Tom Holland is a Liar: T.H x Reader

Chapter 5

I walked through the doors of his into his home. Immediately the air felt warmer but the feeling felt off. It was like going behind enemy lines, as if I was betraying myself. I didn't want to treat myself as a traitor incarcerated by my own mere stupid thoughts but the way I thought of Tom was like committing treason. A felony worthy of jail forever. 

Tom led the way in his coffee stained outfit, I could hear the other boys in the living room we were approaching. I hadn't seen Tom's siblings in a very long time, I was fairly close with his twin brothers....was.  I could overhear their laughs from whatever played on their TV, Harry's soft chuckles and Sam's loud comments it brought me smiles to the last time I was here. When it was Tom and I, when I never could've even thought that Tom would do anything to hurt me, I think back to past me and laugh. I was so fucking stupid. 

Once we went to pass the living room to get to the staircase close by I knew I couldn't hide away my face, they'd recognize me. I also knew once they did I'd need an excuse of why I was really in this house, it couldn't be to help Tom. Tom didn't really need help, I knew that but the last thing I want is for his brothers to think I'm letting Tom play me all over again. 

"Y/N?" I over hear one of them say in almost a confused startle. I was scared to turn. 

I hesitate,"...yes," the words barely pass my lips before I hear more chuckles coming from the two boys. I felt humiliated. Sam's face tainted bright red, his cheeks swelled with laughter-Harry confused yet amused. Think they had a bet on me? 

"What're you doing here?" Harry asks keeping a smirk from parting his lips but it was ever so obvious he wished to laugh at my stupidity. Why was I in this stupid house?

I didn't have an answer, what could I say? How come they didn't question Tom? Was I an easy target? I didn't have an answer, it seemed like that was my cop out for everything. I don't know how to speak may be more accurate, I don't have words or sound or even a lips to say it. I was scared of them. I looked to Tom for some sort of bail but he didn't do anything, I don't know why I even thought he would.

"Tom's a fucking slag that's why I'm here," I say-Sam laughed. That was nice, Tom didn't, that was even better. 

Sam snickers under his breath,"Tom's an ass," I had to agree. I think most who knew knew him knew that Tom was completely full of himself. As if someone replaced his brain with the biggest hot air balloon, he was so fucking dense. Fucking tragedy, looks like his shouldn't be wasted on such a bitch of a human being.

Tom didn't like when the odds were against him, he pulled me upstairs into the bathroom with him. He wasn't angry but more embarrassed, I enjoyed seeing his embarrassment. I wanted him to be on edge-edging. Temptation, it played dirty, it knew fear and weakness even worse it knew that if you dared fall in it would be all your fault, fully, solely your entire fault.

"What exactly do you need help with Tom?" I asked the question uninterested, this was a task never a privilege. 

He smiled in a twisted sickening type way, at least it seemed that way to me,"Just help me darling." He even chuckled with his words, I wasn't his friend. But maybe he thought he was mine. Co-workers perhaps, that seemed fitting-it could be a job. Keeping up with Tom was a job in itself. I liked the term, Tom was nothing more than a co-worker and to be fair I'd be performing my moral obligation and duties to talk to him. Although jobs had pay, there was simply no reward in being with Tom I mean if I wanted to look at him for this long a google search would've sufficed. 

"Help you with what?" I ask.

He answers with a shrug, his shoulders broadened-extended as he moved them. It only added to his allure, I wasn't staring but my eyes never left his neck. The purple-blue veins sprouting up creeping through his pale skin, only visible if you looked hard enough. I believed I was looking too hard. I didn't discipline myself, I didn't stop not even a word in despair or disappointment more rather in sly, I was letting myself peek at him and he didn't even care. 

I had to brush myself off, I was insecure-he didn't belong here, next to me. I didn't belong with him, he was so beautiful and I hated that most about him. His beauty could never fade no matter how shitty he was or however large his ego lied his skin would always be soft, his eyes romantic, his lips cool and neck sweet. No matter how much I wanted him to pity me, it didn't matter how many girls he'd been with he'd have always been with me first and I loved relishing that idea. 

I had to go home. 

"I have to go," I tell in hurry, leaving his washroom keeping my eyes far from his so our gazes wouldn't dare intertwine. I begged him to touch me, I missed his touch more than I wished for my own. I wanted him to pull me towards him, so close I'd smell the peppermint off his cold breath, where his chin would meet my forehead. He didn't pull me, not like in the movies. I left and he stayed-there in the bathroom he watched me go. And I did, I went back in my car screamed into the steering wheel then drove home. 

I did cry. I cried my eyes out. He was torture. I thought about him and someone else before, it's happened obviously but at this moment I couldn't bare it, I wanted him. No one else just me, I craved it. I hated him but I craved it, it was always like that. Like some teenage angst bullshit it had me yearning towards the boy who slept with other girls in a matter to best me. It was sickening, worse than before. I could practically taste my food coming up, why was I worthy of being cheated on? Why wasn't I Tom Holland's standard? Why wasn't I better than him yet? 

This was the day I truly cried out about how much I hated Tom Holland...and he didn't even do anything wrong this time.