Tom Holland Blurbs

how long (t.h.)

We were sitting on the couch watching a movie when Tom's phone rang. And kept ringing. I was curled up between his legs, leaning back against his chest while we enjoyed a quiet evening in. I craned my neck up to look at my boyfriend of four years and discovered he had dozed off while Incredibles 2 played on our TV. His arms were loosely wrapped around me and I smiled because I knew he was exhausted from his insane filming schedule, but he had insisted on staying up with me to watch whatever movie I wanted since he was only home for a week.

My smile dropped when his phone sent the call to voicemail and immediately lit back up with another call. I carefully moved Tom's arms off of me to try and grab his cell phone from the coffee table and silence it before it woke him up. The sudden weight off his chest must have startled him, because when I turned back to curl against him again, tired brown eyes blinked at me in the dim light of the living room.

"Wassa matter?" Tom mumbled blearily, moving to sit up against the arm of our dark overstuffed sofa. His hand raked through his hair that was currently cut short for filming. He looked so tired it made my heart hurt, but I knew I couldn't say much because he loved acting more than anything. All I could do was take care of him when I could and remind him to take care of himself. I smiled at him as I climbed back in between his legs that were now bent at the knees as he leaned back and tried to wake up.

"Your phone was ringing," I told him, "I didn't want it to wake you up."

"Thanks, darling. Should probably see, uh, see who it was," Tom started rubbing his temples, like he did when he had a migraine. He didn't get them often, but when he did it usually meant he was in bed the rest of the day. After being upside down so much when he played Spider-Man, he had them more frequently, especially when he was stressed or overworking himself. Tom took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly before opening them and reaching over to the coffee table to grab his phone, unlocking it and looking through what he had missed.

I drew my bottom lip into my mouth, worrying on it as I fought with myself about asking him to take a break just for tonight. My worry about him won out and I reached out, placing my hand on his forearm as he raised his phone to his ear, his tired gaze turned to me in question.

"Does your head hurt?" I studied him closely and I could see the tight lines on his face and I noticed that when he turned towards me, the light from the lamp behind me made him wince in pain. All these signs pointed to an oncoming migraine, the issue now was getting Tom to admit that's what was happening and not dig in his heels with me.

"'M fine, it's jus' a headache," he mumbled in my direction before whoever he was calling picked up the phone. Tom got to his feet and began to make his way down the hall, I presumed to our room and I heard his voice growing softer as he apologized to his agent on the phone about missing his call earlier. I stood slowly and stretched, turning the TV off and making sure the front door to our apartment was locked before making my way to the kitchen. I was trying to give Tom space on the phone, but I knew he needed to take his migraine pills before he tried to sleep. I opened up the cabinet in the kitchen that we kept the medicine in and grabbed the right bottle before grabbing him a water bottle from the fridge and following Tom down the hall.

When I slipped into out room, it was almost totally dark, a crack of light from the en suite bathroom keeping the room from being pitch black. I thought Tom was in the bathroom until I heard his voice coming from the bed, still talking with his agent on the phone. I made my way to the bathroom and cracked the door slightly, allowing me to see much better and I could see Tom lying on our bed, halfway down the mattress with his feet on the carpeted floor, his phone pressed to his ear. He grimaced when I cracked the door, raising his free hand to shield his eyes from the light.