Imagine reader and Tom being friends for long but not been honest with the strong developed feelings between them two. One day reader calls and asks Tom with help writing a love letter. Mixed with feels, Tom agrees, but after hanging up, he cracks...But later that week, a letter drops in... angsty, feels, fluffy in the end?
A.N.: I loved this request and I hope you enjoy what I made of this 💗✨ I'm not sure if I indeed could put color to my words, but I tried. Let me know what you think! Tbh I was heavily inspired by a love letter from Gerald Durrell to Lee McGeorge, that's the most romantic thing I've ever read.
Genre: angst and fluffffff 💗
All it takes is everything
The air was heavy with the smell of impending rain while the overall gloom of the late evening nagged at his strength like waves crashing on the shore. Tom was exhausted, deeply tired and weary of everyone's company except for his own. When he stepped into his house, the welcoming homely atmosphere mingled with the feeling of a much too large yet empty space. Coming home to no one was hard, wishing you were there to welcome him even harder. You, his best friend of ages, the only person he could bear after a long night of rather exhausting socializing. The only person he loved more than words could fathom and the only person who he couldn't imagine living without. He sauntered to the kitchen and made himself a large cup of tea, hoping it would warm him up on the outside and inside. Through the large windows he could see the first lightning strike in the distance, soon after followed by a roaring thunder.
That was when his phone rang. With a sigh he made his way to the living room, picking up while setting his cup down on the coffee table.
"Hello?" He asked tiredly, not bothering to check beforehand who was calling. The only two people who he'd truly care to talk to right now were his mom or you, but he knew both would be busy at this moment.
"Hey Tom." Your voice made shivers run down his spine and his heart beat faster.
"Y/N!" He said happily. "I thought you were at work…"
"Well… I quit." You sighed. "They owed me pay for three months and I was fed up with the sexist comments my boss makes about every female being."
"I'm sorry and yet so glad to hear that. It was an awful place and I was constantly worrying about you…" He sat down on his couch and took a sip of tea.
"Aww that's sweet." You laughed quietly. "Listen, Tom, I… I need your help with something."
"Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?" He sat up straight and placed his cup back on the table.
"Nah, it's more a talking thing anyway and I wouldn't want to send you out into the storm that's raging outside." You sighed once more.
"Alright…" He replied and frowned, leaning back into the couch. "What can I do for you then?"
"I was wondering… Could you please help me write a love letter?"
Tom swallowed his tea hard, coughing desperately. Then he went still, his heartbeat drumming in his ears and an equally hot and cold shiver ran down his spine.
"Tom? Are you okay?" Your worried voice made him aware that you were still waiting for an answer.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm still here… I, uhm…" He ran his free hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, lips pressed together. Then, he willed away the pain in his heart and stared at the wall. "Of course I will help you, dear."
It was true, there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. Even if it meant ripping his own heart out.
"Oh thank you Tom! Thank you so much!" Your enthusiasm made him smile sadly. "I'm only asking you, of all people, because I know no one who has more experience with beautiful words than you."
"Beautiful words?" He laughed, but on the inside he felt 'you, of all people' hit him like a blow to the stomach.
"You know what I mean… I'm trying to make an effort." You said quietly.
"So, do you want me to write it for you? Because that would be a horrible idea, dear… those things are meant to be very personal and intimate."
"No, I was hoping… I don't know. I've never really written anything like this, but I know that you're really into the whole literature thing." There was a pause. "That's why I… am asking you for advice."
With a few deep breaths, Tom's heart slowed down again and the cold heat began to vanish until only the dull ache within him remained.
"Well, have you known him or… or her for longer? You never told me about them." He asked, careful to not let his voice break.
"Yeah, well, it's complicated. I've known him for quite a while I think. I know it sounds stupid, but it feels like I've loved him forever." You let out a nervous laugh, making Tom's heart flutter. This would not end well for him, but if it could for you, he'd take the risk of shattering.
"So, uhm, you should think about him first then, in every detail and every aspect of his being. Try to use all your senses and every information you have." He started, furrowing his brows. How was he supposed to teach you to write a love letter about someone else, if all he could write about was you? He'd have to try, for your love to be more successful than his. He needed you to be happy more than he needed happiness himself. That's just how it always was with you two, he'd put you first every single time.
"You should start at the very bottom of your feelings and work your way up from there. Go into the direction that your former collection of impressions leads you." He finally said. "Maybe go meet him and have a chat. That always gives me inspiration."
There was a minute of silence, before you spoke up again. "I… I feel like I'm just going to write the most cliche thing possible and he'll hate it." You whined, making Tom sigh a little. Oh how badly he wanted to hug and comfort you.
"How could he hate something that comes from the depths of your soul? If he truly loves you he will know what you are saying to him. Without any words." He said sincerely.
"So I should write a letter without words?" You chuckled.
"A letter without EMPTY words. That's something completely different." He smiled to himself.
"I don't see that…" You mused and Tom could almost hear you grinning at the other end. "Care to give an example?"
He knew you loved it when he wrote something just for the aesthetic or just generally played with words for you. It was endearing how you always tried to get him to do it in the most subtle way.
"You see… I could say, for example: You are the most amazing person, everything about you is perfect and I love you." It felt odd saying these things and meaning them, but pretending that they didn't mean a thing. And yet, it felt somewhat freeing to be able to say them to you at least this once. Even if you'd never know he meant it. "And you can probably tell that there's not much effort in the words. It's generic, stiff and, as you put it, cliche." He quickly added.
A quiet 'hmm' from you made him continue.
"This is what you shouldn't do. At least if you want it to be more than what a text could do. I mean, he'd probably still be happy to hear that you love him, but there's the thing. The words are a mere tool to your expression of feelings." He took another sip from his tea. It was getting colder by the minute. "I mean there's nothing wrong with using words as a tool, but from what you said I assume that you want more than that. What you're aiming for is for your words to not only express what you feel, but to illustrate it. Give the whole thing colors."
"I think I know what you mean. But I still don't feel like I know how to do that." You sighed once more. "I'm so sorry for bothering you with this."
"You're never bothering me, y/n, and you know it. You could call me in the middle of the night and I'd gladly run out into the storm for you."
"See, that's what I mean! You always know what to say and how to make me feel better. I wish I could do that."
"I can't speak for him whom you're writing to, but for me at least I can assure you that you are always making me feel better. Especially when we talk. See, I just came home from this really exhausting interview and then you called and guess what, I instantly felt a lot better." He leaned his head against the backrest of the couch, closing his eyes once more. If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine you being there with him for real. Probably rambling on about something that kept your mind busy. The thought made him smile.
"I'm glad you're feeling better." You said gently. "And I think I know what to write now. Thank you, Tom. You helped me so much."
Tom frowned. "I didn't do all that much, dear. I didn't even give you any useful advice."
"Still, I… I know what to write now and I'm eternally grateful for that." Again, he could hear your smile. He could even envision you sitting on your bed in your PJs with a notepad and a bunch of pens.
"I'm glad I could help you." He said quietly.
Silence followed, neither of you wanting to hang up.
"I hope he knows how lucky he is. How much you love him to make such an effort." Tom finally said after a while of utter silence.
"Oh, I don't know about that." You laughed bitterly. "I don't think he even loves me back. But I'm willing to take the chance with the letter. So… wish me luck!"
"You know that I wish you all the luck in the world. You deserve happiness, y/n. And I hope you can find it in him. But also know that I'm always here for you. Always." He said quietly, but with meaning in every word.
"I know. I'm here for you too." You responded in the same tone. "Goodnight Tom."
As soon as he had hung up, the empty feeling and the incredible pain and sorrow returned to him in a mere second.
Y/n, his y/n, was in love with someone else and didn't even know if the love was returned. How could the man not love you?
He tried to be glad that maybe you would finally experience some happiness in this cold world. Even if it wasn't with him. Yes, he could live in the knowledge that you were happy, even if it cost him his own happiness.
The tea was empty, the storm still raging outside just as the storm within his mind. Tom was exhausted. He got up from the couch, placed his teacup in the sink and made his way to his bedroom. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough against the headboard he would be able to find some sleep. He did not.
It had been a difficult week for Tom. Press conferences, interviews and late night shows. But all he could think about was you. Had you already written the letter? Maybe even sent it? Or even gotten an answer?
He felt the growing urge to meet the man you loved. Not purely out of jealousy, which he wasn't at all proud of, but also out of protectiveness. He just needed to know if you'd be happy with that man and if he would cherish you like you deserved it.
As he sat in his kitchen one evening, not bothering to turn on the lights, he thought that maybe he should have shared his biggest secret with you. But the time was long gone and he had missed his chance, he realized that now. He was too late, too drunk on the idea that if only he waited long enough he would be braver. A better man and worthy of your love.
He ran his hand through his hair, seriously considering to just walk out into the cold autumn night and run until his legs gave out.
On impulse he got up and walked to the door just when he noticed that mail still placed on the table in the hallway. With a sigh he picked it up and headed back towards the kitchen. Bills, adds, news, a postcard from Hemsworth… nothing unusual. Until his eyes fell upon an envelope made of craft paper. It stood out quite a lot from the rest of the mail and he wondered how he'd missed it before. There was no address, no stamps, nothing. He made a mental note that whoever sent this must know where he lives. Usually, fanmail and the sorts weren't directly sent to his home address and only very few people knew where he lived. Carefully he opened the envelope, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Still no trace of whoever sent it. Only when he unfolded the letter he recognized your handwriting. Frowning, he thought that maybe you wanted him to proofread the letter you had written and were too embarrassed to give it to him in person. That would've been too cruel even for him to bear and he thought about just sending you a text saying the letter was fine without reading it. But then again, he couldn't do that to you. So he started at the beginning.
He frowned again. Either fate was being extremely cruel and your love had the same first name as him or the letter was indeed meant for Tom himself. He sat down on the counter, not bothering with chairs.
I'm sure you're quite confused at the moment and I will do my very best to explain to you what this is all about. That's the thing, you know… how am I supposed to use my words as more than a tool when I'm struggling to even simply express what I'm trying to say. But I'm trying to make an effort and I hope you bear with my attempt. This may be too much or too little, only you, the master of words, will know. But for you, I will try. I'm sure you've noticed that about me already, we've been friends for long enough for you to know. Yet, how can I know what you notice when you're also missing the obvious truth. And I'm telling myself you are missing it indeed, because the only other option would be that you know and yet chose to ignore it. That would be too painful for me to bear and I simply refuse to believe it. Right… I shall start at the beginning.
The truth is, I love you Tom. Not in the same way that I have always loved you, the friendly way in which you love someone who is dear to you. But the burning, all consuming way that keeps you up at night. The kind of love that makes you want to fly if it's returned and drown yourself if it's not. The kind that makes everything else seem utterly unimportant. The kind that is inevitable.
So are you, Tom. There is no force in this world that could keep me away from you, except for you. If you wish for me to go, now that you know how I truly feel about you, I promise you will never hear from me again. I must admit though, leaving you would break me and I dearly hope I won't have to. But for you, there's nothing I wouldn't do.
I may not be as good with words as you are, but I trust in your advice. You know my soul, Tom. You've seen it every time you looked into my eyes, heard it with every word I said and felt it in every hug and every touch. So, following your advice, you will understand me without many words. And you will forgive me for my cowardice. I simply couldn't stand in front of you while hearing you say that you don't love me the same. But that small part of me that does want to believe that you do made me write this letter. It made me call you late at night, hoping to find comfort in your voice. And I did, I always do. I hope you can find the same comfort in someone you love. Even if that's not me. But Tom, I need you to remember this: Whether you love me the same way I love you or not, I'm always, ALWAYS here for you. That's what love is about. Putting what you love above everything else. And it is my privilege to love you, Tom. A minute with you is worth a thousand lifetimes, a life with you is priceless. I would gladly have forgone the world's greatest joys to call you mine.
All it takes to be yours, Tom, is everything. And everything I'm ready to give.
Tom stared at the written words for a million moments and a million more. He didn't know what to think, what to do… every fiber in his body was wide awake. He was on fire and struck by lightning, crashing on the shore and up in the air. He pulled out his phone, but dropped it again. There was only one place he needed to be right now.
You had just put on your nightshirt and gotten ready for bed when you heard a loud knock on your door. A quick glance at your phone told you it was way after midnight, which made you frown. Who'd knock on your door at this time of night you wondered, but decided to open up anyway.
"Tom?" You asked once you opened the door. His hair was a complete mess and he wasn't wearing a jacket, but his car was nowhere in sight. "What are you…"
You were cut off by his lips on yours and his arms around you as he backed you into your hallway and kicked the door shut, not once breaking the kiss. His lips were chilled and so were his hands against the heated skin of your back as they found their way below your shirt. The passion and fire he brought into the kiss overwhelmed you and yet you kissed him back with everything you had.
"Hey…" You finally breathed once you broke the kiss.
"Hey…" He whispered back, resting his forehead against yours. "I just found your letter and…"
You kissed him once more. "Did you walk all the way here? Just to kiss me?"
"No." He smiled. "I ran here as fast as I could to tell you that I love you too."
@its-remy-not-ratatouille
