Beauty And Barry (A Feltson Fanfic)

Part 2

Unbetaed.

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He is pissed off. Literally pissed off.

Matthew and his fiancée are sitting across from him inside the limo they are sharing and he can see them throwing glances at him every now and then.

As much as he loves Matt, he doesn't need his or his fiancée's pity.

His phone vibrates and it distracts him from his fuming thoughts. Tom scans it fast and turns his phone off.

Matthew fidgets. Tom remains tightlipped. He stares at the lone red rose in his hand.

Will its petals fall one by one?

He inwardly laughs at the thoughts in his head.

Stop being dramatic, Felton. Yours is not a fairytale. Far from it.

Exactly.

Pain is a hundred times worse in reality.

---

"Are you sure you don't want to walk down the red carpet with us?" Matt asks for the umpteenth time.

"No, mate," he says. "She doesn't need me there."

"Tom--"

Tom sighs. "I know. I'm sorry, mate. I just..."

He doesn't continue with his statement. And Matt, Matt understands. He always does. He has been a witness to this dysfunctional love story for years. He doesn't need an explanation on how this is supposed to work.

And how it's not working supposedly. A bitter irony that he can live without.

Words and actions have never been the proper tool to explain his and Emma's story anyway. Theirs are too complicated for that.

"If you're sure..." Matt still sounds concerned, but his eyes keep darting back to his waiting fiancée and Tom just had enough.

"Go, Longbottom!" he says, trying to sound hilarious.

Matt stares at him for a few seconds before he finally nods. He gives him a small salute and turns his back on him. Tom watches as he walks towards his girl, the two of them leaving the room they are in.

When they are finally out of range, Tom takes out his phone and responds back to the text message from that same unknown number.

I'm not walking down that carpet.

And then he turns it off. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes. He couldn't hide in this room forever. He needs to either leave now and miss the chance of having her in his arms again, or stay and just allow the press and the fans to speculate on what's going on.

"This is so shite," he says.

Tom opens his eyes stares ahead for a moment. His eyes trail towards the long-stemmed red rose at the table, its petals shining like her lips when he kisses her.

"Stop thinking about her bloody lips, you plonker," he says as he sits down on the couch, his eyes never leaving the rose.

He snatches his phone, turns it on and dials a number. Soon, a groggy voice answers him.

"Mate, it's the bloody wee hours in here. What the fuck happened?"

Tom grits his teeth in annoyance. "That bloody codger happened, Mate."

"Tell me all about it."

Rupert sounds more awake now.

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