Twelve Red Roses (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Dearest Cassidy

My Dearest Cassidy,

It has been a week now. I arrived in London fine, and I'm hoping you have arrived back home safely.

I suppose I just expected some sort of word from you, saying how your mother is doing. And asking how I'm doing.

I'm doing okay, in case you're wondering. But I'm in pain. Emotional pain. I really need you in my life, Cass. And I just need you to talk to me.

I opted for handwritten mail instead of texts. I think it's a bit more romantic in a way, don't you? Anyways, that's not the important part. I have a slight feeling you aren't returning to me. It's a small feeling, one that nags at me at all hours of the day, and refuses to go away. We had so many plans, Cass, and everything was going wonderfully for just a few hours. But I now wonder, did you ever want to go to London with me at all? Or did you suddenly change your mind in the end because you pitied me?

Either way, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm here, and you're there. I never did catch the name of your small city. You never told me. If I knew, I would come to you. I'd stay there with you. And then everything would be okay again. Maybe you can respond to this letter, and tell me just where you are in this world.

But until then, when you get this letter, a gift will be delivered with it. It took many phone calls just to deliver this to you, but it's finally done. You'll find a rose. Your twelfth rose. The rose I should have given to you in New York, but didn't, because I was trying to catch up on the rose I missed the state before. God, I was such a mess at that time, what with Sophie and you. I still am a mess. You make me a mess. A hot mess, I hope, but a mess nonetheless. All because I miss you.

Please write back. I don't wish to rush you, or sound desperate, so I'll wait. I'll wait however long it takes, whether you write back in a day or in a year. I love you.

Sincerely,

TWH

• • •

Tom:

I'm sorry for not contacting you. And I'm sorry I've made you wait an entire week for this letter. I'm not in the best condition. My mother is in an even worse condition.

She passed away six days ago. They're not sure how she became so weak in such little time. And that angers me.

I've cried for three days straight, and now I'm finally able to write without my hand shaking. I should have invited you to the funeral or something. I'm sorry.

In fact, after not sleeping for a long flight, and rushing to the hospital to see her, the very first thing she asked was, "Where's that man of yours, Cassidy?"

It was heartbreaking to explain to her that I'd left you behind, especially now that I've read you could have come with me. But in those situations, I tend to panic. And that's what I did. So I'm very sorry.

I don't think we should meet up, though. And this has nothing to do with you, it's all me. It's me trying to get my life and track and pick up these broken pieces. I just need some time alone. Please don't be hurt, and please just support this decision of mine. I loved every moment of our trip together, even the not-so-fortunate parts. I love that you're always there for me, and I hope, in the near future, we can maybe start where we left off.

Or we can start fresh.

We'll see.

Let's keep in touch. Write a few times a month. Nothing too elaborate. Just so we don't lose sight of each other.

Love,

Cassidy Rae Evans

---

This is short, I know. But now you all at least know what happened, and what will happen between them.

One more chapter remaining. And it's going to take place about a year later. :)