The Only Exception - {TOM HOLLAND}

T H I R T E E N

"Morning pumpkin."

You lean into your dad's touch, his lips pressing swiftly against your forehead, missing his warmth when he pulls away to return to his emails. Glancing over you see your sister sitting on the counter, her wheel chair shoved in the corner as she helps prep breakfast, mixing the pancake batter and adding more chocolate chips than she was probably told to put in.

Walking over you take a couple stray chips from the counter and pop them into your mouth, the sweet chocolate melting over your tongue.

"How did everyone sleep?" You ask, opening the fridge to get out the chilled jug of purified water out.

"Fine, better with my girl home," your mom smiles from the stove.

Josephine makes a noise, "um I'm your girl too?"

"Yes," your mother smiles, turning to look at her youngest, "but you haven't been gone for almost two years, have you?"

Josephine rolls her eye, muttering in bitter agreement, but you can tell by her tone alone that she's fine. The smirk she tries to hide behind her hair confirms your suspicion. You arch up and grab a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water, before setting the jug back into the fridge.

"So, you're here," Josephine starts, "other than running from your problems, what do you plan on doing?"

You pause, the glass barely touching your lips, eyes flickering up to look at your sister. Your father pauses his furious key typing while your mother instantly turns down the heat on the burner, clearly about to chew your sister's ear off for the jab. Before that happens, you speak up, not wanting to fight.

You don't have that kind of energy.

"I was thinking about taking the ferry into town, catch up with some old friends," you say quickly.

Nobody looks moved by your answer by any means, but the fight that would've happened fades like a bad memory. Still you set the glass down and excuse yourself, walking from the kitchen and away from the tension. You let your feet carry you, and you find yourself out on the deck, the one that faces the east.

The morning sun reflects off the lake and inks the sky a warm gradient of oranges and yellows. You let the rays warm your skin, and seconds later a violent rush of goosebumps rises on your skin and in turn make you shiver slightly. You can see how the dew bubbles on the grass sparkle with the sun's light, beautifully illuminating the nature all around.

You stand there for a while, in nothing but your pajamas and slippers, arms crossed, looking out into the nature.

Suddenly you're so thankful your family chose to live on a secluded island in the middle of a large lake. There is no city sound pollution; it's just you and the birds and the trees. There is no hiding the brilliant morning sky with building after building. The chilled breeze can roll over hills, way tree limbs, and flow through your hair.

You feel free.

Free to be. To think. To do.

"Y/N?"

You don't turn, nor do you say anything. Instead you let Josephine come out to you, and out of the periphery of your vision you see her roll to a stop, blanket on her lap to keep her warm out here. It's not until you see the blanket do you realize how cold you are.

"I'm sorry," Josephine continues.

You blink a few times, eyes trained on a couple of ducks floating down by the water. When a hand pulls at yours you finally look over and down. Josephine looks at you with a guilty look, her eyes sad as her hands move up to the side of her head. She moves her hair back, exposing the hardware around her ear, and the next thing you know she's turning off and removing her cochlear implant outer piece, letting it lay useless on her lap. You inhale sharply, because she only does this when the conversation is serious.