This is Thomas as I imagined him to be when he was younger and in his relationship with Priya. A little more restrained in his anger and a reluctance to be coarse with his loved ones.
The tension in the small room was so thick it was practically suffocating Thomas. He was frozen to the spot on the sofa, pinned by Priya's piercing gaze.
It bothered him that this was their current predicament because if anyone should have been angry it was him. And he was angry, so why was she the one staring him down in unmasked fury?
"Say something, Thomas," she said, standing tall before him, perfectly manicured hands on her hips, fine lips drawn in a tight line. She was the mental image of a scolding mom, something she should not have been because she was his lover – or so he thought.
He refused to meet her eye, fighting down the urge to get up in her face and tell her exactly what was going through his mind. "I can't speak to you right now."
"Why not?"
"Because," he started, anger stirring and causing his tone to rise in volume. Then he let out a deep sigh, and turned his head toward his lap, staring at his clenching and unclenching fists. "Because I don't want to say something I'll regret."
It was the wrong thing to say. Priya groaned out in her own bout of frustration, stepping away and turning her back to him. Why was she so mad at him? Why wasn't she groveling in front of him, begging for his forgiveness?
"Fuck that!" she said, turning back at him the same moment he picked his head up, staring at her with wide eyes. "Fuck regrets, Thomas. Get mad. Tell me how you feel. I want to hear it, I need to hear it."
His eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Oh, you need to hear it? Let me just pour my heart and soul out to you then, make you feel better."
"Cut the crap. If you don't talk to me right now, I'm going to walk out that door and never step foot back in."
Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. In the mood he was in right now, he didn't think he cared if she did just that. So he said nothing, instead, going to the door and opening it himself. He stared at the carpet before him as he addressed her.
"Don't let me stop you."
Because obviously he wasn't enough. Obviously she didn't want a good man who loved her and took care of her. She had to go and screw up the only good, lasting relationship she'd had.
He held his breath as she speed walked her way over to him, stopping before him with her hands crossed over her chest.
"No," she said.
"No?"
"No," she repeated, more firmly. A fresh wave of annoyance flared up in him and he snapped his gaze up to meet hers. "I'm not leaving."
Thomas glared at her a second more, muscles in his jaw clenching before sighing defeatedly. "Just go, Priya. There's nothing more to say."
"Bullshit."
He smacked his lips, feeling the slow build of his anger as he struggled to contain it. "What do you want from me?" he said, and the pitiful crack in his voice was enough to have him turning away from her, rushing to get away from her and the ugly feelings coursing through his veins.
Why couldn't she just go before he did something stupid, like call her out on her faults, or even worse, let her in on just how much she had hurt him. It was taking every rational fiber of his being to hold back all the vile names he was calling her in his head because unlike most people, he cared about the outcome of situations. He thought before he spoke so that he never had anything to apologize for or regret when everything was said and done.
He had learned in his life that while words said in anger didn't often reflect one's true feelings... Well, forget that. It was a lie, that's what he'd learned. Truths were often spoken out of inebriated minds, their train of thought too clouded, whether it be by alcohol or blind rage, it was all the same, to filter out the niceties a sober mind would do. People can deny it later when they're no longer harboring such hatred, but deep down, they had spoken harsh truths about the other so as to cause pain in that moment, but when the moment was gone and the fury washed away, all that was left was a simple truth.
Thomas had had his fair share of arguments with people insulting his harsh demeanor or his work ethic, and he had learned to keep people at a distance because of this. He never wanted to admit it, but their words stung when it was from people he cared for. There was truth in it; he was hard on his students. He was especially critical to his bright students because other people in their growing careers, more important people, would be, and it was his job to prepare them for their life beyond schooling.
Did they honestly think he got pleasure from his actions? If only they knew how much of a favor he was doing them...
And then Priya came along, and it was like he wasn't alone. He didn't have to come home to a grand mansion that housed only one. He didn't have to battle his inner demons by himself. He didn't have to be the bad guy by himself anymore. He gave himself over to her completely, trust and all. Laid himself bare in front of the only person who cared enough to look.
And then today happened.
She followed him out onto the deck of his balcony now, a spacious room, just like any other room in his house. It was a horrible idea for him to buy a mansion all that time ago. Why had he let his 24 year old self make decisions?
"Thomas," she said again and he wanted to yell at her that she wasn't allowed to say his name like that, like it belonged to her. He stopped against the glass barrier separating him from falling into the built in pool in his backyard, hands on the metallic railing as he grabbed it tightly, silently taking his anger out on the inanimate object. This was safe. This is what he'd always known.
"Priya," he said through clenched teeth, hissing the word out like a warning. Apparently, this only egged her on.
"You're being extremely childish about this whole thing."
Each word coming out of her mouth was a blow and she knew it. She was pushing his buttons, and fuck, did she know how to do that after the year they had spent getting to know each other's bodies and ticks and minds.
"You can't tell me that you're not angry with me. Fucking show me."
Thomas clenched his eyes shut against the onslaught of images and sounds assaulting his senses, though in darkness, the scene was in vivid detail.
Her arms were wrapped around his neck as he trailed his mouth down the exposed column of her throat, the sweat of their bodies glistening in the stark sunlight that shone through the window. Her moans were loud against the echo of the walls, vibrating throughout the whole house; uncaring in volume, as if the walls would keep her secret. Which they very well might have had Thomas not come home early and walked into the hot, musky room that was theirs to the sight of Priya mid climax, wrapped up in the arms of another man.
Priya's voice slammed through his thoughts once more and his eyes flew open. "Thomas," she said, voice dangerously low, "Man the hell up and tell me what's going through that thick head of yours."
"Shut the hell up!" Thomas yelled, whipping around and stalking over to her in a matter of seconds. It was almost scary to him how clouded his vision was as he tried to focus on Priya's shrinking yet determined gaze before him. His face was centimeters from hers, his nose mere inches from bumping with hers as he shook with visible anger. His body didn't know whether to back up and give her some space or push her away from him with his entire body.
"Is this what you want, Priya? You want me in your face and telling you all the coarse thoughts that are racing through my head right now? Fine!" he barked, and she cringed, finally finding the will to move as she slowly stepped backwards, her eyes narrowed at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.
"You're a bitch. You know, that? I gave you my— I told— You're—" he stuttered, unable to articulate exactly what he wanted to say first, his anger bubbling over violently as he poured all of the raging emotion out of him, physically and emotionally. His fists were clenching and unclenching by his side, chest rising and falling with the force of his emotion. He hadn't let his anger loose like this since he was a petulant child, and the whole uncontrollable feeling was foreign and dare he say, scary.
In the back of his mind, he knew he was making a mistake. He knew there would be a fallout that would change the circumstances of their relationship forever. And while she had been the one to cause the sudden rift in their easy way of life together, he realized that this had actually been a long time coming.
He wrung his hands out in front of him as if he were strangling the air with his very hands. "You're so selfish. How could you do that to me? How could you have sex with that guy? I don't even know who he was; who was he? How could you do that and still stand there in front of me and confront me as if you merely forgot to pick up milk this morning? Which you did by the way!"
He didn't know if he truly expected an answer or not, but Priya stood there not five feet away from him and watched him with calculating eyes, not appearing to feel the need to defend herself. There was something there, though. A knowing glint, as if she were in control of this disastrous situation. It was unnerving because he felt like he was falling into an endless pit, and how dare she still be calm and collected at a time like this.
"And stop standing there so still and unaffected. I'm yelling at you. I am mad at you. Why aren't you explaining yourself, why aren't you showing me anything, why aren't you … sorry?"
And with that slight revelation, the rest of his anger drained away, effectively done using its outlet. The puffed up air in him deflated out of him, and his hands fell limply to his side. A dull ache started to thump behind his temples and he tiredly reached out to rub his forehead.
"I need to..." he started, heading for the kitchen. Very faintly, the pitter patter of her tiny feet trailed behind him. He couldn't even muster the energy for a sigh.
He searched through the cabinets, trying to remember where he put the bottle of aspirin the last time he had used it. It was always in a different fucking place and he blamed Priya for that.
He tilted his head toward her, still avoiding eye contact. "Where's the aspirin?"
"Cabinet beside the fridge. The one with my story notebooks, not the one with your old scripts."
He quickly found the little white bottle that would ease his head pain and tapped two into his clammy, aching hands. He'd curled his fists so tight and so long he didn't even notice until his fingers pained around the bottle.
After downing two of the pills with water, he joined Priya by the island, leaning his hip against the counter. Priya sat beside him in one of the ornate chairs that was her usual spot. She was the one who had picked out these particular chairs, not one for the minimalist style Thomas preferred. He glanced around the room, surveying every spot of bright color that stuck out like a sore thumb. All Priya.
He turned to her, eyes downcast. "You know what happens now, right?"
Priya sighed, crossing her legs and folding her arms over them. "I'm afraid I do."
There it was again. That monotonous tone of no wrongdoing. He couldn't hold the question back anymore. He slowly peeled his gaze from where her hands were interlocked and looked into her eyes.
They were already on his, as if they were just waiting to catch his gaze. "What was the point of all of this?" he asked her. She had gotten him so worked up and pulled his anger out of him so carefully. At first, he thought it was so that they could move past this incident quickly and try to mend things. But looking at her now, with the small smile that promised no happy endings, he didn't know what to think.
"Believe it or not, I actually did it for you."
Thomas scoffed. "If you're just going to play games—"
"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she said, laughing haughtily.
"Feel free to enlighten me, Pri. I'd love to hear all about the good you did for me today."
She only gave him a disapproving look at his hostile tone, but continued nonetheless. She leaned forward, ever closer to him and he fought the urge to flinch away. "Remember when you told me how your mom was when you were little? About how she didn't tolerate it when you expressed your anger?"
Thomas' eyebrows furrowed, unsure why she was— "Oh, for the love of— Did you just mother hen me? Giving me the release I never received as a child?"
Her eyebrows shot up in amusement, though she tried to hide it. "I wouldn't call it that. Besides, I've been meaning to get you to release some of that pent up anger for a long time. It's okay to let your loved ones know when you're upset."
"I'm not a mess for you to clean up, okay? Just because some weird, unfortunate instances occurred when I was a child doesn't mean it's your job to try and make it right. Besides, it's too late. I'm almost 30 years old. Whatever parts of me that have changed are done now. I'm afraid I've done all the growing I was meant to do."
All the laughter in her face drained away at the serious tone in his words, replaced by something even worse—pity. "Do you honestly believe that? Because it's not true."
"Please, your pity is no better. Can we go back to yelling at each other?"
"Because you would love that."
"I would, actually. It's our default now, you can't ask for more than that."
"No," she said sadly. "I suppose not." After a tense pause, she added, "Be honest, though. How great did it feel to lose control like that?"
Thomas blinked, and then laughed softly to himself, remembering the awful words he had called her. "It was freeing. I'm so used to holding back that letting go felt like unleashing a wild animal. I would say sorry about calling you a bitch, but I'm not."
"Don't apologize. I really fucked up this time, and I can't see anything I do changing your opinion of me now. I don't even know why I did it—"
Thomas held up a hand. "Let's just not. I don't want to think about it anymore."
This was it. This was the part where things would get awkward. It should have been that part, but with Priya … she just didn't conform to normality. It never touched her free spirit.
"I do believe we have reached an impasse," she said softly, glancing up at him. He held her gaze and just reveled in it for a moment. This would be the last time that he could look upon those beautiful eyes with something resembling love. He sighed, closing his eyes. He was going to miss this.
"Thomas," she breathed, the name bittersweet coming from her lips. He opened his eyes to find her standing before him, equally as focused on trying to remember the little details of his face before it would become just another mundane thing in her life.
Her hands came up to rest on his chest and he let it happen. Anything could happen right now because no finalities were spoken, not really. It was two o'clock in the morning and they were standing in his knick knack filled kitchen and the whole world was slowing down so that the two of them could have this last moment together.
He whispered her name as well, pouring every emotion he ever held for her in that one word. All the anger and the sadness and the happiness and the lust and the confusion and the love. It was all there in his eyes, too, he knew it was because he could see it reflected back in her own eyes.
His hands had slid to her waist of their own volition, needing the contact to go along with the memories. Memories of them fighting over stupid things, playing in the snow together on their way to work, watching TV together on their nights in. Even the more sensual ones, her panting breaths in his ear, the feel of her sweaty skin against his palms, the oh so sweet friction of their hips trying to join together as one for a little while.
If he were any other man, he would probably be shedding a tear at the thought that the past year of his life was coming to a close. And if she were any other woman, she would probably be shedding a tear for the same reason. But they were Thomas Hunt and Priya Singh—experts at portraying the perfect persona—and if there was one thing that brought them together in the first place, it was the incredibly strong hold they had over their masks, never slipping even in these most intimate moments.
Perhaps it was this fact, this one piece that brought them together, that tore them apart in the end. They spent so much time trying be someone they weren't that when they tried to be themselves around each other, they didn't know who they were anymore.
If they didn't know who they were, then how could they be expected to truly love the other?
I'm in between chapters in my The Last of Us story, but I still have a soft spot for this fandom and also wanted to post my AO3 fics on here as well for anyone who prefers this site. I'm hoping to refine some of my other hollywood u one shots and share them also! This was my only Thomas/Priya fic because of a sudden, inexplicable urge to capture these two, but the rest of my stuff is Thomas/MC because that's really where my heart is!