Behind the Scenes

Chapter Eighteen

Tom smiled as Amanda walked through into her uni building and he waved as she turned the corner. She disappeared from view and he turned, making his way into the city with no actual plans in place. He made his way to the park, phone in hand and ready to text Amanda for her full day, trying to distract her from her lessons.

"You're Amanda's new boy, then?" Jackson said, stood behind Tom with his arms crossed. "Good luck with her, the slut is damaged." He said with a short laugh.

"Yeah, if you're who I think you are, some of that is your doing." Tom replied instantly. Jackson glared at Tom when he turned to face him. They stared at each other and Jackson made the first swing. Tom ducked it, just, punching back much harder from his training for the MCU movies. The nearby parents with their children scattered, not wanting the young ones to witness anything.

Tom limped his way home, covered in cuts and bruises and taking shortcuts so the paps wouldn't see him wrecked. Amanda was already in his apartment, humming as she cleaned the kitchen. She turned around to the door when it opened and her mouth fell open, the dishcloth dropping from her grasp.

"Oh, Tommy. What happened?" She asked, rushing over and helping him to sit down before searching for the first aid kit. She found it by the fridge, smiling at him sadly.

"Met your ex." He grumbled. "He looks worse." He said quickly when fear filled her eyes. She sat down next to him and instructed him to stay still, getting a cotton pad and coating it in antiseptic, dabbing one across each cut she could see, taking his shirt off and staring at the bruises. She put a bandaid over each cut on his face and she wrapped his knuckles, kissing them gently. She leaned over him, kissing each bruise but avoiding kissing his lips to not aggravate the injury there.

"Why did you even engage with him, Tom? He's not worth it - he's not worth all this."

"He called you damaged. And a slut." She stared at him.

"So you got this done to yourself for me?" She whispered, trailing her hand down his chest, avoiding his bruises and he nodded at her, staring straight into her eyes until it got too intense and she turned her head.

"And it was worth it, Angel." He said firmly, making her head turn back to him.

"How was this worth it, Tommy?" She asked, furrowing her brows. "You got so messed up. Why bother?"

"Because I care about you. And he's a dick. Besides, like I said, he looks worse." He said, trying to smile but wincing and eventually giving up.

"I'm not worth all of this, Tommy. Next time please please please just walk away from him. Please?" She begged, her eyes filled with tears at the prospect of Tom getting hurt again. He sighed and nodded.

"You are worth it, love. But if it means so much, next time I see him, I'll walk away." He promised her quietly, pulling her into a hug and ignoring the flash of pain from pressing her to his chest.

She kissed his neck softly, one of the few parts she could see that didn't have any bruising. His head tipped back and his grip tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Daddy?" She whispered as the monstrous man stood over her. "How could you have survived?" She got to her feet shakily. "And how were you pronounced dead?" She mumbled, rubbing her temples as she attempted to figure it out. "Well, it could always be that you just weren't in the explosion. But they found one of your toes." She began to pace the white corridor, her father disappearing. "Unless you cut it off to make it look like you were in the explosion." She realised, starting to panic. "But how will I figure that out? I can't just walk up to you and ask to see your fe-"

She woke up with a loud gasping sound, heaving for breath.

"Hey, hey, hey, love. You're okay. You're in my apartment, nobody will get you here." Tom murmured, pulling her tight against him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to catch her breath as her body shook. He held her even tighter, even closer and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose, starting to calm down. As soon as she is calmed down, Tom loosens his grip, rolling them over so she's laid on top of him. He checked his phone to see that it was 2:53am and he squinted slightly from how bright the screen was. He saw a text from Zendaya but decided to ignore it until the morning - well, a decent time in the morning.

Amanda woke up pressed against Tom's chest, her legs either side of him and she smiled a little, moving her head to his shoulder as opposed to his upper chest. He looked down at her with a smile and turned his head to kiss her softly, tilting her chin up to make it easier.

"I'm gonna use the shower, okay?" She murmured against his lips and he nodded, relaxing his grip on her and she grinned at him before she disappeared through his bedroom door, a pile of clothes in her hands.

He turned to his phone and read the message from Zendaya that he had ignored last night.

Z- hey, have you been on twitter lately?
T- no, why?
Z- shit, man, there's a tag against you and Amanda. fans gave you two a ship name, WritingStar because nothing with your names sounded good. but "tomdaya" stans have made a new hashtag
T- what is it and how do I stop Amanda finding it?

"Tom?" Amanda's voice interrupted him as she stepped into the room in a towel, wet hair dripping down her back, phone in hand.

"Yeah, love?"

"There's a hashtag on Twitter from your fans." She mumbled, putting her phone into his hands as tears shone in her eyes. "They hate me." She whispered, walking back to the bathroom as Tom scrolled through the tweets, getting angrier with each one.