Art Imitates Life

Chapter 18

The lights flashed from every angle as Tom stepped up to the podium, the press conference room buzzing with anticipation. He felt the weight of dozens of cameras and countless pairs of eyes watching his every move. It had been a whirlwind since the scandal broke—a dizzying, draining fight to set things straight and regain control of the narrative. But now, with Chris and his family behind him, he felt a steady calm settle over him.

He took a deep breath, his voice steady as he began, "Thank you all for being here. There's been a lot of speculation and misinformation surrounding me, my art, and my personal life these past weeks. I want to be clear: I did not plagiarize anyone's work. My art is the product of years of dedication and personal experience."

Tom could see some reporters scribbling furiously, others watching with focused expressions, hanging on his every word. "Timothee Chalamet's accusations have caused a great deal of pain, not only to me but to my loved ones. These claims are unfounded, and today, I'm here to clear my name."

He paused, his gaze sweeping the room as he continued, "And, while I'm here... I'd like to share something personal that I'd hoped to keep private for a little longer." Tom smiled, glancing toward Chris, who was standing just off to the side, a quiet source of strength and encouragement. "Chris Hemsworth and I are engaged. This is a new chapter for us, and we couldn't be happier. So, whatever rumors or accusations may be out there, know that we're committed to each other, and nothing is going to change that."

A chorus of murmurs rippled through the crowd as reporters exchanged looks of surprise. Tom had anticipated it would be a shock, but it was worth it to finally share his truth. Questions erupted from every corner of the room, and he spent the next hour answering as many as he could, determined to keep his story front and center. After the conference, he moved to a series of interviews with key news outlets, each conversation helping him take control of his story once and for all.

By the time he got home that evening, his entire body ached with exhaustion. Chris was waiting for him, and as soon as Tom walked through the door, he was wrapped in a warm embrace.

"You did amazing," Chris murmured, kissing the top of his head. "I'm so proud of you."

They settled down in the quiet of their living room, letting the day's tension melt away. As they talked, their conversation shifted to deeper topics—the future, dreams, and the possibility of kids. They spoke of the family they could build together, the places they wanted to visit, and the life they could create, their love solidifying into something stronger, more permanent with every shared vision.

As the night wore on, Chris eventually drifted off to sleep beside Tom, his hand resting protectively on Tom's back. Tom lay awake, his thoughts still buzzing, replaying the events of the day, the accusations, and Timothee's cold, malicious gaze that lingered in his memory.

With a quiet resolve, Tom slipped out of bed and made his way to the hallway, his mind set. He dialed Harrison's number, his voice low so as not to wake Chris.

"Harrison, I need to know where Timothee is," he said, his voice steady.

There was a pause, then Harrison replied, "He's at a bar downtown. Look, Tom, are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure," Tom replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Thank you, Harrison."

He grabbed his jacket and made his way out, the night air cool as he drove to the address Harrison had given him. When he arrived, the bar was dimly lit, the hum of quiet conversation blending with the low music. He spotted Timothee in the back, leaning over the bar, a glass in his hand, his face partially obscured by the shadows.

Tom approached, his steps silent but purposeful, and tapped Timothee on the shoulder. Timothee turned, a look of surprise crossing his face before it twisted into a sneer.

"What do you want, Holland?" Timothee slurred, his tone mocking.

Tom snatched Timothee by the neck dragging him to the back of the bar to the restroom.

In the restroom, the muffled sounds of the bar faded, leaving just the two of them in a tense silence. Timothee leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a smug expression.

"You think you've won?" Timothee sneered. "Your little press conference might've fooled everyone, but I know the truth. You're nothing without him."

Tom clenched his fists, his anger simmering just below the surface. "You don't know anything about me or what I've worked for. All you've done is try to tear people down, and for what? A shred of attention? Because you can't stand anyone else finding happiness?"

Timothee's expression shifted, a flicker of something defensive crossing his face, but he quickly masked it with disdain. "You think you're so much better than me," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "Just because you have him wrapped around your finger."

Tom took a step closer, his gaze steely. "Chris is with me because he wants to be. Because we love each other. That's something you'll never understand, and I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for someone who's so bitter they'd destroy the people closest to them just to feel something."

Timothee's eyes darkened, his face twisting in anger. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," Tom replied, his voice icy, "but I know enough to see what kind of person you are. And I'm done letting you ruin my life."

Without another word, Tom turned, but Timothee grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Tom's instincts kicked in, and he swung, his fist connecting with Timothee's jaw. The impact sent Timothee stumbling back, his hand going to his face in shock.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the finality of it all. Timothee stared at him, his mouth twisted into a snarl, but Tom only shook his head, a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"You're not worth it, Timothee," he said quietly. "Not even close."

He walked out, leaving Timothee alone in the dimly lit restroom, the sounds of the bar fading behind him. The weight that had settled on his shoulders for weeks felt lighter, and as he made his way back to Chris, he felt a renewed sense of peace. Whatever happened next, he knew he had done everything he could to protect the life he was building, to protect the people he loved.

And that, for Tom, was enough.