Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 138.

Y/N's pov~

Giving Tom the time he needed was essential. Picking his car up from the set was optional, as was buying him a new phone only the bare necessities in the hope that he would forgive me even the slightest bit. I hadn't planned to delete Clark's chat, let alone that Tom would find out, but ultimately I had no choice. I dreaded the existing messages, never really noticing how much we had flirted. Now I wanted to distance myself from it all, from Clark and everything associated with him. It was a small step, and as stupid as it sounded, I preferred Tom reading nothing than everything.

I returned in the evening, feeling confident I could bring him some joy. The massive TV on the wall softly illuminated the room with a movie, its sound muted, and the lights dimmed. My footsteps were slow as I approached, could only make out the silhouette of his figure seated on the edge of the couch. It was hard to tell whether he was asleep or awake, watching or waiting, until I stood before him.

His gaze fixed on the screen, the bandage off. Revealed the wounds on his temple like healed scars. He bore multiple injuries on his head, the bandage serving as a shield to prevent inflammation or further aggravation. Yet, Tom appeared indifferent to it all.

I pulled his car keys from my pocket and held them up proudly, though the gleaming fob received little more than a passing glance. "Brought your car back," I announced, knowing Tom always preferred to drive himself. He wasn't one for large entourages, and even a driver could sometimes be too much. When there was no reaction, I continued, "And here's a new phone so your family can reach you anytime." But his gaze stayed the same, this time not even glancing at the white package containing a brand new device in my palms.

Did he have earphones in? I tried to discern, but his long locks made it difficult. Kneeling before him, I took his face in both of my hands, fingers gently grazing over his still tender wounds, and then, for the first time, he looked back into my eyes.
"I'm sorry," I whispered for earlier. I was sorry because none of my actions were justified, and most of all, I was sorry for what Tom had to endure.
I kissed the corner of his mouth, the part untouched by scratches, the part that couldn't hurt him, yet he remained still. Three weeks, over 21 days, and not a single kiss had passed between us. Holding hands was completely out of the question.
His eyes were red, pupils dilated. I hoped it was just the dim light, but suspected there was more at play.
"Leave," he suddenly growled just as my lips made contact with his. He didn't seem to be on board.
"What?" I leaned back, bewildered. A lump formed in my throat, and I could barely swallow it down without choking.
"I want you to go," he muttered again, reeking of alcohol. I immediately looked around, only to have my suspicions confirmed. Whatever it was, I couldn't quite figure it out, but knowing Tom, it wasn't something mild. How could this even happen? I had only been gone for a short while...
I held his hand firmly in mine and pressed it against my cheek. He needed to understand he needed me, he needed to understand he needed someone to take care of him.
"No, Tom, you don't mean that—" but then he suddenly grabbed my jaw without me having to press his palm against it. He stood up abruptly and pulled me up with him.
"I WANT YOU TO FUCKING LEAVE Y/N! NOW!" And he meant it as he screamed each word throughout the entire space. He was drunk, and he was angry. Both because of me.

A trembling breath escaped his throat, his eyes scanning my entire face, noticing his shaky grip and quickly withdrawing his hand from my cheek. It hadn't hurt. Perhaps because I was too taken aback by his reaction, but even afterward, I felt no physical pain.
Tom stepped aside, taking his bottle from the living room table and strolling into his room. My heart beating as if it had just lost a race. What was going on? This wasn't us. This certainly wasn't me, but was it Tom?

Should I go after him? Continue to impose myself on him as if it had worked before? Or should I listen to him, distance myself from him, and leave him to deal with his alcohol problem alone? He was clearly not doing well, but was I making things better or worse? Maybe the right decision was to give him all the peace and space he needed. Maybe it simply wasn't my place to take care of him right now. I knew Tom, knew he was strong. He would be able to take care of himself. And so, I left him alone that evening. I took a taxi back to the hotel, leaving the new phone and the car keys neatly placed on the kitchen island. He would find them eventually.