Broken Half: A Tom Holland Story

Someone Hold Me Back I'm Bouta Bite Her

"There you have it, America!" The smiling reporter snaps me back to the present. "Tom Holland is officially Morgan Jones's new personal chauffeur for tonight. And now apparently up for hire!"

I gently grab the mic from the reporter, just barely leaning it in my direction, catching her off guard. "Oh no. He's all mine." I say with a cartoonish evil smile.

The reporter smirks to herself before turning back to Tom, "All right then Tom and Morgan, it was surely nice meeting you. Hope you have a wonderful time," As we turn to make our way back to the carpet, the reporter grabs my shoulder.

Not being used to physical contact, internally, I jumped out of my skin, kicked the mic out of the woman's hands, and judo flipped her over my back. Externally, I turned with a very much forced smile.

"And Morgan, make sure you tip your chauffeur well." the woman says in a sarcastic tone, winking back at me.

Morgan this... Morgan that. If she put my full name in her mouth one more time I would bite her on live TV. Through gritted teeth, I muster out, "Will do."

The reporter and I turn our separate ways, her signing off with a simple, "Back to you Jamie."

I, on the other hand, speed down the interview box stairs to try and meet back up with Tom. I found him talking with some of his old flatmates, Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine? I believe that's what their names were. I greeted all of them but didn't pay much attention to their conversation.

I didn't veer much from Tom later that day. At some points I was literally side by side with him, making it look like we were attached at the ankle. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed by it, but he didn't let on.

I have to say that it helped, him letting me stand so close to him, it was a very fatherly thing to do for him. I never dared to step on his shoes as he suggested in the car; since they looked like they were worth 10 times my weight in gold... but I would attach my foot to his occasionally. At times, making it look like we were playing an invisible 3 legged race.

I could tell that the crowds got to Tom as well. Every once in a while I would see him reset his jaw like it was clenched too hard, or straighten his cuff a little too aggressively. Normal people wouldn't have noticed it, but I did. It made me smile, knowing that Tom was still human, not this rich superstar god. Even on the one on one (plus me) interviews, I could still tell that he occasionally got on edge.

In one interview, later in the day, Tom was a lot more fidgety than normal. He was wringing his hands behind his back, out of sight from the camera. Seizing the chance, I did something a little out of the norm for me. I grabbed one of Tom's arms and brought it over my shoulders, so he could pull me in and be reminded that I was there for him. Coincidently, he was answering a question about me, so it didn't look too odd, but I could see something change in his face.

Earlier I had explained to Tom that I wasn't one for physical contact; not because I didn't like it, just because I wasn't used to it. But standing there together in front of the 17th reporter of the day, we both silently understood something. Both of us were here for each other, and neither was going away anytime soon.

Author's Note: Holy crap guys I leave for a couple days and suddenly it's at 2k much love to you all.