The Wingman - Part 6

The Wingman - part 6

(a/n) I am speechless. I just can’t believe how well this story is going. I would have never expected it to be received so well (especially the last part, wow) Thank you so much for sending in all the ideas and suggestions in my survey. I decided to make this a thing now. I won’t be posting the link on the post since I’m kind of scared what Tumblr will do, but it should be somewhere around on my blog. 

I don’t even know if this makes sense, but I like it, so I’m sticking with this story.

word count: 6944

warning: get ready for tears, drama, heartbreak and all that jazz! oh yeah, also swearing, alcohol uhm…

amazing moodboard made by @fratboievans ilysm!

Yeah, you used to call me baby, now you calling me-

Tom took his phone out of his pocket and skipped the song before the first lyric even finished. Immediately a Post Malone song started which he didn’t remember the name of anymore. He stepped out of the elevator, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. He had been up for hours with no proper break. He was exhausted and couldn’t wait to get into bed. His heart was beating along with the loud music coming from his wireless headphones. Or did the pace at which the cardiac muscle move, have nothing to do with the music?

The hallway was empty. The more he walked on, it felt like it was just elongating instead of nearing the door to his and Harrison’s shared suite. His eyelids were really starting to feel heavy. It was probably only the music that kept him up. With a little smack on the cheek, he tried to pull himself together.

The white door was finally in front of him. He pulled out the key from his other pocket and held it against the scanner. The familiar click of the lock was accompanied by the little green light appearing above the scan. Tom pushed the door open, pulling his headphones off and letting them hang around his neck. The music still played on. He could hear the whispers of it.

Next to the door, he saw something he hadn’t seen in a while. Harrison’s backpack. This meant that he got his things back. Which in correlation should mean that he had talked to (Y/N). Tom started to wonder how his best friend’s day had gone. Hopefully better than his. Or at least less exhausting. Then he realized that Harrison’s keycard was lying on the little shelf next to the door. That meant that either Haz was home or he was out and forgot his key, the div.

“Harrison?” he asked. His voice was a bit shaky. There was no response. But from the sight of his keycard and the jacket hanging on the hanger, Tom knew his friend was home. He walked on, further into the suite. The little corridor spread into the big living room area and there he was. With her.

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