ASSHOLE, tom holland ✓

29 | reality

TRIGGER WARNING : VAGUE MENTION OF PHYSICAL ABUSE !! SEE BOTTOM FOR OVERVIEW !

CYRUS gave a light huff at the sight of Charlotte Skeet giving a twenty dollar bill to a homeless woman. She lights up with a bright grin when she spots him at their favorite coffee house. When she waves, Cyrus rolls his eyes and makes a point of taking out his phone.

“Cyrus Irrands!” she calls, completely disrupting the peaceful atmosphere of the café, but the current barista has an annoying — in Cyrus' opinion — crush on her so they just blush and wave.

“Charlie,” he greets, not hiding his grin at the sight of his best friend. He brushes a hand over his left cheek, self-consciously.

Charlie gracefully walks over to him, her black blouse flowing prettily. She's not wearing makeup, and her beanie is covering her obviously not brushed hair, but she still looks flawless to her best friend.

She settles, leaning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek — he tilts his head so it's the right one. “Hey, babe.”

“Hello, Charles Skeet,” he says, softly, a knot that's been growing in his chest for the past week slowly untying. Charlie frowns.

“What's up, buttercup?” she asks, lightly, pushing her brown leather purse off her shoulder. “We — Micah and I — haven't seen you in a while.”

Cyrus shifts, swallowing dryly. “Yeah, well... New relationship and all that. Boring, honestly. How're you doing?”

Charlie hums, tapping her fingers and smiling. “Good. I auditioned for like five different TV shows on Monday. I think this "Superman prequel" one was interested.”

Cyrus arches an eyebrow, sipping his sweetened coffee. “Superman?”

“Sorry, Marvel-boy,” she teases. “Infinity War wasn't offering.”

Cyrus laughs, gently, and Charlie furrows her brows. He speaks before she can talk. “I got you your cocoa, heathen.”

“I think the caffeine-obsessed one is the heathen,” she laughs, and Cyrus has always admired how she laughs so easily.

They chat aimlessly, absently, as they sip their drinks and catch up. Cyrus leans heavily on avoiding the topics of him, of Adam, because he can't handle it right now, not when he's happy with one of his favorite people in the world. Charlie understands and doesn't bring it up, of course. She didn't get that title by being pushy.

But then again, no one's perfect.

“So,” she starts, looking out the window, “how's Tom?”

Cyrus stiffens, and squares his shoulders. “Fine.”

Charlie looks over at him. “Cyrus. What's wrong?”

Cyrus scoffs, and he feels familiar walls building around the city of Cyrus' personal feelings. “Nothing.”

“Really?” she asks, straightening and getting the determined-Charlie look on the face. “Last time we talked, you said you liked Tom even more than you thought. Is that attraction still... expanding?”

Cyrus wants to scream. “No,” he says instead, “I don't think so. I actually haven't been talking to him that much, lately.”

Charlie sighs. “May I ask why?”

Cyrus scrunches his nose up. “Rather you not.”

“Does Adam not like him?” she asks. Cyrus' gut twists.

“Adam doesn't know him,” Cyrus snaps. “And it's not like I even know him. Texting? Commenting? Does that really count, Charlie?”

“If you let it,” she responds, casually. “I've seen how you talk about Tom. And I've seen you while you talk to Tom.” She smiles, wryly. “There's a difference between being fond of a celebrity, of Spider-Man, and being fond of a — a friend. Or whatever Tom is to you. You've been wandering a while, Cy — probably since your old man passed away. Maybe a post about Tobey Maguire helped you... I don't know. Find something that you needed.”

Cyrus looks away, chewing the inside of his right cheek (not his left, can't touch his left cheek) and exhales, shallowly.

“Anyways,” Charlie pipes up, grinning. “You need to start talking to Tom more so we can get some good top-secret Marvel spoilers outta him!”

Cyrus laughs, genuinely, and ignores the tug at his heart. “Yeah, well — ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa — what the hell is wrong with your cheek?” Charlie frowns, face twisted in something akin to bewilderment and caution. She reaches out, and touches his left cheek, and Cyrus winces before remembering she can't touch that cheek, no one can touch that cheek, and that he needs to get the hell out of here.

He stands, and Charlie flinches back. “Cyrus, who did that — What's — ”

He gives her quick kiss on her forehead before turning around and leaving the coffee house with no comment. When he's hailing a taxi, he swallows the lump in his throat because if he cries the makeup on his left cheek will wash away.

•◎•

[ :(

if you didn't read because of the trigger warning: while catching up, charlie lectured cyrus about his feelings about tom (again), and then she saw a bruise on his cheek :(( ]