paint the grass green | tom holland

Chapter Two

You planned on calling Tom or at least sending him a message. You really did. But you needed to think about what you were going to say. And when you wake up the next morning, having spent the whole night contemplating how you were going to tell Tom, you find Theo in his bed with a fever. So your suspicions the day before were right, and now he's sick. You had to take a couple of days off from work which your boss is not happy about. But you have to take care of your son for the rest of the week. He needs you to be there for him. Your mum comes by a couple of times with some home remedies and you take him to the doctor who lets you know that it's nothing to be concerned about. He prescribes Theo some meds and says he'll be fine in a couple of days.

But all of that pushed Tom to the back of your mind.

"How are you feeling?" you gently put your hand on Theo's forehead. The fever has gone down but he's still warm.

"Hurts." He whines and your heart breaks for him. You're not really a fan of giving him lots of medicine but you can't bear to see him in pain. So after you soothe him a bit and plant a kiss on his slightly sweaty forehead you give him some of the medicine the doctor prescribed him, hoping it would at least make him feel well enough to sleep.

It takes a while for the meds to kick in, but eventually, Theo falls asleep, his small frame tucked into your side. You don't want to get up. For one, because you're afraid of waking him and you also love the feeling of having him next to you.

The shrill sound of the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts and you wonder who it might be. Not even considering the fact that it's Sunday and you still haven't told Tom about Theo. As gently as you can, you get up from your scrunched up position in the toddler bed, cautious not to wake him. But the doorbell is ringing again, this time longer. Either you wake Theo with your moving around or whoever is at the door will with the constant ringing. You manage to leave Theo's room without waking him so you quickly stride through the hallway to get to the front door.

When you reach it and look through the peephole, you're greeted with the sight of Tom. Your heart sinks to your boots. You are not prepared to see him.

His eyebrows are furrowed, one hand resting on his hip the other running through his hair. You can only stare at him. Tom is here. At your door. There's only one reason why he would show up unannounced. Harrison told him. Immediately, your palms start to sweat, your heart beating out of your chest. You're pulled out of your stupor when he rings the doorbell again, this time he doesn't stop. You quickly pull the door open not wanting to try and get a cranky, sick toddler back to sleep after he's rudely woken up by his father ringing the doorbell non-stop.

Tom takes his finger off the button as soon as you open the door. His eyes find yours and you wish you could run away.

"Is it true?" Are the first words out of his mouth and you don't need to ask what he means, you just nod your head unable to talk. Tom presses his lips together, running his hand through his hair one more time. "You must be fucking kidding me." His voice is still quiet but you can hear the anger bubbling inside of him.

"I don't even know what to say Y/N." He looks at you and you've never seen him like this, so distraught. You step to the side to let him in because this is not a discussion you want to have in the middle of the hallway where all of your neighbours can probably hear you. Tom slowly walks inside your flat, you close the door behind him and then you both just stand there for a moment. You still haven't said a word.

"Do you know how many nameplates I checked until I finally found your flat?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "Harrison only knew which street you lived on, so I checked every. fucking. building. Until I finally found your name." You don't know what to say to that and you feel like there's more that he's got to say. And you're right.