The Call

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The night had remained relatively quiet, only a few small sounds sneaking in through the open French door. The streets below seemed busy on that particular evening. Tom had been restless, tossing and turning after waking up from two hours of solid sleep. You, however, remained deep in an unconscious state, curled up beside him breathing softly. Tom had laid there to admire you for a while, the way your eyelids flinched as you blinked softly, your hair tucked away behind your ear, a pattern that he had followed numerous times throughout the night, only softly as not to wake you.

All was well and the night remained still until the silence was disturbed from noise across the room. Tom couldn't make it out at first and chose to simply ignore it, but as the same sound occurred over and over again, it aggravated him enough to sit up in bed. On the chair of the desk opposing him, your jacket pocket illuminated over and over again in a pattern. Wiping his eyes, Tom stood from the bed, treading softly as not to wake you from your sleep. As he approached the jacket, he turned to look back, making sure he was not being watched and slipped your phone from your pocket.

It wasn't a crime to look at your phone screen and he knew that you had nothing to hide from him. So he looked down at the phone in his hand, the bright light illuminating his face as he squinted softly from the sting of the glare. When his vision finally cleared, what he read on your home screen made his heart race.

'where the fuck r u'

'pick up the fucking phone now'

'8 Missed Calls'

'we need to talk, where r u'

'r u w Tom?'

'y/n pick up the phone'

'why aren't u answering?'

'4 Missed Calls'

'2 Voicemail Messages'

'u in?'

'can't stop thinking bout u'

"Carl" Tom snarled, taking a deep breath as his blood began to boil. The messages didn't stop there, as the phone continued to buzz in his hand. Another call.

Looking over at you still asleep, he decided to take matters into his own hand, heading towards the hotel door and slipping out into the hallway. As the door was closed, he looked down, answering the phone and pressing it to his ear.

"Took you long enough-"

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from her"

"Oh for fuck sake, not this bastard" Carl whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Tom to catch through the phone, "where is she?"

"Don't call or text this number again"

"Or what?"

Tom didn't have the energy to entertain, dropping the call and blocking the number. He knew Carl would probably find another way of getting a hold of you, but Tom would be there to stop him before he could get under your skin.

Taking a deep breath, about to put your phone away, Tom looked down one more time when a name in your contacts caught his eye. Tom wasn't one to snoop, but there was something deep in his gut telling him that he could look, it was for a good cause, he just wanted you to be safe, he needed you to be safe. So, hesitantly he decided to take a look.

The name Sam had caught his eye and the message that was written beneath it in your phone, 'he knows' sounded a little endearing, possibly almost threatening. Clicking on the name Tom was quickly invested in the conversation that had been shared between the two of you, starting from what looked like the night after Tom had attacked Carl.

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