Tom Holland ❖ imagines

just for tonight (i)

"As soon as the sun came up, he would no longer be able to be in love."
warnings: language, angst
10:48 am

You were dancing when he found you.

Your hair was free, unconfined by ties, moving behind you as you stepped to your favorite song. The beat had you spinning in circles, your head tipped back to the sky, your voice aloud as you tried to match the singer's note. He smiled as he watched you bump your hip into the side of the dining table, causing you to stop and meet his gaze.

Your hands flew over your mouth. Your cheeks were becoming flustered and red as his smile grew. You were embarrassed, surprised, but overwhelmingly emotional as you let your feet carry you to him. Instead of just hugging you, Tom caught your waist and lifted you up, letting your legs cross behind him as he let his nose nestle into the crook of your neck.

"Tom," you whimpered, holding him close. Reluctantly, he lowered you back onto the ground. You didn't let go, however. You just held onto his neck, letting out a breath of relief as you let a familiar warmth go through you. "Tom, you're back! W-Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?"

"I wanted to surprise you, darling," he chuckled, pulling away from the embrace to hold you at arm's length. You brushed your hair away from your face, shaking your head as you let your eyes wander over his figure. Tired, unbelievably handsome, and looking at you with a love you had never felt you deserved. "Did it work?"

You let out a laugh and nodded, guiding him to your living room. The television was on, a crime show playing that you had seen a million times over. You motioned for him to sit, and he kicked his shoes off politely before settling into your couch. You retreated to the kitchen to grab a few drinks.

When you returned, Tom was hanging over the edge of the couch, his head on a fluffy blanket as he watched the detectives on the TV examine a crime scene. You passed a drink to him, watching him take a sip. You wondered if your heart always beat so quickly when he was around.

"Tom, you have to tell me all about your trip," you urged, sitting beside him. Tom set his bottle down onto the coffee table, a smile coming onto his face as he met your eyes. You were eagerly waiting for him to spill the details of his recent trip to Europe. He leaned over the couch, an arm going around your shoulders. You met his smile with your own as he pulled you close to him.

He missed this dearly; he missed you. He was always counting the days; counting down the days he still had left with you, and then counting down the days until he came back to you. It was a vicious circle of push and pull, of want and obligation.

Seeing almost every continent in its entirety had been amazing. Seeing cities and lights and meeting important, influential individuals was humbling and gratifying. But as beautiful as those places were, they were nothing. Nothing compared to the cities he met you in and the lights he saw in your eyes. There was no one like you and nowhere like you; and he had been everywhere and seen everyone.

The door opened for you. When you stepped out, you were met with the cold midnight weather and a smile that warmed you all over. Tom shut the car door behind you, rubbing his hands together to create a warm friction. You stood awkwardly in front of him, not entirely sure what to say.

"Well...this is you, love," he said finally. You nodded your head, breathing onto your hands to try and stop them from shaking. Tom noticed the effect the cold was having on you. "H-Here, uh...allow me."

He stepped closer to you, halting the rubbing of his hands as he closed his palms over yours. He gathered your hands in his and held them to his chest, almost nervous to meet your gaze. When he did, he knew he would never be able to look away.