HufflepuffHolland's Writing Collection

Two Ghosts // Tom Holland

By Hufflepuffholland on Tumblr

Pairing: Tom Holland + Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: Tom realizes that he isn't whole anymore without you. Based on Two Ghosts by Harry Styles, my second fav off the album. Part two to Meet Me in the Hallway.

Notes: I really like writing angst? Wow. Hopefully this doesn't suck, I wrote it at like one a.m.!

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Tom couldn't remember the last time he'd messed up something so bad to the point where he felt hopeless—like, he couldn't fix it. But this, he knew, he royally fucked up. He leaned against the outside of the building, trying to catch his breath. the air was cold and thinning, so he found himself taking quicker and shorter breaths. He muttered under his breath—not that it made a difference. No one was out there with him. No one would hear his distraught pleas to be let back in. No one would know that he had just gotten locked out of his home. His head knocked against the wall of the apartment complex as he realized he'd never be able to go back home; he'd never be able to go back to you and let it be the same way.

Tom spent the night, wandering around the city. He couldn't go back to the house—that girl was probably still there. Harrison would probably do him the favor of kicking her out when he got home. He'd wait for Harrison's call before he would get a cab back to the apartment they shared. He kept his hands in his pockets, walking down the sidewalk and taking in the vacant night. It was Friday night, but the streets never looked so dead. Most businesses were closed, their lights off, making the city look deserted. He walked by a small bar, it would be closing in the next two and a half hours, according to the sign on the door and the time on Tom's phone.

He walked in, smiling slightly at the guard after his ID was approved. He cringed at the electric dance music playing and the amount of people tiredly slinging themselves at each other on the dance floor. He felt himself sweating at the mere thought of making his way onto the dance floor, so he settled for trying to catch a seat at the bar. The bar was seemingly empty; an older gentleman trying to pick up on the bartender and a smaller figure settled on opposite corners the only bodies that occupied it. He walked up to the bar, not ordering anything, just simply observing everyone around him.

He thought of all the people there with each other—were they genuinely happy? Together? He'd wondered how many of these people had screwed up, losing the love of their lives just to settle for someone at a bar to fill the cold, empty place of the bed in their house, when their home decided to close their doors on them for good. That's what had happened to him. He'd locked himself out of his home, though. He'd given a spare key to someone else, not knowing that the locks had been changed.

"Looking rough." Tom looked up, looking at the smaller figure that had occupied the side of the bar that was closest to the restroom. "Someone run over your dog?" Tom didn't answer, just looked at them. Their eyes looked familiar—they reminded him of you. He'd wonder if there would come a day when he wouldn't find you in everyone he saw.

"No. But, nothing you won't be able to fix." The person stood up, throwing a fifty on the bar to cover their tab as they stood up, walking over to Tom. He turned in his stool, parting his legs so they could stand in front of him.

"There's a handicapped, single stall bathroom in the back. Employee's only. But, I'm here enough." He shrugged, standing up so he was towering over the stranger in front of him.

"Lead the way."

Tastes so sweet, looks so real

Sounds like something that I used to feel

But I can't touch what I see

Within minutes, a stranger's lips were staining the base of Tom's neck. He'd close his eyes, trying to envision it were you, then they'd speak and he'd be reminded that he was in a dirty bar bathroom that held no locks with a person he hadn't even bothered to remember their name. He tried to feel your hands against him, but these were cold and fast; they felt like they were ripping against his skin. He tried to think of your hair surrounding him, but when he breathed in he smelt cigarettes instead of coconut.

He heard the small pet names fall past a pair of lips that didn't feel soft to him, the names were familiar but the sound was foreign. He knew what he was used to, but he also knew he'd ruined it for himself. He couldn't feel anything; his mind was too focused on what you'd think of this. This is what got you in trouble, dickhead. He shut his eyes, feeling the tears well up in his eyes while he felt hands blindly unbuttoning his jeans.

"A-are you crying, dude? What the fuck?" He rushed out an apology, buttoning his jeans back up and pushing the other person off him, pulling open the door and rushing out, not bothering to look up at the other lost people in the bar still desperately looking for replacements. He went to his house and saw the girl from earlier still waiting there. He kicked her out himself, not bothering to hear her out as he walked past her and locked himself in his bedroom.

The fridge light washes this room white

Moon dances over your good side

This was all we used to need

Tongue-tied like we've never known

"You're ridiculous. I'm gonna need food before you even think of getting me in the shower." You laughed lightly, wrapping the sheet around your naked chest as you bent down and searched for your clothes. Tom groaned, running a hand through his hair before leaning down himself, picking up a pair of sweats and deciding to just keep himself commando—the faster he fed you, the faster you'd come upstairs; figuratively and literally.

"Fine, but can it be like, cereal or something? I really, really don't want to go out right now." You rolled your eyes, accepting the shirt of his he was holding out for you. You shrugged it on, pulling on the only piece of clothing of yours that you could find—a pair of underwear. Tom lifted a remote, pointing it randomly in the room and then you heard soft music playing. He'd turned on the radio.

"Yes," you breathed out dramatically, accepting his outstretched hand while you followed him into the kitchen. "What kind do you have?" Tom opened his mouth to answer you, but then a familiar song came on.

"Fuck, I love this song," he sighed out, opening the fridge and swaying lightly, pulling the milk out. He stood back up straight, placing the milk on the counter but leaving the fridge door open as he hummed along to the Ed Sheeran song, the newest single off his latest album—Perfect. You smiled fondly at him, shaking your head as he gestured for your hand. "You're not gonna dance with me?" You shook your head, causing him to laugh. "Wrong answer, baby."

"Tom," you groaned, but letting him grab your hand and pull you closer to him. His arm wrapped around your waist while the other hand stayed intertwined with yours. You wrapped your other arm around his neck, matching his sway as you leaned your head against his chest. You were in love with him. You knew it. He was in love with you. He didn't want to be. But, you both know it isn't anything except sex. You both know. You knew. You knew.

We're not who we used to be

We're not who we used to be

We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me

Tom frowned again when he got your voicemail.

Hey there! Can't come to the phone right now, either I'm busy or you pissed me off. Have fun figuring it out! *Beep*

"I almost hung up before the tone," he started, tilting back the rest of the whiskey that was in his glass. He cringed at the taste, coughing lightly. He was never into hard liquor. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm s-so sorry that I didn't realize I loved you earlier. Fuck, this isn't fair." He shook his head, realizing how bad that sounded. "It isn't fair to you, I meant. I-I wish I could go back. I should've stayed the whole day. I should've stayed another night. I should've stayed with you. It was where I wanted to be." He laid back in his bed, groaning. He didn't know why he was leaving the message. He only called to hear your voice, even if it meant you telling him to fuck off. At least it'd be you. "I'm sorry that I miss you. I'm sorry I ruined this. Us. We were so good." He whispered the last part, chuckling to himself. "Please delete this. It's stupid—goodnight. I love you. I know I shouldn't say that, but I didn't say it once and it ruined me. Better late than never." He hung up, putting his phone down and closing his eyes. He was almost asleep until his phone sounded next to him. A text from you.

You: We're not who we used to be. I can't just be on empty anymore. Our ghosts will always live together, and I hope they have a better place together than you and I do.

You: did*. Goodnight.