Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

KIngS and QUeeNS (part 9)

Snow has fallen and time has passed... a month, to be precise. Four whole weeks since he made her feel like she was an angel — since he received that text. The little cottage has somehow grown increasingly smaller the more Tom tried to avoid the girl. He knew it was useless, she would always end up in the same room as him, but boy, did he still try.

Not even two days after the text message and Tom had started sleeping on the couch. He barely utters three words to Y/N. She's lucky to even receive a glance from him, let alone any physical contact. She wonders what happened, what's changed. One minute he's holding her, kissing her, promising to stay by her side. And the next? He's cold, distant, acts like she isn't even there.

She spends her days coddling into herself, jumper sleeves hanging from her icy fingertips like she's too scared to show him the skin he once held, the hand she once thought she was beginning to hold his heart in.

She isn't the only one feeling the loss of what was never hers. Tessa has quickly begun to mope around the cottage, solemn whines slipping from her snout and her paws tiredly pad across the floor. It's like she can sense the heartache in the atmosphere, and she often finds herself sleeping in the bed with Y/N, cuddling her as she cries herself to sleep most nights. Her owner has seemingly abandoned the young woman, and the poor dog can't understand why.

The nights have begun to grow longer, day's shortening and the presence of sunlight is considered a rarity. Neither Tom or Y/N can keep track of the days, but Y/N is certain she's missed Christmas... that she's spent it alone, despite the man she cares so deeply for sleeping in only the other room.

Y/N sits on the couch, a woolen blanket draped over her legs and she curls into herself a little, the fire crackling opposite her and the same book she's already read for times sits in her lap. Tessa sits close beside her; head resting on her knee and body cuddled close to her side.

The cottage is quiet, silent, actually. The only noises heard are the crackling firewood, soft turnings of pages, Tessa's soft snores and the dull sounds of pelting water from behind the locked bathroom door. Y/N stares at the handle for a little while, wonders if maybe this time he'll come out and smile at her, look at her. But when the water stops and the door opens, he doesn't.

Tears of loss and disappointment are quick to pool in her eyes and she quickly blinks them back before they can slip over her waterline. She won't let him see her hurt, she can't. She can't allow herself to be vulnerable in front of him... not for him to distance himself further away from her. She can't bear it.

Tom leans against the counter, hands holding himself up and he takes a deep breath. In a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shift, Tom sighs and ruffles a hand through his damp curls. He can hear her breathing from the sofa, can hear the soft sniffles she tries to hide, and God does it hurt him. It pains him to do what he's doing, but he's stuck. He's so goddamn stuck.

He knows what he's doing is wrong, that by ignoring her she's only spiraling into a deep sea of insecurity and loneliness. But what is he supposed to do? He misses Amelia, he needs to know the truth, even if that means keeping Y/N in the dark and ultimately losing her.

The sound of shuffling behind him catches his attention, but he doesn't turn. He doesn't see Y/N stare at his back with pure heartbreak, or the way she moves back to the bedroom and gently closes the door — but he hears. He hears her soft footsteps followed by her quiet cries from the bedroom.

Tom squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head but it's no use. He can't block out her sobs, the way he wants to hold her and apologize. He can't kiss her and tell her he's going to keep her safe, that there's a reason behind it all. He can't risk it.