Broken Half: A Tom Holland Story

How To Strangle Someone With Your Eyes: A Step By Step Guide

JUNE 26, 2019

It's finally the big day: Marvel Studios Spiderman: Far From Home Premiere. It's warm, it's gorgeous, there are people everywhere...

And I absolutely hate it.

It was the most nerve-wracking thing I have ever done in my life, and I wasn't even in the movie. I wondered constantly how Tom kept it together. Though I guess he was kinda used to it by now.

Once again I flip open my coat jacket several times to try and cool me down. Why did they have to pick Los Angeles of all places to put this thing? Granted, this is coming from a Brit kid that had never been outside of the country in her entire life.

Going on a private plane was a whole nother terrifying story for later. To keep it brief, I definitely wasn't going to get used to those metal death traps in the sky anytime soon.

Much to my surprise, the one and only Zendaya herself picked out my outfit for today. Though I had yet to officially meet her, Tom told me that she was really looking forward to it.

My outfit wasn't anything too crazy, an aquamarine two-piece suit with shorts instead of trousers. Underneath it, I just wore a simple tank top, and with some fancy (very expensive looking) jewellery, I at least looked fit for the premiere. It was just right where I could blend in or stick out if need be.

Although, even though I looked alright, my nerves were through the metaphorical roof. The LA humidity was downright miserable and I wondered why I even came out here in the first place. I mean, I wanted a break from Stockwell, not a paparazzi overload.

Later on, I find myself by Tom's side for again what seems to be the thousandth reporter of the day. Zoning back into the present, I find that this time she's talking to me. "So Morgan..."

My body stiffens.

"What's it like to see Tom on the big screen starring in this amazing movie as your best friend/big brother figure?" The reporter ends the question with a smile.

I plaster a smile on my face. No one called me by my real first name. Not even Emma or Tom for that matter. At least Ainsworth called me "girl." The last time I got called Morgan-

Let's just say it was a good thing that I didn't have Superman's laser eye powers, cause this lady would either be passed out on the floor or two holes where her eyes used to be.

I make a mental note of never choosing a reporter for my career path.

I turn back to the camera and lean into the mic.

"It's just MJ." I squeak out. My voice catches on something non-existent and I have to clear my throat.

"And, well..." I say after finally finding the strength to continue. "I wouldn't say big brother-" I pause, but what I said was true. I didn't see Tom as a brother. I mean he temporarily adopted me for two months for saint's sake. "-but it is pretty amazing getting to see him up on the screen and on the red carpet..." I nudge him beside me with my elbow, "Super proud of him."

I fake my best press smile and lean forwards, "And also tonight we decided that he's just my chauffeur."

Tom laughs and shakes his head, I also try and laugh; failing at it miserably.

Both of us knew what he really said to me in private.