Fire to the rain (Tom Hiddleston X Reader)

Chapter 8(3)

We're so used to lose. We always do. We lose things, feelings, people, even ourselves. With every single thing we lose a part of our soul leaves us. We end up being heartless, not because we're evil, but because we don't have anything to feel. We run out of tears in a very young age, growing up as lifeless creatures, trying to mask our vulnerability with anything we can. Some of us try to find soulmates, others search for art, in which they can bury themselves. Others turn into monsters from their childhood to cover their bleeding heart. But the most hurted among us are not able to find a cure from melancholy. They just suffer alone in silence, destroying their hearts further more, hoping that the pain will end one day. But the day never comes, and the life itself turns into grief and sorrow.

*10 days later*
She was back home-the only place which blowed on the wounds of her shattered heart, lessening the pain. She was walking down the streests of the old town, taking in the scent of history, peppered with love and hate, life and death, loyalty and betrayal. Her heart seemed to belong to the city. It was as cold and cloudy as her heart, often breaking down raining. But still, it was beautiful and strangely loving. London seemed to cuddle and warm her, with wind slightly running its delicate fingers through her silky hair and the buzzing of the city playing her favorite melody. The city seemed to stay the same-beautiful buildings and beautiful people. It was so welcoming and home-like. But the scent of betrayal was far too strong in the air. She still remembered every single thing, every single detail of that day. Sometimes she was able to see a pair of blue eyes, looking at her with guilt and lust. Every place seemed to have a part of Tom in it, to contain a part of her memory, whether it be a short kiss or a tight hug. For a second she felt dizzy, then she heard a way too familiar voice.

"Y/n? Y/n is it really you? Talk to me for goodness sake."