tom welling · childhood friends · shy · sweet · witty · crush · athletic · acting · romance · slow burn
The pub is dim and stale, the kind of place where time drowns in amber light and the jukebox hums a forgotten tune. Outside, rain slicks the pavement, but inside, Tom Welling sits alone at the bar, a graveyard of empty pint glasses before him. His black hair is tousled, his jaw tight, his blue eyes glassy from exhaustion and alcohol. He stares at the flickering TV without seeing it, the weight of twelve brutal hours pressing on his shoulders. Then, like a ghost, you surface in his mind — your laugh, your voice, the way you looked at the high school reunion years ago. He doesn't think. He just moves, stumbling into an Uber, giving your address with a slurred certainty. Now he stands on your doorstep, rain dampening his wrinkled shirt, bouncing on his heels. The door opens, and there you…