✓ TOM HOLLAND IMAGINES [BOOK 1/2]

P.1 Growing up to the Bitter Cold 🐙 Tom Holland

Considering making a book about this one, let me know what you think

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Everyone has a story. Everyone has a certain tale to tell. But when yours hit peoples lips, or the sheets of a jotter tucked away in your sock draw, it slowly became one everyone remembered. A lesson learned. A story told. A heart broken. It was surely a rhythm everyone would recognise.

You didn't grow up like everyone else, and it was as if you knew from the first day you opened your eyes. You knew immediately that things would be different. Things never seemed warm in the L/N house hold, every thing was grey and cold. You were given things you couldn't keep, many of those being promises. And soon enough you were giving them out to people and then labelled as un - trust worthy.

But everyone has to have something - even if the devil watched over you while you slept. You had to be given a small hinge of light to make it fair. And you were, as promised, given that piece of light. He came in the form of a small, skinny, bright boy, with shimmering brown eyes and a mop of chocolate hair. He brought you nothing paid for, but a smile. He was your everything. From the day you met in secondary school, he took you through his side of life with him, closing every darkened door and opening the bright new ones. He took you on to a school of performing arts, where you both flourished and graduated without the blink of an eye. He gave you a path to life.

And it seemed to be running smoothly when the sun was shining, but as the moon and stars came out to play in the night sky, every thing turned and the light bulb smashed. Many times you would come home to a drunken father, broken glass, the smell of alcohol and a scared younger brother, cowering away in the corner. You were made to clean up the mess of your father, and then follow in his footsteps. It was like living hell on earth. Reckless night's bought grey eyes, and with those bought pitty upon you. Often when you were tucked away in your bed sheets, listening to your fathers pathetic whimpers before you slept, you would think about the specific cliche quote that everyone knew and seriously overused; 'I can finally say i'm used to it'

And you were. You never cried when the glass cut your finger tips, or even when your father would hit you. You'd become internally numb to the world, and nothing could hurt you. Or so you thought.

One day, not a particularly nice one, that ball of sunshine by the name of Tom, brought you a gift you could never forget, and only in the form of a few words.

"Will you go to prom with me?"

Of course you accepted. But, never did you think what a mistake you had made. How special you felt when Nikki took you out to buy a dress on the later evenings, shoes to match and a beautiful necklace handed to you by Tom. From the moment he dragged you onto the dance floor, lacing his arms around you and pulling you close. You knew you had found your soul mate. He stole you away from the world and took you to a better place. Every time he was near you, your chest would flutter and every demon would die away as Cloud 9 took over your brain. The way he caressed every moment he spent with you. It was almost as if he knew you were broken.

But on the night of prom bought something so dark and demeanour. Something so tight, like a hand that wouldn't let go, no matter how hard you tried. It was like the high of being with someone you loved and cherished wasn't enough, and you mistook a single drink for something else. You fell down the hole where everyone seems to travel at some point, yet it's 1,000 feet deep with no ladder, and the walls are made of stone.

Drugs.

It was nothing at the time, and only was something to yourself. You shared it with no one, not even Tom. It would break him to know what you were doing behind closed doors, but with your father, there truly was no escape.

You continued down this endless road until soon you were tied in an unbreakable addiction. And on the night you were feeling low, with no money in your ripped jean pocket, you cried for your best friend. Never would you have thought that he would still be there by your side when you were so broken, holding back lies and un kept promises. He held you tightly in his arms, letting your tears soak through his shirt. He was your first lover, first fighter, first kiss, first angel. He was your everything.

But everything has an ending, and Tom had to move away for a while. And that while turned into 6 months... Then 9... Then a year... and then 2. He's been gone for over four years now, so long you can't remember what he looks like. How he would look now he is older. What he sounds like. How he smells. Does he even remember you? But now...

All you do know is the feeling of having someone when the lights go out, and waking up to an empty bed. Selling love to other men over the night time, and fighting your way through the day to keep yourself alive. You barely go outside during the day time, and the skin on your bones has become so fragile.

But one day he returned, your angel, your love, the one thing you had been craving to seek for four years. The one thing you needed more than anything. You remember seeing him when he returned, lacing you in his arms. You remember the days you spent together. The times you shared before he had to leave again. He knew you existed, he still loved you the way he promised he did. And the nights you spent after that. You spent time with him on the outside of your problems, on the inside of everything deep and when you were between the sheets it didn't feel so lonely. It felt right. You had your soul mate back.

And that was the continuing dream you had every night as now, you spent them alone, listening to your own tears hit the pillow case. Because although you denied it with all your hearts worth, that wasn't how the story went, of when Tom finally did return home.

One day, he did return, and didn't bat an eye lid when you called him name. He already had his hand laced in another woman's he called a 'wife', and on his shoulder sat his son. Peter. Could you find the strength to be happy for the man you loved, seeing him with someone else? Could you be happy for him despite the fact he didn't recognise you anymore? Were you really that different?

Could you be happy with the way you were....

The person you had become....

Could you make things right again...

Make him understand...

Make... Him... Yours....?

To Be Continued....