Truly Yours (TomxLilith)

23

Third POV:

Tom's eyes narrowed, as if trying to decide whether Lilith's words were a trap or some kind of game he hadn't agreed to play. He always carried himself like that, like everyone was just a piece on a board he was already two steps ahead of. But for a second, just a flicker, that control wavered.

"And what do you think I'd be good at, exactly?" His voice was low, smooth, but there was tension in it, like a string pulled too tight.

Lilith leaned in, close enough to notice the way his breath hitched ever so slightly, even though he would never admit it. "At wanting someone. And letting them want you back."

Tom's jaw shifted, a small movement that betrayed how carefully he was holding himself together. "You think that's what I need?"

"I think it's what you want, even if you won't let yourself believe it." Her voice was steady, but there was something gentle in it, not pity, but understanding. As if she could see all the cracks in the walls he kept so carefully built around himself. As if she didn't think those cracks made him weak.

For a moment, he said nothing. Tom's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes, not quite anger, not quite curiosity. Maybe a little fear.

"You don't know me," he said, though the words sounded thin, like even he didn't believe them.

Lilith smiled, but it wasn't mocking. "Maybe not yet."

Tom stared at her, his gaze heavy and searching, like he was trying to find the trick, the hidden angle in her words. But she didn't flinch, didn't look away.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Tom felt something stir inside him, something unfamiliar and unsettling, something that whispered he wasn't as untouchable as he liked to think.

And that scared him more than anything.

Tom sat rigid on the edge of the bed, arms braced on his thighs, like he wasn't sure how he ended up here and wasn't entirely comfortable staying. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and he pushed it back in a quick, impatient gesture, avoiding Lilith's gaze. But she was close, too close, and the room felt smaller with every breath they shared.

"I don't know what you're trying to do," he muttered, voice low and tight. He didn't sound angry—just wary, like someone who'd spent a lifetime waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I'm not trying to do anything, Tom," Lilith said gently. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her shoulder almost brushing his, leaning in just enough to be noticed but not enough to overwhelm.

"You ever wonder what it's like?" Lilith asked, her voice soft but not coy. "To let someone in? To let yourself want someone, and have them want you back?"

He gave her a sharp glance, his dark eyes narrowing. "No," he said flatly.

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. He told himself he was above that sort of thing, that it was pointless, even dangerous. Relationships were distractions, full of needs and compromises. Things that other people got tangled in. Not him. He wasn't built for it, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Lilith didn't seem surprised by his answer. She gave a small, knowing smile, like she could see right through him, and that irritated him more than it should have.

"You'd be good at it, you know," she said, tilting her head as if she were observing him from a new angle.

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line. "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice was cool, dismissive. He had perfected that tone, the kind that made most people back off.