A/N: Whaaaat? Okay, I'm not entirely sure if my readers are going to be happy or incensed by this update. Either way, it's here.

[If you don't know: for awhile I wasn't going to continue to write this story. I have never abandoned a story, but some things were happening in my personal life that made some of the themes of this difficult to objectively explore. But here I am. Because, silly me, writing is magical and cures all ails — duh!]

So without further adieu, I hope everyone enjoys! Please tell me what you think! And check out my note at the end of the chapter as well.


Sybil was practically living at Tom's now, spending several nights she later blamed on a last minute trip to visit Gwen in Portsmouth. In the process, her clothing had its own shelf in his closet, with her small makeup bag and perfume decorating the vanity in his bathroom. Everyday she thanked Tom for occupying the lofted bedroom; it made her access to his apartment just that much easier, especially when it came to coming and going, each arrival and departure so carefully planned that both looked, and more importantly felt, invisible.

In the process, Tom came no closer to completing his dissertation. In fact he'd been reprimanded by Dr. Kolberg for not making more substantial progress. Upon hearing this, Sybil demanded Tom spend more time researching, which he did — all while Sybil sat cross-legged on his bed reading a book, monitoring his progress when she was meant to be volunteering at the hospital.

It wasn't necessary, but the two were enjoying the closeness they were granted. So far Mary had said nothing to Sybil, and the unchanged disposition of the eldest Crawley girl did nothing to alert Sybil that perhaps Matthew really had told her. Sybil admitted to Tom that her sister was a good actress, but that to master such passivity was far beyond Mary's capabilities. Even still, Sybil and Tom acted as if any minute the entire thing would be destroyed. Often they'd discuss how they hated sneaking around, but several moments later they'd admit, rather boldly, that there was a certain excitement involved. It made their kisses more electric and each touch so craveable that neither could help but to smile when seeing one another.

On this particular evening, Sybil and Tom were returning from a local comedy club where one of Tom's friends was performing at an open mic night. Despite most of the jokes told being of the mediocre variety, Sybil and Tom enjoyed themselves, something neither would attribute to the way in which no one questioned their relationship.

It was ironic because despite their paranoia about Mary, both were becoming more and more open in public. Although both had a strong stance against all public displays of affection, they were softened by one another, finding that they often held hands and shared small, delicate kisses while waiting in line for their drinks at a cafe or just sitting together on a crowded city bus. Tom wondered if perhaps Sybil wanted Mary to find out. If she did, Sybil would be allowed to be proud of this all, and she'd be able to share her love with her family and friends, all of whom she hoped would be more accepting. While the prospect of it was scary, Tom needed to remind himself that he wanted those same things. After all, the two were set to leave for Ireland tomorrow morning so he could work toward a similar goal.

"Do you think they'll like me?" Sybil asked. She was forced to strain her neck to see him clearly while her eyes, like a camera, worked to bring Tom back into focus.

For a solid hour now, the two remained entangled atop Tom's bed, one of Sybil's legs thrown over Tom's while the two held onto one another. The television was off, the window was open, and for once Tom didn't even have his laptop playing music. The stillness afforded to them in moments like this were few and far between. All of Tom's flatmates were gone for the week, heading to Germany for one of their many planned summer trips. Tom could go and before he met Sybil he considered it, but now with her in his life even a trip with a bunch of mates seemed like a waste of time. Somehow, laying on his bed with Sybil nuzzled into him was the most relaxed Tom had been since summer began.

He reached down to move a frizzed curl back behind Sybil's ear. She smiled at the contact but quickly accepted his hand back beneath hers on the center of his chest. "Honestly?" Sybil smirked, as if to say 'yes'. "I'm not sure what they'll think of you."

"What have you told them?"

"The same things I've told your parents. That we're friends. That we spend a lot of time together. I told my dad the library story and I'm assuming he told my mam."

"Have you told Emilee?"

"Of course I've told Emilee."

"Do you think she'll like me?"

Tom looked down to Sybil with a curious look on his face, one that simultaneously showed his amusement. "Is that important to you?"

"It is," Sybil revealed with a long sigh. "You talk about her a lot. More than your parents. She seems like a really great person and I know how much she means to you. I figure if she likes me then your parents will just follow suit."

Tom looked up to the ceiling where his ceiling fan hung from a single wooden beam, splitting the room in half. He watched as the blades cut through the air, their motions so careful and effortless that their breeze created little noise. Finally, no longer distracted, Tom turned back to Sybil. "It matters to me too, you know," he said sweetly, causing Sybil to lean up and capture his lips. "So I just pray to god she likes you. I mean, I do, so that has to count for something."

Sybil rolled her eyes and released a small giggle. "Smooth…"

Tom could only laugh. The demeanor he held during the party at which they met was long gone, so much so that he barely recalled how cocky he was that night — something Sybil would never truly allow. When they went out, and Sybil held onto his arm or stuffed her hand in the back pocket of his jeans, he was just as confident, but not overly so. Sybil mellowed him out, made him a better person, and reminded him that while his attitude was initially quite attractive, she found what was beneath his exterior to be all the more worthy of her time and attention.

Without real cause, Sybil sat up. For a moment Tom thought she might be going to leave, a habit both had when they felt things getting too serious. Tom had only been to her house two times thus far, the first being under the guise that he had a study packet to drop off to Mary from when she was absent from class. The excuse was not a planned one, because while Sybil and Tom kissed like teenagers behind Sybil's closed bedroom door, Robert and Cora were downstairs scolding their eldest daughter for skipping classes. This was a problem for Mary, but one she didn't struggle with when it came to Dr. Kolberg's lectures. In fact, she found the more she went and the better she did in his classes, the less attention he paid to her and that somehow meant more than the decent grades earned.

The second time, with a independent french film playing in the background, Tom was forced to push Sybil away so he could stand. He remembered the confusion she wore so clearly on her face and the way her lips, even more pouted and rouged than usual, somehow looked sad over the loss of contact with his own mouth. When he went to speak, she pulled him back, but with one last kiss he was at the door, his laptop bag slung over his shoulder and his car keys hanging from his hand.

It was accepted now, especially because the next time the departure was Sybil's own doing, and she understood, only then, that the ache in her stomach was there to warn her that to go any further with things would be to make promises they'd be unable to retract. It hurt more each time, a signal both never quite shared with one another and because of that, ignored altogether. Maybe if they'd spoken about it, they'd be where they currently were, with Sybil not leaving but instead repositioning herself so she was straddling Tom, each leg bent at the knee and firm against the expanse of mattress on either side of him.

"What is this?" Tom asked, trying to sit up.

"What?" Sybil asked coyly, a hand folded delicately into her neck. "Is this okay?"

With eyes trained on her lips, Tom nodded before seizing a kiss. The pull away was slow, and with Sybil in his full grasp now, he was able to bring himself to sit up. "More than okay…" The friction from before was still apparent, but made all the more intense as Tom dropped a hand from Sybil's face to pull her closer to him. There his hand remained, steady over the pocket of her denim shorts, keeping her, all of her, pressed snugly into him.

"Is this okay?" Tom asked, wishing to tease but also needing an answer. Though he didn't think of it anymore, every so often he'd be forced to remember that Sybil was still sixteen. Tomorrow she'd be seventeen and somehow that was more acceptable, but here, her hands traveling south from his chest to his waist, she was sixteen — even with nothing other than her age being indicative of that fact.

"Mhm," Sybil nodded. She kissed him again, needing to feel his want steady on her tongue as she told him of the same. Really, she wished to tell him many things, but the two couldn't separate for long enough to allow conversation. Small. heaved breaths filled the silence between kisses, and although the two were in no rush, Tom felt the need to continue. His hands, while content holding her waist steady, moved to push Sybil's braid off her neck. With it gone, his mouth began to softly attack the supple skin where several moles took up residence, typically hidden by the way Sybil wore her hair.

She had words, ones she desperately wanted him to hear but all that she could manage was a moan, then one more, her head thrown all the way back as Tom's hands now began to mimic what his mouth was doing. All of him was giving her the attention he felt she deserved and she wished she wasn't so powerless, or else she'd be returning the favor.

When Tom finally picked his head up, the two shared wide smiles, their eyes communicating in ways it seemed their hearts never would. Perhaps they'd never get to that point. Even upon meeting they both felt as if they knew one another on many deeper levels. If they were lying to their families maybe this could be a game too, one not given much thought so as to not overwhelm the participants with how truly insatiable, perfect, and altogether effortless their chemistry always was.

Breathless, but with mouths that didn't seem to care, the two reconnected. Tom was still holding Sybil, but soon her hands fell from his neck and began to play with the leather belt he wore around his waist. At feeling the sensation, Tom opened his eyes, and in not wanting to alert Sybil, pressed a kiss, then several more to her jawline as he distracted her hands with the hem of his t-shirt instead. That was charted territory made safe by worn-off shock and subsequent excitement.

Sybil obliged, but soon her shirt was gone as well, both items of clothing hitting the ground based on decisions Tom seemingly had no control over. While his chest was seemingly old news, hers was not, and upon seeing her body exposed to him like this, he couldn't help but to stare. Clearly Sybil was amused because she became bold, her fingertips dancing against his collarbones as she pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to his cheeks, chin, and neck.

"Fuck, Syb…"

She only shook her head, her lips needing his caress for yet another time. Each angle seemed to be exercised and every duration, hand position, and speed all exhausted, but neither looked as if they wanted to retire the action. Actually, the opposite was happening, with Tom incited by Sybil's actions and made to make a move as well.

Due to the steady grip he still had on her, Tom flipped them over, using his own broad frame to rest Sybil's much smaller body softly back onto the mattress. Another kiss, but Sybil's hands were back where they started, now extended upward as she toyed with the latch on his belt. Somehow the sensation had Tom laughing, a reaction she was sure existed to cover up the way he really wished to encourage her.

"Syb…"

"You okay?" This time she wasn't teasing, and Tom could only nod before sharing yet another passionate kiss. He thought it was a truce, but her hands moved again, this time with much more vigor.

"Syb!" he tried again, his words not questioning but blatantly demanding that she stop, or at the very least, slow down.

"What?" She still wasn't teasing, but her face lost it's concerned look. Now she seemed upset, her eyes narrowing as she took him in.

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure what, Tom?"

"That—"

"That I want to sleep with you? That I want you to make love to me? Yes, I am very sure."

Tom paused. Already he was hard, a fact that was surely of no surprise to Sybil who had felt him pushing into her thigh since the two accepted their newfound positions atop the bed. Breathing out, Tom attempted to steady himself. It had been awhile since he'd been with someone, and never before had he been with someone he actually cared for. The latter thought was enough to make this all the more real, motivating Tom to smooth back Sybil's hair and press a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I just…"

"Yeah?" she smiled. A nervous laugh escaped as well while her fingertips gently pushed at his hairline.

"Like this? Rushed on my bed?"

"Where else?" Sybil asked in disbelief. If such things mattered to her, she imagined Tom should be more concerned about quality over content.

"But your first time? Here? I mean, is that okay?"

Again Sybil laughed, but the air she expelled was not as warm or as patient as it previously were. In fact her eyes had grown icy as well as she studied him, cluelessly hovering above her, waiting for an answer.

"My first time?" she repeated. "This wouldn't be my first time, Tom."

Tom blinked, once then several times more. "Wha...what?"

"You wouldn't be my first time. I mean, I wish you were but—"

He laughed, something Sybil heard and was immediately disgusted by. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, Tom. I slept with this boy Ben when we were in London for Christmas."

"Wait," Tom said, now falling to sit back down beside Sybil. She countered his actions, scooting further away from him so much so that one of her feet touched the hardwood floor below. "Was he your boyfriend?"

"No," Sybil said simply. "I told you, I've never had a boyfriend. He was just some kid. His father grew up with my dad. Mary was really pushing for it and he was extremely persistent and—" She stopped. For a full minute there was silence but then slowly Sybil picked her head up and brought herself to her feet. "Why am I explaining this to you? I mean, why does it even matter?"

"I'm just...shocked, s'all," Tom admitted with a small shrug. He felt stupid now but there was no apology big enough to cause her to forget his question completely.

"Why are you shocked? You've fucked loads of girls. I slept with one guy. I'd hardly call that even. Besides, you weren't in my life then. It was dumb and—"

Tom stood up and ran his hands through his hair. Both hands remained clasped atop his head and he began to awkwardly move, causing his body to look like it was spinning while his mind lagged behind, calculating where it was he should really go. "I'm speechless."

"What?" Sybil spat. "Am I spoiled goods now?"

"Sybil, I didn't say that…"

"Then what, Tom? Why does it matter? Jesus Christ, this night was about to be perfect and you've just gone and messed it up!" Already Sybil was grabbing for her shirt, thanking the forgiving material for looking just as it did prior to it being removed.

"Sybil, wait, no, I didn't mean that! You were just young! And it sounds like you didn't know this guy! That doesn't sound like the Sybil I know so I'm just confused!"

"No, Tom, you're not confused, you're an asshole, alright? I already feel like shit about the whole thing, so no need to rehash it all. Yes, I slept with some guy I barely knew. No, it wasn't great. I actually really fucking hated it. I spent all of Christmas day crying. It took a lot for me to come back from that and then a few months later, after my life faded back into nothingness, I met you and things changed and I changed and now I like who I am with you and I just really like you, okay?" He nodded, but somehow the action had her taking another step toward the door. "God, this was so fucking stupid. You know, I am falling so hard for you, Tom. And if you'd let me, I'd say so much more. Tonight I wanted to tell you so many things...but right now I am so angry and so ashamed and sad that I don't even want to look at you!"

"Sybil!" Tom tried one last time, his hand reaching out with force to grab her wrist.

Just as determined, Sybil tossed it aside. "Don't touch me, alright?" He flinched, as if to challenge her words, but only more came. "Don't!" she roared.

"Syb, please. Just…" He had no words. "I don't know what to say. What can I say? I guess I'm just...I'm jealous."

"You're insecure," Sybil corrected. "And it's okay because every time you used to talk about your old life, I felt it too. So casually you talk about all of the girls and the parties and I find myself hating these girls I don't even know. But then I remember that they're not with you, I am. And that you actually care about me and that, I don't know, maybe you love me too—"

"I do—"

"Please don't, alright?"

The room turned to complete silence. With their chests heaving, Tom's eyes remained fixed on the floor while Sybil carelessly threw her belongings into her rucksack.

She was at the door now. "I'll...I'll see you around, I guess."

"What? No! Syb, we're going to Ireland tomorrow! You're going to meet my family. You need to look at Trinity and I want to show you—"

"Yeah, well I wanted to show you a lot of things too, Tom…"

He took another step toward her. "Sybil, please don't. I'm going to make this right. I just need some time to explain—"

"There's nothing to explain. I'm offended, Tom. And I am so, so hurt right now…" The words poured out of her, and only when he was brave enough could Tom look up and confirm that each syllable was accented with tears. By then Sybil was already gone.


***I'm going to do something I never do: I'm going to explain my writing. As a writer, I've always been too prideful. I feel that if your writing is strong you shouldn't *have* to do that. And I don't have to, but I want to. So if you follow me on tumblr (link is on my profile) it should be posted sometime tomorrow. I'll also put it in the sybil x tom tag for anyone who is interested. I just really want to create a dialogue and shine light on a few things...none of which directly deal with this chapter. So let's chat, yeah?

As usual, thanks for being so supportive!

x. Elle