Piano Man (Tom Holland x reader)

Chapter Six

     The first day I didn't speak. Every thought that I wanted to spew out was held captive in the back of my throat. Tom practically assigned every man to guard me, which was a bit much, considering he had an actual mafia to run. So in the end, only Harrison was with me most of the time.

     We were in the basement working on self defense techniques like usual. I didn't tape up my knuckles or anything so they were quite bruised and I felt okay with it; I was enjoying the pain they gave me. It was similar to when people pinch themselves to make sure they're not dreaming.

      Harrison noticed this little self destructive tick of mine. "Are you trying to hurt yourself on purpose, Y/N?" He asked. I didn't answer, I kept punching, wincing slightly every time I hit the bag. Harrison rolled his eyes and unhooked my bag, so I punched at nothing. I stopped what I was doing and looked at him blankly.

       "You're either going to tape your knuckles or ice them, or punch air. Those are your choices," he crossed his arms, waiting for my answer. I turned around and began punching the air, focusing on my footing rather than the technique itself. Harrison rolled his eyes, "Of course." "I'd rather be doing something right now, Harrison," my voice was quiet and breathy. His eyes grew huge and his attitude shifted to mock surprise, "She speaks! I thought you were beginning to turn into a mute."

     "I thought you'd love the fact that I finally shut up," I said, focusing on the wall in front of me. "I mean I did for a while, but when I asked how you were for the fifth and got no response, it got annoying," he placed his hands on my hips and shifted my position slightly, "You're holding too much tension there. Shift to release it."

      I did as he said, shifting my position every so often. "How am I supposed to answer the question? 'Oh I'm perfectly fine, I only have two days to live but it's all good!'" I argued. "You don't have two days to live, Y/N. You're safe," Harrison tried to reassure me, but I shook my head and started to go a little quicker.

     "I don't believe it, Harrison. I've heard Tom say that way too much. I don't want you saying it too," my breathing was getting heavier and I was growing tired, but I didn't stop. "If Tom's saying it, then it's fucking true. Slow down a bit, get some rest," he tried to put his hand over my arms, but I swatted him away and kept going.

      I switched footing, but I had lost balance and slipped on the floor, landing on my tailbone. As the pain shot through my whole body, I layed on the floor, covering my face and catching my breath. Harrison offered his hand and I took it, groaning as I stood uip. "You might want to ice that," he said and he put an arm around my shoulders and helped me out of the gym.

      The second day I stayed in my room for the better part of it until someone knocked on my door at two in the afternoon. "Go away," I shouted, but apparently they didn't listen. Tom opened the door and entered my room. "I'm pretty sure you just did the opposite of what I said, Tom," I stated.

      He sat on the bed whilst I was in a chair with the Polaroid in my hands. I stared at the photo relentlessly, wondering how Rigsby would've gotten the photo, but also noting the numerous changes I had gone through the three years after the photo was taken. When I was 20, I was in a dark place, and the only way to feel lighter was to be drunk. I wouldn't say I'm a lot better now, but I'm improving and I'm definitely a lot happier sober. Except now of course, I could go for a martini.

      Tom took the photo out of my hand and I protested quietly. "You can't keep staring at this, you'll go mad," he threw the photo in the trash can. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, "I thought you said sanity wasn't necessary, Mr. 'Sanity didn't get me in the position'." "It didn't, but I'm not completely crazy. Despite what you think, I am human, Y/N," he smiled briefly.