FLORICIDE| tom riddle

dieci

When she goes to see him in the morning she sees that he's already awake.

"His name is Tom."

"What?" she asks.

"The man who showed me where to sleep. His name is Tom."

"Just like yours," she says as she goes to stand next to him.

His lips are pursed and an unreadable expression flashes. "Yes."

Then he turns to her and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"What is it?" she asks wearily with one eyebrow cocked.

"Take me to your home."

"No."

"Do you despise your home? And your family?" he asks with interested eyes as he looks at her.

"It does not concern you," she replies and crosses her arms. But that's enough for him to understand and he nods silently as if he feels sympathy but Agnes knows that Tom Riddle would feel anything but that.

"Why are you here, Tom?"

"I'm looking for something. I was hoping I could find it here." His words are cutting enough for her to know that it's all she can get out of him.

"Why do you want me to take you to my house?" she asks as she takes out a cigarette and a lighter. Tom watches as she lights the cigarette and puts it her mouth with careless gentleness.

"Because you are have captured my attention and I want to know you, Agnes."

The weather is cold. The grass is crisp with dewdrops. The flowers seem frozen. The sky is not clear. And when she breathes out smoke, the only thing that is giving her warmth right now is seeing the man beside her breathing in the same air, the same smoke as her and those words have her wanting to inhale some kind of emotion.

"I don't wish to see my mother," she says in a low voice. "I don't think I have a home."

Her fingers are stiff and she keeps closing them in and out. In and out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Out of all the people, she admitted to him. Out of all the people, she shared something vulnerable with him.

His shoes clicking makes her want to shut out herself. They keep clicking, stomping on crunchy leaves, until they halt suddenly.

"I don't have a home either."

Her eyes never meet his and that's fine. "Are you broken like me, Tom?"

"No."

There's a moment of silence where she drags in a long puff.

"I don't think you're broken, Agnes. You're anything but broken." Her name rolling off his tongue and his words have her shut her eyes tightly and crush the cigarette in her hand.

He's not a man. He's not human. He wants to manipulate you.

She feels his breath on her cheek.

"I want to slap you, Tom," she whispers with her eyes still shut.

"Why?" he whispers back, his breath falling on her skin like soft icicles.

Because you're making me feel things.

He hears it of course and she waits for him to scoff or laugh or smirk.

He does none of those. And when she opens her eyes, she sees that his eyes are blank and there's no expression on his face. But his hands; his hands are clenched tightly and she wonders for a fleeting moment if she makes him feel things too.

Then he turns around and walks away from her and she shakes her head to herself because he does not feel things. Especially not because of her.

And that's probably why she wants to keep talking to him.

And she hates him for that.

.

a/n

i cannot apologise enough for updating so late but sorta life update i had some surgeries, had some life changes, fell in love, got my heart broken 😜😜😜😜 HOW ARE YOU GUYS OHMYGOD