Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines

Let Go Of Me | P.P

Summary: Peter can't forget
Based on the song 'Bruises' by With Confidence!
Words: 2k
Warnings: Mentions of death.
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I haven't seen the sun in days

An empty coffee mug sat on the kitchen bench untouched and Peter swore it'd stay that way for a few weeks- or until Ned came round and tipped the cold brew down the sink full of dishes that Peter swore would remain too. It was your old favorite, the perfect shade of blue perfectly combined with gentle strokes of yellow. Just like the sky, you used to say, the yellow and blue meshed together like the sun peeking through the clouds.

He swore the pile of dirty dishes got bigger every time he looked at it, but maybe that was just his imagination telling him things. His mind did that a lot recently, coming up with false realities that'd throw him off guard and for a single moment bring him happiness- put a smile on his face and almost erase the godawful bags beneath his eyes. Like the three time's he saw you since you left. Because that's what you did, you just left, you walked out. That's all.

His mind had been messing up a lot recently. With the false realities and simply forgetting the simplest of things like how to get out of bed, or that chocolate biscuits weren't an appropriate meal to eat three times a day- every day for a week. Peter was stuck between enjoying seeing your smiling face again in little flashbacks and wanting to hit his head against a wall.

You rushed around your shared living room. God, that felt weird but also good to say- Shared living room. You grabbed your keys off of the kitchen counter without letting out the breath that was threatening to escape. You mentally curse yourself for not remembering to turn your alarms on once again after the weekend.

"I'm going to be so late." You mutter, almost tripping as you try to step around your dog, Houston who lay sprawled out on the white, faux fur rug. "God- I'll lose my damn job over this."

It was easy for Peter to tell that you were stressed. I mean, he didn't really need to think about it because when you sprung out of bed at twenty past eight instead of seven fifty-five he knew it was going to be another one of those days. Your hasty actions and little grumbles only added to the effect.

He walks around the kitchen table, much calmer then you and takes your phone before you can grab it, eating a not hurtful- but frustrated glare from you. "Look at me."

"Peter, I-"

"Look at me," He tells you again. This time you stop, letting out a small huff as you hear the clock ticking away behind you. Every second was another second late but as Peter gently cupped your cheek, brown curls stand tousled around his head and eyes soft and loving all care seemed to wash away.

"I can't lose this job, not this one two Peter and I-"

"You have been working your butt off for months now, they'd be silly to fire you over a couple late days." He leans in, lips hitting yours. You could taste the jam on toast he'd had for breakfast, raspberry flavor it was this morning and you were sure he was able to taste your coffee that was most likely cold as it continued to sit almost untouched in the mug. "Now go to work and wow them like you always do."

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to stop stressing. Your boyfriend gives you a small but genuine smile, the corners of his lips tilting upwards slightly as he struggles to wake up from a seven and a half hour sleep.

You pick up the coffee mug, the blue and yellow one that your mother got you for your eighteenth and took one last gulp of the coffee. A lipstick stain remains on the side.