Hero (Tom Hiddleston)

12

She was safe. She was free. She was recovering. So why couldn't he get her out of his head?

Sure, the situation she was going into was less than ideal, but it was still five million times better than the hell she had been living in. She was off the streets, she was out of the hands of people who treated her like property and abused her in unthinkable ways, she was being kept safe.

So why did he still toss and turn like she was still a mystery girl with a mystery fate? He needed to get his head about him and learn to breathe again.

Not that the press was helping him with that task.

Anymore, his dance party in Walmart was a bigger deal than Loki's death in Infinity War. Everyone wanted to know a million things that he wasn't supposed to tell them. He was afraid to even tell the majority of his cast mates and friends, for fear that they would stop thinking and repeat it, then it would go from there and all sorts of information that no one had any right to know would be all over the internet.

He felt bad being so vague about everything, but that was the way life went in the world of Hollywood. You had to learn to hold your cards very close to your chest, because many others... some of which people like Tom Holland, friends who you loved and respected dearly.... simply didn't know how to do the same.

But finally, he couldn't take his silence any longer. He couldn't get her out of his own head, and he needed to talk it out with someone.

So he shot Chris a text, and within fifteen minutes, his friend's muscled figure was standing outside his apartment door.

Tom had tea ready... a beverage the Australian certainly wasn't as attached to as he was, but still thoroughly enjoyed... and they sat down in the living room and relaxed, talking and joking like they always did.

But finally, a more serious look entered Chris's eyes, and he regarded his old friend with an air of brotherly concern.

"So... you needed to talk about something in particular?"

Tom exhaled slowly. "I suppose so. I just... I guess I need to get everything off my chest. I've had to keep all of the details so quiet, because... you know... the press can't know, and as soon as you say something on set or around an interview, it's being broadcast on live TV, you know what I mean?"

"Absolutely," Chris agreed immediately. "You know you can trust me, Tom. Anything you say will be kept between you and me."

"Thanks, Chris," he sighed. "It means a lot."

"Absolutely." A smile that was a mix of playful and concerned touched the other man's face. "So spill."

Tom hesitated for a long moment before he finally found the words.

"It's that girl, Chris."

Immediate understanding entered his friend's eyes. "Ah, of course. It's a really tough thing you had to do, you know."

"I guess so," he sighed. "I just... I don't know why I can't get her out of my head. I know I need to move on, because I can't control anything, but it... it seems impossible."

Chris nodded slowly, considering the statement. "Maybe you should just tell me the full story, you know? Get it off your chest, and anyway, once the press gets a hold of something, there's a million different versions of the same story, so it'd help me understand what truly happened."

"So true, my friend," Tom sighed. "I'll do the best I can."

And with that, he launched into the tale of the girl who had grabbed his heart like a lost puppy on the street corner, starting with that night in Walmart, all the way until the conversation he'd had with her the day before.