peter parker/tom holland imagines

every lie | p.p.

this was written for andrews peter technically but its okay lolz cred to coffeebeanbabysdreams, again srry about the font (its a copy paste thing??)

"What aren't you telling me, Pete?" She asked, her tone furious as she leant against her kitchen counter with crossed arms.

He'd arrived at her apartment, once again, with mysterious bruises scattered along his face and arms.

Y/n had been keeping quiet about them since the phenomenon began, but she just couldn't anymore. She couldn't let it go, ignore them as if seeing her best friend in such a way hadn't affected her whatsoever.

"What're you talking about, N/n?" He inquired, eyebrows furrowed in false confusion. Peter had been well aware of what she was referring to, internally screaming every time he'd catch her wince at the bruises that decorated his skin.

The h/c girl narrowed her eyes, her e/c gaze burning into his soul — he was terrified of where this conversation was leading, a dreadful feeling making itself at home in his stomach.

"The bruises," she began listing, pacing back and forth, "the cuts, the rain checks, the weird phone calls — what is going on with you?"

"N/n—"

"No, Pete!" She snapped, "It's been going on for years! At first I just wrote it off as an awkward teenage phase — but I am so tired of ignoring it."

Peter stood from the couch, slowly approaching the woman before him. "Look, I can't... I can't tell you, okay? I want to, but—"

"Can't or won't?" Y/n glared, backing away from him.

"Can't." He'd answered so genuinely, she'd nearly stopped breathing — she forgot what it felt like for Peter to be honest with her.

Once upon a time, they'd told one another everything — but that had been so long ago, it felt as if it were another life.

"Peter," she sighed. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. I— I can help!"

"No, Y/n." He shook his head, suddenly finding the scarred skin of his knuckles very interesting. "You can't."

"You don't know that!" She fought, "You will never know that if you don't let me try! If you don't talk to me!"

"I can't!" He yelled, catching her off guard. He'd never shouted at her in anger, or frustration, and it felt as if her entire world was about to crumble before her eyes. "I would if I could, but I can't! I can't let you get hurt!"

Y/n gulped, eyes glossy as they bore into his cinnamon gaze. "If you're mixed up in something, how does me knowing put me in anymore danger than just being associated with you?"

"I—"

"No," she shook her head, broken gaze never leaving his. "I can't keep doing this... I think you should leave, Pete."

He went to object, the venomous words that had just left her lips stinging worse than Scorpion's poison, but he knew that there was no use in doing so.

With a broken nod, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and made his way out of the apartment — slamming the door behind him.

...

She had never meant to hurt him, she just couldn't handle the lying anymore. The bruises that would randomly appear on his once flawless skin, the breathlessness his voice held when she'd call him, the rain checks on their plans — if he was seeing someone, or was in some type of trouble, why wouldn't he just tell her?