Just Like That

Part 3

What in the world was he doing? In what realm was any of this a good idea? These thoughts and more prompted Tom to push away from his desk and head to the kitchen. Pacing seemed like a useful strategy at this moment. He needed to move. To think. Although his hangover kept him from going on a morning jog when he first woke, the culprit now was the London rain.

He was supposed to change his password. He was supposed to sign-off the browser and never stumble upon Instagram or you ever again. You had asked who you were speaking to this morning and his act of cowardice was supposed to get you to show your true colors. Perhaps, send message after message incessantly, expecting an immediate answer until it escalated to the point when he wouldn't feel guilty for his silence? Or—you could have lost interest at the prospect of potentially not speaking to a 'movie star'? This morning was supposed to be a fluke.

"What am I doing?!" he shouted to himself, running long fingers through unruly curls. Palms slid down his temples and rested on beard-covered jaws.

If you were supposed to be a fleeting memory, why could he not get you out of his head? You lingered in his thoughts. He wanted to ask you questions about your profession, your 'kids', your life... He wanted that energy that's created when two complete strangers learn about one another, piece by piece. The heartbreaking realization was this: he wanted a friend.

Now, Tom was a pleasant guy, affable to a fault, and certainly had plenty of friends. The majority of them all held the same common characteristic: their friendship was based on their shared profession. Being friends with those who hold the same career came with its own set of difficulties. Whether he wanted to feel it or not, there would always be a level of comparison between actors. Hell, Chris was one of his closest friends, but that friendship was born from competing to earn the role of Thor. It all worked out as it was supposed to in the end–that was true enough.

The fact still remained—he just wanted to be Tom. Not Tom Hiddleston. Not Loki. Although, Tom was having some troubles of his own at the current moment that had absolutely nothing to do with acting.

"That maddening picture," he muttered to himself. The comical aspect of his frustration was highlighted as he directed his statement to a sleeping Bobby. The dog laid in silence, but Tom reacted as though he received an answer. The frustration morphed until a softer wash came over his visage. "You're right. It was just a picture of her shirt. In fact...," he paused, thinking over the pun that adorned the t-shirt.

He didn't want to admit it out loud, but the words left him before he could stop. "Adorable. It was absolutely adorable," shaking his head as he circled the living room coffee table. His eyes glanced at the standing clock along his mantel. In the privacy of his home, fingers came down to his side as he did the time difference math with slender fingers as a guide. He hated maths. Numbers didn't click in his mind the way words could—but more importantly, numbers never moved a person. Numbers didn't convey emotions.

"It's not even the afternoon for her. It's still morning. What time must it be there? She barely got any sleep. I couldn't have helped matters with my messages earlier. I kept her awake—." It wasn't until an alert came from his computer, that he was pulled back to the moment.

cgfan0820

What would people be thinking when they first saw that picture? I'm all ears.

By the way, that would be an idiom. In case you didn't notice, like you didn't notice poor Scott's exclamation points.

Hovering over his chair to read the messages sent, he adjusted his glasses to get a better look at the screen. A deep exhale mixed with laughter came as he read your words. Would you ever let him forget that you hadn't paid close attention to the boy's words? Immediately, he appreciated the way that you continued to question him, yet still added humor to the comments. It eased him enough that he was able to settle back into his desk chair, studying the message. Your humor provided him with enough courage to respond how Tom would want to respond.