Tom Hiddleston/Chris Hemsworth imagines (under SEVERE editing)

Valentines day

I'm so lazy I just copy pasted some work I did for my creative writing club and shoved some names in...

I wake up in a good mood. Today, Valentine's Day, is my birthday. I expect my Tom, my boyfriend, will ask me to be his valentine today, and of course many birthday wishes from friends. I get ready as always, and take care to wear a romantic pink outfit. I swing around the doorframe of my kitchen, a wide smile on my face. I look in at my mother who cooks a wonderful breakfast, and my father reading the paper. They smile and wish me a happy birthday. We eat and laugh together, and I leave for school.

I walk into the large building, pink and red hearts and decorations everywhere. As I walk to my locker everyone wishes me a happy birthday, and a happy Valentine's Day. I feel so happy I could float into the sky. When I open my locker a wave of roses falls onto me. A letter is pasted to the back of my locker. "Turn around". I do as instructed, and there stands Tom, holding a box of chocolates. He smiles and asks me, "will you be my valentine" of course I accept.

I jump into his arms, but before I land he desolves. The smiling, clapping people around me evaporate to. I stay twisted in the floor, a look of confusion coming over me. "Wait, don't leave! Where are you all going?" No one listens. Instead, my surroundings turn black and I fall into an endless hole. Suddenly, a deep, resonating voice echos around me, "why did you let him die?". I'm terrified and whisper out, "No, I don't know what you mean-"
"You could have stopped his death. Why didn't you wake up a minute earlier! If you hadn't worried so much about what you wore he'd still be here today!"
I sob, screaming "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

I wake up in a cold sweat, jolting up. I take a few deep breaths. That was four years ago. The day Tom died. Today's the anniversary. I get ready as normal, and as I walk to my workplace is see happy couples everywhere. Everyone else sees it. The sky. The sky is made of the sweetest pink, and the softest blue. Yet it appears only I can see a suffocating shade of gray.