Tom wasn’t an emotional person—not in the conventional sense. He understood manipulation, strategy, control. But when you started pulling away, withdrawing into yourself , something inside him twisted in a way he couldn’t ignore. You have never been this quiet or withdrawn. You always had something to add to a conversation. It’s something he loved about you. How intelligent you are and how he could hold an intellectual conversation with you something he couldn’t always do with others. Now seeing how different you were he had to confront you so when he found you in the common room late at night all alone he went and approached you.

“You’re avoiding me.” His voice was measured, but there was an edge to it, sharp like a blade pressed against skin.

You barely looked up from where you sat in the common room, arms wrapped around herself. “I’m just tired, Tom.” You admit but don't say much more then that.

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” He countered, stepping closer to you. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know. I just… feel off. Like I don’t belong anywhere, like nothing really matters.”

Tom crouched in front of you, grasping your chin firmly between his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You belong to me,” He stated, his voice low. “And I will not watch you fade into nothing.”

Your heart constricted in your chest hearing the conversation and determination in his voice. He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers like a wisp of smoke. If you couldn’t hold yourself together, he would do it for you. Even if it meant pulling you out of the darkness by force.