You are a hardworking young actor that catches a big break, resulting in you attending your first big awards show. Among the famous faces you see that night: Tom Hiddleston. You only ever intended to admire him from afar, but he has different plans...
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Previously in YOJA: All it took was a moment, one look and a few thousand words, and Tom is back in your life. You didn't think it was possible to repair the damage you'd done. Somehow, somehow he's here and looking at you like you're magic.
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Loosely contained by formal wear, rumpled and well-worn for the extended evening, Tom doesn't quite seem real. You know that he is, though. You know he's laying there atop the hotel bed duvet, close enough to touch. This isn't some make-believe moment in your head, even if just yesterday you were so very sure that he'd never have anything further to do with you.
The plan had been to make an appearance at the event, walk the carpet and smile and pretend that everything in your life was just the way it should be. What did you have to complain about, after all? Just a derailed relationship. Just a broken heart.
Tom inhales, his eyes searching as he reaches out to brush his fingertips along your upper arm, "Where'd you go, just now?"
Into your head to a place far far away from this moment in the hotel room in the wee hours of the morning.
First trying to bite back the soft smile, you eventually give in and let the smile fully emerge as you flit your attention over his face. His features are the same, even if half hidden behind the longer hair and beard. Oh,how you've missed him. "Nowhere," you answer, "I'm right here."
His eyebrows knit together for a split second before he laughs, tipping his body closer to test that answer, his mouth quickly occupied with rediscovering yours.
It's been like this since the diner. Careful quiet conversation punctuated by the intense need for physical contact. In transit, even in the elevator and short walk down the hallway to the door of the room, it had been fleeting innocent contact, both seemingly cautious of one another. Once in the room, though...
Had it been you that started unbuttoning his shirt, or him? You can't quite remember. He'd been the one to draw up short, of that you're sure, pulling himself away to pick up the conversation where it had left off.
This time he only pauses for breath, his body tucked close, but you catch the hesitance in him all the same. You reach to try to wipe some of the transferred lipstick from the edge of this mouth, quietly offering another apology.
