R A N D O M || OS

48. (Actor) Tom Holland - I'll Be Seeing You

https://greenorangevioletgrass.tumblr.com/

summary: in a dark time, you get a second chance at a last goodbye. Or a new beginning.

warnings: established relationship, mention of horror, mention of death, some angst, hurt/comfort, and loving fluff!

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The creature is just out of sight, but you don't need to look to see how ghastly it is. Its long black hair hangs matted around its head, on its shoulders so thin and pale, its bones are almost visible. Its dress is but a faded memory of opulence of time long forgotten; it's now just muddy scraps of fabric clinging to a figure that's also faded. From memory. From itself.

You want to scream. But every time you open your mouth, no sound would come out. Like you'd put a cork on a wine bottle. And it feels like the harder you try, the louder the creature croaks behind you. So close, as if it's breathing down your neck. And the more you try to run, the more your steps get heavier. Like you're walking on quicksand. Surrounded by dim sconces and red walls and haunting portraits from past centuries that are watching you. Quiet spectators while you fight for your life.

No.

You won't have it.

With everything you have left, you drag yourself towards the double doors at the end of the hallway. Pulling yourself forward even as its icy fingers ghost over your shoulder. Pushing through the door like it's the finish line. Stumbling into the room only to be taken aback by your surroundings, not realizing the door clicks to a close and the horrifying creature is no longer after you.

Light.

Natural light as the sun streams from the window of each horse stable. The walls and stalls are warm with polished wood. Everything is empty, save for the one at the end, a handsome black thoroughbred horse. And with him...

Your love.

Your life.

He looks as dashing and delightful as ever. Brushing the shiny mane of the horse and stroking the side of its face in quiet content. Wearing his favorite Christmas sweater– that silly brown, patterned thing he'd had for ages. His cheeks and nose slightly reddened from the cold.

You've committed this very image to memory, you're sure of it. But seeing it with your own eyes, you realize your memory can never serve it enough justice. You miss him terribly so still. The ache in your chest rips apart into sobs and you have to blink the tears away just so you can see him clearly again. You don't know how long this would last.

"Tom...?"

He turns to you and smiles softly. "Sweetheart." he walks over to you slowly, wiping his hands on his trousers, as if he's walking on a literal thin ice.

"Hey."

"Had a good walk?"

You nod your head, not trusting your own voice this time. You'd just had a fight that day– something about the wedding guests and seating charts and what-have-you. It was stupid, but it was big enough to turn into a shouting match and you storming off.

God, stupid you were, indeed.

"Listen, about what happened–" he starts, but you cut him off by grabbing his hand. Oh, how warm they feel in yours. How... right.

"Tom." you take a good look at him, and the tears fall again. "I'm sorry we fought."

"I know, sweetheart. Me, too." he reassures you, calm as ever, not the slightest bit shaken by how fragile you are, like a recording playback. But he pulls you into his arms and you push it to the back of your mind. You just want to melt into his warm embrace. Feeling his living, beating heart against your chest.