Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: Angst, angst, more angst, mentions of injuries
Summary: "We're too young, too dumb to know things like love."
A/N: This is based off Ghost Of You by 5 Seconds Of Summer.
ᴴᵉʳᵉ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ʷᵃᵏᶤᶰᵍ ᵘᵖ˒ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒᶰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᶤᵈᵉ
Tom's hand brushes against the pale blue sheets. They're cold beneath his hand and it catches him off guard for the first time in a week. He was getting used to your side being cold but every once in a while, he'd still be half asleep and expect you to be sleeping beside him. You'd have moved over, likely because he was a human radiator as you liked to call him but he'd pull you back to his chest and the two of you would stay like that. That's what always happened. Routine but now that routine has shattered and the sheets are cold on your side. Tom can't bear to move to your side. It's weird for you not to be there. It's always going to be weird sleeping alone now.
He peaks his eyes open, the sheets empty and the sun barely shining through the curtains. A sigh falls from his chapped lips, they're always chapped now. You always reminded him to put chapstick on. Tom bites the inside of his cheek with the growing lump in his throat and he takes a few shallow breaths, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about how you'd wake up and turn to face each other. You'd have a gentle, tired smile because even half-asleep you were the happiest person in the world to be waking up to Tom. And Tom always shared the same smile because despite his weird quirks and busy life, you stayed and he didn't understand how lucky he was to have you.
Those moments were few and far between with his schedule but now he wishes he would have cherished them more. Had he known, he would have. But that's how it works. Tom didn't know what your fate would be so he just lived in the moment and assumed there would always be another morning with your bright eyes looking at him like he was your favorite person to ever walk the face of the earth. If he'd known, he would have told you he loved you more.
Maybe one more "I love you" and the sheets wouldn't be cold or empty everyday.
ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵒᶠᶠᵉᵉ ᶜᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᶤᵖˢᵗᶤᶜᵏ ˢᵗᵃᶤᶰ ᶠᵃᵈᵉˢ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ
Tom makes his way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee before getting ready for the dreadful day ahead. But, as he opens the cabinets, a few your things still litter the shelves. One is your favorite mug. It's one you got when the two of you went to Pier 1 Imports for something. Your favorite animal is plastered across it and there's even a little figurine inside of the mug. Tom thought it was ridiculous when you bought it but that didn't stop him from using it on days you weren't home.
He takes the mug and his thumbs rub over the animal and the chip at the top. It's still chipped from the time you'd accidentally dropped it on the counter. Tom came home early and surprised you. He scared you and the mug fell right through your hands but you didn't even care the second your eyes fell on Tom's messy curls. He beamed with joy when you ran into his arms.
Tom sucks on his teeth as he puts the mug back, pushing the memory aside as his skin seems to grow cold. It grows cold knowing you won't hug him like that again. He'll never smell the scent of your favorite shampoo and the soft scent of his cologne that always seemed to be on you. Life might go on and coffee mugs might be chipped but that doesn't warm Tom's skin like you did. It doesn't make the pain any less
ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵈʳᵒʷᶰ ᶤᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ᴵ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵈᵒ ᴰᵃᶰᶜᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ
Tom gets his coffee and starts playing music, gathering his things for the day. He just clicked a playlist and let it play. Today isn't going to be easy. It's going to be literal hell all over again. And he needs to find a way to drown everything out. He needs to get rid of the idea of you ever coming home. The idea of you helping him pick out what to wear and warming up the shower when he's too tired. The music drowns out the silence of the apartment.
Tom never did quite understand what it meant, silence is deafening. Not until you were gone. Not until his house was just him.
He showers, expression blank and his head is a sort of daze, not quite fixated on what the day would entail. He knew it wasn't going to be a good one. It was going to be rough, painful. It's the day Harrison is picking him up to see you and Tom hates it but Harrison's right, Tom needs to see you. He needs to see you just one last time to maybe get a little bit of closure. But, Tom realizes that maybe seeing you won't actually bring any closure. It hasn't brought closure the countless other times he's seen you but, maybe this time it will.
Maybe after he sees you this one last time, he won't feel like you should be moving past him in the bathroom. You doing your hair while he's brushing his teeth and him doing his hair while you do your makeup. The two of you moving in perfect motion, never once knocking into each other. It became so simple, so easy. It's just another thing Tom wishes he would have cherished while you were here.
He should have cherished the times you paused while the toothbrush was sticking out of your mouth and you'd scrunch your nose at him while he tried to get his hair to lay right. Or the times he'd get really dramatic with whatever song you happened to be playing and you'd laugh. He should have cherished your laugh.
ᴵ ᶜʰᵃˢᵉ ᶤᵗ ᵈᵒʷᶰ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵃ ˢʰᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵘᵗʰ
Tom found his way into the bedroom dressed in your favorite pair of his jeans and the shirt you got him last Christmas. He kept his hair a little messy because he knows that's how you preferred it. It really shouldn't matter but he couldn't help it. He just felt he needed to dress for you. It was a day for you anyway, not him.
But, that didn't stop him from sitting on the floor of his bedroom, phone in hand as he leaned against the dresser. He pressed your contact, the little heart beside your name still there. The phone rang, and rang, and rang until it went to voicemail.
Tom closed his eyes as he heard your voice. You're happy and he remembers helping you set up your voicemail. You didn't know what to say or if it even mattered. Tom had made a fun of it originally because you sounded so bored. His solution was to help you rerecord it and get you to laugh.
When you said you'd call whoever back, Tom could hear the smile on your face and he could picture it perfectly in his head. Your smile seemed brighter that day and for no reason. Or maybe Tom thinks it did because he hasn't seen you smile in a month. It's just another thing he should have cherished while he could.
He ended the call, not leaving a message, and the phone fell by his feet while he pulled his knees up. His forearms rested on his knees while the back of his head hit the dresser and his heart weighed like a thousand bricks, pulling it into his stomach. Your voicemail might make him feel better for the few seconds he can hear your voice but then it just becomes the depressing reminder that you're not there anymore. You will not pick up the phone. It's a cruel game he plays.
ᶜˡᵉᵃᶰᶤᶰᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ˒ ᶠᵒᵘᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒˡᵈ ᶻᵉᵖᵖˡᶤᶰ ˢʰᶤʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵉᶰ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵃᶰ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶰᵒ ᵒᶰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘʳᵗ
A groan comes from Tom's lips as he receives a message from Harrison saying he'd be there soon with a few boxes. Harrison might be taking Tom to see you one last time but part of that means it's time to finish packing up a few of your things. Tom sent a quick reply back saying the door was open before he turned around and opened the bottom drawer.
It was a shared drawer between the two of you. It was your idea actually. Tom thought it was a bit crazy. The apartment was originally just his but he'd cleared out a drawer for you one day and then a few months later, you had boxes of stuff and were living with him. You'd always had a drawer to yourself and Tom liked it. Not because he wanted his own space but because it was yours. It's your thing inside his home. Your home. But, neither of you owned much pajama clothing and it saved a drawer if you just shared one for your pajamas, especially since you usually wound up wearing something of Tom's anyway.
Tom starts taking out some of your clothes. They're all perfectly folded. This was on Tom. He always folded your clothes for you since you did so much for him. It was something he could do and didn't take a lot of time even if he were busy. It helped you out a bit and he just wanted to help in any way he could. So, he keeps the clothing folded nicely as he stacks your clothes in separate piles. Shorts, pants, and shirts. It's not until he reaches the bottom of the drawer that he has to pause. It's your favorite sleeping shirt.
He picks it up and he can feel the tears start to brim. It's the shirt that started everything between the two of you.
"Hey." Harrison says as he knocks lightly on the open door to Tom's room.
"Hey." Tom says in a monotone, not looking to Harrison.
"Alright, mate?" Harrison asks moving to Tom with a box in hand.
"'S her favorite." Tom refolds the shirt and rests it on top of the others. "It's, uh," Tom licks his lips, rolling his shoulders before wiping his eyes. "She wore it the day...I told her I loved her..."
"Yeah?" Harrison asks, noticing Tom seemed to have more to say but was unsure if he should.
"Yeah... was when she showed up one night because she just couldn't do it anymore. I dunno." Tom explains. "She was crying a lot and was going on about how she didn't think anyone would love her."
Harrison nearly scoffs. "Really? Was she blind then?"
Tom gives Harrison the smallest of smiles. "Guess so." He chuckles softly. "Thought I'd made it obvious then but her dad had gotten into her head...something 'bout her going to end up alone or something. So, I told her I loved her."
Tom tells the story and Harrison listens. It's one Tom didn't tell him before. Harrison knew how you'd gotten together but he didn't know the details of the conversation. All Tom and you had ever said was that Tom just told you one day. That's it. He got up the courage and told you his feelings. But, hearing the real story, what lead Tom to tell you, it makes better sense now. Tom told you because yes, he'd always loved you but he told you because you needed to hear it. The fear of him being rejected didn't matter because you needed to know that he loved you and if it were up to him, you'd never be alone a day in your life because he'd be by your side every single day. And he was.
Harrison watches, brows knitted together in empathy. "Why don't you keep that one then?"
Tom is silent for a few seconds, looking at your shirt. "Yeah." He picks it up and moves it back into the drawer.
Harrison nods and moves to sit next to him. "I'll help ya pack the rest up later, ya? We...we gotta go, Tom. I'm sorry."
Tom nods and gets to his feet, eyes starting to water while they make their way out of Tom's room.
ᴵ ᶜʰᵃˢᵉ ᶤᵗ ᵈᵒʷᶰ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵃ ˢʰᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵘᵗʰ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ᵈᵃᶰᶜᵉ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᶤᵈ ʷᶤᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ
A steady stream of beeps fills the cool air. The room is just dimmed enough for the lights not to be blinding. Tom stands at the foot of your bed, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks as he looks at you. The wounds on your face from the accident have almost healed completely, a sign that your body was technically working but, the tube coming from your mouth proved otherwise. One of the monitors Tom didn't completely understand proved that just because the cuts and bruises were healing and healed doesn't mean that your brain was working. It didn't mean that your organs were slowly shutting down. It didn't mean you'd wake up.
He takes a seat beside your bed and grasps your hand in his. It's then that the realization hits him. This is it. This is the last time he'll see you alive. The next time will be at your funeral, your parents already having decided there would be an open casket. It's right here, minutes before they pull life support that Tom knows he'll never be himself again. Everything, even packing up your things, didn't feel real. None of it feels real but here he is, saying his final goodbye.
Life is cruel and it is so unfair. It's cruel to leave Tom without you, to find a way to live every day without you now and it is unfair that he will never be able to get rid of the thought of you. You're always going to be there. You'll haunt his dreams and the apartment you shared. Tom knows that he'll never do anything like he did before.