The Fight – Tom Hiddleston one-shot
Request: Tom and y/n fights, he gets overly angry at her and tells her to leave their apartment. He gets drunk and makes her upset. You can make up the rest, but please have them make up!
Wordcount: 2500+
A/N: Sorry I’ve been MIA but balancing university and work (rent is crazy in south London I tell you) is proving hard indeed. Also, I don’t think Tom would ever act like this but you never know.
Your standing right in front of him now, your bottom lip quivers as you turn your eyes up to meet his. Tom’s eyes are blue, icy in their demeanour, they are almost glassy looking. Like he’s about to burst into tears, but you don’t think he will. Your heart is breaking, and he knows he’s the one breaking it. He doesn’t dare to speak, he waits for you, he shuffles his feet, he’s nervous. Since you just a few minutes ago had told him to keep quiet, or you would walk. You would walk out of his life, he knew you were serious. You study him for a second more, as your eyes gaze over his lips he opens them to speak, ”Please say something,” His voice is low, soft, urgent. You take a deep breath, tears are threatening to pour over, “I know It’s every soul for itself in this world. But I didn’t want to wake up without you,” A few tears escape your eyes, you almost feel embarrassed about the fact. You’re fast to wipe them away with the back of your hand, “It’s different now, I feel different now. God, I don’t even want to look at you,” You say, as you turn your eyes away from him again, focusing on the room behind him.
Three days ago you had returned home from your studio in south London. It was late, around 11pm and your phone was dead. You wanted nothing more than to feel the sweet relief of sleep. The underground had been stuffy and full of people who reeked of alcohol and fun times if that even had a smell. It was graduation for the university students and they were celebrating an end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. It warmed your heart because it was only a few years ago you had graduated from university, and the feeling of being free was still fresh. Suddenly panic rose in you, if it’s graduation today it must mean that it’s 11th of June. You nearly curse out loud, blood started pumping in your ears. You had missed the dinner you and Tom were going to. It had been booked for months and it had escaped your mind completely. It was Tom’s sister’s birthday dinner, her birthday was a month since though.
Tom is going to be angry with you. He never really got angry with you, but you know this would strike a nerve. It was a dinner with some of his friends, family and also some people that he didn’t really like. Mostly because they gave him grief about being successful and having money in excess. You had said time and time again that they were just jealous. All but two were overjoyed at his success. He knew that, of course. Tom is a smart man but he still didn’t want to face them alone, without you. It was sweet really, and you were a master of fusing the tension that arose in situations like this. His mum always credits you to be the one who saved Christmas that year Tom and you met. Tom never really understood why the two trouble makers needed to be invited to everything. But they were old friends of his father, and you can’t cancel out 40 years of friendship. That’s what his father said every time. You had missed the dinner, but Tom surely hadn’t gone alone? If it bothered him that much.
You walked fast when the train stopped, you ran ahead of all the drunken ex-students. The station isn’t far from the flat so you were there within five minutes. The door was unlocked, so you slowly walk in, nervousness fills you as you see Tom sitting in the settee. He’s dressed in a shirt, slacks, which indicated that he probably went to the dinner. Alone. He had a whisky in his hand, he didn’t look back at you when you closed the door. He was angry at you, but he couldn’t be that angry right? It’s only dinner, and you had taken Emma out for brunch on her actual birthday. Tom knew that because he was there. He had an omelette and refused to partake in the bottomless mimosa business you and Emma were in.
”Tom, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot, I started this new painting and it’s, well I don’t want to sound cocky but it’s rather good,” You walked into the kitchen to empty your bag, which had a smoothie bottle and a lunch box in it, “And I forgot about the dinner. I’ll call Emma to say how sorry I am. I haven’t been this inspired in so long. My phone died, so if you tried to-“ He cut you off by standing up, his jaw was cleaned. You thought your charming monologue would cool him off, but you were sourly wrong. “I can’t believe you,” He shot at you, his voice laced with disgust. You grew confused now, why was he so angry, you’d expect him to be slightly annoyed. He still had his family by his side.
He walked past the kitchen island, to stand on the other side, his steps were unsteady. “Tom, I’m sorry you had to face Jillian and Frank alone but I honestly just forgot,” You took a few strides towards him and tried to give him a kiss. He stopped you, “Don’t,” His voice was harsh and it hit you like a ton of bricks. “Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, it couldn’t have been that bad? Wasn’t Benedict and Sophie there with darling Hal and Christopher? Your parents?” His stance was of the unapproachable sort, and yours was small, you felt like a child that has been told off.
He didn’t answer your question, “Stop saying sorry, you obviously had your priorities on everything, anything but me. I haven’t seen you all week,” Now that’s just not true, but you didn’t say that, because he needed to calm down first. He took a huge gulp from his glass, nearly downing all the amber liquid in it. “I don’t know what to say more than that I am sorry -and that the dinner just escaped my mind.” You tried and reach out to just touch him if that would comfort him but he moved his hand off the counter, “I would never skip on something we planned together on purpose, surely you must know that by now?” He was bleary-eyed, you hadn’t quite seen him like this before, drunk and angry.
You knew Tom like the back of your hand, and it must be something else that had happened if he’s drowning his sorrows in drink. “You did.” He says coldly as he reached for the cupboard where you keep the spirits, “Tom, I didn’t. I just forgot, it happens.” Your voice was low, tired of saying the same things over and over again. “You forgot about me, about my family, you left me with those-“ His brow furrowed, “Vultures.” He poured up his glass with whisky, more than half the glass, “That says a lot doesn’t it,” He drunk down more whisky that you have ever seen him do. You tried to reason with him, “Yes. I’m sorry, I was so focused on my own work today, you know I’ve been struggling.” You really had been, you had been so uninspired for months now, and that day something just clicked. He scoffed and that really hurt your feelings, “What is wrong with you? Did something else happen? I’ve never seen you act like this!” Your voice was loud, and your hands were on your hips.
He didn’t answer, how childish. He looked like he was thinking, possibly what he was going to give you for an answer. Nothing escaped his mouth, “Tom?” You asked, wanting nothing more than a goddamn answer. His divine features harsh, merciless. “I thought you loved me, silly of me to believe. Hazardous thing.” What was he saying? You nearly wanted to laugh out loud at the ludicrous words that left his mouth. Instead, you let out a raspy breath, followed with, “Of course I love you, if I didn’t I wouldn’t be wearing this,” You wave your hand and attached engagement ring at him, “Now would I?” He looked at you, a look you had never seen before. He couldn’t quite keep your gaze, his eyes were nearly half shut.
You tried a different approach, “Darling, why don’t we go to bed, get some rest and talk about this in the morning?” You tried to grab his arm, to put your hand in his. He took a wonky step back, “I want you to leave,” You couldn’t quite believe what just left his mouth, you humoured him, “But I live here Tom, let’s just get to bed. You’re drunk, and in no way capable of talking about this as an adult,” You look at him, like a mother looking at a child who’s been naughty. That look disappeared quickly because he looked even angrier. “I’m not drunk,” He looked severe, his handsome appearance nearly gone. ”Come on, Tom, please just let’s go sleep. I’m tired, it’s late.” You walked past him and was headed to the bedroom when he spoke again. “They’re right about you, Jillian and Frank.” He looked at you, “They said a pretty young thing like you, well, she can only be after one thing,” You turned cold, all the colour disappeared in your face. ”Thomas, are you fucking aware of what you’re saying right now? You’re taking out your anger on me, I’m sorry your parents still tolerate those two, and that you get the short end of the stick, but don’t take it out on me. For fuck's sake.” Your swearing caught him off guard, you had never sounded so severe while you talked to him as you had done then. He must have said that to hurt you, for forgetting about your plans. Surely.
”Did I stutter? I want you to leave - Go!” He’s serious, and your breathing became ragged, tears pooled up in your eyes. For a moment you just watched him, but the silence broke when you let out a sob. “You’re kicking me out of our flat because I missed a dinner?” This is ridiculous. The tears kept coming, you always ended up crying while angry. He didn't flinch, “Have you lost it completely?” You asked him after a second or two. He shook his head and headed towards the bedroom. He shut the door so hard the whole flat rattled. You decided to leave, naturally. That night you had slept at a friend’s house in Primrose. You didn’t call him and he didn’t call you, until the second day when he called you around thirty times.
You look out towards the living room that you and Tom have carefully and thoughtfully redecorated when you moved in. Tom has jokingly said that “It no longer feels like a bachelor pad,” in which you had replied, while his arm was swung over your shoulder, “Feels good to say that, doesn’t it?” And you had kissed him.
Now it hurts to look past him, into the room, but it hurt more to look at Tom, so you opted for the emerald green and ivory scenery. “Y/n, don’t say that. Please, I’m sorry. I overreacted, you know I didn’t mean what I said,” You cross your arms over your chest, what a generic response. Come on, Tom, you’re an actor. Lie better. From the corner of your eye, you see him shift, you see him walk over to you. You look at him, daggers in your eyes, and he stops in his tracks, he’s close to you now and you can smell his cologne, you can also smell musk from him. It was clear he hasn’t showered since you left your shared flat three days earlier. His hair is greasy and untamed.
He tries to caress your arm but you move away, stating your anger at his behaviour the other day. “Y/n, I’m an idiot. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was inebriated. I was upset with my parents, with Frank and Gillian.” He sounds so desperate you nearly feel the urge to swing your arms around him and forgive him. But you remind yourself. They’re right about you, Jillian and Frank. They said a pretty young thing like you, well, she can only be after one thing. You try to stand tall, although Tom’s frame towers over you. “I’ll never forget how you looked at me. Like I had murdered your parents, worse even,” There are tears running down your face now, they can almost be mistaken for glitter. He speaks before you can help him recall all the nasty things he had said you that night, “My darling,” He’s desperate to touch you, “I was out of my mind to say those things. God, I can’t even believe I did!” He runs his hands through his dirty hair, his eyes are red. But so are yours.
“You kicked me out. On the goddamn streets, Tom.” Tears fill his eyes, you know he’s terribly sorry. He looks like a shell of the man you fell in love with at 25. He beings to cry, and it is terrible to watch his heaving chest, his breath rattling in his lungs. ”I love you,” It escapes his lips like a broken promise. He sits down heavily on one of your kitchen chairs, “I hate myself,” He covers his face for a second, trying to compose himself. You silently try to do the same, it’s horrible to see him like this. But he - a sob escapes your mouth this time, he had doubted your love for him. He had wanted you to leave. Perhaps forever? “I don’t know what came over me, I felt myself turn into a ferocious, ruthless being. I,” He looks up at you, “I understand if you never forgive me. I was unjust, cruel.” Without your brain realising you walk towards him, and you cradle his head, his cheek against your bosom. This action rips a sob from deep down in his chest. As a reflex, he folds his arms tight around you standing frame. Praying to whatever gods who would listen, that you wouldn’t leave him. “We’re going to be fine, but no more angry whisky drinking. Ever again, you hear me, Tom?” He nods his head, cried filled laugh follows. “I love you so much, Y/n. I will never make you doubt that again." He releases his tight grip only to look up into your beautiful eyes.
