Tom Holland and Peter Parker Imagines

Dear Darlin'- Tom Holland x reader

Tom sighed, stopping at the front door of his apartment. It had been a short month since your death, though for Tom it felt like an eternity. You were his everything. The two of you had grown up together, and had been dating for 2 years. It was one night, you were out with friends, when it happened. You called him before you left, told him you loved him and you'd see him soon. A drunk driver slammed into you head on soon after that phone call. You died on impact. Tom couldn't believe it when he got the phone call, falling to his knees in sobs. He begged, pleaded to no one in particular that it was all a bad dream and you'd be back in his arms the next morning. But it wasn't. It was a never ending nightmare. Since the funeral, he had barely left his apartment, only going out when he needed food. Each day he had tried to go visit your grave, but he always stopped at the front door. He thought maybe, just maybe, if he had kept you on the phone longer you'd still be here.

He wanted to visit your grave, though. He had so much to say to you, even if you couldn't physically respond. Glancing at the small velvet box on the counter, he felt tears fill his eyes as he remembered how he wanted to propose to you. He wanted to take you on a picnic at your favorite spot, then pop the question. Wiping his eyes, he groaned, knowing he couldn't speak words to you without breaking down. He sat on the couch, trying to wipe the tears away before they fell when he got an idea. You had always loved the notes he left you, so he did that. He grabbed a pen and paper and wrote you a note.

Hey darling.

I miss you so much, I wish you were here with me. I have so much to say to you but I can't speak without breaking down, so here it goes.

I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry someone decided to drive drunk that night and that I didn't keep you on the phone longer. Maybe if I had, you'd be here with me now. I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit you, it's just been hard. I keep waking up every morning thinking you'll be here but you're not. I miss you. I miss your smile and your laugh and how you'd hide under the blankets in the morning because you insisted you looked like a weasel, even though you looked stunning. I miss the way you cared for others, no one else will ever be as compassionate as you. I miss your cuddles. The way you'd curl up when you were sitting in my lap and you'd rest your head right over my heart. Or when I'd come home late and climb into bed and you'd cuddle up to me right away. I could go on forever, darling.

I was going to propose, you know. I wanted to take you on a picnic to that spot you love so much and ask you to marry me. I was planning it a lot before that night and I planned to do it later that week. I still have the ring, it just sits on the counter. I look at it every day, but today I'm giving it to you. Even if you'll never get to wear it. I'm not really sure if there is a heaven, but I'm sure if there is one that's where you are now. I hope you're enjoying yourself, not having too much fun without me.

I love you, darling. Don't you forget that.

Forever and always, your Tommy.

Folding up the letter, he grabbed the ring, not even bothering to wipe his tears. He grabbed your favorite snacks, knowing you tried to eat healthy and you did, but you were a sucker for junk food. Grabbing his keys, he ran out to his car, driving to a flower shop.

After getting your favorite flowers, he drove to the cemetery. It was a quiet drive, the soft hum of the radio in the background as Tom pulled up. Sighing, he wiped his tears away yet again, finding his way to your grave. He froze as he approached your grave. It still didn't feel real to Tom. Maybe he was in denial, maybe he refused to accept the truth despite just writing it out in a letter and living it every day for the past month. Nonetheless, he sunk down to his knees in front of your grave. Shakily pulling out the snacks, the ring and the letter, he placed them at the end of your grave. He stood up, his legs shaking. He mumbled an "I love you," so quietly it was almost silent. He brought 3 fingers to his lips, lightly kissing them and pressing them against your headstone as if he was giving you one of the comforting forehead kisses you loved so much. Holding back sobs, he rushed out of the cemetery, hurriedly opening his car before breaking down, slamming his fists against the steering wheel. He was angry at himself for not staying longer and saying more to you, though anyone who knew Tom knew he hadn't given himself time to properly grieve. Sure he cried, but he didn't allow himself to breakdown. Or express his anger.

Tom eventually stopped hitting the steering wheel, allowing himself to let out the heavy sobs that racked through him. He made a promise, then. A promise to you, to never forget you (as if he could).

It was a short visit, yes, but it was the start of Tom's healing process and he knew that when he felt a strange sense of comfort wash over him, it wouldn't be the last one.