The Only Exception - {TOM HOLLAND}

T W E L V E

Unlike the morning before, today you wake up to an alarm clock with a clear head. The time had read a little over seven in the morning, but time has slipped by so quickly since then. You've eaten a small breakfast, showered, gotten into comfortable plane clothes, and got your travel stuff ready by the door.

The clock reads nine in the morning and your flight takes off at eleven.

Neither of the boys are up yet.

You tap your foot up and down anxiously as you stand in the kitchen, leaning back against the counters. There isn't much to do in this moment; you could call an Uber and leave early, but not saying goodbye feels wrong and it's rude. Instead of thinking too hard about it you pull out your phone, thumb hesitating over Instagram's app.

Last night you had to turn off all notifications because it was way too much, whatever Tom's fans were saying and tagging you in. After a second more of hesitation you click on the app, nervously waiting for everything to load up, and welcomed to hundreds of notifications. Some are follow requests, some are tagged photos and comments.

You click on tagged photos, wanting to avoid reading comments as much as possible.

There is a lot.

There are some clear paparazzi taken ones of them on the sidewalk, walking to the club, the quality immaculate. Others are blurred club photos and you vaguely remember a few people asking to take pictures with Tom in the very beginning of the night, but you had no idea people were taking pictures of the two of you.

From an outsider perspective everything looks different. At the booth you hadn't realized you and Tom sat so close together; shoulders and thighs touching. While dancing both of you have your eyes closed and bodies close together, clearly intimate and comfortable. Then there's one of you and him leaving, his arm slung over your shoulder, and your arm around the small of his back.

Both of you are smiling like giddy children.

Your heart aches.

"You alright?"

"Fuck!" You jump, nearly dropping your phone as you look over to see Tom holding a very sleepy looking Ezra. "Sorry," you rush out, "I didn't mean to swear I just...you scared me."

"'S fine," Tom mutters and lets Ezra sit on the counter while he gets a cup and fills it with juice.

Ezra yawns big and makes grabby hands at you. Putting a smile on you walk over and hold him close, burying your nose into his curls, your hand rubbing up and down his back.

"Morning sweetheart, you sleep okay?" You ask, pulling back.

Tom is right beside you, emotionless as he hands Ezra his drink. The boy nods through his sip, drinking loudly and sloppily before setting it down on the counter beside him.

"Yeah," Ezra says, smacking his lips, "Daddy said we leave."

You hesitate, eyes narrowing as you look over to Tom who clearly didn't mean for Ezra to reiterate that.

"Yes," you nod, "I'm going back to my home to visit my family."

Ezra pauses for a moment, "where they?"

"Alaska, well originally they're from Colorado, but they live in Alaska now," you say even though Ezra probably has no concepts of states in America, "it's very cold there too."

Ezra thinks on this before looking to his father, "we pack my jacket!"

Suddenly it clicks.

It clicks so hard, and you're mad. You're not mad that that Tom told Ezra you're flying away for a bit, but you're livid that he lied to Ezra about going with to avoid a meltdown. You look to Tom who is looking back with a bit of a sheepish look on his face, like a toddler going 'oopsie' and you want to smack him upside the head.