❝ HE'S PSYCHOTIC, OBSESSIVE, AND MY WORST NIGHTMARE.
OF COURSE, I'M THE ONE HE CHOOSES ❞
[ DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON AU]
[ TEACHER!TOM HIDDLESTON AU ]
[ BOOK ONE IN "THE NEFARIOUS" SERIES ]
[ ORIGINALLY...
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SLEEP DID NOT COME EASY. No matter how tight my eyes were sewn shut or how many sheep I counted, a dreamful state never found itself dangling before me.
I thrashed around underneath the blankets from dusk to dawn; kicking the sheets off, yanking them back on, changing clothes, going without. Time passed by so slowly, allowing all my racing thoughts to be equally investigated, even though no coherent conclusions were found. A brooding sense of unpredictability ate me away as I grappled with the overwhelming events that unfolded hours ago.
No matter how hard I want to forget, the prickling sensation of Mr. Hiddleston's hand touching mine burned itself into my skin. The way his touch was soft and cautious, full of want and desire was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Behind each blink, the memory is refreshed, growing more vibrant as I analyze every miniscule piece of the image.
The details that seem to shine brighter with each visitation in my memories is as infuriating as much as it is craved because the truth is no matter how much I don't want to fuel my desire, the thought of losing such an opportunity strikes a more powerful blow.
If I had kissed him when he was leaning closer, I bet I would pass at the top of his class, even if I never turned in another paper. Or perhaps something more, something exciting or dangerous, the perfect plot to a cliché and albeit cringeful romantic story. But I chose to pull myself away, to shake my head and remind him of the morally compromising situation he created before bolting from the room.
Above all else, I want to understand why; why he did what he had done, what lead us down this winding path with no visible end in sight, and when did a blindfold render me oblivious to signs that I still cannot see? No matter how far my thoughts and ideas wander, I truly have no idea how we found ourselves here. I had but only guesses as to where this trail would end, none being acceptable, let alone legal. In spite of my opinion on the matter, I find my heart wishing I had held his hand a little longer, allowed myself to memorize the lines in his palms and the length of his fingers.
As I roll onto my side, I stare at the alarm clock. I wonder if Mr. Hiddleston is also staring down a glowing set of numbers, counting down the hours until we meet again. A scoff escapes me; who would have thought that one day, Mr. Hiddleston and I could meet each other's eyes and smile kindly while the next day would result in quickly looking away, or perhaps never allowing a glance to exist ever again.
