Tom Holland Imagines

Peter Parker ; You're an Idiot

Sophomore year was supposed to be my hardest year – it was supposed to be hard for me to make friends, everyone had already known each other from the year before, then there was the fact of me being too shy, to the point that I'd rather shove myself into a locker than attempt to even a single 'hi' to anyone looking at me. The key phrase here is 'supposed to' – Peter Parker made everything that much easier for me, the moment I walked through the door.

I walked into the school building seven minutes after the final bell rang, my anxiety crept up to me knowing I'd have to walk into an already-started classroom and interrupt the teacher, I took my time walking down the hall, heading to my classroom. I turned around hearing someone running behind me, but before I could glance at the person their body slammed into mine and threw us on the floor. I ended up lying on top of the person who collided into me, their hands wounded around my waist. I heard a mumbled 'shit' and finally looked down at the person who bumped into me – a boy, a cute boy, with brown hair and brown eyes and very – very – strong arms.

"Shit, I'm sorry – I just, I'm late again. I – I didn't see you! I'm sorry." He rushed to lift both of us up, his arms still around my waist. I glanced down and looked up at him, my cheeks almost as red as his – I'm assuming. "Sorry – again." His hands immediately left my waist as one landed on his hip and the other carded through his hair. I looked down at my schedule, realizing I had no idea where I was going. I looked back up and smiled softly, feeling bad that he was so embarrassed.

"It's cool, but to make it up to me you can show me where room 304 is?" He smiled widely and nodded quickly. "Sure! I'm going there anyway! AP Physics, huh?" I nodded as he held his hand out to me. I shook it and we went on walking.

"I'm Peter. Uh – Peter Parker."

"(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)."

"Are you serious? How did you get a better score than me?" Peter threw his arms up drastically, signaling between both of our papers. I rolled my eyes and laughed as his gaze fell forward again, watching where he was walking.

"I only score two percent higher, Peter. Don't be ridiculous. I could tutor you if you want." I teased him, shoving him slightly. When he didn't say anything, I turned around to look at him. He looked like he was in a trance, his pace lagging a couple of feet behind. I tried to follow his gaze, my eyes falling onto Liz Allen. I rolled my eyes and quickened my pace, trying to get to catch up to Ned at his locker so I didn't have to mope over Peter being an oblivious idiot.

Since Peter and I met sophomore year, we've been inseparable since. Getting to know someone for two years was fun, but when it came to harboring a crush on said person for almost two years was exhausting, and having to watch them like someone else was just ridiculously pathetic – especially when you didn't do anything to stop yourself from liking them.

"Hey Ned!" I bumped his shoulder slightly with mine as he shut his locker. He smiled down at me. "Where's our third musketeer?" I rolled my eyes at the mention of Peter, nodding toward Liz, who was now speaking to Peter. I looked up at Ned again to catch him rolling his eyes, too. "That kid is painfully stupid." My eyebrows pulled together in question.

"What are you talking about?" He shot me an incredulous look. "What?"

"Oh, come on! You and Peter have been destined to fall in love since he threw himself on top of you two years ago," my cheeks flared a little, also growing a little irritated that Ned knew that I liked Peter and Peter didn't.

"Shut up," I shoved him again, "he didn't throw himself at me, he bumped into me... hard." Our conversation was cut short as Peter rushed up to us, out of breath.