Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagines

His Best Friend

His Best Friend.

I put the phone down and stare at the floor with an expressionless face, my eyes a void that is masked with an expressionless glaze. I don't know how to feel. My best friend, Thomas Brodie-Sangster, had just called me.

"Well shit..." I say, whispering to myself and the words seem to echo around my flat. I guess I should be happy right now but I can't seem to find the words; or the emotions for that matter, to convey how I should be feeling. Thomas just rang to tell me his delightful and all round sweet girlfriend/fiancé Isabella is pregnant. Well, gee. I start to cry, silent tears sliding down my cheeks although I do not look upset. This is shock, and sadness. These are the emotions that are locked up inside of me.

Sitting on the couch and wiping away my tears, I realise that this is serious. My best friend is going to be a father - another thing to add to his busy agenda of being an actor. I hardly get to see him any more as it is, and now that Isabella is going to be pregnant...?! Well screw it, I'm about to lose the only best friend I've ever had. I'm about to speak out loud when the phone rings again: Tom.

"Hi Tom," I say, trying to sound upbeat and happy.

"Hey Y/N, sorry to ring again, can I come round yours and pick up the rest of my stuff? Right now just feels like a really good time to do that!" He chirps excitedly and I can't say no. Thomas hangs up after saying goodbye.

Ah yes, "the rest of my stuff"... I'd forgotten about that. A few years ago me and Tom bought a flat - the flat I'm in now - and we lived together until nearly two years ago, when Thomas met Isabella and they got a flat together because "it felt right and I'm sorry Y/N, I really am, but she's my girlfriend". Yeah. It's taken Tom two years to finally get out of my flat and now it's feeling pretty empty, only some of his stuff still lingering round the place; an odd sock, a book, some clothing, other bits and bobs.

Soon enough there's a knock at my door and I take a shaky breath before answering. Thomas is stood there: neat hair, clean face, tidily dressed in a top, blazer and skinny jeans and posh shoes with his perfect smelling breath and smiley smile. Its amazing how him and the guy who used to live at my flat is the same person. The guy at my flat wore baggy sweatpants and normal tee- shirts with messy hair and wore whatever he wanted, when he wanted, when he ventured the outdoors. He's different now.

"Do you not have your key anymore?" I ask, feeling a little disappointed that he didn't let himself in like he used to do when he first started dated Isabella.

"Yeah Y/N, yeah. It just...didn't feel right, I guess. So, is my favourite girl- ah damn can't say that anymore." He chuckles then carries on, "so, you gonna let me in?" My heart sinks right to my toes as soon as he doesn't finish his sentence about me being his favourite girl - of course I'm not...he has a fiancé and a potential baby girl.

"Yeah. Come in," I say half heartedly and turn around walking back into the house. Suddenly, I don't feel like talking to my best friend, and I damn sure don't feel like having him in my flat. I hear him whisper, "You've decorated.", which is true; I have changed the paint job and the wallpaper since Thomas left. It's only fair...it's been a while since he last came around.

"So, where's my congratulations present?" He laughs and I stop abruptly in front of him, making him slam into me from behind. I turn on my heel and stare at him. That one sentence snaps something inside of me but the anger and sadness washes over me and goes away as soon as it comes. "Considering you've just told me, I haven't exactly had time for that, idiot!" I slap his arm playfully and fake laugh. Why won't he just get his stuff and leave to care for his unborn baby?

"Now go retrieve your stuff, yadayada etc." I say, giving him a light push into the landing and he walks away, going to find the rest of his knick knacks. I heave out a heavy sigh and nearly feel the whole weight of the world land back on my shoulders as Thomas walks past the doorway with a smile. I turn around and try to forget about him being here. I plop down on the sofa, turn on the television and see what's on. A film. Half an hour later the plot of the film begins to unravel and something goes off within me. I can hear Thomas walking around the house - chirping a happy little tune - and I break down. The film I'm trying to watch is about a woman with an aching heart for a guy that will never love her. I wipe my eyes, trying to deny the truth of why I'm crying.