Tom Holland Blurbs

you (p.p.)

"Pete? You home?" I called into his apartment as I let myself in. "Peter?"

I walked back to his bedroom, picking up dirty clothes that had been tossed carelessly on the floor as I went. I rolled my eyes affectionately as I went, knowing that Peter had probably had some epiphany in the middle of laundry day and had left his apartment like this because he was too excited to get to working on whatever he had figured out. I had read somewhere that most true geniuses tended to be extremely messy when it came to their living spaces and Peter was no exception. If I didn't make a point of stopping by at least three or four times a week, my boyfriend would have starved to death or been suffocated under a pile of dirty socks a long time ago.

"You are lucky I love you, Peter Parker," I muttered to myself, finally getting a path clear enough for me to actually open his bedroom door. Peter was curled into a small ball in the corner of his bed, papers and his laptop and a tablet strewn around him and his Spider-Man suit laying on top of a pile of clothes on the floor by his bed. I took a deep, calming breath, relieved my boyfriend was just sleeping and that was enough of an explanation as to why he hadn't answered my texts or calls, not because he was gravely injured. I was also trying to calm myself down because I felt guilty for being frustrated with always coming second to Spider-Man.

I moved around the bed to where Peter was curled on his side, his long dark curls that were in desperate need of a trim hanging over his sleeping face as he dozed. I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face softly, frowning when Peter started whimpering in his sleep, a horrible expression coming over his face, one of fear, frustration and anger. He shot up in a blind panic, hands narrowly missing coming in contact with my face as he brought them up in front of him as if to protect himself from an oncoming attack. His chest was heaving, sweat coating his forehead and neck.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no-" Peter's voice was frantic and terrified.

"Peter, I'm right here," I spoke up, commanding his attention as I grabbed his hands. "I'm okay, it was a nightmare, I'm fine."

Peter looked at me with a sadness I had never seen before. Like his heart was breaking. I suddenly didn't want him to say anything.

"Let me go get you a glass of water. Are you hu-" I said, moving to release his hands and head to the kitchen, but his grip tightened and he pulled me to sit down on the bed in front of him. Peter didn't pull me close like he normally did, he just loosened his grip on my hands and stared at my smaller ones with intensity, like he was trying to memorize the details of my fingers. He took a deep breath, tilting his head so that his deep brown eyes met mine, letting me see the sadness that was still there. I didn't know how to make it go away.

"Y/N, I think we need to talk," Peter said, his voice came out in the same strangled way he talked for weeks after Uncle Ben died and then again for months after he lost Tony. It was the voice he used when he was trying to be strong for someone else, and tears sprung into my eyes when I realized he was trying to be strong for the both of us. I knew what was coming, I knew how Peter's mind worked and that the one thing he couldn't handle was that his double life meant that he was putting me in danger.

"Pete, don't do this." Because I knew what was coming. I had known for weeks. Peter had been distancing himself and even when he was with me, it was like he was locked in some internal battle. He hadn't truly been in the present with me for months. I thought it was stress from being Spider-Man, I had hoped that's what it was, but now, seeing where this conversation was headed, I knew I had been wrong.

"I think we need to stop seeing each other," Peter whispered. He was crying, but I couldn't hear it because my ears were ringing like my broken heart had made a terrible noise when it shattered. I suddenly realized I had forgotten to breathe and I pulled my hands away from Peter's and wrapped my arms around myself and just tried to breathe. Four years of being together and eight years of knowing each other and Peter was ending it. Air suddenly found my lungs and while it felt like hot, dull knives were stabbing me in the chest, I was able to draw short stuttering breaths.

"Why?" my voice didn't sound like my own anymore. I felt like I was watching the two of us from outside my body. Watching as Peter dragged his hands through his hair and silent tears streamed down his face and as I sat with my arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring off into space with haunted eyes. We were inches away from each other on his bed, but even that distance was insurmountable and I don't think we could have breached it if we tried.

"I put you in danger. You're never going to be safe if I'm in your life and you deserve to be. You deserve so much better than I can ever give you," Peter spoke as if he had rehearsed this down to the last word, but he hadn't practiced enough to erase the pain from his voice, and it shook like a leaf in the wind and almost as hard as his hands as they tugged on the ends of his long curls. Suddenly his shaking hands were grasping at my forearm and tugging my hand in between both of his. I turned towards him, feeling like I was swimming up from the depths of the ocean and every time I thought I was going to break the surface I was met with the grim reality that it was still miles away. I was drowning.

"I can't be the reason you get hurt, Y/N. You are the best person in my life and you have so much good to do in the world. If Spider-Man was ever the reason that you were hurt or... or died, I... you deserve better than that. I've been selfish, staying with you because you make me happy. I keep having nightmares where you die in worse and worse ways," Peter whispered through his tears. I know his mind is made up, but suddenly I am mad at him for crying. I pull my hand away from him and stand up, squaring my shoulders. My tears don't stop, I don't think they will for days, but I am standing and that is enough of a victory for now.

"You don't want me to be hurt because of Spider-Man? Peter, the only person who has hurt me is you. Spider-Man doesn't even factor in to this. You are making this choice, you are breaking my heart, and you don't deserve to be crying right now because you had time to mentally prepare for this. I am hurting because of you," I told him, my voice dull and lifeless, not even having the energy to spit it out in a cruel way to make him hurt the way I was right then.

I turned and walked out of his room, gathering my things from his living room. I was shaking the whole time, so hard I could barely grasp the door knob. I hesitated, hating myself for stopping to listen for Peter's footsteps or a shout of my name to tell me to stop.

I heard nothing but the silence of a messy apartment and the pounding of my heart. A new wave of tears came a few dropped on the back of my hand, which made me suddenly realized was still resting on the door knob. I turned and set my key to Peter's apartment on the table next to the door, right in front of his favorite picture of the two of us at graduation, him picking me up and spinning me around in our caps and gowns, both of us laughing. After the picture he had set me down and kissed me hard. That day was the first time he told me he loved me. I made a garbled noise as my tears suddenly blurred my vision. I had to get out of here.

I twisted the door knob and somehow moved forward into the hallway, almost stumbling because of how hard I was crying. I made it to the elevator and pressed the lobby button, turning around one more time to look at Peter's door. It stayed shut.

The worst thing about it all is that I loved him so much I couldn't blame him. I was crying because I was going to miss him more than I even knew how to comprehend. I was crying because of the shock and because if I tried to bottle it up I would literally explode. But I couldn't hate Peter Parker. I couldn't. It was as simple and as complicated as that. He wanted me safe, and in his mind, losing me was how that happened. I hated how well I understood him, I hated how intertwined our lives were, how I knew him as well as I knew myself. But I didn't hate Peter.

Peter once told me that he was the reason Uncle Ben had died, that a mistake he had made had ultimately led to the events that caused Ben to perish. He never gave me details, but I knew a small part of him died with his uncle and another part had gone when his parents died and more recently another when Tony had sacrificed himself. I knew I was taking a piece of Peter Parker with me as I stood in front of the elevator on his floor. Peter Parker was bleeding pieces, and the people of New York deserved better than a broken hero.

I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around myself, breathed in, then out, and let Peter Parker go, trying to will the piece of him that he had given me back to him. I hoped he found it someday soon and that it helped him do the great things he was meant to do. It would take much too long for me to completely get over him, but I wanted to be happy I got the time with him that I did and not be bitter over the fact that we had ended. It was a privilege to love Peter Parker.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I opened my eyes and stepped inside, looking an absolute mess as I rode down to the lobby. Then, I walked away from the love of my life. I did not look back again.