Twelve Red Roses (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Epilogue

Slipping on my thick jacket, along with a warm scarf, I exit the cozy little building where I was staying, walking along the street as the cold slowly creeps up through my clothes, despite my attempts to put on layers. I really love Autumn. I always have. But Autumn is always colder in London.

I've been in London for a week now, and I can't find myself wanting to leave for another destination. After my mother passed away, it took many months of crying, sulking, writing, and being alone to get to where I am now, a year and some months later. As a published, traveling author. It turns out I like writing more than I originally thought. And all it took, to write a "beautiful story with a hint of heartbreak", according to many articles, was to write something based off of what I knew. So I wrote about our trip. I of course changed the names of many, and even the name of some places and films that may have been mentioned, but I haven't met one person so far who has been able to connect 'Charlie' to Tom, or 'Amy' to me, or even 'Emily' to Sophie.

Tom. Everything in London reminds me of Tom. The small hidden stores, the distant sound of cars driving by, occasionally honking their horns, and the light from street lamps and buildings and headlights. He doesn't know I'm here. Why would he? We don't talk anymore. We haven't talked since before my book was published. I was tempted to give my story a happy ending. I thought things could be okay between us. But then the letters between us just... stopped. It's more my fault than his. After dealing with my mom's death, my answers got vague, and my letters came less frequently, and then none at all, from either of us.

But I still love him. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Only now I'm just known as a fangirl. I see him behind the screens. I tend not to watch his movies, though. The best thing I can do at this point is do what he's done. Forget.

I walk up and down the sidewalks, observing people and shops and small café's, mentally noting all of the places to go later. I have no destination, no limited time.

Everyone should do this at least once in their life. Travel alone. Having peace with yourself creates peace all around you, even in a bustling yet beautiful city like this one.

Two young teenagers pass me and take a double glance before stopping me. They nicely ask for an autograph, telling me they really enjoyed my book. They ask if it'll turn into a movie.

I say it probably won't.

Then they ask what caused me to write such a sad story, when it had the chance to end happily.

This question stops me for a second. "I'll let you in on a little secret," I say. "That story... Is true."

I turn then, and continue walking, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I still wasn't used to this. People knowing me just by seeing my face. Will I ever get used to it? Has Tom gotten used to it? It's sort of weird, we're both celebrities now, in a way. Everyone who pays attention to movies, and who the girls love, knows him, and anyone who pays attention to hit books knows me.

And with my mother dying, her first and last words to me in the hospital will forever anger me. But they will forever sadden me, too.

'Where's that man of yours, Cassidy?' 'Be good to that man, Cass'.

I still haven't gotten over the fact that she wasted her last words to me telling me to be good to Tom. I've done the exact opposite, really.

I make my way down a small walking path, deciding to switch things up a bit.

I wonder if being in London will ever bore me. So far it hasn't. There's always something to do, and something to see. I bet if I stay around here long enough, I'll make some friends. Then, instead of wandering the streets, I can have coffee (or tea) with friends, see a movie, maybe go shopping.