Tom Holland is a Liar: T.H x Reader

Chapter 2

'Sweetheart' he used to call me that at first it was sweet-it was simple a nick name first used in love but soon turned into a name undermining me, making my skin crawl. I hated it, I hated his names for me, he didn't deserve a special name he didn't deserve my conversation he didn't even deserve my friendship.

I feel my jaw tighten, my muscles grew sore just at the sight of him and his scent-sour. The good sour. He still smelt the same. I wanted to run but it seems at the moment I was without my car immediately my impulses tell me to look to Harrison though he's no help. Harrison can sense the tension-but he didn't care, he always wanted us to be friends again. Like some sort of trio, the three of us as a trio-it could make me barf.

Tom smirks but even I know the steel boy is as frightened as I am,"hey sweetheart," he snares-sick, he made me sick.

I grit under my teeth,"Asshole," mulling curses under my breath as I push past his broad physique. As I walk past them I can hear the two giggling like teen girls after watching their favourite star they giggle at my actions. Immature, Tom was always so immature.

"somebody's bitter today," I overhear the brunette snicker to Harrison though I say overhear I knew he wanted me to hear, he purposely talks his insults loud- he wanted me to hear him degrade me.

I hiss to myself, "Somebody's ego is too big," I say sternly to the boys who have caught up to me. Harrison laughs, he thinks this is banter when in reality I wouldn't even tolerate him as a joke, Tom isn't a joke just a mess.

"Okay, okay everyone calm down," Harrison says in wish for a dire cooling in his kitchen he was almost like a buffer, the wall between Tom and I so that neither of us lose our heads.

Tom raised his hands in some goofy show of innocence,"sorry, sorry it was just a joke."

"Jokes are meant to be funny," I reply. He didn't like that, his face went square. I enjoyed seeing the light from his eyes disappear, I enjoyed seeing his smile fade, I enjoyed his unhappiness-his loneliness and most of all his restlessness.

He spits a few words in combat,"humour is subjective."

Harrison doesn't know what to do, I feel bad but I really don't. Harrison made the choice to hang around such an incompetent ferret like Tom, now Harrison must deal with our bickering. Our swarms of grumpy attitudes clouding his kitchen, I took a few steps back from Tom in caution. His eyes dart me down, his cold dark brown eyes like the darkest-richest chocolate. His gaze was heavy like a weight on me almost piercing me, I couldn't figure out the look in his eye. Was he as angry as I was? I didn't think so, he didn't seem angry yet I couldn't place what flashed on his face.

"Maybe we should watch a movie? Y/n you like movies yeah? Tom? Movie?" Harrison tries desperately to get us to settle, I did like movies. But Tom always said he liked them more-he didn't. I hated watching movies with Tom, he was too much during a film. He stars in a couple movies and all of a sudden he thinks he knows the best way every movie should be or how much better a movie would be if he was in it. Tom thought he was the best, I wasn't even sure if the boy could ever stay quiet in his life. But I did like movies, so I agreed.

So did Tom. Harrison gathered us in his bedroom to watch some film on his laptop, the three of us all spread on his bed of course Harrison between Tom and I. Fair enough, he knew best then to put us next to each other I suppose like this he is used as a real buffer between us.

I try my best to focus on the movie at hand, it was weird-Tom was quiet. Suspicious of him to remain silent during a movie, very unlike him I think. He was surprising, the boy of surprises. Not always good surprises yet this one, this one was. At least I thought so before I hear Tom mutter a comment,"that was a horrible performance," he grimaces in a knowing manner. As if he could know better than a real trained actor, I say real this time because Tom is no real actor merely no real man.

"Why don't you do better then," I utter lowly not even for anyone to hear yet it seemed as I came off sarcastic anyway.

Tom states,"I can."

I hated his high life and stupid, stupid mindset. He believes everything that the people feed to him, how could he ever be so full of himself? How could he ever be so foolish?

As the movie ended Harrison had suggested an early lunch, he's quite the whiz in the kitchen. Always boasting about his own cooking techniques, Harrison learnt most of his kitchen skills from the internet yet I couldn't deny his delicious pancakes. The way they were fluffy and soft, he used to burn them but he got better at it-much better. Harrison had even got training from none other than a Holland, not Tom of course. Tom is rather useless behind a stove but his younger brother happened to be a natural at the art of cuisine. I don't hold anything against the family of the Holland's, in fact I've grown rather fond of the charm between the twins Harry and Sam; Paddy the youngest of the group also one to be gentleman. If only these family traits rubbed off on the eldest of the family, Tom was only charming when he had to be. That meant charm in exchange for goods, pleasure, worth. He only does in order to have something done in return. So no, he never cooked, he never charmed either.

At the table we sit across from each other. Tom and I waiting patiently until Harrison was finished.

I was staring and he knew it,"hello," he says rather obnoxiously to me.

"hello"

He smiles a grim smile in order to seek me out, to seek out my weakness,"Haven't seen you in while. You miss me?"

Yes-no, no. I don't miss him. Not at all.

"No. I never miss," it slipped off my tongue, I tried dearly to sound cool. I don't think I did.

He fiddles with his expensive wristwatch, black leather and pure silver I was sure lined the clock face. It would've paired amazing with his sharp grey suit. He would've looked great. I start thinking of the pairing not specifically the watch and suit but more Tom in the watch and suit. He did know how to wear a suit, he had always looked better than I did.

"What are you y/n? Who even are you anymore?" he asks, I wasn't sure with what intent but it was just a question. I couldn't understand if he asked with pain or anger, maybe he himself had some anger placed towards me. Was he upset? I really couldn't tell. It made me curious, he's making me curious.

I didn't answer his question frankly I didn't know how. How does one answer to a stranger who they are. Sure Tom's not a stranger though I feel like I've made him out to be one.

"You wanna' ask me?" he adds.

"Who are you Tom?" I ask him, I figured he already had an answer. I had my guesses of what he might say yet I was ready for the boy to surprise me.

"I'm an asshole," he speaks, good he's self aware,"And a liar." I knew that. I knew his lies too well. "but I'm still a good person," even he knew his image in my head was tainted, his reassurance of goodness lightened my head. I've begged him to say that in my dreams, I used to beg for him in real life too.

I wasn't sure if I should add on, all I could say was,"show me then."