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peeterparkr · 2 years

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perennial;tom holland|final chapter.

chapter nineteen: perennial↳ meanings: lasting or existing for a long or apparently infinite time; enduring or continually recurring..

chapter summary: a wedding, a storm and a question pairing: tom holland x y/n warnings: :) none I think, except I proof read it with covid so it might be messy word count: 11.5K

previous chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

it took me ages to write this, I am so sorry, I procrastinated this long enough because I didn't want to let go of it just yet. Thank you to every single one of you who read this and who is still here. I'm so sorry it took so long and I hope it was worth it. I loved this story and writing it was a true pleasure. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Please help me out reblogging tags havent been working for me and I know this will flop but I’m really happy I finally finished this. Enjoy!!

“It’s Harry!” Y/N said as she saw curled wet hair, from a distance, growing with the humidity. A tailor-made tuxedo walking with his arms hugging a bunch of umbrellas as he was trying to open James’ car trunk.

Tom was as shocked as y/n was and thankfully forgot the flirting comment she thought she had stupidly said. That was a lie, he wouldn’t forget it.

He couldn’t. And it wasn’t stupid.

Because there was a door that could be opened. And it was easy to live with hope. Knowing he’d risk it all just to lose her again.

She stopped the car as they both watched Harry.

Tom hadn’t forgotten about the comment. Instead he kept replaying it in his head.

Maybe it was more than he actually thought it was. Maybe it wasn’t.

Tom had been different since the breakup. He realized he had to grow, for her, sure. But mostly for himself. He realized he was only kidding himself if he tried admitting that it wasn’t working. He knew that time was playing a joke on him. Sometimes it went too fast and some others, it stopped.

He knew they both were the problem and the problem was that they… didn’t really see it.

Although, he had tried moving on that is. Because at some point, and giving it quite a thought, he realized that his friendship with her had been the most valuable thing he’d earned. And though romance was never his lack, he knew he had to learn who he was with her in his life without wanting anything more than a smile.

It was hard, however. Like cheating to his own heart. Broken hearts caused by oneself often are the most painful.

How does one move on knowing both of you love each other?

What even is love? If not a promise to stay or a promise to fight.

How hard it is to keep away from a person who was once your everything. To control impulses. Hold hands to himself and not kiss a cheek. Hold back words. The urging impulse.

He felt ready, yet there was something holding him back. Perhaps fear. Fear often shadows the light that love can give.

Good thing he had his mind preoccupied.

Harry was walking right to the place where they thought they would find him.

Tom knew they would find him. And he was close to where Tom’s heart told him Harry would be. Near Harry’s first kiss with Emma. Near the park. A park that Harry and y/n had discovered, a quiet place for them to think. To talk. And later for Harry, apparently, to make out with Emma.

Tom didn’t know how to explain it, but he had known he’d find him there. Outside that stupid shop. A shop that sold umbrellas, and raincoats only.

Tom wouldn’t have guessed he’d be at that shop, but he had known he’d be at the cafe beside it.

Escaping or not, Harry often tended to go to places where he found familiarity.

Tom figured he had gone to the park or the cafe to come up with a solution. Or to soothe his mind, he understood marrying can be… scary.

“How the fuck did we know he’d be here?” Y/N questioned.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe both of them knew his brother. Maybe…

Harry was under the rain, his hair falling down to his eyebrows. With umbrellas hanging from his fingers as some others slipped off him. Struggling. A caricature of someone who looked very familiar to Harry but who Tom didn’t recognize. He was in shambles. And of course he’d be.

Y/n parked right behind him.

“Harry!” Y/n yelled trying to get his attention as she jumped out of the car. The heavy rain making her heels click against the water.

Harry only turned to her as he tried hugging the umbrellas. “Y/N? Tom? What are you doing here?”

He sounded…conflicted yet relieved.

“We thought you had escaped! We were looking for you, you fucking moron!” Tom yelled at his brother as soon as he hopped out of the car. “What on earth are you doing?”

The rain was heavy, annoyingly enough. Both y/n’s dress and Tom suit were nearly soaked within seconds.

“I’m getting umbrellas! The wedding is outside!” Harry explained. “I saw the weather report and if you can’t fucking guess it from this, it’s raining!”

“You’re not escaping?” Y/n questioned.

Harry didn answer right away. Tom and y/n bared witness to the troubling thoughts Harry was currently having.

“Harry?” Tom reinforced.

“N-No-no! No!” He had stuttered. “I—I saw the weather report this morning, and I wanted to come up with a solution so I came to the park to think and then I wanted a tea to calm myself down and like bloody magic, this shop sells umbrellas!” Harry explained.

It wasn’t magic though, it was because they were Harry and Emma. Of course there would be a bloody rain shop beside him. The universe plotted for them. Was this love? Having second thoughts?

Tom and y/n turned to each other as if deciding to believe him or not. They decided to believe him for his own sake. Or ignore it, even though they both thought they’d found Tom’s brother in a very compromising position.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Tom exclaimed. “You scared us, fucking idiot.”

But then again, who were Tom and y/n to judge?

“Can we talk about that later? Help me get all of this and buy some more! I ran out of cash!” Harry said.

Tom directed a glance at y/n. “Go back, I’ll get more. I’ll drive back in a bit.”

He needed time. To think. As if to give the wedding the opportunity to humor him, besides, aren’t weddings supposed to engage romance and other activities?

Y/N was hesitant at first but agreed as she drove away with Harry. She understood that it was Tom’s plan to get Harry back as soon as possible.

It didn’t take Tom much. But it gave him time to think. About him. About her. Go over and over again the story yet once again.

Was their love ever enough if they barely knew what love was?

There were regrets still. But there was more regret lately, for shutting up how he felt. For driving away from her. Fear of losing her. Completely.

He had lost her so many times before and losing her now when he had something to latch on would be the one most painful thing. He didn’t want to ruin it by trying to hold on to something more.

Love, as we know, is complicated. And to slow down when they once went beyond a speed limit was agonizing and disappointing.

Because… what is love but being hurt when it ends?

The rain fell heavier now, as if it was humoring him into his sadness and distress. His mind had not been the same since he had dared to open a drawer full of memories that he had forgotten why he had to keep them away.

A drawer that held down her smell, that bottle of perfume that she often wore in her daily routine, that also kept her kiss with that red lipstick that she’d bought. A few nights with him were also kept there, a few polaroids, an old dvd and a journal that had the audacity to tell their story.

Tom had gone through it and he was reminded of a script that he once read and broke his heart. But the journal told another story. As if it was the same one but from another perspective. A pretty one.

With flowers, here and there. With the meaning of flowers that he didn’t quite understand, the real ones and the ones she gave to them.

Yellow flowers: often spreading joy.

Was her journal… their love?

He got the umbrellas. And wanted to believe his brother, had he really been concerned about that? Or was he really worried about the rain?

Tom went to another shop to buy even more umbrellas, though he wanted to assume they’d have more at the hotel. He found an umbrella with yellow flowers, sunflowers.

But it seemed there was a bigger storm awaiting for him.

He kept thinking how he didn’t need much before, just her laughter echoing behind.

The storm inside the hotel wasn’t as inviting. Apparently Emma had learned the news.

“Emma? Are—are you there? Please let me explain myself.” Tom saw his brother against a door, defeated.

James, Clark and Sam were behind him.

Y/N was at the end of the aisle, talking to Tim. Tom, although had tried to grow past the jealousy and although he knew Timmy was dating Lily he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

Y/N had never truly forgotten about Tim, and Tim had never truly let go of her. And Tom knew they never would.

Tom didn’t blame Tim anymore, how hard was y/n to move on from.

Tom had gotten used to them, Tim and y/n. Because Tim had realized whatever he’d felt for y/n was less important than keeping her in his life.

Tom needed advice on that matter. How does one ever move on from love? If that’s really what they felt.

Did Tim ever love y/n? Did y/n ever love Tim? How would Tom know? How does one know when love is enough or if your love is supposed to last?

Tom heard just a bit of the conversation. Emma believed Harry had escaped. But everyone kept saying the only thing that mattered in the end was that he was there.

Emma was angry. Harry was regretful.

But she listened.

And then didn’t.

“It’s not even you running away that bothers me,” Emma said. “We need to cancel it, Harry, everything is against us, always,” Emma said behind the door. “Don’t you think it’s a sign? We should call it off—“

“I don’t fucking care if there’s a storm, I love you and I want to marry you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you even if all the odds are against us.” Harry’s words resonated.

Even if the odds were against them.

How Harry managed to convince Emma that he hadn’t escaped was a mystery to Tom.

He hadn’t quite listened to anything, not really. Or he had and simply decided he’d use it for his own advantage.

Fight against odds. He should’ve. Probably. Was that love?

Was love fighting against all odds?

“Can I dry my hair in your room?” Y/N asked, bringing Tom back to his mind after a few scenes happened and Tom decided to ignore. “And… re-do my makeup. And maybe shower?”

Her room was shared with Emma, and though she would have it for herself that night as Emma would clearly not spend her wedding night with y/n, she was in need of another room. Because y/n, although a maid of honor, she needed to redo everything as the rain had almost ruined the masterpiece she had created before.

Tom accepted.

They both took a shower, separately,clearly, to avoid any other circumstances that might lead to a boulder in their path.

Y/n said she didn’t want to catch a cold from the soaking rain. Tom said he felt he smelled.

After he was finished, he watched her from the mirror in the bathroom as she sat on the bed, and it felt so natural.

Very rutinary, how they were comfortable around each other enough. Tom was shirtless, only a towel around his waist as he was letting his shirt dry enough to attempt to iron it. She was wearing a hoodie she had borrowed while her dress was drying.

“He did try to escape,” Y/N said, as she brushed her wet hair.

Tom frowned. “He did?”

“Yeah.”

Harry had indeed tried to escape and although it made barely any sense to Tom, y/n explained how Harry was scared of odds being against him and Emma. How Harry had felt it as a sign, indeed, how the first time they got engaged their party was ruined, how when he’d realized his feelings she had left, how when they got back together their schedules went wrong, and how on their wedding day, ironically enough, it was raining.

The universe telling them not to do it, he had said. But Harry had realized, how even if everything was against them, he still loved her and it was all that mattered. All that mattered was how they had overcome each rock thrown their way.

“I guess,” y/n said, “we did have something to do with it. He said it, how he—“she cleared her throat. “You know, he did say something about being miserable if you don’t try at least.”

Tom didn’t answer, he only stayed watching himself in the mirror.

Yes, miserable. That’s the word.

Silence filled the room once again, and there was barely anything to talk about. But it didn’t feel awkward, or wrong.

Tom missed her silence, and not in the way that he didn’t like talking. He missed the way he could have silence and peace with her, and it was alright.

Yet right now her silence meant his mind being loud, and he probably didn’t like that.

She walked to his side picking up the hair drier, Tom should’ve and could’ve left but didn’t.

“Hey, I’ve got to be honest with you,” Tom called out, hopeful she’d be able to listen to him even with the drier on.

“Hm?” She crossed her sight with his reflection.

Tom gulped, grabbing his toothbrush.

“Uh, the reason I’ve been avoiding you,” Tom started loud enough for her to hear him. “It… it was because I… well I opened your drawer,” he said, getting the toothpaste out.

Y/N turned off the hair drier. “What drawer?”

Tom gulped. “The one you had at my place, your drawer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, still some stuff there.”

There was a silence as y/n looked into her makeup bag, breathing in slowly, as if trying to rearrange her thoughts. Tom tried to distract himself by brushing his teeth. But it wasn’t enough. His mind was going from the thought of the stupid drawer to the fact they were being them again. Sharing a mirror, while she did her makeup and he fixed himself. But now they weren’t kissing each other's cheeks or giving dirty looks. It was just them sharing a stupid space, not a momnet.

“I thought I had… taken everything,” she said.

Tom shook his head and hummed.

“I’m… sorry, I’ll pick it up in a few days,” she nodded.

“I found your notebook,” he said after spitting. “Your journal.”

She instinctively handed him the towel to clean himself and then reached for his hair brush, meeting her hand with his. “Oh, sorry I was about to hand it to you.” She still knew his routine. She cleared her throat. “My journal?” she chuckled. “Well it’s not really a journal it’s…”

Tom leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection, directing a smirk. “You really are impressively cheesy,” he teased.

She smiled, as she was cleaning off the ruined makeup. “I tend to be, yes.”

“Pressed flowers?” He asked, remembering the notebook. Flowers pressed here and there, with pictures of them and a perfect memory of them.

She scrunched her nose. “Yeah.

“Writing the dates? Adding Polaroids,” he kept watching her as she was blushing, trying to focus on her makeup instead. He helped her get her hair off her face. Her eyes flickered as he did.

“Look, I’m very cheesy and it was romantic and sweet in my head,” she explained, annoyed, as she started applying her makeup. Tom knew her, though, how she was annoyed when he took control of the situation.

Although subtle touching had always been theirs, they had stopped for a while.

“No, no, I get it,” he smiled to himself, gently nudging her. “That’s just— I didn’t know about it.”

She looked at a makeup brush, and tried focusing on herself. “Yeah I never…” She paused. “I mean it wasn’t a big deal, it was… you know, moments and such,” she whispered.

Tom couldn’t hide it, so he tried walking away, hanging his shirt and bringing the steam press. “Right, that’s romance to you, the moment and everything.”

Y/N was the one now watching him from the mirror. “Yeah, you know me, I'm ridiculous.”

Tom met her gaze, “No, you, you really aren’t.”

She took a heavy breath with her eyes speaking more than her words, maybe she was feeling it, too. How it was them. Her eyes were hopeful but scared. She shook her head. “Well, you can keep it or you can give it back to me, it’s okay.”

Tom coughed. “I—that’s why I have been avoiding you,” he explained. “I dunno what to do with it.”

Y/N spent a long time staring at the colors in her makeup palette. Tom stared at her, how much she’d changed. How much they both changed.

“I hadn’t realized I gave you that many flowers,” Tom mentioned. He never seemed to realize how many times he’d just shown up with flowers. Yellow. Pink. Red. White. Blue. Flowers came to them like kisses. A flower was a kiss, and a flower led to a kiss. She’d give him flowers too.

“Yeah.”

There was silence.

Tom really wanted to say more. He really believed that she was feeling it, too. He cleared his throat, turning to the clothes instead. “How does this…?” He stared at the steamer.

“I have no idea how that works, don’t use it, you’ll end up burning it,” she admitted. “Didn’t you have another shirt? Didn’t you bring like three? And another suit?”

“Yeah, but I liked this one and I gave the other to Harry.” He sighed and then walked to the closet, taking out two other shirts. He brought it back to the bathroom mirror, placing both on top of his chest. “Hm.”

Y/N stopped applying whatever she was applying to her eye and stared. “Oh, the blue one. We’ll match,” she coughed. “I… No, we don’t have to…”

“No, no, I like that, it’s the wedding theme…”Tom nodded, noticing her embarrassment. “Yeah, but… what suit?”

“The one with the buttons?” She suggested. “You’ll look nice.”

Tom took a deep breath staring at the options. “And when did you take all those Polaroids?” He wanted to meet her gaze again.

Was this love?

She looked up. “Most of them were candid, I bet I could sell a few of those to some paps,” she chuckled.

“Earn some cash,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’d better keep them to myself,” she admitted, nonchalant. “I dunno when I took them, I found the time.”

“Right… Yeah well I found it.”

“The suit?”

“The journal.”

“Ah…. right,” she cleared her throat and finally met his gaze.

Tom stuck his tongue out, “And I—had some sort of crisis because well.”

Y/N stopped. “Yeah, it’s—Looking back at it…” She cleared her throat. “It’s still.”

Tom chuckled, dryly. “Yeah, it’s just….” He gulped. “Interesting, and then looking at us now,” he smiled. “All decent and friendly.”

Silencing himself, sure, decently and friendly. But not… good.

“We were decent back then,” she stated, sarcastically.

“I—yeah but I mean, we were really in love,” Tom mumbled.

She looked down. “We were.”

It hurt. “I’m...I’m going to change so, eyes over there,” he warned.

She laughed, “You've been walking around in only a towel. I don’t really need to have a look.”

Tom smirked, “Yes but it’s just a taste, I won’t give you a full meal.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t want to see it, actually. I don’t need to, If I wanted to see you naked I’d only have to close my eyes, idiot, I can just imagine it.”

He let out one single laugh, “Do you do that often?” He smirked.

“No,” she answered simply but winked at him.

Was she flirting? Tom had to only wonder. He didn’t believe she was. He knew firsthand how she flirted. This wasn’t it.

He didn’t know if she had tried to sneak a peek, but he had walked back to her with the suit back on. She probably hadn’t. “Or… should I change the shirt?”

Y/N smiled warmly, “No, you look very handsome,” she admitted adjusting the collar of his neck.

He blushed, slightly. “At the end of the day, bringing back…. The previous conversation, I mean, we both know there was no one to blame.”

She turned back to her makeup, almost done now. “Yeah, there’s no villain here, it would be useless trying to find one.”

He took out two lotions and showed them both to her, as she pointed at her favorite. “I wasn’t right and you weren’t wrong but…”

“Yeah you weren’t wrong and I wasn’t right either.”

Tom knew he had to bring it up. “And… are we going to talk about last night?” He was nervous. The night before she had almost leaned over but he had panicked and backed away. “How you tried to—“

Y/N squinted her eyes, “I—sorry I yes—I’m very sorry, I got caught up in the moment and I was kinda drunk.”

Of course.

Tom coughed. “No, I—I understand.” But he wished he didn’t. Or he wished he hadn’t backed away. “I’m sorry for—“

“No! Don’t apologize! You did the right thing—I was just— I won’t do it again. I know we are friends and I want to remain friends because that way we both can be together,” she was saying mostly to herself. “As friends I mean. We can—yeah.”

Tom watched her. He wanted her to try again but of course he would never mention it. “Yes and I well—I think we both, I don’t know, maybe it’s the wedding because—“was he going to tell her that he had also wanted that.

How weird it had been, her getting drunk and claiming he had been ignoring her. Him accepting he had and that he would’ve called in the morning when they were more-sober.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Yeah, yeah, weddings get everyone in a romantic mood ,” she confessed but then blushed. “No, no—I mean—It just—drives everyone crazy and—“

Tom gulped. “Yeah… but uh, we-we are good right?” He was scared she was angry that he’d backed away but when it happened a million things had come to his head. Not that he had not wanted to kiss her but he didn’t want it to be that way. Not drunk again. Not after a night out when they’d regret it in the morning and blame it on the alcohol. No, he wanted something where they both wanted it. Not making up for anything. Just—a kiss because they both wanted it.

Y/n nodded as she fixed her hair, nervously. “Yes of course, all good…. And I’m glad we had that conversation… While looking for Harry…” she reminded him. It had been a good conversation. She walked away to her dress. “Well, I think the dress is… not as cold and wet.”

Tom followed after. It was… ruined. The once beautiful dress was partially ruined with rain and was stained with… what Tom would say was dirt, or mud. Just slightly at the bottom. “you should wear the hoodie,” he suggested. “It’s also blue.”

She looked down at it, sky blue, it could techincally work, if it weren’t for the fact it was a wedding. “I know, right? It’s elegant.”

Tom grinned. “no but… we could try using that steamer?”

She looked at it, skeptically. “No,” she answered simply. “I’d rather catch a cold than ruin this dress… well.” She left to put it on.

Tom was left alone with his thoughts, which didn’t help.He knew that the problem was that he technically could go after her. There was barely anything stopping him. Except for the fact that they were friends.

“help me with the zipper, please?” She asked, walking over to him.

This felt like love.

He had to refrain himself from trying to kiss her neck so he decided to distract himself. “Don’t you think it’s crazy?” He asked as he zipped her up. “A wedding under the rain?” Without anticipating his movements his hands landed on her waist

“I think it’s crazier to drink cold coffee from yesterday,” she answered with a smirk, turning around. He kept his arms around her.

Tom blushed, cackling softly. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

Y/n grinned walking away from him, Tom took his hands back to himself. “I am not.”

She looked for something in her bag, her jewelry. She walked back and handed him the necklace, Tom helped her with it.

The ballerina. A ballerina he’d given her.

Tom gulped but didn’t mention anything. How could he?

She had to take a deep breath as she felt his hands tracing against her skin. Tom noticed the sudden movement and slowed down. He got closer to see the tiny clip on it. His breath fanning against her neck.

“You know it’s, funny,” he started, still barely an inch far away. “I was just thinking about it, that before I, well, I ever admitted out loud I had a crush on you I used to describe you as a cold cup of coffee that was left to sit for a day.”

She turned to him as she was finishing with the earrings, they were too close and he didn’t take a step back, as she now needed help to get her bracelet. “Oh?”

Tom smirked with mischief as he wrapped the bracelet in her hand, bringing it close to his sight. “Yeah.”

“And, now that you’ve tried it?” Her gaze was searching for his. “Does the description hold up?”

Tom knew it was his moment to shine. “Absolutely, yes, very disgusting.”

She rolled her eyes as she nodded knowingly, “I’ll take notes of that, thank you, I’ll add it to my dating profile.”

Tom didn’t like the sound of that. “Oh you’re—you’re on a dating app?”

Y/N seemed to be the one to notice the reaction this time, Tom could see a sense of pride becoming her as she packed her makeup. “Oh no I was just joking.”

Tom saw the reflection in the mirror. He couldn’t tell if she was lying. “Right.”

Y/N did the same thing Tom had before,bringing two perfume bottles for him to smell. One of them he recognized immediately. It was her date night perfume. Or the Tom perfume. He remembered smelling it every time they went out together. And the other one was new, but felt very her still. He’d probably recognized it too.

He chose the second one so he would be able to keep it to himself..

“Yeah because it would be funny to add it to a dating profile,” she said as she sprayed the perfume on herself.

“Yes very-funny yes yes I know,” Tom was getting nervous about the subject. Or the perfume.

Probably both. “But I mean uh if you are then—uh—In a dating app I mean, good luck!” He walked away from her to check elsewhere, looking for his watch.

“Yes, yeah yeah you too—but no I’m… I’m not,” she said. Y/N seemed to be left alone on the other side of the room and it seemed that she didn’t like it as she slowly followed after him.

“Yeah you’re not—“Tom stated and then rethought it. “I don’t think you’d be one to be on a dating app.”

Y/N smiled sweetly, “No, I… like meeting people organically.”

Tom glanced at her. “Maybe you could find someone at the reception!” He suggested it and instantly regretted it. “Maybe Timmy Tim brought some friends!” He didn’t know why he kept talking.

Y/N scrunched her nose. “I know most of his friends, that would be weird.”

Tom was trying to avoid her again. Knowing that minutes before he could’ve kissed her. But didn’t. “Right, but there’s more people ,right?” Repeating the word could distract her.

Y/N wasn’t as eager with this conversation. She headed near the window watching the rain. “Maybe, yeah,” she hugged herself, “ what about you?”

“Oh I’m not—looking for anything I’m very busy.”

She coughed. “Oh, yes, for sure.”

He had been busy, which might have been one of the other thousand reasons why they’d broken up. One that they would easily admit. Both of them had been.

Tom didn’t know where he wanted to go with it. “But I could be your… wingman tonight.”

Y/N chuckled, turning back to him, crossing her arms. “My wingman?”

Tom let a wide smile spread across his face. “Yes.”

“Huh, who would’ve thought, my ex is going to be my wingman.”

Tom shrugged and entertained. “Hey, who better to help you out than a guy who was deeply smitten with you?” He said, “ I’m going to really give a good word about you.”

She rolled her eyes, “I can only imagine, please start with the coffee thing.”

Tom blushed, as he searched for his belt. “Or I could go with the other one.”

Y/N followed to search for her shoes. “Oh?”

They both sat beside each other, so synchronized as they were putting on their shoes. “Yeah, I believe I also used to say you were like rain pouring down on your wedding day.”

Y/N nodded understandingly. “Nice, you get to test out both of those.”

“Lucky me!” He grinned standing up.

“And me, it’s really going to help me find someone if you’re going to tip me in with that.”

“Absolutely,” he grinned. “But you’re doing all the work in that dress.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Well, shall we?”

He offered an arm. “We shall.”

She checked her phone. “James is texting me about how I need to go with Emma.”

“I’ll escort you there.”

“What a gentleman,” she grinned, not letting go of his arm. He didn’t mind. “I—I used to say that I’d rather have grounds in my coffee than to spend time with you, so you could add that to your dating profile.”

“Hm, grounds in your coffee.”Tom chuckled. “What’s the verdict now?”

She scrunched her nose. “I—really hate grounds in my coffee.”

Tom sighed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was wrong, so you could say you’re better than grounds in your coffee.”

“Ah, excellent.”

Tom finally was at peace with himself. He hadn’t talked about it much but he had always had that tinge of guilt every time he remembered ruining the engagement party, so finally being there was soothing.

Like a reward, of sorts.

The rain kept falling down, not as heavy as before. The bridesmaids would walk down the aisle while the best men were already there. Harry had asked Tom once if he wanted to walk in with them and they could change things up just so he got to walk in with y/n. Tom had declined the offer.

Harry had never given up on them, he was the one to always assure Tom they’d be fine. He had understood the break and had encouraged it. Harry had told him this: “You and y/n started on hatred. If you both build a friendship and then build upon it, nothing will ever break you apart anymore.”

But Harry wasn’t really thinking about Tom and y/n at the moment.

He did think about y/n before, however. How funny fate is, how funny love is. How you think you love someone and then realize, you don’t. Or do, in a very different way.

He found it funny how the ‘girl of his dreams’ had introduced him to the love of his life. Sometimes the unexpected is what you’ve been expecting for the most.

It was funny.

Walking down the aisle was funny to y/n, even as the rain fell down on her gown even under the umbrella. The bridesmaid making their way down the aisle as the rain sprinkled around them. Struggling to not slip and fall, and holding an umbrella that didn’t match her dress.

Tom saw her, with that glowing smile she held, giggling as she walked down holding close to her umbrella. Knowingly, somehow.

Most people were covering from it, colorful umbrellas Harry had gotten.

Tom was already at the end, he had a blue umbrella, she’d chosen the yellow flowered one as he knew she would.

A wedding under the rain. A wedding with people holding umbrellas, unexpectedly romantic. With the garden now puddled and dirty, and the flowers adorning the aisle falling down. A mess.

Like Emma and Harry.

A perfect mess.

And that’s all y/n could think about. When her eyes crossed with his, there was a pain Tom hadn’t felt in a while. So stupid to let her go, how much time had he waited to lay down and have her head upon his heart. And he wished he had had only five minutes more, he should’ve kept fighting for that smile. So close yet so far to each other.

It felt like a million years ago when they were laughing in his bed as he kept trying to guess the song she had thought of. A million years ago when they were dancing in her apartment to that song, from that one movie. With Tom Cruise… Top Gun? No. Mission Impossible? No. Jerry McGuire? No, no. Why was she thinking about Tom Cruise?

Why was Tom Cruise the one thing not leaving her mind? The one distraction y/n had to forget about the other Tom.

A scene from both of them was playing in his eyes, y/n could see, and although it was Emma who would be walking down the aisle as the gentle notes played behind, Tom was the one falling in love all over again. With y/n placing a vinyl on his record player while he wrapped his arms around her. Cooking in his kitchen, barefoot running around his place. Bubble baths that lasted until the water was cold. Laughs merging into one. Picnics at midnight, with cold pancakes or waffles they could a goose from, driving around the city when everyone was quiet and the only whispers they could hear were hers. Waking up by her side, and her asking for five more minutes to dream of that far away land. Even the fights, with both of them being irrational only to end with him pulling her from her waist to kiss her, making it all better. Polaroids and flowers. Polaroids of flowers.

Y/N felt something too, and she didn’t understand what it was. Risky Business. That’s the movie. When Tom Cruise dances.

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Tom either as their own film full all flowers played in the background.

And though they both turned their eyes to Emma about to walk in, time had stopped for the both of them.

How had they not fought against the odds? For that one film they wanted.

And though the film had ended up multiple times, they wanted to play it again.

And it was a reminder, as everyone stood up as Emma was about to walk in, with her blue umbrella. With her impeccable makeup and her perfect hair.

A wedding under the rain.

Y/N and Tom decided to break their stare and look at Harry, whose breath was taken away when he saw her, his one and only Emma, under the rain and against all odds about to walk to him.

Y/n could see it in his eyes, how he had never wanted to escape, not really. What he’s done today was an act of pure courage, to get out of everyone’s talk and to get his own thoughts straight. Harry had escaped to tell himself that he was indeed in love with Emma, not that he needed a reminder of it, but as in an assurance. That’s why he’d gone to the park, his very first date with Emma had been there, and to that cage where they had shared a kiss, and though he had claimed to forget it, he’d gone to the place where he’d bought a raincoat for Emma that one time.

Harry had searched for Emma and he had found her, and she was right in front of him. Harry had searched for Emma his whole life and she was right there.

Emma took a deep breath and smiled, giving a smile that only Harry knew. A smile that Harry owned.

Gently, but suddenly abruptly at the same time, Emma decided to let the umbrella fall down to her side so the rain would cover her.

Harry, at first, was intrigued and scared and confused.

Emma gave him another reassuring smile as she took off her shoes, knowing they’d get dirty anyway.

Harry then, dropped the umbrella as well, ignoring everyone’s looks as Emma proceeded to walk under the rain. Or… run to him.

A wedding under the rain. A wedding that was clearly not supposed to happen, yet, it did, with the bride’s makeup getting messed up and the groom’s suit getting soaked.

Against each and every odd, Emma ran to Harry who was at the end of the aisle waiting for her to jump into his arms.

It was bittersweet for Tom and y/n, with their sight not leaving each other. Tom could’ve sworn he saw a single tear fall down her cheek.

As Emma and Harry stumbled down and then back again.

The ceremony was magical, with people forgetting the rain was falling down.

Harry and Emma were claiming their vows but Tom and y/n were still in their own world. Rude, probably, but they just couldn’t look away.

“And I promise that I’ll keep getting umbrellas when the rain falls down,” Harry had said in his vows.

“And I promise that against all odds, I will keep walking under the rain for you.” Emma had said in hers.

Y/N looked sad, her eyes set on Tom as if asking him to get umbrellas so she could walk under the rain for him. And with a single look, Tom made her see, he would, either get umbrellas or walk under the rain if he was given one more chance.

And for a minimal moment they both felt perennial, everlasting, with a single hope to bloom again once more.

But then again, this wasn’t their moment and the wedding had to go on.

Luckily, the reception was under a roof.

Y/N had decided to sit with Tom a long time ago, when helping Emma with the sitting arrangement. ‘I want to sit with him, we are friends’.

But Emma had told her that she’d be having another seat, with friends of theirs from college. A table where Tim and Lily would be sitting at.

Y/N had known she’d end up with Tom, although for a month she had felt she wouldn’t.

There was, however, no trace of the avoiding Tom right now. He’d offered her his jacket as she had walked in with him, her hand locked in his arm.

A few laughs had been shared. The table consisted of James, Clark, Haz and Tuwaine and their girlfriends, Tom and her.

It was obvious that Tom and her were distinctively different. Whispering to each other, giggling with inside jokes.

The conversation had been about Emma only, and how lovely she looked and how incredible it was what she did. How romantic it was, to walk under the rain for the love of your life.

The newlyweds had walked in. Love was in the air, and there were no other two souls in the world more perfect for each other than Harry and Emma. Their smiles were a reflection of the other’s happiness. They both knew that loving each other would be the easiest thing in the world. That no matter how many mountains they had to climb, they still had each other.

Harry and Emma didn’t have to worry about someone ignoring them again, two wild flowers who found themselves.

Their first dance was as lovely as it could be and the wedding continued to go smoothly. One of those cliché things could’ve happened, when Tom would only stare at y/n while she didn’t notice, instead they’d given each other one smile tha said: ‘Not right now’.

They’d both wanted to hold on, but not too tight.

The wedding continued, as it usually does. Because why would time ever stop for them? It hadn’t before. And it wouldn’t today.

“Hey, everyone, I’m y/n.” That’s how y/n’s maid of honor speech started. With a few anecdotes for her two best friends. Fun stories first. Tom listened and laughed even when she made of of the first engagement party.

“I think, you know, that’s their magic, even after our celebrity friend over here—well we know what happened. I think that’s truly their magic, how they’re able to fight against each and every storm, because they fight against it together,” y/n said. “ I always thought you both had it easy, how things just simply happened to you. How I always thought the universe plotted for you…How you both had magic on your side. But today, I realized, it hasn’t. Today, you taught me how you’ve been fighting against each odd, you know? Just defeat the storm, because that’s your magic, you guys don’t need the rainbow or the sunshine above. It’s—you guys, you who can walk under a rainstorm and find happiness under it because you’re together. You, who will go to the other side of the city to find an umbrella to match the wedding theme. And I really admire that. And neither of you take it for granted. Because the both of you know how incredible you both are, and I’m—I am happy to be the one who can take the credit for introducing you both to each other. You guys owe me,” she chuckled and smiled.

She took a deep breath. “you both know what’s it like. And I know, I know I always make everything about flowers, or films or— but I just think you guys are flowers,” y/n smiled at them. “ You see, while I worked at the shop I learned about these kinds of flowers. Everything about them. How they hold meaning to each other, and sometimes without knowing it, we tell a story with flowers. I remember Harry always gave you daisies, Emma. Daisy flowers symbolize new beginnings and rebirth, in addition to love, and and—cheerfulness, and beauty, purity, innocence, hope, fun, and affection… and I think that’s the magic of you. Your innocence and beauty and how you are reborn each time.”

Emma and Harry snuggled against each other.

“There are—several kinds of flowers. Perennials, and annuals. Annuals simply bloom once and you have to replant them, and most relationships are meant to be like that. Just once… while perennials, they are— they bloom each spring. Everlasting. And they—Against all odds, after a hard cold winter season they bloom again. So I think you guys are perennial flowers, who found each other, and against all odds, keep blooming. So here’s to Harry, and Emma—our perennial flowers who will keep blooming against each and every odd as they showed us they can today.”

Another few other speeches, Tom wouldn’t forget what she had said, against all odds.

“Here you go,” Tom said sitting beside y/n and offering her her glass after they’d both come back from dancing along with a group and came back to catch their breath.

She looked up with a tender smile. “Thank you.”

Tom took a deep breath watching her, wondering if he was supposed to ask about it, what they’d both felt during the ceremony.

Tom cleared his throat instead, “So, who do you fancy?”

“Hm?” Y/N looked up from her drink.

“I’m your wingman for the night, remember?”

“Ah, right.” She gave a look around the place, and landed her eyes back on him. “No one really has caught my eye.”

Tom reached out to fix a lost strand of hair, making her blush. “Why not?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Dunno.”

Tom tried ignoring it, looking away. He hadn’t noticed how close their hands were on the table, barely half an inch close. His sigh was too focused on the crowd. “How about Haz? Tuwaine?” He mentioned, turning back to his table as his friends were currently laughing at something.

Y/N nudged him, rolling her eyes. “Lovely idea, my ex's best friends! Who both have dates.”

Tom grinned at her. “They’re handsome.”

“They are,” she turned to see them. “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Tom hummed and turned around back to the crowds, she approached her chair.

“Oh my God, that girl is trying to hit on Clark,” y/n whispered to his ear.

Tom followed her gaze and snorted. “Man is wearing that and she thinks he’s straight?” His laugh was meant for her to hear only. “Five bucks that James will go and take away his husband,” Tom mumbled.

“Oh, no, I’m not betting.”

“Why not?” Tom frowned, looking back at her.

“Because—“She tilted her head back to the scene as James had come to wrap an arm around his husband. “James can’t stand the idea that Clark is undoubtedly the most handsome man here.”

Tom side glanced, “Really?”

“One hundredth percent, yes,” she snickered as she watched him, her eyes sparkled watching him. “Too bad he’s gay, and not bi, I would’ve already tried stealing him from James if it wasn’t for that.”

Tom grimaced, “uh-huh.”

“Yeah,” she teased, subtly resting her hand on his shoulder. “I would’ve asked for your help. ”

Tom without thinking about it, reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. He knew what it meant. But was it only the wedding or were they really ready?

“My help?”

“Yes, You know a thing or two about stealing your siblings love interest,” she smirked.

Tom opened his mouth in shock, “you’re fucking done.”

She slightly pushed him away. “Am I wrong?”

This felt like love, laughing with her. He leaned slightly, jokingly frowning and letting go of her hand. “You’re being really rude to your wingman. I’m not helping you anymore.”

She leaned over, wrapping her arms around him, “please, no, help me out.”

Tom made the mistake of looking into her eyes, quickly trying to get away from her.

“Hm let’s see who else, uh I see Ben over there, you see him?” he pointed at a close friend of theirs. “Ben is that handsome guy, he is a business man now, very important, want me to introduce you?”

Y/N laughed. “I know Ben,” she clarified. “you do realize I know most people here, right? Especially Ben, I’ve seen Ben try to open a beer bottle with his teeth•

“And you don’t find that attractive?” Tom teased.

She sighed. “I do, but i think he’s way out of my league because of that.”

Tom slapped his knee, “Yes he definitely is, he really is a catch,” he laughed. “But okay give me something to work here.”

“I…” She scrunched her nose. “I…sorry, I—guess I haven’t moved on from my previous love interest.”

Tom cleared his throat. He started to sweat.

“How can I?” She continued. “I mean look at her,” she pointed at Emma. “I despise your brother for stealing her from me. I should be the one marrying her, she’s stunning

Tom forced a laugh. “Ah, yes.”

“So sad, but I guess I can live with it,” Y/N said.

Tom followed her gaze, Harry and Emma giggling against each other, with Harry covering her with a blanket. Both of them with their hair messed up from the rain still, poking their wedding cake and poking each other.

Tom groaned. “They are disgustingly adorable.”

Y/N laughed. “Truly, their love is an aberration from its cuteness,” she faked disgust.

“The way they look at each other, truly an offence.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“They really don’t care about the world around them,” Tom pointed out and turned back to y/n, now her gaze away from them.

“They don’t have to, they’re soulmates,” she reminded him with a smile.

“I thought you didn’t believe in those,” Tom pointed out.

She took a deep breath. “I do, I don’t, I…I dunno, but they’re the closest thing to it, just the way that they grew past the storm, they literally….” She threw her hands in the air. “They literally walked under a storm to marry each other and they….” As if she was still trying to believe it. “and how even if her flowers were ruined or her dress… and everything… she didn’t mind because he was there, you know? That’s romance.”

Tom smiled. “It really is, let’s find you that.”

Y/N was shocked. “Hm?”

“I’m your wingman,” he reminded her. “Let’s get you a date.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing desperately. “Why are you so desperate to find me a date?”

Tom shrugged. “I want that for you, whatever Harry and Emma have.”

She licked her lips watching the couple drunkenly head to the dancefloor. “I used to have it.”

Tom looked up. “Right, with Emma.”

There was a knowing silence. Both of them watching people dance, people from their past, people from their present and mabe from the future.

“Hm how about Peter?” Tom asked after a while.

“Hm, Peter is cute I guess,” she agreed.

“Huh, didn’t see him as your type,” Tom frowned slightly. No, it wasn’t jealousy. Or was it? Could he really be hurt about a stupid comment from a girl he’d been broken up with for a year now. It was stupid.

“He’s not but that’s worked out before,” she chuckled.

Tom pursed his lips and then smirked. “Or… That guy over there, he’s my Uncle Paul, he is very fun, he actually loves the same music as you do, no surprise since he lived in that era, he is a fan of strawberry muffins and-”

“And old.”

“Ah, what’s 60 years of difference, it’s nothing these days, y/n.”

“What’s his sign, then?” She asked.

“A capricorn, see? He is a catch y/n, I could set you up,” Tom smirked.

She laughed. “No, as big of a catch he is I think his wife would be bothered by it.”

“Psh, I’m sure my aunt Petunia wouldn’t mind,” Tom said, laughing. “No, no, come on, I’ll get you and Peter talking but first, let’s dance.”

Tom did what any insane ex boyfriend would do and with all the pain in his heart. He danced with her. And there was that feeling again, as they both approached each other, when his head rested on her shoulder as they swayed around.

“I really liked your speech,” Tom said.

“It was improv,” she confessed. “I liked yours better, had more comedy to it.”

He held her close. “You really admire that from them, huh?”

“Jealous of how they managed to get through it? Yes. I’m jealous, honestly. How they didn’t give up.”

Tom sighed. “They did, at some point.”

“I guess, but not this—, you know?”

“Yeah, but they’re them.”

“And we’re us.”

Tim watched Tom and y/n from a distance. Tim had gotten his own closure.

It seemed that Tom didn’t and Tim was perfectly aware of it. It was sad.

Very sad to see how the guy had blew it up. Bad kept blowing it up.

They were yearning for each other. Dancing, laughing at first, more serious now. Tom swirling her around, letting her head fall down with grace, debuting their own kind of silly dances. Y/N laughing and looking into his eyes.

And Tim could tell y/n missed him. She had confessed it to Tim, how she was scared that she’d blown up every significant relationship she’d ever had when it came to the point of getting somewhere. How she had pushed everyone she loved away.

Y/N had those kind of eyes that Tim knew. Y/N was begging to be loved. How stupid of Tom, Timothee thought, to have someone like her beg for his love.

And he could see it from there, how she was holding on to Tom as if she never wanted to let him go.

Yet she did, and Tom, stupidly had introduced her to Peter, one of Tom’s friends. Tim could tell that neither Tom nor y/n wanted this.

But there he went, Tom had so easily handed y/n to Peter, as if trying to make Peter get y/n out of his mind.

Tim watched Tom. Wondering if Tom would find his Lily, too. Or if y/n was supposed to be his endgame.

Tim disagreed with Tom, mostly because he hadn’t fought for y/n this last time. Tim knew they’d simply just… broken up. But it had come way before that. Tim had slowly seen both of them give up. It was sad to see them both run out of excuses.

Tim thought initially y/n was tired from dragging her problems, and although they’d promised to take about it, they both ended up ignoring them.

Though, Tim did see how their friendship worked. And it was a true friendship, even if they both had to look away and take a deep breath each time they walked into the room.

Tim knew that they’d solved all their “marital” problems when apart. They’d talked about it, because they didn’t have the pressure of the relationship.

And so it was formed, and although y/n had always claimed she was happy, it had been the night before when y/n had drunkenly knocked on his door to tell how much she missed Tom as something else.

How tired was she of giving him signals and him ignoring them, or avoiding them. That she knew they were friends, but that she was still deeply and even more now insanely in love with him.

Tim knew Tom was too, but Tom was an idiot.

Tom’s eyes were glued on the dancing y/n. Peter and her swirling on the dance floor as she would only smile. Tom didn’t look away, he wasn’t jealous. One, because he couldn’t be, she was just a friend enjoying herself and two, because he knew he had nothing to worry about. Peter and her were only dancing.

But Tom felt wrong. He really missed dancing with her. Really dancing and having it mean something. Because now whatever they did didn’t mean anything, it couldn’t. But Tom smiled, his eyes beaming as he saw her, as usual, with a dress that may have been chosen by Emma but she’d made hers.

Tom didn’t miss, however, that feeling that anyone in the room was looking at her and feeling like someone could steal her, so easily. Tom’s infatuation had led him to always anticipate how he’d feel when she’d walk in, blushing, flushed. He had become familiar with it, hiding his emotions. He was really good at hiding, no matter if his anticipation was far from it. Just when he thought he’d control himself, he’d always be stung. How incredible it was, how someone like her still had him wrapped around her finger. Someone so different from him, with her flowers and vinyls and her aesthetic, and her wild mind, always running away from him.

He knew she had dated, but he didn’t want to know who and he didn’t care. He wondered if she’d felt the same way, like no one could ever make her feel the way he could. Because he believed that, no one would ever make him feel the way she did. Good and bad. As if emotions were just dialed up. And that now that he knew her, he didn’t need to know anyone else. Learning about anyone else wasn’t as exciting.

Tom had once thought about it, having her for one weekend. He wished he could come back just for a weekend, to have her smile and know he was the reason for it. He knew he eventually would break down for it, all roads eventually lead to her. Maybe he could tell her that he still felt the same for her, did she feel the same? To think they once owned the world. Maybe asking to rule the world was too much.

And he didn’t want a weekend as a one night stand, but he wished for a weekend, only a weekend would suffice. But would it?

He had to behave now. They weren’t alone anymore.

Tom then feared as he saw y/n throwing her head back laughing. He feared Peter would find out how amazing y/n was. He feared y/n would find out that she could laugh with other people too.

Tom had to stand up, to get a drink if he was going to keep dealing with this. He didn’t wait for someone to come ask him, he headed to the bar directly. Gin and tonic, just to pity himself and his lack of courage.

“You’re an idiot,” someone had said behind Tom.

Tom, taking the first sip of his drink and trying not to choke turned to face Timothee. “I thought we were past our discourtesy.”

Tim shook his head, “We are, I’m telling you as a friend or… whatever we are.”

Tom shrugged, “Acquaintances.”

Tim tilted his head, ordering a drink, “Fair enough.”

“Or members of the same club,” Tom nodded.

Tim chuckled, “It hurts, doesn’t it.”

Tom took a deep breath, watching her. “Yeah, a bit,” he lied. “But I’m happy with…. Our friendship.”

Tom downed his drink and ordered another one.

“Careful,” Tim warned, “we both know what alcohol and an Emma and Harry party do to you.”

Tom laughed. “I already gave my speech so we need not to worry.”

They remained quiet, Tom still watching y/n.

Tim shook his head. “I’ll never understand what went wrong with both of you.”

“Too much history can kill you,” Tom shrugged.

“No,” Tim said simply. “I think you’re just an idiot.”

“That I am,” Tom agreed.

“I’ve kept seeing you both, she is hinting it and you back away.”

Tom coughed. “We are friends.”

“Yeah, keep believing that bullshit.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “We, on the other hand, are not, Timmy.”

Tim grinned. “Do you still love her?”

“She’s my friend.”

Tim pointed his drink at Tom. “I didn’t ask that.” “I—“

“Do you?”

Tom was in the spotlight, but now the drink on his hand was speaking for him. “Well yes I do love her I just—I tried okay? Moving on and I thought I’d magically wake up one day and I wouldn’t love her anymore but—“

“That shit doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, that shit doesn’t happen,” Tom agreed..lAnd I don’t want to be this miserable idiot that wakes up everyday waiting for her—“

Tim shrugged. “I was that idiot for a while.”

“How the fuck did you do it?” Tom questioned. “Because I can’t—it hurts so fucking much.”

“I never stopped trying,” Tim said. “You did.”

“And where did that lead you?” Tom rolled his eyes.

Timothee smiled, genuinely. “I met Lily. It seems like y/n has this magic of introducing you to the love of your life. She did with me, with Harry, and Emma of course, I think even with Sam, right?”

“So I have to make her introduce me to someone else.”

“No, no, that would be very fucking stupid from you,” Tim snapped.

“Then what?”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Tim begged Tom. “Can’t you see it? She never fought for me, or for Harry. Yet she fought for you, and you should fight for her, you are meant for each other.”

Tom sighed. “No. She doesn’t want that.”

Tim watch with irony and not believing what he was hearing. “You kidding, right?”

“I would love that,” Tom was exasperated by him. “But what I would love right now is to move on, how did you?”

“She loves you, that’s how I moved on, she loves you. And she will never fucking stop loving you.”

Tom sighed. “She deserves better. Someone who hasn’t hurt her—someone like Peter.”

“Maybe, but she wants you,” Tim was as stressed now. “And you’re so stupid because you want her, too. Love is not about fucking deserving, it’s about being fucking brave. You’ve lost her before. You’ve always acted like it’s your last chance and life keeps pulling you back together as if you had fucking magnets for each other, for once let it pull you and don’t fuck it up..”

“How do you know she wants me?”

Tim was strong and he thanked he was strong because otherwise he would’ve murdered the man standing in front of him.

He took a deep breath. “She told me just last night, how she can’t deal with it anymore how she wants to risk a goodbye just to get close to you.”

Tom only sighed.

“I’m serious, man. Really think about it,” Tim warned him. “I only moved on because I knew she’d be the happiest with you. And I had to live with it, and— then it grew into me, and I swear, it was… easy, because I could tell she was happy with you. And she truly was her best when she was with you. And—then.”

“I didn’t blow it up, not—by myself, at least….it was a mutual breakup, you know? And neither of us wanted it, not really.”

“Perhaps not. But you’re blowing it up right now, so I would go for her—“Tim stopped himself. “Oh but , word of advice,” Tim said just as he was about to go. “It’s y/n we are talking about, don’t just get drunk and sleep with her after you tell how you feel about her.

“Ah, there goes my plan,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“No, just—do whatever you do that charms her, as usual.”

It felt like the one thing Tom needed to hear. It was as if Tim was giving him his blessing. Not that Tom needed it but it was nice to have. He new he had his blessing from everyone.

And he kept watching y/n dance from a distance, he smiled watching her struggling with Peter and his tremendous dance moves.

Tom at that moment decided something. He loved seeing y/n happy and she seemed to be happy at that precise moment.

Y/N on the other hand had decided things for herself. She had changed throughout these years and she still wondered if she’d donde the right thing. One doesn’t suddentl fall for their enemy one night because they weren’t really the enemy.

Dancing that night y/n realized he never truly was an enemy, an enemy is usually a stranger and he’d never been one to her heart.

She did regret they couldn’t dance as much as she wanted to but she didn’t regret that night either.

It was funny how everything was setting in front of them, like an old dvd or a on journal or a worn out script.

That one night after the wedding, they had ended up together, but not in the sense that one would have thought they would.

They spent the night laughing with each other, bringing out an old script and scratching things and rewriting. Going through the very journal Tom had found in his drawer and realizing that they were neither the script with ugly undertones or the journal with a pink gaze.

Their love wasn’t like Harry’s umbrellas and their love wasn’t like Emma’s brave act. Their love wasn’t Tim’s film canister or Cherry’s flowers.

Their love was theirs and though they were not seeing it that night, they both knew they owned it.

“What is love to you?” Tom had asked. “I think Harry and Emma made me doubt my meaning of it.”

“They know what it is.”

“So what is love to you?” He asked again.

“When?” She asked.

“When?”

“What love is depends on when,” y/n explained. “Love can be anything. It could be a rose in Rome, a stolen peony in New York or a meaningful yellow daffodil in Los Angeles.”

“Flowers then.” Tom laughed.

“It can also be a ballerina necklace, or a fight, or depends on the time.”

“Well—“

“It can also be my favorite film, you know? Dirty Dancing, or it can be dancing for your movie. It can be red wine and homemade pasta, or it could be cold pancakes in a tree house.”

Tom just watched her.

“I think love finds its way to be, you know? Love can be walking under a storm or buying umbrellas.”

“What is love now, then?”

“I dunno, for the moment I really don’t know.”

Days went by after that one night, y/n had caught a terrible cold from the wedding.

Y/N had gone back to her apartment and the sun was bursting through the curtains on that one very day. She’d opened the window to listen to the singing birds, she could smell the rain from the day before and she was feeling better. The sun had found it’s way out.

She decided to go out, to forget the one night that had gone through her mind. She’d texted Timmy asking if she should text Tom and there was a hint of disappointment on Timmy when he’d learned Tom hadn’t called her.

Was y/n really trying to forget the night or maybe trying to remember it forever. How funny life is, isn’t it?

What was love? She had to keep thinking about it.

She bought a flower and the streets were colorless, the city was busy and everyone was just bursting and talking through their phones, but she was quiet, because she was looking at the sun. The sunflower and her were kissed by the very last ray of sunshine.

Was love this sunflower?

No, love should’ve meant staying.

She knew the sun would go away soon, it would rain again. So she’d go home and pity herself.it would be an evening when she didn’t want to go out . Cozy with that big blue sweatshirt she’s stolen from Tom from that wedding day.

Love should be kissing the night before the wedding.

She thought about binging through a netflix show as the sun would yawn.

Love should have been kissing on the cheek while zipping up a dress.

She’d lost all hope. She felt it, with that cold cup of tea in her hands, as she was staring at the window, watching as the night slowly dawns its way dark, and shed lost her hope, she didn’t know what love was.

Had she not known it her whole life? Was love… never what she thought it was?

She had popcorn microwaving, and a pot for her tea waiting. Rain was splattering against her window, a storm was only making her lose the track of thought that would lead her to know what love is.

This wasn’t love. Love would’ve meant calling. Love would've meant showing up. Love—

Her phone was ringing, and her house was chaos. Adding to it, the thunders clapped. The movie was playing and everything, everything was going crazy.

Someone rang the door, probably the pizza, but the chaos was too loud. She could keep up with it. She needed the answer to her question first. What was love?

And the phone kept ringing, and the pot was whistling now, and the thunder kept clapping.

Was love calling?

She needed the answer, what was love? Was it flowers and Polaroids? Was it sleepless nights in New York and fights in LA? Was it walking under the rain in London?

But suddenly, as she found herself opening the door. She knew it, she’d always know what love was.

And love was soaking and shaking from the rain holding a soaked yellow sunflower flower with a soaked shoe box that once meant love.

Love had a promise to be perennial, everlasting and bloom against the odds.

And she knew the answer then…

Love was… them.

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