𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 | Tom Holland

20

Toms POV:

3.37am

"Tom!" I open my eyes and see Y/N hovering above me. It takes me a moment to realise where I am, "Tom, are you okay?" she asks, her voice full of worry. Her hand glides through my hair and now I realise how much I'm sweating. 

"I'm fine" I mumble, my throat is sore. 

"Are you sure Tommy?" I nod and sigh deeply, "I just had a nightmare that's all" I say, "do you want some water?" Y/N asks and before I can respond she got out of bed. "I'll go get you some water."

She walks into the bathroom and returns a few seconds later with a glass in her hands. I sit up and take the glass from her. Y/N sits down on the bed and watches me as I take a sip.

I haven't had this dream in years.

I hadn't thought about it until Y/N asked. "Tommy you're shivering" Y/N says and lays her hand on my forehead. "You don't feel hot, so you don't have fever", I look down and see wet stains on the bed covers. My hands are shaking and the water splashes over the edge of the cup.

Y/N takes the cup from me and places it on her nightstand. My heart is still racing in my chest.  "What was your dream about?" Y/N asks, her hand running through my wet hair.

"I should take a shower," I mumble, avoiding her question. I can't talk about it. Not now.  "Tom don't do this," She says when I get out of bed. She grabs my hand. "Please don't shut me out."

"I'm not" I say, more harshly than I intended, "look, it was just a dream." I pull my hand out of her grip and walk towards the bathroom.

She doesn't stop me. 

———

Y/N POV:

I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. It's been a few minutes since he's been in there and he has only just turned on the shower now. I'm worried about him. He won't talk to me. He's been on and off since he briefly told me about his parents and siblings.

He made me promise not to leave him and to not shut him out, but that's exactly what he's doing right now. He's shutting me out. I thought I made it clear I'm here for him and I won't leave him. 

I sigh and bite my lip as I look at the bathroom door. The wood isn't that thick, but it feels like there is a stone wall between Tom and I. And I don't know how to break it down.

Should I go to him? 

Should I give him space? 

I close my eyes for a moment and try to think. I don't know what's going on in Toms head and it's killing me. I don't know what to do, what to say. I want to help him. I want to hold him, kiss him, and tell him everything is okay, or will be okay. 

When I hear the sound of the creaking door that opens I look up and see Tom walking in the room. There's a towel wrapped around his hips. His body is covered in water drops from the shower he just took. His hair is wet and lies flat on his head, a few strands covering his eyes. He still looks like an absolute god, even when his eyes are red and swollen. 

I don't say anything when he walks over to the dresser and opens the first drawer. He grabs one of his clean boxers and the towel drops on the floor, exposing his naked body. He pulls his boxers up his legs, until they're covering his butt. Water stains are covering his black boxers, but he doesn't seem to care. Tom grabs the towel from the floor and walks back into the bathroom. 

I want to talk to him, but I don't know what to say. When he comes back he looks tired, exhausted even. He crawls back into bed and I turn around to look at him, my eyes begging him to say something, anything. But he doesn't. He rolls on his side, his back facing me. 

I bite my lip, unsure what to do.

What does he want me to do?

Should I comfort him?

At these times, I hate it that I don't know him that well. It makes me realise we don't know each other that long to know these things. I lie down next to him and stare at him for a few seconds, hoping he can feel my gaze pricking in his back. When he finally turns around to face me I can't help but feel relieved. I know he won't speak to me, but at least this is something. 

Carefully I let my fingertips touch his forehead, brushing the hairs out of his face. He lets me and I'm grateful for that. I keep touching him, his face, his lips, his neck, his chest. Afraid that if I stop, he'll shut me out completely. Tom closed his eyes, his muscles start to relax under my touch. My nails slightly trace up and down his arms and chest. I press a small kiss on his chest and when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him I can't hide a smile.

My face is snuggled up in his neck and the scent of my vanilla body wash fills my nose. Toms hands slide underneath his shirt that I'm wearing. His hands feel warmth on my skin and I completely relax when he starts tracing my spine. His fingers go up and down, over and over again until they suddenly stop. Slowly I look up to find a sleeping Tom next to me.