Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - I'm Falling Around You

Tom’s POV

        I stood outside her house of mediterrean fashion.  I can hear music radiating from inside, a cello and a piano.  My heart ached even more, knowing that it’s not me playing the piano.  I wondered who she got to replace me; when we were together and even a bit before, I had always accompanied her.  We would spend hours on end playing wonderful music, and I would go off playing nonsense, and she would laugh and smile.  And sometimes, I would just be so mesmerized by her playing, I would stop, and she would still continue, her bow dancing on the strings of her cello.

        We used to be so close.  I could tell how she felt by the sound of her breathing.  I could read her face better than I could read a script.  I could probably tell you the songs she played most on her phone, all her pet peeves, her favorite books, and her dreams and wishes.  But now, she was a reflection in the mirror, a photograph, something intangible and an image of what used to be.

        I muster up some courage and continue walking to the door.

Your POV

        You went upstairs and unpacked your cello, feeling the scroll as you held onto it.  The wood of your bow felt smooth in your hands and the metal of the strings already gave you a numbing feeling in my fingers.  That is how your heart felt nowadays: cold, hard, numb, lifeless.

        Ian Axel was already ready at the piano, even playing a little riff.  He looks over at you, still staring into the wood.

        "Are you okay?"

        You look up slightly startled.  "Yeah.  I’m fine."

        After practicing, he goes out the back exit, a shortcut to his house.  You go to the kitchen, grab an orange, examine it, liking the way the bright sunlight was hitting against it, and start to head out the front door.  As you open the door, it gives easily.  You find out why when you see Tom on the other side, his hand on the door as well, on his way inside.

        Your heart stops beating, all the emotions coming back.  The heartache, the depression, the anger, the torn feeling between wanting to forgive and wanting to scream, the love -- it all came back in a huge tsunami wave, and all you could do was stare back at him with blank eyes.  He swallowed, looking down at his left hand.  You do too, and he’s holding (your favorite colored flowers), your favorite.  You look back at him, and he’s already looking at you.  As he’s beginning to open his mouth to say something, you walk past him and out the door.  You head for your shed nearby in your backyard -- your special not-so-secret hideout.

        Inside is nice and tidy, like it was a room in my house taken out and placed at the base of a grassy, meadow hill. You enter, lock the doors, and walk to the piano in the middle of the room.  You skim it with your fingers, still cold, still a numb feeling.  You sit down, start to play a little something, and soon you find yourself singing.

Over, I'm so over you

The way that you look in a three-piece suit

Over, I'm so over you

The way that you held me when nobody else would

Maybe if I tell myself enough

Maybe if I do

I'll get over you

Maybe if I tell myself enough