tom holland oneshots

nobody wanted

 Nothing is permanent. Nothing is granted.

He wished he'd done it differently.

He wished it was him instead.

The two of you were driving to a bar to meet up with Harrison and Harry and a couple other friends for the night. Tom was driving, the two of you singing along to some music streaming. You were laughing, having just been promoted at your job. That was the reason you were going to the bar — to celebrate. To celebrate you and your success.

The light had turned green just before they slowed, so Tom kept driving through, foot not moving from its position on the gas pedal.

The look of pure terror on your face, for that one split second where he realized it was too late, was enough to scar him for the rest of his life. A semi truck had rammed right into the side of the car, skidding the car to the left just as another car, from behind, rammed into the rear end.

He doesn't remember much. He remembers minutes of pain before he lost consciousness.

When he woke in a hospital bed, Harry and Harrison were there, eyes red. His mother and father were there too. He saw your sister, and he knew the two of you were probably beat up pretty badly.

He groaned to let them know he was awake. His entire hand was in a cast that went just past his elbow. His leg in a cast too, a few scattered bandaids on his face.

"What happened?"

Nikki sat up straight. Harry did the same, wiping his face as he tried to conceal tears.

"You- you were hit by a semi and a minivan."

He muttered under his breath, "Jesus Christ."

A doctor came in, glasses on. He smiled weakly, and Tom asked for the report. "You were hit twice within thirty seconds, Tom. You're very lucky to be alive."

Tom scoffed, throat sticky. "Okay, and what about Y/N."

"We're- we're very sorry. We did all that we could, but we couldn't save her. If we had come any later, she'd have died on scene. She wanted us to tell you she loves you."

Tom felt his heart drop to his stomach. He turned pale, and Harrison quickly made a move to grab the trash can in time for Tom to throw up. He wanted to cry; he felt awful. He felt as if his heart had been the one hit by a semi.

"How? How did she- how did she..." He couldn't bear to finish his sentence, and the doctor looked into his eyes.

"She was thrown from the vehicle, Tom. We couldn't save her."

Tom let out a sob, imagining your lifeless body, beat up and bruised. He couldn't do it — there was no such thing as life without you. He'd spent so long convincing himself that the two of you would get your happy ending — that after his career died down, he'd get to settle in and spend the rest of his life with you.

He'd spent so long convincing himself that his life would never become the nightmare of living without you.

The doctor left the room after saying a few more things, but Tom didn't pay attention to anything. He couldn't if he tried. Dominic said a few things to Tom, coming to his side, but Tom didn't hear him either.

Your laugh was stuck in his head, your voice ringing through his ears. He wanted to press restart on the day, hit pause and rewind and change everything he did since the moment he woke up.

He wanted to have breakfast with you one last time. He wanted to watch your favorite movie and laugh about the stupid details, and he wanted to kiss you until you whined about your face getting sticky. He wanted the chance to say goodbye.

Tom fell asleep after a good forty minutes, and when he woke up, his entire family was in the room, scattered on chairs. Harrison was asleep in the corner, and Tom tried to sit up.

His mom brought a nurse in to assist him, and when she left, the room grew quiet with tension, everyone waiting for Tom to say anything.

"Do you think someone could love you even after they're gone?"

"Oh, Tom," Nikki let out a breath, a mix between a sob and an exhale. "Of course she loves you. She'll always love you."

He let two tears fall. His youngest brother Patrick couldn't bear to see his brother in such a state. In such a dark place where he couldn't be damned to know the difference between love and hate.

"Why, god?" He looked up. "Why her? Why, of all the fucking people in the world-" he started yelling, throat becoming hoarse and tear after tear came and went. "Why take her? Why not me? Why not me?" he screamed it once his mom came to his side to quiet him, crying too.

Tom sat there, crying. By the second minute, the entire room was sobbing. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell your parents that their beloved daughter had been taken from the world. Nobody wanted to think about the funeral, and your lifeless body being put six feet into the ground never to be seen again.

Nobody wanted to think about how many nights they'd have to count the stars because you weren't there.

Tom didn't want to think about himself, because his entire life was planned with you in the picture.

And now, you can't be in that.

So he can't either.