Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

Forgotten

You contemplated ignoring his call. After all, that's been exactly what he's been doing whenever you call him. It was almost as if he'd forgotten about you despite how much you both would deny it. But you hadn't forgotten about him. And you were worried about him, curious as to why he hadn't spoken to you in so long.

Tom was busy with work, you understood that, but it only took a few seconds to type up a text and press send. Surely he would have at least had the time to have sent you a text, right? He could have even replied to one of the many that you had sent him to check in on how he was doing. But he didn't and you were stuck waiting for replies that never came.

It hurt a lot that he hadn't contacted you in weeks. Tom was having the time of his life and you understood that, knowing that filming these movies and promoting them is what made him happy. However, that didn't stop you from feeling upset that you hadn't heard his voice in over a month, that you had no idea what he was doing with his castmates.

And it wasn't as if Tom didn't have the time to go out with his friends, no. You could see on his Instagram that he was out and about, living his work-life happily without you. If he could post these photos to Instagram, he could at least text you back.

After the phone had stopped ringing, you took a minute and just stared at it. Why was Tom calling you all of a sudden? Why is he finally making an effort to contact you now? It was weird, you had to admit, but you found yourself calling him back without thinking twice about it. There were only two rings before he picked up.

"Hey baby," Tom hiccuped. "I have been having so much-" Another hiccup. "-so much fun."

You sighed, rolling your eyes and ignoring the swirl of emotions in your belly. Tom was drunk, his words sloppy and his voice a mixture of low and high pitches.

You huffed out a fake laugh, ignoring him as he slurred out something unintelligible. "I bet you have. Call me back when you're sober. Or don't. I don't care anymore."

That was a lie. You did care. Nonetheless, you hung up on him, not bothering to speak to him unless he was sober. Tom probably wouldn't even remember he had called you so you didn't bother yourself with expecting a call back from him any time soon.

You waited through the night, sleeping restlessly. The empty spot on the bed beside you seemed to be teasing you about the man that hadn't made the effort to call the one person he had said he loved the most. You pushed yourself out of the bed, willing yourself to snap out of this daze and start your day.

At one point, you had begun to wonder if he'd even come home or not. Maybe he'd forgotten where he'd lived too.

Shaking your head in a failed attempt to rid yourself of such thoughts. You tried getting on with the rest of your day, but your mind kept finding its way back to Tom and his unlikely call back. Hours later, an empty dinner plate sat on the coffee table as you mindlessly watched whatever was playing on the TV.

You weren't going to lie. You did want him to call back, you did want to talk to him, sort things out. Of course, you did; you loved him. Every half hour you found yourself glancing over at your phone until it actually started ringing, your heart rate picking up as you stumbled to pick it up.

When you saw Tom's name on the caller ID, you weren't exactly sure how you should feel. Happy? Angry? Upset? Nervous? You accepted the call with no idea how you would speak to him.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, you're not."

"I am," Tom muttered. "I didn't mean to call you while I was drunk."