Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines

Broken Hearts And Empty Cups 2

Tom rolled over, an arm extending across his king sized bed as he reached out for someone- for you, but instead, his palm only hit the reasonably crinkled duvet, cold as it was for two in the morning.

The boy was tired, beyond that even and he struggled to even comprehend his alarm clock that lit up the side of his bedroom that he was laying on, making the picture he had of you and him sitting on his nightstand painfully obvious.

He reached an arm over, palm falling limp causing the photo to fall and go crashing to the floor, glass shattering and falling between tuffs of carpet that weren't covered by the dirty clothes that he'd refused to wash in exactly six days. His entire room was beyond a mess, clothing chucked around and his tv remote probably beneath his duvet somewhere.

Tom wasn't surprised to hear the gentle pounding of music coming from downstairs, drunk laughs reaching his bedroom door and somehow slithering between the cracks. He pushed a pillow over his face, muffling a scream as the sleep deprivation and anger began to kick in. The bags beneath his eyes were prominent and he began to fade in and out of consciousness as the minutes ticked by uncomfortably, staring at the plain grey ceiling.

He swung his legs over the bed, being careful not to step on any of the glass shards though he doubted he succeeded in the dark and began to trudge downstairs, sweatpants hanging around his waist as he shivered- bare chest on display. He'd deal with the glass in the morning.

He would admit that he almost tripped on the steps once or twice but it was difficult to see in the dark and with such hazy eyes but he eventually made it, marching straight to the living room that was still trashed from the last party. Despite their efforts to clean up, red solo cups lay scattered around the living room, dents they hadn't yet covered with pictures stuck out like sore thumbs and the boys snacked on food that had probably been left over from two nights ago. Items of clothing lay strewn around on lamps and the end of the couch and Tom felt damned to have joined the messiest frat.

Tom scratches the back of his head, having to adjust to the light and the boys snicker around him, silencing as they noticed him step into the room having to dodge dirty clothes and empty cups.

"Can you guys go to bed already? It's half two." Tom groans, exhaustion caught up in his words.

"Woah dude, join us!" James threw another stale chip into his mouth, not going easy on the dip that was past expiry. "C'mon, it's not that early and It's Saturday tomorrow!"

It was one of the rare Saturdays where one of them hadn't invited every other person on campus round and Tom shakes his head, leaning against the door frame and crosses his arms across his chest. "No thanks."

There's a chorus of boos' as the boys seem dissatisfied with his answer, taking turns to laugh and holler at their frat leader as he taps his left foot impatiently. Tom didn't find any of it amusing, and he hadn't for days now. Almost a full week in fact- since that day in the library. Tom tries to ignore the music that only added to the atmosphere he'd grown to hate, ignoring the urge to chuck the speaker against the nearest wall.

"Why have you gotta be such a spoilsport?" Harrison booms, kicking his feet up on the table. His sock covered feet almost knock the bowl of chips and Tom grimaces.

"All I'm asking is that you go to sleep or at least keep it down-"

James rolls his eyes, the other boys preferring to keep quiet. He was beginning to hit a nerve in Tom. "We said no. Look, you've been different ever since you ended things with that girl- Y/N, but-"

"Don't talk about her!" Tom hisses and even in the dark, the boys can make out his eyes as they harden wildly. The boy clenches his fists, anger flooding his veins. While Tom was previously tired, craving sleep and looking forward to the moment his head could hit the pillow, he was now seeing red.