Peter Parker & Tom Holland Imagines

colors pt.3

I rest my chin on my knees as I watch him. It's difficult. Because as much as I try to listen to his words and follow his story, I'm lost in the emotional battle that rages through my chest. Comfort vs distrust. Affection vs anxiety. Interest vs instinct.

It's been nearly a week of these last night meetings, and each time we know a little more about the other. With each night, I get a little more color and comfort around him. Yet I still can't quite put a label to what I feel for him, except for one thing—interest.

He starts to laugh in the middle of the story, and the sound makes the colors brighten right alongside my mood. It brings my full attention back to him—my superhero soulmate—as he continues, "and so she just starts smacking me with her giant purse thinking I'm a mugger or something—me, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman!"

I place a still bandaged hand over my mouth to stifle my own bubbling laughter. "Maybe she was thrown off by the spandex? Not that I'm complaining though." I tease with a shy grin, still perpetually nervous at the new territory of relationships and flirting in general.

"Don't laugh! I think she left bruises," he retorts through the laughter, and his voice goes quiet as he whispers, "and you can't deny you like the suit."

I meet his gaze as best as I can through the lenses of his mask and shrug. "It's okay, I guess. I'm just more interested in the guy underneath, whoever he may be."

A charged silence settles between us. It's a topic we've never quite discussed yet—his identity. "I don't know," he finally mumbles and avoids my eyes. "You might not like who you find when you get to know him outside the suit."

I let out a sigh and incredulously shake my head at him as I try to piece together my words. Without a thought or hesitation, I move next to him and gently rest a hand on his cheek. "Well, suit or no suit, I kind of like the guy I've gotten to know so far."

He lets out a heavy sigh, and I prepare myself for whatever he's about to say. Sometimes I wonder if he's just here to voice my own doubts back to me. "Sorry, I guess I'm just nervous."

"And you think I'm not?" I reply with a nervous laugh, "I mean, I'm new to all of this. Not to mention everyone I know has already met their soulmates, and it just feels like a lot of pressure."

I pause and take a deep breath and avoid looking at him as I'm overcome with pointless embarrassment. He interrupts  before I can say much else, his voice soft and tender as he says, "—and I'm terrified that I'll be the one who doesn't work out. Not all soulmates do, you know? And what if that's us?"

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean it's not worth taking a chance. There's no use at all in being scared of something that may happen without at least taking a chance on it in the first place. We deserve to try this. Especially if it means we have a chance at finding the happiness that comes with your soulmate."

I turn back to look at him and find myself reaching for his gloved hand and interlacing our fingers in a burst of confidence. It's obvious that he's uncertain from the slumped shoulders and body languages cues I've picked up on this past week of meetings. "Look, I'm not gonna pressure you or anything, and I certainly don't want to make you tell me who you are if you aren't ready. So, I want you to know that I'll wait until you are. I'll stick around so we can get to know each other, and hopefully one day, you'll be comfortable enough to tell me one day."

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" He questions with a soft laugh that makes the colors brighten in a way that makes my heart swell.

"Just one thing of the many things you'll come to know and love about me." I smile and lean my head on his shoulder. "And you better get used to it, Spidey, 'cause I'm not going anywhere."

...

Peter's POV

The moment she says those words, I swear, the world grows a bit fuzzy, and I'm thankful that I have gloves on so she can't feel the clamminess she's caused on them or the shaking from the nerves that make them shake especially at her touch.

It's only been a week, and I am way beyond whipped by her. I find it hard to get her out of my head and constantly look forward to when I get to spend time with her like this. Just her and I as we sit in her room and talk about anything and everything we can think of.

Her hand is still bandaged up from where she got burnt last week, and I remind myself not to put too much pressure on it so I won't hurt her. My thumb rubs over the back of her hand as we sit together in complete silence, and I can't help but admire her.

She's radiant and unique in more than just appearance. Yes, she's gorgeous even with her hair in a messy bun and no makeup up on. She's also the kind of person that you only meet once in your life and admire forever. Which is why I'm so terrified to tell her who I am.

What if something happened to her? What if I lost her like May lost Ben? All because I told her who I was and put her in harm's way. It terrifies me to even imagine losing the person supposedly made for me.

I look around for something—anything to help distract me from the thoughts before Y/N can notice the change in my mood. Immediately, my eyes find her many sketches, drawings, and paintings she has hung up and scattered around her room. It's a different experience every time I see them, because I always notice something new from the added colors.

"Since I'm fairly certain it's my turn, I get to ask you a question that I have in mind. How did you become an artist if you can't—you know—see colors?" I ask her as I spot her open sketchbook with today's fresh ideas hastily scrawled down in the blue pencil she's started using constantly since we met. I remember how she told me it was going to be her favorite because it was the one she saw first.

Something in her changes the moment the words leave my lips, and she shrugs as she almost barely squeezes my hand. "I don't really know. It's just how it always was. I would draw stuff because it made me happy. So I kept doing it despite the obvious obstacle."

There's a blunt tone in her voice that tells me not to push it any further. So, I don't. I let her be and wonder if it's something that maybe she'll tell me later. "My turn, Spidey." She continues with forced excitement to her voice

I only halfway listen and answer her questions as we continue on for the rest of the night until I have to leave so she can sleep for her grand return to school tomorrow. She props open the window and gives me that soft smile she gave me the first time we met—the same one that makes me freeze. "Goodnight, soulmate."

The nickname makes me stop. It's a common thing between us now, but I can't get over it. She—Y/N Delmar, the most beautiful girl I've ever met, is my soulmate. "Sleep well, soulmate." I reply with a beaming smile that she can't see beneath the mask before I climb out the window and head home. All the while, my heart is racing with lingering nerves, and a stupid smile is plastered on my face.

I climb back into my room and change out of my suit like always. All the while I keep getting the same feeling—the same urge to tell her the truth. I grab my phone and open up her contact that she put in a few days ago. "Hey, soulmate. I don't really know how to say this, but I want to meet." I type out, but before I can get enough nerve to send it, I delete the whole thing. Maybe another day. I tell myself.