TAKE A SECOND - tom holland

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛𝘠-𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌. ✓

!! TRIGGER WARNING !!

MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE.

I WILL BE MARKING WHERE THOSE TOPICS ARE DEALT WITH.

PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE A RECAP OF THE PORTION MISSED IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO READ THE MATERIAL, I AM MORE THAN HAPPY TO PROVIDE IT.

READ WITH CAUTION.

I LOVE YOU.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[REAL LIFE]

Harper heard the sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand for what seemed like the thousandth time.

She knew she was being difficult, and it wasn't her intention. She just couldn't handle thinking about anything else but the weirdly sharp pains in her chest that hadn't gone away since her and Tom's encounter with Michael.

Michael had introduced himself, and Tom, being the polite, compassionate person he is, made conversation and invited him to sit with them until they left.

Harper couldn't remember the last time she hadn't talked for 10 minutes straight.

Tom sat close to Harper, feeling the stiffness of her posture and resorted to tracing small circles on her kneecaps to try and diffuse the tension. If Michael asked her a question, Tom would deflect it to himself.

Even without knowing the whole story, he was protective.

Harper knew she was lucky; too lucky to have someone like Tom so diligently by her side. And now, as she laid under her covers, she felt her guilt from ignoring him consolidate into a hard pit in her stomach.

When the party had died down, the pair left in a hurry. The 20 minute drive to Harper's apartment was almost completely silent, with the occasional interruption of a phone sounding off or Tom laying on his horn and cursing.

She had rushed getting out of his car, only whispering the words "Goodbye Tommy" before she ran into her apartment complex, got into the elevator, and hyperventilated so hard that she threw up all over herself as soon as she unlocked the apartment.

So much for her banana pumps.

After cleaning up her horrid mess, she ended up sitting on the floor of her shower, tracing shapes and letters onto the fogged up glass as she turned the water up hotter and hotter. The water began to burn so strongly it almost felt cold;

Harper liked that feeling. It was better than trying to delve into any portion of what was occuring inside her head.

Harper had felt with these moments of vulnerability before: when her parents got divorced, when she failed out of a class, when her relationship with Michael had ended.

She had had practice. More of it than she would have liked.

Yet this felt different.

Harper was building back up again. Her job, her friends, her love life was balanced and functional and healthy.

Then he showed up, and it was like someone had lightly blown on the top card of the card tower. That one instance had hurt all of the effort, all of the fucking work she had done to get better.