Tom Holland is a Liar: T.H x Reader

Chapter 14

I tried best not to stumble through my life. I didn't want to fall, nobody does. I wasn't a very special person, I was just like everyone else yet some might still say being me was a privilege. As I was up close and personal with the very own Tom Holland, I never looked at it as a privilege but others chose to remind me as it was. In this night park Tom and I still stood, I was stupid to be here but I had already done most of the stupid. It was stupid to have kissed him the other day and now I was stupid to even tolerate the idea of affection in Tom. I desperately hoped there was such thing as a platonic romance, where he might kiss me and where he might hold me but never once would he speak of love. Never once would we admit to a feeling about the other, we wouldn't embrace with romantics but rather to embrace just to hold. For the sake of it, the things I wanted to do with Tom was for the sake of it but not for the feeling of it. 

He looks at me and I'm overwhelmed but with what I didn't know. 

"Would you ever hold anything against me Thomas," I had to ask, I had to know his motive even if he may be lying right to my face. 

"Never, as long as you promise to forget,"

I was confused,"is that some sort of blackmail? I can't forget what you've done, if I had forgotten- if I had forgotten what you've done this would be a whole lot easier for me."

"Well what is this y/n?" his question was valid for we had a complicated time for the moment yet I hated that he dare ask such a query. 

I didn't even try to think of a worthy answer to give him,"I don't know Thomas! It's nothing. This is nothing."

"Then why won't you let this be something, let us be together again,"

"No," I exclaim in frustration. He was growing impatient and so was I, I didn't know what we were or what I wanted us to be though I let my hands go to cup around his cheeks pulling him close. I kissed him and I kissed him not out of guilt but out of the real wanting of his touch. I kissed him because I needed to like a quench for the dehydration from almost a year. 

He didn't argue and he didn't throw a fuss, just like before, he kissed me and I enjoyed it. 

"Come home with me," he says,"come home with me," he repeats. He speaks it into my neck and I can feel the small vibrations of his words on my skin. Traveling up to my ears in sweet noise, his voice was sweet noise even when it may be perceived bitter. 

"I can't," I answer in a whisper but he doesn't take it, he just keeps repeating the phrase over and  over into my neck. Mumbling and kissing up all to my chin, my eyes close as he sets his fingers under my face. Keeping my head steady he puckers up to my cheek and he repeats the words again.

"Y/n please come home," he whispers in my ear, he didn't even clarify where we'd go. He said home as if we'd be at the same one, to travel back together to the same place. Not his or mine not even ours, home was a separate entity not attached to either of us. Home was our extension of nothing and I wanted to be there with him. 

I had to answer recalling back to the time he was back in my car smelling of shitty coffee and peppermints,"Yours or mine?" 

"Yours," he says with his hand entangled with mine. He get's closer, his face over looks mine and I'm in a ploy of intimidation, he pulls back and books it. Dragging me with him in a skip of a step running all back to my house, he yells at the top of his lungs and I know the neighbours weep in their homes over jealousy of our lives. The kids watch through their windows and wish they'd soon experience the moments of pure adolescent stupidity at night's hours, I liked to believe that if anyone really was awake at this time they'd hope they were me or die to be him. 

Once we reached my place I insisted we scale the neighbouring tree beside my window. Sneaking in through the window like some sort of bandits as if I had ever been so risqué to do such things as sneaking into my home so late. But with Tom it was different, he used to be the one to sneak in my room, he used to wait by my window until I was done studying then he'd kiss me without fear because scaling the side of the house was worth it to get to me. 

As the two of us clumsily peeked back into my room, I had to wearily claw my way in through the window, helping Tom in next. When I got him inside he liked to lean back against the frame, sitting on the sill, my bed was only a foot away I could kiss him from there if he then decided to stay in place. I stayed sat on the edge of my bed and it may have been late but I didn't even feel the need to reprimand myself over my actions, to be fair it's it be immoral to pass up a chance with a boy who looks like Tom. It be cruel to then go as far to truly ignore the boy as well. Though there must be a line between tolerance and making out in my bedroom, but then again if there was a line at this moment in time I didn't wish to find it. I let my hands slide up his thigh, he let his hands cup my cheeks. He get's up from the sill and pushes me backwards so I lie down against the bed, the sheets already cold to the skin. His left hand goes down to my arm holding it down against the mattress and there I started to remember exactly what I've missed. 

I missed him dearly and with every kiss he gave me I missed him some more.  We didn't do anything, I wouldn't let myself. But I didn't bother to swat away his kisses, the soft prints that he'd place along my neck-tugging at it with his teeth as if he were even trying to break the skin.  Once he grew tired he'd rest his head in the crook of my neck just insisting to kiss it a little bit more. 

I fell asleep next to him that night but the next morning I'd come to find I've woken up alone.