tom holland oneshots

neglected

wc 1k

(for theatrical purposes, the covid doesn't exist)

Your next three years were filled to the brim with as many projects as you could produce. Through all of it, you had met someone. The spotlight didn't exactly support you and your relationships, especially after thank u, next was released. But the butterflies felt different this time. Better, brighter and bigger. They scared you, how all consuming they were, how much you loved them and hated how much you did so.

But there was never enough time. You were afraid of this happening. Afraid tour and filming and production and award shows and and your movies would be too much. Too time consuming, too much of a priority for what truly mattered to you. You were so afraid of how realistic the butterflies were, but you were more afraid of how Tom would react.

Fresh, the relationship was, but that didn't mean the feelings aren't real. That didn't mean someone couldn't get just as hurt. You hated this part, hated being what everyone thought you were. You hated seeming like a lead on when in reality you were just afraid. You were working on it, personally and with your therapist, how to not let your emotions dictate your entire life. But how could you, when your music was entirely based on your emotions?

You had been with Tom for a full month, on break in between tour legs and album productions.

"Hey love," he greeted you, sitting across. You were sipping coffee quietly, having just come from a meeting with republic records. The next year would be just as busy.

When you didn't reply, Tom's smile faltered. "Everything alright..?"

"No, actually," you say softly, looking in his eyes for the first time. "I need to... tell you something."

"Go ahead," he encourages with a soft smile, sensing the tension and uneasiness.

"I think we should... break up." He choked on his coffee.

"I thought..." he trails off, disappointment and fizzled anger settled in. "I thought we were having a good time."

"We... were," you lied. You still are. But not now. This isn't fun. You don't like this. You want to throw the mug at the wall, watch it shatter like how you're watching Tom break down in front of your very eyes.

"What happened?" he whispered, eyes darting to his fingers.

"I just.... I'm sorry," you stand up quickly. "I'll see you around."

He nods drunkenly, and you make your way out of the shop, hoping the paparazzi can't catch your falling tears.

**

"Where's Y/N?" Harry asks with a smile. It's a game night. You're not here. It's hard not to notice. Tom wants to cry again at the mention of your name.

"Could she not make it?" Harrison speaks before Tom can.

"Aw, that would suck," Tuwaine pouts. "She's the best."

"No," Tom mumbles, looking down. He tries to avoid their eyes just as he tries to avoid the questions. "She, uh- she broke up with me."
The sudden outburst startles Tom, and the four of them sit down, anticipating answers.

"I don't know why she did. She just did."

"Don't you want to know why?" Harrison tries. When Tom remains silent, he goes on. "Tom, you deserve to know. I know how much you like this girl. And if you like her this much you can't just let her slip away."

Tom let's a tear slip. He hates this just as much as you do. "But she broke up with me."

"That doesn't mean you should let her go. You never know what's going through her mind, or- or what made her do what she did."

He nods, stands tall, and leaves the apartment. He knows exactly where you are.

Your house is quiet and cold. He knows where you are, where you've been. Making his way upstairs, he greets your several dogs before climbing another flight of stairs. Up into the attic he goes. Emerging through the floor, he sees you laying there.

The attic is your safe haven when music suffocates you. He doesn't know why you decorated the attic, he doesn't know that music gets too much sometimes.

He clears his throat. "Hey."

You turn over, and he sees the tears on your cheeks are fresh. "What're you doing here."

"I just-" he stands a little straighter. "I think I deserve to know why you br- why you... did what you did."
You sit up. "You deserve better than what I did to you. I'm such an asshole, god," You exhale shakily, trying to catch your breath. He comes over quickly, sitting beside you.

"I never wanted to break up with you, Tom."

His eyes widen and he whispers. "Then why did you?"

"Because," you rasp out. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you exhale again. "Because- because I didn't want you to get angry and leave me. I'm working so much and- and I just got the update on my future projects and I don't know where I can ever see you between all of that and it breaks my heart because I really, really, really, like you, but I didn't want you to think otherwise. I know," you ramble. "My life is so chaotic and crazy and I didn't want to force you into the world of music if we aren't even serious about where this relationship is going."

Tom blinks, in shock and surprise. He knew you still liked him. He knew you never lost faith. "Y/N," he holds your hand, scooting to sit across from you, legs crossed. "I really, really like you too. I would never 'get angry and leave' because you have a job. You have a life and you're so successful and I'm so happy for you. Seeing you shine in your own way makes me happy. Don't ever think I'm not serious about you, because I'm so serious about this and it terrifies me."

"It terrifies me too," you laugh between tears. He chuckles.

"I'm not leaving. No amount of work can change that fact."

You hug him, sitting in his lap, legs wrapping around his middle as your arms wrap around him. You exhale against his chest, your body letting its guard down. It feels good to be with him, to be against his chest again. You know for certain, now, that you're never letting go.