All Roses Must Wilt (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 1- Rose Parker

I silently clamber down the stairs of my flat, waving goodbye to my landlady on the way out. Good ol' Mrs. C was sorting through her mail, obviously just coming from outside. I didn't really talk to Mrs. C very much, on account that she wasn't too fond of visitors, but we made random communication every once in a while.

I couldn't help but feel bad for the old girl, though. Her husband died a few years ago, and that's when she decided to lease out the top floor of her home to whoever needed a place. And I, at the time, needed one.

"Oh, Rose! I've got your mail here!" Mrs. C calls out.

I stop suddenly before bursting out the door. I was in a bit of a hurry, but I didn't want to be rude. I turn on my heel, taking the mail in the outstretched hand. "Thank you, Mrs. C," I reply, smiling as sweetly as I possibly can. I run up the stairs, no longer worrying if I was making too much noise.

This causes Mrs.C to frown. "Oh, dear, you know how I feel about you making all that noise while climbing up the stairs."

I quickly set the mail on the table before shutting my door once again and rushing down the stairs, this time much quieter. "Sorry, ma'am. I'll be off now."

"Oh, don't forget-" I shut the door before Mrs. C can finish her sentence, and I cringe. She'll probably lecture me when I get home, telling me how ill-mannered I can be. Oh well. I zip up my black jacket before walking down the street at a fast pace. He'd probably be heading for the airport soon. Or, who knows, maybe he's already gone.

I shoot my hand into the air when I spot an available taxi, and it pulls up to me. I quickly sit inside, letting out a breath of relief. A young man sits in the drivers seat. He turns his head to me. "Where to, darling?"

"Johnson Street," I reply, noticing his odd accent. It's not British like me and everyone else around here. It's American. Usually only tourists have American accents.

The driver begins to drive. "Nice accent," he says over his shoulder.

"Thanks," I reply. "Quite common around these parts, though."

He smirks, his blue eyes glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. "Yeah, I'm from America, if you can't tell. Moved here less than a year ago, got a job as a taxi driver, and still haven't picked up the accent here."

I smile lightly at his story, just to show I'm listening.

"How about you, how long you lived here?" He asks.

"My whole life," I respond. "Well, in London anyways. Not in these parts, though. I've only lived in these parts for a year or so."

"Oh? And what convinced you to move to these parts?"

I smile, remembering the story. "A friend," I simply respond. "After he moved here, we didn't get to see each other anymore. So I moved here, too. Now we're less than a ten minute drive away from each other."

"I bet that's where you're goin' now, isn't it?" The driver asks me. "Your friend's place?"

I nod. After a few more minutes, the taxi reaches Johnson street, and I pay the driver the money before getting out. Then I begin to walk. I never drove myself directly to my friend's apartment building. Then people might connect me to him and learn where he lives, learn where I live... It just wouldn't work out too well.

I turn down his short driveway, glancing up at the big building he lived in. What a little rich boy. If only I could share his apartment with him. But I don't think that'd work out in the end. I'd probably get annoyed with him after a few weeks.

I walk into the lobby and see the familiar man who practically guards my friend's room. I come here all the time, though so I don't get bothered. I click the button to wait for the lift, decided to skip ringing his room up. May as well surprise him. Pretty soon, I'm on his floor. I pull out the extra key to his apartment he gave me (don't ask) and go to unlock his door. It's already unlocked. So he's not gone yet. And he obviously is not too good with home security. I drop my bag on the floor next to the door, and immediately notice how quiet it is. I brush a dark brown curl out of my face as I quietly sneak in. Maybe, if I'm just lucky, I can sneak up on him.

The apartment is big, wonderfully structured, and has good decor. I walk through the living room and stop at his bedroom door and notice that it's open. Inside, laying lazily under the sheets on the bed, is a man fast asleep. I sigh. Really? He couldn't even get up? What if he misses his flight? I walk into his room and poke his shoulder. He simply groans lightly, not wanting to get up. I tug on a strand of his light brown, almost blond, curly hair.

He groans again. "Whaaat?" He asks, his voice smooth and deep with a British accent.

"You told me to come visit you before you went to the United States," I inform him.

He glances at me, revealing two bright blue eyes. "Yeah, about that..." He murmurs, his voice still sounding sleepy.

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'About that'?"

"My meeting got cancelled."

I sigh. "And you couldn't have told me before I rushed over here? You're terrible, Tom."

He smiles apologetically. "I know, I know... I'm sorry."

And there he goes again, apologizing for everything.

"I am!" He insists, probably thinking I don't believe him. Which I didn't. "I'm truly sorry."

"Yeah, I know you are." I glance at the man who just woke up. He looks like crap. "Sheesh, how late did you stay up last night?"

He rubs his eyes. "Hm, I don't know.. I know it was late..."

I sigh. "I hate to act like your mother in this situation, but you need to get to bed earlier. We wouldn't want your fangirls to notice those dark circles of yours."

He quickly touches under his eyes. "I don't have dark circles.." He pouts.

I couldn't help but laugh at the way he pouted at that, and I heard his laugh join mine. Tom wasn't actually a pouty person like that. He probably didn't care if he ended up getting dark circles. "So. You want tea?"

He smiles lightly in return. "Love some, thanks. Oh, you want me to make it?"

"Nah, I got it. You go ahead and... do whatever you do. I don't know. Just do something productive, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responds, grinning.

Gosh, he's in such a good mood for a person who just woke up. It confuses me how people can do that. But then again, this is Tom Hiddleston we're talking about. You'd think he'd get upset over things once in a while, or be cranky in the morning, but he always seems in a good mood. Always. I turn to leave his room.

"Oh, and Rose?"

I turn on my heel. "Yeah?"

He gives me a toothy grin. "Stop breaking into my apartment, will you?"

I let out a laugh. "Never."