Dancing with Love (a Tom Hiddleston fanfiction) -Book 1-

we're okay

Tom's POV

I was back in the park.

It was a bright, ordinary afternoon, the kind of day that felt too perfect to be real. The sun was warm on my skin, and the sound of kids laughing echoed in the distance. But something was off. I felt it in my gut, a deep sense of dread creeping in, wrapping itself around my chest. I wanted to move, to do something, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I was stuck, frozen in place like my legs had been glued to the ground.

Nat stood just beside me, smiling like she didn't feel it too—the wrongness in the air. I tried to speak, to shout at her to get down, to move, but my voice was gone. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I tried again—nothing. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, heart hammering, but I was completely helpless. My body refused to respond. I couldn't protect her.

And then it happened.

The sharp crack of a gunshot ripped through the peaceful afternoon. The sounds of the park—the laughter, the idle chatter—all vanished, replaced by the chaos of screaming. People were running, scattering like animals, trying to escape. But I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. It was like I was trapped inside my own body, forced to watch everything play out in slow motion.

I saw Nat look at me, her face pale, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. She looked straight at me, and in that instant, I could see the fear in her eyes change to understanding. She knew. She knew what was happening, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

My heart pounded harder, adrenaline surging through my veins, but it was like I was stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper, my limbs heavy and useless. Every muscle in my body screamed to move, to grab her, to pull her to safety. But I couldn't.

And then she fell.

The moment stretched out forever. Nat crumpled to the ground, her legs buckling underneath her as if someone had pulled the strings from her body. I could hear the thud of her body hitting the grass, though everything around me was a blur of sound. The bright red of her blood spread beneath her, seeping into the earth, too fast. Too much.

My mind raced. I wanted to scream her name, to run to her, to stop the bleeding, but I was frozen, locked in place. The horror of it choked me, my throat closing up as I fought against whatever was holding me back. It felt like I was trapped underwater, my lungs burning for air as I tried to break free.

Her eyes—God, her eyes—stayed locked on mine. They were still alive, still there, but fading fast. I could feel my heart racing faster, thudding in my chest so hard it hurt, like it was trying to break out of me. I needed to move. I had to move. But my body wouldn't listen.

The blood was everywhere now, pooling around her, soaking through her clothes. My hands itched to do something, to call for help, to save her. But I just stood there, useless. She was slipping away right in front of me, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it.

The panic was suffocating, my mind screaming at me to act. To move. I tried to reach out, but my arms wouldn't budge. My whole body felt like it was trapped in concrete, and my legs were numb, rooted to the spot.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and the world around me went silent. Everything slowed to a crawl. There was no more screaming, no more gunfire. Just her, lying there, bloodied and still. The light gone from her eyes, her skin sickly pale.

Then, suddenly, I was jolted back to life. Hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me hard. I gasped, my chest heaving as I woke up, my heart still racing, my skin slick with sweat. The park, the blood, Nat—they all vanished in an instant, replaced by the dark quiet of our bedroom. I was shaking, breath coming in ragged gasps as my mind struggled to catch up.