We need early 2000s rom com love confession in the rain from Tommy Miller please
When Harry met Sally level chemistry and yearning
summary: you’ve liked tommy for so long, now that you’ve finally gotten over the fact that he doesn’t love you, he decides he does love you.
word count: 600ish genre: fluff
note: omgggggg i love those die hard rain confessions— my favorite is from something borrowed when rachel is telling dex to call off the wedding & he’s like i can’t UGHHHHHHH
You Love Me
The rain was coming down in sheets, the kind that made it hard to tell if you were wet from the storm or from the tears you’d been holding back. You kept walking, arms crossed, shoulders stiff, refusing to turn when you heard him call your name.
“Darlin’, wait!” Tommy’s voice was rough, chasing you down the slick sidewalk.
You picked up your pace. You’d given him time, you’d given him every chance—and he hadn’t chosen you. Not when it mattered.
But then his boots pounded into a puddle, and suddenly he was there, cutting you off, chest heaving, curls plastered to his forehead. His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm, spinning you to face him. His eyes searched yours, frantic.
“You gonna keep runnin’ from me forever?” he asked, breathless. “’Cause I swear, I’ll keep chasin’ you ‘til my boots wear down to nothin’ if that’s what it takes.”
Your laugh cracked out, bitter. “Why now, Tommy? Huh? When I was right there, when I wanted you—I waited. And you—you gave me friendship, half-smiles, late-night talks that meant everything to me but nothing to you. Then the first man willing to step up, I said yes, because what else was I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you to look at me like I was enough?”
The words hit him like bullets. His jaw clenched, throat working like he could hardly get air past the weight of it. He stepped closer, rain dripping down his face, his voice low and breaking.
“You were always enough.” His hand came up, tentative, brushing a strand of wet hair from your cheek. “I was the one who wasn’t. Thought I couldn’t be the man you needed. Thought if I kept it light, kept it friendly, I wouldn’t wreck it. But watchin’ you with him—watchin’ you try to make it work with somebody who ain’t me—” He shook his head, chest rising hard. “It’s killin’ me, sweetheart. It’s makin’ me realize I’ve been in love with you so long, I can’t even remember when it started.”
You swallowed, shaking, lips parting but no words coming out.
He pressed on, voice urgent, raw. “I should’ve fought for you. Should’ve told you every damn day how much you mean to me. But I’m tellin’ you now. I’m in love with you. Not the easy, casual kinda love. The knock-the-air-outta-my-lungs, see-your-face-when-I-close-my-eyes, never-gonna-love-anyone-else kinda love.”
The rain roared between you.
“You can hate me for bein’ too late,” he whispered, “but don’t you ever think I didn’t want you. You’ve been it for me. Always.”
Your throat worked around the sob you’d been holding in. His hand slid from your cheek to cradle the back of your head, desperate and tender all at once.
“I’ll wait,” he promised, his voice breaking like the sky above you. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just don’t tell me to stop lovin’ you, ‘cause I can’t.”
And that was it—the last crack in your chest. You surged forward, fists bunching in his soaked shirt as your mouth found his. The kiss was messy, rain-slick and trembling, but it was everything you’d wanted and everything he’d held back, crashing together in the middle of the storm.
When you finally broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead to yours, smiling through the water and heartbreak.
“Knew you’d kiss me back,” he murmured, cocky even as his voice shook, and you laughed, half-sobbing, half-kissing him again. For the first time, he didn’t hold back.
