Tom Holland Blurbs

injured (p.p.)

I was supposed to be up late studying for my physics test later that week, but Netflix had distracted me hours ago. I was currently in the middle of binge watching Supernatural for what was probably the tenth time, which probably wasn't the best choice since it was all about things that go bump in the night and I was watching it at 2 am. I was completely engrossed in the episode playing on my laptop when something slammed into the window of my bedroom, causing me to shriek into the blanket I had wrapped around me.

It was deathly quiet after the initial bang, and I quickly paused the show, waiting with wide eyes to see if anyone was trying to break in and murder me. When I heard nothing, I was just about to reach out and continue my show, but then I caught the sound of a faint tapping noise. I tilted my head a little and surmised it was indeed coming from the direction of my window.

I drew in a sharp breath and chewed on my bottom lip, internally debating on if I should go and see if something was on my fire escape.

This is exactly how people die on Supernatural, I though to myself, pushing myself off the bed and cautiously tiptoeing toward my window. The tapping noise got louder, but the pauses in between taps were getting longer and longer. I stood in front of the window, but looking straight out of it, I could only see the brick building across the alleyway and nothing else, it was too dark.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The pauses were even longer now, causing me to shift back and forth on my feet as I wrapped my arms around myself tightly.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I finally took a steadying breath and stepped right up to the window and looked down. I almost choked when I saw a prone figure in a skin tight suit laying under my window on the metal grating. Squinting a little, I made out the spider symbol on the figure's chest and realized who was tapping on my window.

Spider-Man!

I lunged for the window sill, lifting up the pane of glass hurriedly and climbing out on the fire escape to kneel down next to the local hero. He made no movement of acknowledgement of my presence, his head remaining still and laying limply to the side, the eyes of his suit making it seem like he was staring at me while I was pretty sure he wasn't conscious. His breathing was so shallow I could barely hear it from where I knelt beside him and I furrowed my brow in concern. It was a cold December night in New York and Spider-Man was shivering in the cold, as was I. I needed to get him into the warmth of my apartment.

I reached out tentatively towards his face, debating on what my options were. Deciding quickly that my first option should not be to unmask him, I patted his cheeks soundly, trying to bring him back to consciousness. I lifted his head up carefully and scooted forward so I could place it in my lap and tapping his cheeks again, this time a little rougher. I was rewarded with a groan and Spider-Man shifted against my legs.

"W-what's happening?" his voice sounded so different than I had imagined. When I would watch the news stories on him, all the heroics and the sacrifices he made for the life he chose to life made him seem like he was much older than me. Now, hearing his voice, he actually sounded like he might be younger than I was. The shock of this realization made me forget to respond to what he had asked. He shot away from me, knocking into the stairs that led to the next floor up before groaning heavily and attempting to stand up.

I rushed to my feet with my hands outstretched as if I was going to stop him. He pulled himself up slowly, favoring his right leg and side, as well as his left arm, where I could see a dark red blood stain. He attempted to wave me off, but when he almost face planted back to the ground, I stepped in under his shoulder and did my best to support him.