tom holland imagines

the tide

Music and chatter from the people in the packed bar pounded in Tom's ears, almost drowning out his own thoughts. Almost. That was the key word. He wanted to ignore his thoughts, knowing that dwelling on them wouldn't be any help, that they were only going to suffocate him, but he couldn't. One of his hands sat on the wooden bar top, fingers tracing absentminded circles against the grain. The other held his beer which was barely half empty, and only his first of the night. In all honesty, he didn't want to be here in this stuffy bar, but it was tradition. A tradition his friends refused to let die. Tom was leaving in the morning for filming his next big movie, and every time he left, his brothers and closest friends gathered to have one more night of fun. It was all starting to get a bit much, though - he was gone far more often than he was home. Gone from you more than he ever wanted to be.

Though he was living his dream, it didn't feel right. He was always leaving, and never felt like he got comfortable enough where he was. Even when he was home for a significant amount of time, he never felt at home. There was always the lingering feeling of unrest, of being pulled away again, knowing that he'd never be able to stay for too long. It was as if he was standing in the ocean, the waves crashing into him. And then, as soon as it seemed like it had all calmed, the tide violently swept him away. Away from you, away from home, away from where he wanted to be.

Tom wasn't oblivious to how hard it was on you. He knew. It was in the way you sounded on the phone, exhausted and heavy-hearted, up early in the morning so the two of you could talk before he went to bed. It was clear when you answered his facetime calls, eyes puffy and sniffling as if you'd just been crying. Even your texts to him - the ones gushing about how much you loved and missed him - read to him like heartache and distress. Someone else could treat you better, he was sure of that.

His eyes drifted up from the counter as he heard his name being called from what seemed to be a far-off place. Harry, one of his younger brothers, was trying to tell him a story, but it was all background noise. Tom nodded along as if he was listening, but his mind was still elsewhere. He'd caught sight of you standing next to his best friend, Harrison, leaning into him and laughing as he told you some stupid joke. The sight made his heart clench, but not in a good way, like it had the first time he'd introduced the two of you to each other and saw that you were going to get along. This time, it was followed by a sharp pang of guilt and fear. Tom knew that neither of you would ever do that, but it was hard not to think that someone like Harrison could be better for you. Someone who could be there for you more often that he could. Still, the feeling twisted up his insides, an overwhelming urge to cry caught in his throat and pricked his eyes, threatening to spill over his lashes.

Earlier in the evening, Tom's arm had been wrapped around your waist as you stood next to his chair, leaning into his side. You weren't exactly thrilled with tonight's plans, but you weren't about to say that. His friends loved this tradition they'd come up with, and it seemed like Tom did too, so you weren't going to get in the way - you weren't the only important person in his life. Leaning against his side, you nudged your nose into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss there. You would've been content to stay like that, but you knew that if you were going to get through the night (and the next morning, for that matter) that you'd need at least one more drink. After giving Tom one last kiss, you waltzed off in search of something new to down, and to keep the thoughts of Tom leaving out of your mind.

A new drink in your hand, Harrison managed to catch your attention - effectively keeping you away from Tom's side, unintentionally, of course - with some new story that he just needed to tell you. As much as you wanted to get back to Tom, Harrison really was funny, and honestly was one of your best friends. You were lucky that you got along so well with your boyfriend's best friend. You'd gotten along from the start, but after the first time Tom had left to go shoot a new movie, it felt like Harrison was really the only one you could turn to, like he was the only one who really understood what it was like. Somehow, Harrison had become one of your best friends, someone you could always turn to.