Just Like That

Just like that…you were a part of each other’s lives. It amazed you both how such a change could happen literally overnight. A million and one occurrences had to happen in order for you two to “cross paths”. What if Luke hadn’t opened Instagram on Tom’s computer? What if Tom had closed down the browser before ever spotting your message? Then there was the business on your side of things. What if you never had Scott in your class? What if he didn’t struggle with writing? What if he had written about any number of Star Wars characters or Pokémon who he was also interested in? Would you have ever felt compelled to reach out to the God of Mischief?

The world was a strange place...but also filled with absolute magic.

A month had passed since the initial messages, the videos, the picture that you were still mortified over… The two of you fell into a natural rhythm, messaging each other every day and adjusting to the time difference you shared. When you were waking up around 5 in the morning, Tom was typically enjoying a cup of tea during the lull before his afternoon meetings. It was a perk of him being on a filming break for the next few months. As you were returning home from work, Tom was fighting sleep in an effort to message you just a little while longer without the distractions of your jobs.

There was a sadness to it all that neither of you dared to say out loud. Tom started his day without you, and you ended your day without him. You were the first person he wanted to speak to when he woke up, a million things he wanted to share with you. His dreams, a random interest, or especially, questions he had for you. Your life was so different to anything he was accustomed to and he wanted to know it all. You, on the other hand, dealt with the loneliness that came along with the night. Of course, you wished Tom sweet dreams, even on occasion forcing him to go to bed with silence on your end. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to speak to him—far from it. You didn’t want him to be miserable throughout his day though.

Yet, that loneliness was painful. You could finally unwind at the end of your work days. Have a glass of wine. Stretch out along your sofa. Have a conversation that didn’t involve speaking to a nine year old. But, Tom went to bed shortly after you arrived home. That’s just how it had to be.

So! You made the most of your conversations together. He wished you a good morning and you wished him a good night. The two of you decided to alternate choosing a topic for the day, otherwise between the distractions of both of your jobs, you would have been bouncing all over the place conversationally. Did you two still flirt? Occasionally–but nothing serious. Neither of you knew exactly how to approach it all. Were you friends? Something more? Certainly not in a relationship with a stranger—but there was always something just right below the surface. Longing, perhaps?

However, you both acted like people who had been hurt one too many times. You still didn’t want him to see you for fear that it would instantly ruin things. And Tom held onto the belief that once the realization set in about his career and all that entailed–you would run away. Optimistic pessimists would be a way to describe it–although a mind boggling definition. You both believed in love and passion in a general sense, but never thought either of you would be fortunate enough to experience it. Did that stop either of you from hoping beyond all hope that your friendship could turn into something more? Of course not.

——————————————————————

twhiddleston

Good morning, Darling!

cgfan0820

Your enthusiasm is not welcomed here.

A chuckle rumbled into his cup, choosing today to take a walk between meetings. Bobby tugged on the end of the leash, leading Tom more so than Tom leading the pup. There was a certain level of finesse required to hold one’s phone, the leash, and a cup of tea. It may have looked awkward, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. At least this way he was pleasantly distracted from any lingering paparazzi.

twhiddleston

Oh. Not even enough energy to fight back on the use of ‘darling’...

Couldn’t sleep again?

cgfan0820

I don’t know what’s wrong. I adore sleep. I would marry sleep if I could. What have I done to offend the sleep Gods?

Another chuckle as he imagined how adorable you must look half awake. You typically were up at 5, but he wouldn’t send you a message until around 6. When you both started talking, he remembered how you spoke of taking a cycling class in the mornings. However, the more you two spoke, the worse your sleep patterns became. He couldn’t understand why though since he left you far before your standard bed time.

Of course he didn’t understand. Did he think you finished speaking with him and that was it? You didn’t have to reread over the entire day’s conversation to analyze each of his responses? Over the course of the month, you learned so many random traits and interests of him—making him so much more than an actor, in your eyes. He was a man you found to be compelling, passionate, heartfelt…You wanted to wrap yourself up in thoughts of him and this bond you were forming.

In other words, you couldn’t turn your brain off.

twhiddleston

You began speaking to the God of Mischief on a regular basis.

cgfan0820

So you’re behind my sleepless nights? Fine. This has been fun while it lasted, but we can’t keep talking.

twhiddleston

I’ll buy you a new bed set, pillows–the works, before I stop our chats.

He figured you would laugh—but he wasn’t joking. On several occasions, he thought about sending you gifts. Nothing overtly romantic, only considerate. Your phone charger had to be held in a certain way to charge your phone. He wanted to send you a new charger. Your hair dryer sparked when you kept it on for too long. The thought of you getting electrocuted in the morning plagued his thoughts each day. He wanted to send you a new one. Now, he wanted you to be able to sleep.

cgfan0820

That may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever offered me. The gift of sleep.

So, Mr. Hiddleston, it’s your topic choice today. Go easy on me.

twhiddleston

It’s a perfectly safe topic, I assure you. Today’s topic of conversation is: Shakespeare.

cgfan0820

You have to be fucking kidding me.

Oh, had he chosen poorly? Was this too much? You must have heard about his love of Shakespeare and were entirely uninterested. He had been told on more than one occasion that the adoration he held for the writer was a tad pretentious. You had mentioned enjoying Tom Stoppard’s work, and joked about Shakespeare with him. He hid his panic with an observation instead.

twhiddleston

You must be running late today. You’re still cursing, which you never do once you’re at school.

cgfan0820

I had probably ten jokes I could have used just now about how I wasn’t late until I had to brush up on my SHAKESPEARE. But I actually am running late.

For the record, this is a very unfair conversation topic. I chose Breakfast yesterday, and then you throw down with William Fucking Shakespeare.

Alright. I’m done cursing.

You had to turn the switch off as soon as you stepped foot into the building. Cursing could have been considered a pastime for you. However, your job required you to keep it clean at all costs. Damn that man. Shakespeare had always been a love of yours, but you were aware that Tom loved him equally, if not more than you. What if your opinions didn’t align with his? What if he judged you for your likes and dislikes?

twhiddleston

Honestly, in my opinion, breakfast and Shakespeare are equal matches. Well, a full English breakfast is comparatively equal to Shakespeare. Not your breakfast choices, Ms. L/N.

cgfan0820

Now you’re calling out my protein shakes? Shakes and Shakespeare have more in common than eighteen different fried meats.

That sounded better in my head.

twhiddleston

You’re only referring to the matching letters, correct?

cgfan0820

Correct.

No sense in worrying if he agrees with your literary opinions. You just compared a protein shake to a distinguished author. No big deal.

Time elapsed before Tom responded. This was the natural flow. He knew that students were going to be showing up at your classroom door and you knew he would be stepping into his afternoon meetings with Luke. There was a mutual understanding that if the other went silent, it was not due to some passive aggressive attempt to make a point. It was because you two had lives that needed to be lived. The shame was…you had both rather be doing the living together.

twhiddleston

Plays or sonnets?

cgfan0820

Both.

Favorite play?

twhiddleston

To perform or to read?

cgfan0820

Ever feel like maybe we are the two worst people to discuss ‘favorites’ because we never really can make a decision?

twhiddleston

We’re simply complex creatures.

cgfan0820

Complex… Indecisive. Tomato…tomato.

I’m going to need you to imagine pronouncing tomato two different ways.

That saying doesn’t work over messages.

twhiddleston

Hamlet to perform. Othello to read.

Gods, you loved how he just rolled with the punches. He never made you feel inferior (although you would always worry that you were compared to him). Had you been sitting beside him instead of millions of miles away, you would have seen his smiles or heard his laughter at your jokes. He warmed your heart and warmed his equally.

cgfan0820

So serious. Mr. Hiddleston. No love for comedies?

twhiddleston

Let me guess. You prefer The Taming of the Shrew.

Panic washed over him as soon as he hit send. He was busy typing a detailed explanation as to why he would assume that, but you went ahead and sent your reply..

cgfan0820

I’ll act like you weren’t trying to hint at anything with that assumption. Your guess is wrong though. I love when you guess. Come on, Hiddleston. Try again.

Instant relief filled him at your response. You were a brat. That was certain. Oh and how he imagined wiping that smirk that you must have on your face, right off.

twhiddleston

You’re awake now. The bratty tendencies always make their appearance around this time.

It was your turn to feel triumphant, the smirk that he envisioned plastered across your face. Your teeth tugged on the bottom of your lip, but when a student spoke up—right beside your desk you snapped out of it. Did Tom distract you? Without a doubt.

There was another lapse in responses, this time on your end as began a History lesson. The American Revolution. You made a mental note to talk to Tom about how he was taught the content. Have you been skewing history this whole time? When your eyes settled back on the phone, the smirk returned at the word ‘bratty’.

cgfan0820

You love it. Don’t deny it.

I’ll give you a hint— I fell in love with the movie adaptation of this play. You’ve been directed by the lead actor. He’s also a major reason I am mad about it.

That’s actually three hints.

A deep exhale pushed past his lips, running a hand through his hair at just how many times a person could use the word ‘love’ in a message. When he reread the message, the same nagging sense of jealousy reared its ugly head. He found it happening more and more. Not in a “seeing red” sort of way. Perhaps it wasn’t jealousy, so much as envy. When he connected the pieces with the use of your clues, he felt a bit more at ease that the person that made you ‘mad’ about Shakespeare, was also the man he owed the role of Loki to.

twhiddleston

Ah, Much Ado About Nothing.

cgfan0820

You don’t seem impressed!

twhiddleston

No! No! It’s lovely! Ken is phenomenal. He even directed me in Hamlet. Much Ado is simply not my favorite.

cgfan0820

How could you not adore it? Two people so stubborn and set in their ways that they can’t realize how much they love one another.

I will not read into this.

twhiddleston

I prefer to look at it as two people who are tricked into realizing that they may fancy one another. Love shouldn’t be born out of lies.

I will not read into this.

cgfan0820

They loved each other from the start though. They needed help in admitting that to themselves.

Are we talking about a play?

twhiddleston

If you can’t admit it yourself, then is it really love?

She’s going to deflect.

cgfan0820

Do you really need all of those fried meats for breakfast? Aren’t you ever worried about having a heart attack?

twhiddleston

Noted, Ms. L/N.

Favorite sonnet?

cgfan0820

Take a guess.

Tom was moments away from taking a guess. As Luke rattled on about their next meeting, the last one for the day, Tom was more concerned about guessing which sonnet could be your favorite. Would it be a popular sonnet? Would it be some obscure gem? Before he could type a response, he was alerted to an audio recording sent by you. “Luke–,” he stopped his publicist, waving his hand around before shoving the phone in his direction. “What’s this? A song?”

Although Luke knew Tom was half distracted with the ways of “his teacher”, it didn’t stop Luke from still being annoyed that Tom wasn’t even pretending to pay attention. Taking a look at the phone, he gave a quick shake of the head. “Not unless she recorded a song being played around her. It’s typically used for a voice recording. What could she have to say to you in the middle of a work day?” And there was no sense in trying to get the phone back, Luke already pressed play.

It was the first time he had heard your voice since the video reaction at the beginning of the month. “Baby,” you began, causing both Tom and Luke’s eyes to turn into saucers. A wiggle of the brows on Luke’s part caused a scoff on Tom’s. “What are you doing with your corn dog?” to which both men looked to the other with their eyes bulging. What did you just say? However, they heard the muffled voice of a child. They couldn’t quite pick-up on what he said, but he definitely was embarrassed. With a glance at his watch, Tom mouthed the word ‘lunch’ to Luke.

“She can’t hear you, mate. It’s a recording,” shaking his head. Smartest man he knew…

“Look, don’t touch your corn dog at school, buddy. I don’t care what you do at home, don’t do it at—,” and the recording stopped. Tom immediately took back his phone and began typing, as Luke laughed in the background.

twhiddleston

Luke and I demand to know the whole backstory to the corn dog recording.

cgfan0820

My word! I didn't mean to send that! Goodness!

Normally, Tom would have pointed out how much he adored reading a flustered version of you through messages. My word and Goodness were certainly substitutes for your treasured versions of “fuck”.

twhiddleston

We will wait. Luke isn’t the most patient fellow, but he’s all ears. I was told that’s an idiom, by the way.

cgfan0820

Alright. One of the boys was making a….there isn’t a great way to phrase this…jacking off motion with his corndog. He showed his buddies the gesture, I saw it, I had to tell him to stop before the entire class has turned into sex ed.

twhiddleston

The added statement about doing it at home…

cgfan0820

Look, I don’t want to shame the poor kid! What he does in his own time is his business!

twhiddleston

Had my teachers mentioned anything about my…corn dog…I would have been mortified.

cgfan0820

There is a chance I have just caused this kid irreparable damage. Comes with the job.

It was a good thing he had a meeting at that moment, otherwise Tom would not have been able to keep his feelings to himself. You amazed him.

twhiddleston

Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Though even as I type it, I feel it must be the wrong guess. You wouldn’t choose something so cliché.

cgfan0820

I should choose it just so I can pretend to be offended that you called me cliché.

twhiddleston

It’s not your favorite though. Have mercy on me.

cgfan0820

Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.

twhiddleston

I…would never have guessed that one. It’s so cruel. It was said to be condemning an affair Shakespeare was having at the time.

cgfan0820

No! I would argue that it is the most romantic of the sonnets!

twhiddleston

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun…

cgfan0820

His mistress is not perfect by any means. She holds imperfections like anyone else would have.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound.

He loves her despite those imperfections!

twhiddleston

I grant I never saw a goddess go. My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

Treads bear such a negative connotation.

cgfan0820

That’s just it—it should be harsh. To be harsh is to be mortal. Who wants perfection? Who wants a Goddess that can never walk alongside you?

twhiddleston

I’ve read that sonnet countless times and never once read it like that.

cgfan0820

Well, you’ve never been a woman trying to convince yourself that a man has given you a compliment…

twhiddleston

That’s not something you should ever have to convince yourself of…

He did this to you more times than you were willing to admit. This man had the ability to make you feel worth so much more than you had ever allowed yourself to feel. At first, you had thought he did it to receive recognition, even a simple thanks. Maybe he got off on that sort of praise? He played the role of gentleman so well. You rarely thanked him though. The majority of the time, you deflected. You ignored his kindness in hopes that you wouldn’t be crushed when it turned out to all be fake.

What scared you the most…what if he was being genuine?

cgfan0820

Class is about to start.

Not only did you teach full time, but you were also going back to school to add an endorsement to your degree. You wanted to be able to help new teachers to the profession as well. “Baby teachers” as you so often called them.

twhiddleston

Front row as always?

cgfan0820

You know it.

There was that sadness that entered into the conversation each night. You both knew that you’d turn your phone off out of respect to the teacher. By the time class would be dismissed, Tom should be fast asleep.

twhiddleston

I’ll likely call it an early night. A new project meeting bright and early. Goodnight, Ms. L/N.

cgfan0820

Good luck tomorrow morning. Not that you’ve ever needed it. Goodnight, Mr. Hiddleston.

That was the end of your Shakespeare conversation for the day. Tomorrow, you would get to choose the topic. It wasn’t until you made it home that evening—1 in the morning for Tom—you turned on your phone. A few email alerts, a text from your mother, but also…a new message alert from twhiddleston.

That was odd. You had both said goodnight and that was usually that. When you opened the message, it was an audio recording. Knots formed in your stomach, wondering what he had to say out loud that he didn’t feel comfortable putting into a message. Then, he spoke…

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

May you sleep soundly tonight, my dear.

Um, exactly zero sleep occurred that night.