Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines

Falling, Falling, Gone | P.P

Summary: You've been going through things causing you to shut yourself off and Peters worried sick so he shows up, wanting to know what's been happening.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Sadness, like a lot but a happy ending (I think, my opinion is distorted) :) I don't know if you guys can tell but I poured my heart into this.

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Peter: It's really late and you're probably asleep but I thought I'd text and remind you that I love you

Peter: Just in case you needed it

Peter: Ya know

Peter: Okay gn

You looked through the texts from last night, each of them different in their own way but they all held one thing. Love. And that left you feeling one thing. Guilt. They were sent between eleven twenty-nine pm and eleven thirty-three pm and you read each of them the second they came through, staring at your phone with squinted eyes and an aching heart. I mean, you could go on.

Your eyes weren't only squinted but in fact, filled with unshed tears, cheeks blotchy and unattractively puffy after the last hour and a half and your hair was the definition of a birds nest. Of course, not literally- don't look that up on the urban dictionary because the results are awfully shocking- you had time to check that at exactly four fifty-eight.

Outside, children screamed in both joy and pain as they played jump rope, over the moon when they made it across and feeling only the lowest of lows when their foot got caught and they end up hitting the concrete with a painful slap. Cars drove past, some going above and beyond the speed limit and some barely hitting it and others tooted in pure agony because god, Sunday morning traffic was bad enough as it was. The world was spinning full circle, sun shining on possibly the hottest day you'd had this year.

And yet, no one seemed to notice you. You who lay in your bed staring at the overly bright screen with an aching heart and sobs that were begging to erupt from the very back of your throat, chest cracking open from the inside out like a windshield that'd been struck with one too many stones. You that felt somewhere, deep down wanted the world to just stop for you so that you could cry all you wanted and not have to go to school or even face your boyfriend that was probably worried sick.

You wanted him, Peter that was. You wanted him to come in through the side window and tug the mask off, slip into your bed and wrap an arm around your waist. You wanted him to whisper sweet nothings and lull you into a long-awaited, deep sleep but you couldn't even answer his texts. Maybe he was angry at you right now.

Peter deserved a text back at the very least, he deserved your reassurance and all of the heart emojis in the world and despite every single nerve screaming at you to just do it- you simply place the phone down beside the pillow. You felt nothing- Numb.

God, all these You's. The thought was back. Selfish. You sounded so selfish but then again maybe the lack of sleep was getting to you, filling your head with sick and twisted lies. You were falling down a rabbit hole. Falling, falling... fallin-.

Lack of sleep was only the beginning of your problems though. Peter Parker- not that he was a problem, no, in fact, he was quite the opposite, was sitting at home staring at his phone with a blank face. The 'Read' sign practically haunting him, sending his mind spiraling into a pool of self-doubt and worry. His clothed foot tapped against the wooden flooring as he chewed on his index finger unknowingly.

You always told him you loved him, whether you were happy or sad or angry or anxious. Your love beat down the wall of every emotion fought against all odds but for four days now- four agonizingly long days you hadn't been able to say the words back, barely even gaining the courage to type anything. Just something and Peter was going out of his mind despite Karen's threats that if his heartbeat got any faster, she'd have to call Mr. Stark.