Piano Man (Tom Holland x reader)

Chapter Eight

     I woke up to the faint beeping of the heart monitor, signifying the fact that I was still alive. Blinking rapidly, I tried to get ahold of my surroundings until I realized I was in the hospital. Beside me were two large vases of flowers and some other gifts and the walls were a blinding white that I had no desire to see ever again. I sat up and groaned at the pain, wishing there was more morphine in my system.

       To my right, Harrison was on his phone, tapping his foot obnoxiously. "Can you please stop doing that?" I croaked and his head shot up, clearly surprised that I was awake. "Holy fuck, you're up," he was breathless and stood up, about to rush out of the door and when I told him to stay.

      "I need to tell Tom, Y/N," he argued, but I shook my head. "I have questions," I began to stutter around the last word, more or less because I was exhausted and would kill a man to go back to sleep. Harrison shook his head and shrugged, "Tom knows a lot more than I do. Let me get him."

      Harrison called Tom's name and I heard shoes clang against the tile of the hospital, almost like he was running. Tom came into the room and his eyes widened at the fact that I was moving and awake. "Y/N," his voice was barely audible. Before he came in, I figured I wouldn't feel anything, it would just be him being concerned and whatnot, but I was dead wrong. Seeing his face was like flying; I felt the feeling in my stomach and chest that you get before you fall from a great height. My heart was practically living in my ass currently and my breathing began to quicken and I felt tears coming. It was almost definite by now that I was in love with him.

       Tom had a few bruises and scratches on his face, but they looked pretty healed. Nevertheless, he looked fucking hot like that, like a sexy pirate or something. There was a look of concern and happiness plastered on his face and I badly wanted him to hug me, even if it would've been painful.

      He made his way to my bedside and asked, "How do you feel?" His voice was soft and full of concern. I smiled lopsidedly and moved a little bit, wincing as I did so, "Like I got hit a fucking train. What about you? I see some battle wounds." I lifted a shaking hand and placed it on his face, my thumb circling over a cut on his lip. He smiled slightly and put his hand over mine, "Nothing as serious as yours. Are you sure you're fine? You can go back to sleep."

     I shook my head, "No, I have questions." Tom nodded along, "Okay then, what are they?" "How long was I here, Tom?" I asked him and he put his hand on mine and stroke my thumb. "You were in a coma for six days, love. You lost so much blood they thought you weren't going to make it," he answered.

      "Then how am I still here?" I asked. Harrison piped up, "Your blood type is very rare, Y/N, and it's the same as mine, so I donated almost two pints." "Jesus, that could've killed you!" I exclaimed, my throat hurting as my voice grew louder. Harrison shrugged, "I took my chances. I felt exhausted afterward, but not to the point where I was going to die."

      I felt tears welling in my eyes, gratitude washing over me. "Thank you so much," a tear ran down my cheek and Harrison grinned happily. He winked and said cheekily, "You're owe me one now, Y/L/N." Giggling slightly, I sighed and asked, "When can I leave?"

      Tom pondered for a moment before he said, "Tomorrow, I believe. But if you're beginning to feel better, we can always do early checkout." "Excellent," I said whilst standing and stretching, wincing at the soreness. Harrison and Tom exchanged looks, but they did not doubt me. Instead, they helped me take the IVs out (which hurt like a motherfucker 10/10 would not recommend) and bring me a wheelchair so that they could escort me out.

     It was a brisk Monday morning; the wind demanded to be acknowledged by those who dared to trek outside and the sun was hiding behind the clouds as if it were shy. The cool weather felt good and the fresh air was almost euphoric. I closed my eyes and soaked in whatever I could. "If you want to get a tan, I suggest a salon," Harrison opened the car door for me and I entered giving him a dirty look.