrupt. "When you left, it hurt me. When you never called or texted, it hurt me. And now you're back and all I want to do is kiss you, yet I can't bring myself to bloody do so."

A Thomas Brodie-Sangster ImagineWhere stories live. Discover now