tom holland: a book of blurbs

•{be my peace}•

"O-oh, Tom," He nodded, trying at a sympathetic smile. He wasn't sure what to say in response to her obvious cover up, but what he managed to come up with shocked him. "I um... I'm always available across the hall. Just- knock and ask for a tea. You can come in and we can... get to know each other or something. I'm... always here."

Tom could've sworn he saw the girl's eyes water. She was very quick to blink them away and fake a yawn. She's done it before. It was almost a reflex. Looked way too recited to be fake.

Tom knows good acting when he sees it. He's been in the industry long enough to spot the differences.

"Thank you," The tight lipped smile on her face seemed to soften. Like she finally relaxed and allowed herself to show some kind of true emotion. "I'll... have to take you up on that sometime."

"Can- can I get your n-"

The girl shut the door in his face before he could finish his sentence. He just wanted her name.

Maybe his trip for answers wasn't entirely a failed mission. He got even more clues to the likely possibility she's in a domestic abuse situation. But yet again, that's all he has. Clues.

Later that night, Tom made himself a cup of his favorite tea and settled in front of the television to watch his newest film. Remembering bloopers from finished scenes of a movie has always been his favorite.

Anything to get his mind off of the girl across the hall. But as soon as his movie came to an end, and Tessa wasn't awake to distract him or request his attention for pets, his thoughts drifted right back to her.

Just as Tom was setting his mug in the sink to take a shower, he heard it again. All the crashes and the yelling. Only this time he heard crying. He heard screaming. Feminine screaming. It sounded like the girl was in pain. Like her partner was hurting her.

Before he knew it, he was watching police officers escort a clearly drunk man out of the girl's apartment. He'd called law enforcement. He wasn't sure how much he'd be able to do himself, but he was tired of hearing the poor girl get abused.

What Tom had assumed was a paramedic then escorted the girl out of her apartment. A potent mix of anger and heartbreak filled Tom at the sight of her. She was finally wearing a short sleeve shirt. He could see it all now.

Bruises littered her skin. There was blood trickling from her nose and she had a rather painful looking bruised left eye. Tears were in her tired, bloodshot eyes. Fear blanketed her entire aura. She tightly wrapped her arms around herself and walked with shaking steps.

As the girl passed by Tom, her eyes met his and for the few seconds they held eye contact, she said in her expression more than her words could. Especially at that moment.

It was over. Well, the worst of it.

The poor girl would likely be facing a load of therapy after this. Just because her abuser was finally being removed from her life doesn't mean the trauma had gone anywhere.

With an aching heart, Tom shut and locked his apartment door for the night. As he showered, he felt guilty. Not like he'd done anything wrong, but guilty because he wished there was more he could do.

He thought he'd feel relieved and accomplished once he'd gotten rid of the girl's violent partner. But the nagging feeling in his gut hadn't left.

He lay awake in bed that night. Even after taking a probably too large dose of melatonin, he barely shut his eyes for longer than ten minutes. The apartment was way too quiet for his loud thoughts.

In a last ditch attempt to quiet his head, he sat out on his balcony with yet another cup of tea. A decaffeinated version of his favorite. He didn't need to fuel his body's lack of rest with anti-sleep juice.