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Tom let out a sigh of relief as he rounded the corner into the quieter section of the airport, away from the demanding paparazzi. There were fewer people here, all lost in their own worlds, wanting to get to their planes. He wasn't famous to them, just another passer byer. In front of him you talked to Harrison and Harry, unphased by the previous events that occurred not even five minutes ago. The screaming, the grabbing, the shoving. All calling for Tom, all needing to be seen, but he was only one man. Tom Holland loved his job, it was everything he ever dreamed of, but he was only human and the world refused to believe that. When you noticed Tom had fallen behind you excused yourself from the conversation and slowed your pace until you and Tom were in the same rhythm side by side. You gently smiled at him earning a fake one in return. You hated seeing him this way, but it had become a norm. He was an amazing actor, using his skill more off screen than on. Constantly putting on a show for everyone around him, smiling, laughing, taking everything thrown at him. He couldn't falter, not even for a second, or the media would eat him alive. So the second he was behind closed doors he would come crumbling down and let the exhaustion take over. So it wasn't uncommon that he would spend the day moping around in bed or be a little grumpier then was called for. He would apologize like crazy afterwards, wanting to be the perfect boyfriend for you but you would just curl up next to him and tell him that everything was okay. And every time it would throw him off guard expecting you to be mad but you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend, you didn't sign up from the perfect person the world made him be, you signed up for all the little imperfections that made him Tommy. "Wow," You grabbed his hand, catching his attention. "Look at that view." Behind the glass wall the sun kissed the horizon in an explosion of warm yellows and reds, turning the sky into a work of art. A plane could be seen in the distance, heat radiating into the atmosphere, rippling the sky around it like a pebble into a pond. You didn't travel nearly as much as Tom or Harrison, this was only your third time tagging along on one of his press tour locations, so you were sure he had seen this view hundreds of times but you wondered if he had ever really taken a second to just enjoy it. "You know, they call this the golden hour in photography." You glanced over at Tom whose tired eyes were soaking in the view. "It makes, like, the perfect photograph or something." "I can see why they'd call it that." His voice was soft and low, worn out from all the use from earlier in the day. "I can't wait to see it again tomorrow." You smiled. "And the day after that, aaaand the day after that. With you, in airports and hotels or wherever this crazy adventure takes us." You swung your connected hands, trying to bring some energy back into the peaceful moment. "So come on, Holland, lets get to our plane." You tugged at his hand, pulling him along. He kept stealing glances at the view, wanting to just stop time and enjoy this moment with you. Because if he was being honest with himself this was the first time he felt like he could breathe since he stared filming Spider-Man, all because you said 'us'. He wasn't on this adventure alone, you were right by his side, even when he was at his worst. Even when he rose his voice at the stupidest of things, or didn't have any energy to go out on a date, or when he didn't want anything to do with anyone, you were still there. Even if you were in different countries your face would pop up on his phone when he needed you the most. You were his golden hour, you were perfect. "Will you marry me?" He tugged back on your hand, making you stop midsentence, talking about whatever book you were reading this week. "What?" You asked, not hearing his quiet voice over your loud one. "Tom we can talk and walk, we gotta go, the plane is going to be taking off soon." You tried to tug on his hand to make him move again but he stood his ground. "Will you marry me?" He asked again. You furrowed your brows, confused. Without a second though he dropped down to one knee, holding your hand in his and that when everything started piecing together. "I don't have a ring, and I know this really isn't the right place to be asking but fuck, (Y/N), I love you. And I really need you to say yes. Because the second we get off that plane I want to run to the closest church, or city hall or anywhere that will make you my wife. I can't take another second of not knowing you are mine forever." You watched him ramble on, tears prickling at your eyes. In front of you, Harrison looked back to see what was taking you both so long to catch up. He slapped Harry's arm, getting his attention. "Yes." Happiness spilling out of you in a form of a laugh. "Yes, I will marry you." You were bouncing on the balls of your feet now, unable to control yourself. Tom stood up, a grin plastered across his face. "Yeah?" He questioned, making sure one last time he heard you right. "Yes." You kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leaned into you, deepening the kiss before lifting you into the air and spinning around. As he put you down, Harrison and Harry ran up behind you, wrapping you both into a hug before laughing and congratulating you. And as promised, the second you got off the plane you had found the closest city hall.
