𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐞 | t. holland

10.

"Mate, when are you going to tell her?" Harrison laughed. "You're only making this worse by delaying it."

Tom took another sip of beer. "I want to... I do... but she's amazing and I don't want her to see me as something I'm not. She probably will want to date me just for being Spider-Man if I tell her."

"I don't know man." Harrison threw a dart at a target. "She seems pretty solid to me. Besides, even if she wants to keep you around for your Spider-Man gig, the fame, the money..."

"I get it, go on." Tom rolled his eyes.

Harrison smirked. "Well, despite what I said a while ago about how she'll probably never come into my life again, she is here. And she's a smart girl. If you really love her, you'd be honest with her. Tell her your damn name for starters. She'll figure it out eventually." Harrison gave him an uncharacteristically stern look. "Do you really want her to find out on her own?" 

Tom sighed. "I dunno. She was just so perfect. But maybe Zendaya was right. Maybe I should just tell her."

"Hello?" Harrison scoffed. "She didn't say that—I did!" 

Tom didn't answer. 

"You've been lying to her for four months," said Harrison, grouchily. "I'm just saying, you'll regret it if you don't tell her." 

Tom looked lost for what to say, so he took another swig of beer.

Harrison shook his head. "I'm not going to answer to Hank for much longer, mate." 

Again, Tom didn't respond. He didn't know what to do. 

~~~

You were excited for tonight. Peter was taking you out to a really nice place for dinner.

The red dress that was normally forgotten in the back of your closet was pulled out and worn by you. The fabric hugged your curves nicely. Even though you had trouble accepting genuine compliments, you half hoped Peter would say something nice about you tonight.

At promptly seven o'clock, Peter's car pulled into your parents' driveway.

You were staying with your parents over spring break, so when you made your way down the stairs when the doorbell rang, your mother was a bucket of tears.

"Mom..." you said exasperatedly. "It's just a date."

Your mom flung her arms around you. "It's wonderful!"

"Well, well, we'll..." your Dad stepped into the room.

"Hi Dad." You smiled.

"What a wonderful dress. Will we get to meet the boy who got the lucky chance to take our daughter on a date?"

"Ha, ha," you played. "He's here right now waiting outside the door."

You grabbed your shoes and opened the front door.

Peter stood there in a loose button-up and slacks. He looked amazing. "Hey," he said.

You almost melted.

"Oh... what a blessed day," your mom cried in the background.

Peter held back a laugh. "Uh, hi there."

"Mom, Dad," you rolled your eyes with a smile. "This is Peter." You quickly introduced them and then made your escape.

"Well," Peter started the car. "That was eventful."

"Tell me about it," you said, putting your heels on. "I can't imagine what they'll do the guy who asks to marry me.

Peter laughed and the two of you drove to the restaurant.

The whole night was perfect. The only thing you could have commented on was Peter's habit of tapping his foot. To you, he seemed highly anxious. 

"Peter?" you asked. "You okay?"

He stopped tapping. "Uh, yeah...."

You went back to your food.

"Listen, Y/N," he pushed his pasta around on his plate. "I uh... what if..."

He seemed to be struggling for the right thing to say.

You set your fork down. Normally he was the one edging you on, helping you talk about your problems. Everything was backwards.

You shifted your chair closer to his and then took his hand under the table.

You thought this might calm him, but on the contrary, he seemed to stiffen at your touch.

"Pete..?" You said.

He opened his mouth, but at that moment a loud alarm began to blare.

Peter shot out of his seat, his grip tightening on your hand.

The sprinklers on the ceiling erupted and water sprayed everywhere.

Peter took you by the waist and helped you weave through the crazy crowd to the emergency exit.

Your hair was sopping wet and you were afraid you would slip.

Finally Peter got the two of you out to the grass by the side of the restaurant.

Then, with a BOOM from behind that made you flinch, the back of the building exploded with fire and smoke. 

You screamed. So did many others. 

The kitchen seemed to be on fire.

Fire trucks were whirring in the distance. Someone yelled, "My dad! My father! He was in the bathroom!"

Peter looked around. A woman was crying hysterically. Someone was holding her back.

A man next to her was taking his wet coat off and draping it over his head as if to shield him.

Peter let go of you and took his jacket off too.

"No..." you stood up on the grass. "Peter—he's an old man—there will be fire trucks here soon—you can't go—"

But Peter wasn't listening. You guessed one of the reasons you thought you might love him was apparent responsibility he felt to be a hero. It seemed to be in his blood.

He quickly took your face in his hands and kissed you. Then, before you could even try to hold him longer to distract him, he was gone.

You tried to run after him but your heels sank into the mud and you fell.

You looked up, mascara running down your face.

"Peter..." you whispered.

Then, with a shock of sound and a flash of heat and light, the entire building exploded.