Limerence (Tom Hiddleston fanfiction)

Chapter 10

His entire face lights up in seemingly unabashed sudden joy. 

I listened to Tom as he enthusiastically talked about his UNICEF membership and all the places he visited and the people he met. His expressive face lighting up when he tells me about his amazing bolognese that he will have to make for me some time. He explains it in detail and his enthusiasm fills me with such a loving feeling that it takes me by surprise. 

His zeal is bottomless. I look at him in awe. He is a handsome, thoughtful man who is not wasting his potential, and that is a heartening thing to see in this world. 

This seems like a wise moment to address a sneaking suspicion that I batted away at first—inconceivable, given the physical specimen in front of me—until it became unavoidable: By most definitions, Tom Hiddleston is...uncool. His vulnerability, his enthusiasm, his Bolognese, these are not trademarks of a dashing movie star. And yet here he is, a sweet-natured bookworm who is completely stealing my heart. His sincerity and eagerness to engage, to connect with me is humbling. He's here, he's present, he's heartfelt, he's real. 

Tom had begun opening up to me and I could tell he wasn't holding back. I looked at his face as he studies mine, making sure I enjoy what he's saying and that when he sees I do, smiled even wider. He does a couple of accents and impressions while we're drinking our wine and I know that I have never felt like this before. Never have I felt so drawn to someone, so quickly, only once and that ended in such heartbreak that I never thought I could feel this way again. 

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." he quotes the final words of The Great Gatsby and I know for sure where our conversation is heading. 

He explains to me that he isn't being as cautious anymore with what he portrays to the public, that he is being real and raw and vulnerable and that he knows how uncool emotion is to the media, but that he is passionate about everything and that he will share his passions without feeling the need to hide. That - consequences be damned. "I have been through this before, the fear and excitement over the possible," he says, looking me square in the eye, his voice raw, "if your values are under attack, if you're being shamed, if you're being humiliated, the animal response is to hide in the bush. It's to be less, to make yourself smaller, to diminish in size and volume. And the lesson that I learned was we have to love more, we have to risk more, we have to be braver, we have to be more outspoken."

I put my hand on his and after a few moments he looks up at me. 

 "I'm not going to live my life in hiding." He brushes the hair out of my face, looking so vulnerable all I want to do is hold him to my chest. I could tell he had gotten hurt deeply the past year when his relationship with Taylor blew up in his face and I felt closer to him after knowing we shared that emotion. Getting extremely hurt in love.  Daniel had broken my heart.

 We talk about how relationships go sideways, how the ripples of a breakup can still pin you to a wall even months later. We talk about heartache. We talk about sadness and healing. We talk about what it's like to love and what happens when the object of that love withdraws but all your love is still there. We talk about how those things can really change a person. 

"The world will chip away at your optimism, and you just have to fight back. You have to be someone who is still full of joy and full of love. You have to be bold and open. You have to be honest." He starts laughing and exclaims. "You have to be like Tom Hanks. We all have to be more like Tom Hanks." I giggle and he gives me that debonair smile. 

"You really are an amazing person Tom." He frowns and takes a sip of his wine. "You are. I don't think you realize the impact you have. The impact you've made on me." 

"Well darling, I could say the same to you." he smiles up at the sky smiling intently. "This is what I'm all about. Private vulnerability. It fascinates me, it inspires me, it drives me to be a better more convincing actor. To give people the most authentic reflection of human frailty and emotion as I possibly can." 

He removes his black jacket and folds up the ends of his shirt, the hem of each sleeve perfectly bisecting his biceps. The muscles are evident but not overwhelming. They are, like the rest of him, scrupulously amiable and unwilling to announce themselves with too much fanfare.

"I guess that is also why I love art so much. It's not trying to be something it's not, it is real and authentic and it means something different to each person looking at it. It evokes emotion and speaks without being anything but what it is." he looks at me, brows furrowed. "You know?"

"Where have you been all my life?" I laugh at the cliché question, but even though we are laughing - I wonder the same thing to myself. 

Tom and I returned to shore after a few more hours of talking about everything and nothing, the minutes seemingly slipping by as easily as the words flowed from our thoughts to our mouths. He got me a cab when we were back in his hotel and hugged me goodbye - once in the apartment, once in the elevator and once again in the lobby. My grin would not cease to leave my lips. It followed me into bed that night, even though the cold was ever present - my good mood could not be shaken. 

That was the first, but hopefully not the last night I dreamt of Thomas William Hiddleston.