How could I not? • Tom Holland

Eight

Words: 2.6k

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In the many years of being friends, there were only a few times you and Tom had gone long-ish periods of time without talking. That means not speaking face to face, talking over the phone or texting.

The first time was the time he dropped his phone and had to get the thing fixed. He was out of town for the week visiting old high school friends and hadn't been able to get the thing fixed until he got back. You went four whole days without hearing so much as a peep from the boy and you were sure to chew his ear off when he got back.

The second time the two of you went days (which yes, is a long period of time if you're as close as the two of you are) without a single exchange was the time you got in an argument over Tom's relationship with a girl you didn't approve of. She was rude and abrasive – she took advantage of his kindness and you surely didn't keep your mouth shut about your distaste which Tom all but loved. He wanted your acceptance and you refused with a thick 'You deserve better. Call me when you realise it' note on his fridge.

He rocked up at your old flat seven days later with caramel-filled chocolates and puffy, red eyes.

This was the third time the two of you hadn't spoken in days and this time, it had been eight. You had gone an entire week and a day.

Tom would be lying if he said he hadn't picked up his phone and stared at your contact more then once. You'd be lying too if you said you hadn't driven past his place and maybe this was all blown out of proportion. You could sort this out over a cup of coffee, a few shed tears and a hug but who were you to make the first move? Not when you assumed he was going to go off the second you stepped back into the house.

For some, eight days wasn't a long time. But for you and Tom who lived together even when you weren't officially 'living together' those eight days felt like an eternity. You noticed changes in your everyday routine, such as the fact that you had been sleeping in longer because there was nothing – or nobody, waiting to make you laugh in the kitchen. Those small changes were in the way you'd throw your hair up instead of at least putting in the slightest bit of effort before work or how you'd only screw your face up at the sight of his shirts that still smelt like him.

Even during some of your worst arguments you still sent texts or talk over the phone. You made excuses to send him things on pinterest and checked his twitter to make sure he was okay after working longish shifts. But yet this time around, his twitter had been as empty as your apartment.

Maybe you had been selfish.

And no, not when it came to looking at other options because that wasn't selfish at all. But you should've confided in Tom, especially when your best friend was ecstatic about the baby. You can admit that you crushed him and that he was probably still crushed, but you wouldn't admit that what you were doing was wrong because it wasn't.

Your body, your decision.

But you were stubborn. Stubborn and selfish and that, along with your growing fear that he was furious with you kept you at Laura's.

You pulled up to hers three days ago with tear stained cheeks and puffy, red eyes. Your hands had remained on the wheel for a moment, frozen in their place as you replayed every word that'd been tossed across the living room. Laura had let you in, instantly heating up some milk and offering her support. But now eight days later, you were waiting for her to give you the boot and tell you to go back home.

"I won't let you give up our baby."

You had never heard him sound so shattered and hell – Tom never argued with you. He never so much as spoke back but he was ready to put it all on the line for your child. And that's what would make him a great father. You had nothing to worry about when it came to him but you... you were petrified.