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roseduroi · 1 year

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When the Darkness Fell, iv rose

mob!tom holland x reader

part iii.

“She won’t disappear just because you’re a second away.”

“I know that.” Tom grumps out, it’s always that nasty feeling on the tip of the tongue when he feels as if admitting there’s more to a shelled man than he lets on. He’s stuck like the filthy gum glued to the shoe with her and he can’t help but feel at fault that everything is shit. There doesn’t seem a way outta that painful nibbling feeling that pulls at him to the depths of non-existing sentiments for her when the doctor points out his fondness, leading to attachment.

It’s irritating.

He has nothing figured out and it drives him up the wall. His fists curl up so tight the knuckles turn the shade of white and he feels how anger pulses through his veins as his whole essence just itches to let it out.

“Where’s Bader?”

Tom suddenly asks, forgetting where the young doctor was heading with the conversation.

“I don’t think beating the guy to a pulp would be wise of you this instant.”

Tom is clueless why his heart is so jumpy as non-existing feelings pull him to Y/N.

iv.

“I need a favour.”

“I feel like I’m a little bit too drunk for that.”

Tom sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and briefly closes his eyes. The cold bites his bare hands as the harsh winds sweep through his jacket. He paces back and forth in the backyard of his home as dark skies above him cover the night’s blank stars.

The sun is starting to set. What a chaotic day Tom would say, not that it was unusual for him, just… perhaps different in a way that made his heart stir. The days are short now, everything gets darker and darker; some curse it, some find joy in it. Tom is of those who aren’t bothered by the dimness of the night, finding peace within it rather than only seeing chaos among the lack of rays when the sun is set.

Consider him a fool or just a random guy who seeks comfort in the dark.

“It’s hurried.” There is a hint of annoyance in his voice as he speaks to the man over the phone. He wouldn’t push if it wasn’t that hurried.

He hears distant laughter, chatters of strangers in the background, and then the door opening and closing until eventually, all the voices fade away in the far distance. It’s not hard to guess where his best mate is; the bar music far too familiar to his ears.

“But it’s my day off today- ow! What was that for?” Harrison whines as his companion, Tom assumes, swats him on the arm.

“Sup, Boss!” He hears Maliza greet him. “Whatcha need?”

In different circumstances, Tom would laugh, chuckle at them but his thoughts are way too busy to let him slack off, pushing him to the edge, to the limits he doesn’t have. He knows he has given them a day off but this is more important. He wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t so urgent. “There is an unconscious body and I need you to take care of it.” He is blunt, but there’s nothing to hide. Though his words are hushed, they are careful of the people who might hear. You never know who is listening; you never know whom not to trust.

Yet Harrison and Maliza are some of the most trustworthy people Tom knows. His neighbourhood, where he stayed occasionally, is rather quiet too. People around here were simple. Simple, large or medium families were just living and minding their own business. That old couple just around the corner. That old elderly lady with her sick daughter just down Smith’s street. Some aunties and uncles, and that mailman, never scared of the old couple’s dog. The neighbourhood is certainly tranquil.

Maybe the tranquil that lured him here, that what it was.

A few years back he met Maliza through Harrison whom he knew his whole life. She saved his best mate from the very, oh-so-terrifying flu. That day Harrison was smitten with the doctor in white, and the hospital’s door never stopped opening that week. Harrison just kept coming back. Then it turned out she perfectly handles a rifle, and to this day she’s one of the best of Tom’s people.

When Tom looks at the couple, every time something stirs within his ribcage, it fastens his heartbeat. It’s odd, the feeling so unfamiliar it adds to the goosebumps already over his skin when the couple holds hands or Maliza wraps the ribbed scarf around Harrison’s bare neck when the harsh winds sweep under their coats. What was that nonsense that forced his blood to pulse more rapidly if this all was bullock? Jealous was a bitter word Tom refused to use. In other words, Maliza wasn’t his type and he knew Harrison ever since they were in diapers. He simply was not interested in what they did behind closed doors, but perhaps jealousy did play a part in making his heart pound faster.

Something ached he didn’t know could even hurt. Envy of a feeling that wasn’t his to own left a wicked twist inside his bones.

They completed each other, and Tom only was half of a heart.

“You want what now?” The male gasps and drags Tom out of his misery thoughts.

The misty cloud of tiny droplets of water appears before the very man who drags the words out his throat. “It’s complicated.”

But it really isn’t that much, to be honest.

“It’s that Bader guy, isn’t it?” Maliza intervenes, proving just that. Clearly, she’s the sober one here, having connected the dots quickly.

He nods. He knows they can’t see it. “Yeah,” so he adds, providing a short but clear response, displaying no other sign of wishing on continuing further. “I’ll send the address.”

“Got it, Boss,” Maliza answers for both, calling him the nickname once more that she had given him all these years back when they stormed in that abandoned fabric.

“And.” Tom purses his lips. “I need you to stop by and check in on her. And maybe grab some of her clothes too. Warmer ones if you might.” Tom says. He kicks the dirty, frost-bound ground, the same ground beneath him that was more sturdy than his heart. Hilarious how one name can make a man like him fidget like a teenager in love.

But the days are getting colder and the frost - like the fine artist it is - carves the shapes of leaves and petals on its own chosen sheet in early mornings, traces the edges- and Tom (along with many others) will have to scrape off the ice of his windshields because he doesn’t have a garage. The shortage of time in daylight will convert the lifeless autumn trees into Christmas decorations, lining up forgotten alleys and avenues with lights and carols. The spirits will awaken and Tom…

Tom is just done with that time of year.

“Yeah. No.” Harrison hiccups on the phone. “I don’t want to lose my hand just because I went through your love life’s underwear drawer.”

But Tom would never.

“Harrison.”

He wouldn’t.

“To-Am.” He hiccups.

Right?

“Fine.” He knows Tom would never. “Just know it’s Maliza’s hand.” But he takes a necessary precaution; being drunk that is.

Tom hears the sound of a car unlocking. He guesses Maliza’s driving and he hangs up the phone without saying anything further. His fingers are red, hands insensitive to the bitter cold, but he struggles to type the message.

She didn’t want to talk to him, Tom admitted that through clenched teeth a couple of hours ago when he tried to open the door. Which was locked. Which she locked after the incident. Which was locked because he was deemed unreliable. Which ended up bothering him quite a great deal.

He even made her a sandwich.

And he let that Bader guy punch him for being an arse, for having let the emotions get the better of him. Tom was an impatient man as much as he was possessive, and sometimes these features never got along. She wasn’t his and neither is she now. But a part of him wished so if he was truthful with himself. That day when he accompanied her, he thought he felt something stir in his heart, a feeling he had never once believed to be true. But after all their encounters and those lightsome banters in between, and after seeing her stare at the moon like it was the sun after late-night shifts at the cafe of Ben’s, Tom felt attached like a child needy for a toy. His primitive beliefs came crashing down, they collapsed to his feet like steadfast soldiers falling for their country. Didn’t matter how much he tried to fight them, those bastard sentiments for her; they blinded his vision, tricked his mind and bound his will, but they got to his heart.

She got to his heart.

That’s how much of a fool he was.

Tom winces at the faint bruising on his cheek as the water hits his face; he tries to wash the day’s heaviness and burdens under the cooling water, splashing it all over his face. Bader did pack a hefty punch and Tom could clearly feel it now, he also isn’t ashamed to admit it. Sheer power didn’t correlate to how much force one could wield, but rather the ability to see one’s faults that come within it. Back then it didn’t matter how much the blow hurt, his feelings were overcoming him; it only made him stay alert.

The bruising on his cheek is reddish now, indicating it’s fresh as the skin under his eye throbs, tender to the touch.

But somewhat the blow doesn’t feel enough. The pain he feels absorbing his cheek doesn’t compare to the weightiness of the heart as sourly he wishes it would. He cleans his face with a towel, careful around his bruised cheek and when he walks out of the bathroom, Tom’s gaze instantly falls on the locked door to his room, where Y/N is.

His body aches to turn around and knock, maybe his heart even cries for him to write a cheesy letter and slip it under the door just for her to read how past hope he is to earn her forgiveness, like in the sappy movies he would never watch. But his muscles resist as his glance catches a glimpse of the sandwich he previously made. Tom’s too arrogant and proud.

He remembers they would bicker about this personality trait of his, too.

“Being arrogant won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

“Would you look at that now,” Tom answers her, smugly raising an eyebrow. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“This is different.”

“How come?” The brunette challenges, speeding up his steps to pass the girl. He stops right before so suddenly she halts in her footing and almost trips over her feet as they tangle together to stop her from bumping into his chest. He cockily smirks.

“You simply obsess over me.” He hears her say after a heartbeat of silence and chuckles, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Look who is being cocky now.”

“Not at all. You love being talked about. And this just proves my point I just stroked your ego.” The girl emphasises, knowingly bumping his shoulder as she then passes him. “You think you’re mighty because strangely people fear this short man. You put on this false charm, but beneath it exists some cruelty. And arrogantly you think I will swoon over you like those past girls because you’ve decided to give a poor girl her 15 minutes of fame. I’m not going to fall for that.”

It was one of their first encounters together.

It was during one of those many late-night shifts he would accompany her on later in the future. But that night she left him speechless. She perhaps did stroke his ego if not actually damaged it more. They barely knew each other back then; that night was just a couple of weeks after they first met, and Tom would admit, he did embarrassingly torment the poor soul. Maybe not that drastically, but he did happen to be given coffee at all those same times, at that same cafe Y/N happened to work. AND surely during her work hours. He was truly an intrigued guy, indeed.

So, one night after he finished dealing with his work related-once-in-a-lifetime-not-involving-anything-filthy-kind-of-business in Ben’s cafe - paperwork, Jesus - the clock had been ticking past twelve, his coffee had been long consumed and the dirty cup had been already taken away by a tidying waitress (Y/N for that) ready to close, but Tom was already one jump ahead, resisting to leave. He had insisted on accompanying her to whatever-she-was-heading. He didn’t know back then and he had never been entirely too sure where to she was headed until eventually he had found himself actually on her good side and she’d told him.

Y/N intrigued him, she challenged him like nobody else did and he wouldn’t have it any other way around. In a sense, she saw right through him. She saw the things he wanted her to see and she saw more beyond what he wished she wouldn’t. But he had finally felt normal and nothing else had mattered after. She talked to him naturally without feeling on edge around him.

And yet, he failed to see through her, who she was coming home to.

So maybe, in the end, he was going to knock on those damn doors for the tenth time this day and MAYBE he wasn’t going to bolt the second his knuckles touch the surface and he doesn’t receive a response in a mere second. Maybe because he owed it to her. Because he really ought to for her.

Instead, a sharp knock on the front door scourged right through his heart.

Harrison

He really should stop getting distracted. One of those days it will get him killed.

Tom walks over to the entrance and slams the doors open. Ahead there’s Maliza with a bag of clothes next to the entrance and further on a barely steady Harrison metres away with his grasp tight on the fence.

“Hi, Boss.” The young woman greets.

He hardly nods her way, though, stepping aside to let her in. His eyes are on Harrison, warily observing over the mate, and then glances back at her.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s just had one too many. Tried to make his way to the porch, but… yeah. You know.” She awkwardly chuckles and places the bag of clothes on the ground. The girl turns to Tom, tilting her head. She’s inspecting him too, though they both know (and Harrison, too) she isn’t much of a detective.

He half smiles, knowing. “Yeah.” His smile is half sincere.

“Suuuuup, mate!” He hears Harrison slur. The man waves drunkenly at Tom and almost trips over his feet at the sudden and forgotten gravity, pulling on his arm. Tom instantly moves forward to the doorway but halts in his steps midair as if something was holding him.

Y/N

The man frowns, complicated.

“You should help him to the car before he breaks his neck.” Maliza interrupts, sensing his hesitation. “I’ve got her.” She warmly grins, showing off her portable bag stuffed with medicine.

“She doesn’t really talk to me,” Tom admits.

It’s kind of pathetic actually. He’s displaying his emotions, opening up about such a tragedy like not being able to enter his room, his OWN room and it’s mildly annoying that he’s fussing about this girl who’s upset with him. And he still hasn’t figured out why this bothers him so damn much.

“She’s just scared.” Maliza offers. “I know I’m not the doctor of that speciality, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out how traumatic it must have been for her.”

Tom huffs. “You don’t say.”

“I always say.” She smiles, never taking him to heart. “And always scramble all those prescriptions.”

Tom stays silent. His gaze is distant and this is just complicated beyond him or checking over Harrison.

The girl sighs, seeing he’s bestowed to the ground like a solid pillar. “What I’m saying is get some fresh air while I check in on her. She won’t disappear just because you’re a second away.”

“I know that.” Tom grumps out, it’s always that nasty feeling on the tip of the tongue when he feels as if admitting there’s more to a shelled man than he lets on. He’s stuck like the filthy gum glued to the shoe with her and he can’t help but be at fault that everything is chaos. There doesn’t seem a way outta that painful nibbling feeling that pulls at him to the depths of non-existing sentiments for her when the doctor points out his fondness, leading to attachment.

It’s irritating.

Tom suddenly asks, forgetting where the young doctor was heading with the conversation.

“I don’t think beating the guy to a pulp would be wise of you this instant.”

Tom whips around and glares. In a way, he feels infuriated that she dares to speak such things when knowing nothing of it. That man signed his death wish the moment Tom saw him lay his hand on her and harm her. “You know what he did to her?” He snaps as if she cannot understand and the words she spits are poison. “Do you even imagine?”

She only shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t.” She says it softly because she truly cannot picture fully the caused pain she hasn’t gone through, but it doesn’t mean it’s the lack of sympathy Tom accuses she’s showing. Her heart forever stings, perhaps this is why she’s a goddamn doctor or why Tom’s ways of handling certain matters seem justified to her. Because neglecting a problem isn’t the same as solving it. “But do you think coming back to her with bloody knuckles is gonna make things better? Make her feel less scared?” She hisses in a whisper, firmly standing her ground and keeping her voice unwavering. Her hand ripples through the air as she abruptly waves her finger in his and outdoor direction.

She breathes a heavy breath when Tom’s silent. “Doesn’t matter.” She speaks, straightening herself up. “He’s not here. Sam’s got him. Haz was in no state to handle his own body, let alone another man’s.”

“Fine.”

Tom storms out the instant as the door slams with a thud.

When Maliza calms down and walks over to Tom’s room, nobody greets her when she knocks. The dead silence she is met with is deafening as she awaits. She tries again with a few more knocks, thumping on the door with the back of her hand and with a sigh at the back of her throat.

“Hi,” she tries again. This time introducing. “I’m Maliza. Just like Melissa but with an a… I’m Bo- Tom’s friend. I’m a doctor.” She shifts on her feet, her sentences distant from each other as she’s trying to figure out the words. “He’s worried about you. And you know Tom, he can be very persistent when it comes to the things he wants. I’m here to check up on you.”

By the end of the sentence, Maliza thinks nobody will open the door, no more words float her tongue and she slightly begins to panic at the stillness. Her hand hovers over the door for a second more to knock, but thanks God, there’s no need and she feels a huge rock roll off her chest. She hears the lock pop, and the door slowly opens.

She’s startled at first. One, this is the first time she’s seeing the myth of Harrison’s bragging about why Tom “is truly smitten”. At some point until Tom’s call, she had even begun doubting something she had never seen or heard. And two, the girl’s indisputably gorgeous. Even behind the puffy eyes and hollowness shining in them either from exhaustion or distress which the doctor cannot distinguish between, Y/N looks beautiful.

Maliza sees her cheeks sunken and pallid and senses her tension and she too grows wary at the stability of the girl’s physical state. Sorofly, she looks unhealthy. Unhealthy to the point of collapsing whenever.

Y/N heavily leans on the door, nervously gripping the edges as if she cannot support her own weight when her injured foot touches the ground. She keeps it raised the whole time and there’s no doubt she hides the grimaces of pain.

“Hey,” the girl greets back after a heartbeat of silence.

Maliza is suddenly back in the room when the hoarse whisper harshly pulls her back from observing the girl like a sharp needle, picking at her skin. Her pupils constrict, concentrating over again and she rushes over to Y/N.

“Here, let me help you.” She says.

“I’m okay.”

Her movements are swift when she storms to Y/N’s side, ignoring the girl’s denial of help and her own heavy steps. She curls one arm around the girl’s waist to aid her walk to the bed. She doesn’t push the pace bigger than Y/N could manage and patiently awaits for the girl to adjust, adapting herself to the girl’s footing when she feels Y/N trusting her weight onto her body.

Maliza was sure her touch couldn’t be gentler, only tightening around Y/N’s waist the few times the girl swayed or lost her footing so that they both wouldn’t go tumbling to the ground. But all those times, Maliza could swear she heard a hitch of breath or felt an uncomfortable shift away from tightening grip.

But she remained silent.

The mattress dips as Maliza gently helps Y/N get comfy on the bed and then takes a seat next to her. The girl mutters a thank you but after that, it’s just silence. The stillness is awful. Y/N doesn’t look at her, she doesn’t even pay her any attention. Her shoulders look like the world’s burdens were dropped onto her and everything that was never ever hers was left for her to carry.

When Tom called and she and Harrison were in the bar, the gravity in his voice was far from anything astonishing. Tom always sounded important when things got heavy. It was as if he was suited for giving commands. But today the urgency under the words felt strained and Tom rarely got strained.

“Are you in pain?” Maliza suddenly asks, searching for her eyes which she doesn’t find.

Y/N stills. Her eyes wander everywhere but, “Uh… no,” she shakes her head, frowning a little as if trying to concentrate on feeling any type of pain. “Only when I move my leg.” She answers honestly. It’s better than lying.

Maliza nods. “Might I have a look?”

“Yeah.”

Maliza makes sure to be gentle now too. Her touch is light as she unwraps the neat binding Tom did little by little, trying to be as careful as not to graze the swollen area unnecessarily. She’s quite proud of him as well. She admits, Tom did a pretty good job at bandaging Y/N’s foot. Although, the doctor will never say it out loud. He’s cocky as is.

The skin underneath the binding is harshly swollen and bruised, the bluish and purplish colours over the sprain site mark the torn ligaments. Maliza’s touch feels cool against the bruised area and Y/N almost wants to shrink away at the uncomfortable, almost painful feeling as the doctor slowly examines the damage, gently pressing over certain areas harder than over others. But when Maliza suddenly tilts the ankle to the side, Y/N recoils from her touch like burned.

“Sorry,” the doctor grimaces apologetically. “I just have to examine it.”

The girl nods, relaxing a little. “It’s okay.” She breathes out and stretches out her leg fully again, entrusting. “It’s just… The pain is quite sharp.”

“Yeah,” Maliza agrees, taking her ankle into her grasp once more. She gently gestures over the sprain site under the bone. “See this?”

The girl bows her head a little.

“It means that one or more ligaments in the lateral ligament complex are sprained. It’s actually quite common and usually happens from an accidental twist or turn of the foot. Which also explains the swelling and the limited movement of your ankle.” She explains, lifting her gaze upon the girl. “But I won’t bore you with the aggravating names.”

Maliza laughs quietly, gently lowering Y/N’s foot on the bed. She quickly grabs her portable bag stuffed with medicine that was thrown to the ground at the beginning and she digs through it, searching for a small tube in the mess within it. She grins as she grasps it. “This should help with the swelling and pain. Other than that, rest, ice or compression will be fine too.”

“Most importantly, don’t stress your ankle until the pain and swelling subside. Which means, limited walking, exercises or any other activity which puts pressure on your ankle or it could lead to potential damage. For now, I’m going to apply some gel to ease the pain, it will provide a cooling sensation, so just you know.”

The gel is cold against the bruised area as Maliza spreads it over the tender skin as Y/N feels the cooling sensation tingling over pain. This time she finds comfort within it. Maliza compresses the ankle with the elastic bandage after. She’s way quicker than Tom ever was.

She looks at the doctor and for the first time this whole evening, she truly gets a look at her.

She pictured Maliza just like that. Dark brown hair shaped the young doctor’s face; the wavy bangs covered the softness of her round eyes which Y/N felt could stare right into the depths of the soul. Freckles faintly dotted her cheeks, but she thought it only added to the childishness of her looks, while the blue button-up shirt and the skinny white jeans added to the profession she had chosen.

She really did look like a doctor.

Maybe in another lifetime she and Maliza were friends. She hoped they were.

“Tom cares about you.”

The four words break the silence and Y/N’s breathing stills just that instance. She longs for her to continue, to complete her thought. She craves the connection and comfort of words. But what if the sentence screams a but after the sweet beginning and the girl hesitates to listen forward. She grew attached, attached to the gentleness and need of love as now she had felt the taste of the forbidden fruit. She yearns for those words to get closer, but denies now her already aching heart the vulnerability to open like the flower to the burning sun.

But Maliza continues, nevertheless her hurting heart. And she still listens to every word carefully.

“I don’t know what happened between you both and it’s not my place to pry, and by no means I’m trying to justify his actions… which can be unexplainable sometimes. Or whatever he did… But I meant it when I said he was… is really worried about you.”

And she takes these words cautiously too.

“Just don’t tell him that I told you that.” The young doctor tries to laugh away the seriousness. “He has this tough guy’s reputation in his head.”

What she said wasn’t partially a lie. In a way, Tom did need to maintain this tough guy’s reputation, but it didn’t quite come from shielding his emotions. Quite the opposite, to tell the truth. In a sense, he had to maintain the authority to keep order, and Maliza knew, she’s seen there was no one better than Tom when it comes to leadership. But he didn’t build relationships, only when it was mutually beneficial or required. It was a flaw he entrusted to his closest allies.

Y/N tries not to let her heart stutter at this fuzzy nibbling feeling, but it just wraps around her heart and makes it hammer. She won’t tell, she wouldn’t. But she considers whether this was said in case she did admit to him she saw him soft and maybe just in case for her to be prepared and denied if she ever spilt the beans to him. After all, Maliza’s tone was light and blithe, open to interpretation, to her heart… but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t say, and final.

But she doesn’t need to say anything else, wonder whether he actually regrets it. Because speak of the devil… and he says plenty. And maybe her heart flutters the second time in one heartbeat, but she’s too hurt and he’s confusing.

“How’s her leg?”

Tom’s voice booms across the room and startles them both. Neither of the girls had noticed when the devil himself came into the picture and stood in the doorway with his arms folded across the chest. If he’d heard anything, he never mentions it.

Maliza feels like the question was never meant for her and he foolishly mixed the pronouns as his eyes don’t even glance the doctor’s way. Tom never takes his eyes off the tensed girl, but it’s far from the sharp gaze Maliza’s used to seeing in his eyes when he’s serious.

“She has a mild sprain.” The doctor answers and she swears Tom’s gaze hardens the instant his eyes land on her. His sudden change almost makes her eyes roll at the hopeless man. He’s head over heels and it shows. “Shouldn’t take more than two weeks to heal. The first days are always the hardest, so make sure she gets well-rested and doesn’t stress her foot. Ice and compression are necessary to make the healing process quicker.”

Maliza explains what she thinks Tom already knows, but she says it more to reassure him than out of duty, to be honest. She gathers her stuff and stands up then, sensing her business is done here for the evening. Her gaze slips to Y/N and she grins; she’s really looking forward to meeting the girl once again.

“Here,” she withdraws a small card with a number. “You can call me whenever this guy gets annoying.”

“The guy’s right here.”

But neither of the girls responds; Maliza hands Y/N the card with her number and steps forward to the doorway. She gives one last wave, saying goodbye and exits the room.

“I'll see you off.” Tom states. He glances over at the girl who’s secretly observing and the sides of her cheeks taint over with a light shade of pink as he catches her eyes. She instantly averts her gaze. “I’ll be right back.”

Tom walks Maliza out and stops at the doorway, a little further. The evening is cool, it steals away the warmth of the home. Maliza can see the familiar figure fast asleep in the front seat of the car, the seat belt slung awkwardly over his shoulder. She doesn’t want to keep Harrison in the cold any longer (though, she and Tom both know he won’t remember a damn), but she quickly swirls around to face Tom.

“She’s a nice girl.”

Maliza shifts on her feet at the cold wind.

“I know.”

“She could really use a friend.” The statement is kindhearted, but it makes Tom’s heart clench. “It’s Christmas soon. You can’t just leave her be for the whole two weeks if you’re planning on making her stay. And I know you are. She’s lonely, Tom.”

“She can’t even look at me. How am I supposed to fill in her days with me if she doesn’t even want me around?”

“Maybe you should start with sorry.”

When Tom walks into his (his..? hers..? such a confusion) room, she hasn’t moved a bit. She’s fidgeting with her fingers when he halts in his step. The warm room light falls onto her hunched figure and shadows the tired features. She doesn’t face him nor try to acknowledge his presence, but he knows the tension followed into the room the moment he walked in. Her shoulders carry tautness, and he himself has jitters all of a sudden.

He yearns to see her eyes, but there’s dread of what he would see in them and it’s kind of crushing. Hence, Tom doesn’t walk closer nor sit on the bed next to her. He keeps his distance in hopes of seeing her loosen the tension.

“How are you feeling?” He asks and he genuinely means it. But to be fair, he doesn’t expect to be answered and he is not wrong. After a few moments, Tom continues. “I asked Maliza to bring some of your clothes here, so you could have something to change into. It’s not much, but we can always-”

“I want to go home.” She whispers out of a sudden. She doesn’t mean to interrupt, but his words are suffocating her. The girl never lets her eyes wander anywhere but the soft carpet and when she does look at him, she hugs herself, rubbing in a soothing motion her upper arm, because it feels like she’s sitting in the hot seat. Y/N blurts a desperate plea, but it’s despairing not for nothing.

What is her home, by any means?

She doesn’t want her clothes here, she doesn’t want Tom to go out and buy her some because it isn’t much. Y/N doesn’t want any of it and it just makes her sick. She wants to sleep in her own bed, in her own room and in her… in her and Matthew’s home.

She just wants to go home.

But this time, she is the one who’s met with silence.

it was a struggle to force myself to come back to this fic (it took months), even if i had some chapters planned in advance. it’s also a struggle to read my own works; there always seem to be flaws

nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed

[i’m not sure whether You still want to be tagged here, so lemme know if You want me to cross you out]

tags: @thomaslefteyebrow @lxvrgirl @jewelrybean25 @vip-access @tomhiho @revrse @that-slutty-bitch @supernatural3002

#tom holland #tom holland image #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom #tom holland angst #tom holland x you #tom holland series #tom holland au #tom holland imagines #tom holland reader insert

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