The concert ends soon after, and you leave to change out of wardrobe and into your own clothes. Tom is still backstage.

"Who let you in here?"

"Your assistant. [Y/n]--"

"--I don't want to talk, Tom."

You try to walk away, but Tom hurries to stand in front of you, blocking your path. You glare at him, fists clenching. "Please," he begs in a whisper, eyes pleading, "just let me get this off my chest."

Your resolution was firm until you look into his puppy-dog brown eyes. Then the only thing you can do is sigh and say, "Fine."

Tom breathes out, almost as if he's been holding his breath for the entire night. He rubs his hands together, staring at the floor. "I should've tried harder to see you more. You had a tour, but I could've flown out between filming days. None of what happened was your fault. It...It was mine."

You cross your arms across your chest. "I could've taken time to see you, too, Tom. It wasn't all you...I didn't try hard enough either."

Tom finally looks up to see my face. I give a little side smile. "So maybe," he mumbles, "we were both in the wrong?"

I nod. "We both gave each other emotional bruises."

Tom returns the small smile. "I came here to ask if you'd forgive me."

You reach out for one of his nervous hands. "I forgive you, but only if you forgive me."

He squeezes your hand. "Of course I do."

The lights go out in the concert auditorium. Everyone is packing up for the night. "You wanna go grab a drink?" you ask. "For old times' sake?"

Tom grins. "Won't the paparazzi see us?"

You give a mischievous smile. "Not is we go undercover." You nod to the wardrobe department.

Tom laughs, and you both realize that tonight is the start of something brand new.