Hospital Confessions (Tom Holland x Reader)
Your eyes well up with tears trying to process his mother’s words over the phone.
“Y/N? Are you still there?” she asks.
“Yes,” you reply breathily, trying to keep your emotions to yourself, “I’m on my way now. I’ll update you when I get there.”
You hang up the phone and give yourself a minute to cry before gathering yourself up to go to the hospital. Your thoughts are filled with Tom, hoping that he's okay. If only your boss hadn’t called to bother you about the whereabouts of his stupid iPad, then maybe you would have had time to see Tom on set and he wouldn’t have had to take that taxi home. “stupid reckless driver,” you think, “if he hadn’t been on his phone, then maybe he wouldn’t have crashed into the side of Tom’s car.”
When his mother called you, she was frantically panicking over his condition. Being his best friend, you were supposed to be looking out for him. Considering his family was all the way back in London, you were the closest thing to family that he had. Coming to a halt, the voice of your Uber driver snapped you out of your thoughts, and you run inside the hospital hysterically trying to find Tom’s room number.
The receptionist tells you to calm down, and eventually informs you of his room number. As you reached his private hospital room, your hand is shaky reaching for the handle. You don’t know what to expect, but you're terrified to see the condition he's in.
Finally, you enter, quietly closing the door behind you. You tear up immediately at the sight of him. His eyes are closed, bruises along his cheek and all over his arms, while there are also small cuts across his lip, forehead, and hands. One of his arms is in a cast, and you can hear the struggle as he breathes unevenly. You try to keep your sobbing to just above a whisper, but the sight of him is too much to handle and a strained whimper escapes your lips. His forehead scrunches up at the sound and his eyes gently open. It takes a few moments to focus on you, but a rush of happiness spreads through him, knowing that you’re there.
“Y/N?” he murmurs, trying to sit up.
“Tom, you need to rest,” you panic, trying to softly push him back down.
“I’m fine,” he argues, “this is nothing. I’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“What do you mean it’s nothing? You have bruises and a cast and…” you trail off, your words turning back into ugly crying sounds as you grab a seat next to his bed.
“Y/N, please stop crying. I promise, I’m okay. These cuts and bruises don’t feel as bad as they look. See, I can move my arm perfectly fine,” he says, moving his arm that's not in a cast, up and down in demonstration.
You sigh, staying quiet while looking down at your trembling hands in your lap. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, another tear rolling down your face. “I’m your best friend. I should have been there to protect you. I was supposed to meet you on set. I’m sorry.”
“Hey. Shh… Shh…” he lifts the arm that’s not in a cast and extends his hand out to caress your cheek, wiping away your falling tears. “No, don’t blame yourself. Listen to me. None of this is your fault. Hey, look at me.”
When you don’t, he gently uses his index finger and thumb to lift your chin up. He brushes the hair covering your face, behind your ear and cups your face in his warm palm. Your eyes are still red and puffy, lips trembling, as he speaks. “I don’t blame you at all. It was all just a case of wrong timing… and bad driving on the other guy’s part, but the main point is, you’re not at fault. I’m just happy that you’re here now and I’m so thankful that you’re my best friend. Besides, if I really wanted to blame you for anything, it’s that you didn’t bring me sushi, because I’m starving, and you know that sushi’s my favourite.” He flicks your nose, and winks at you, flashing you his charming smirk.
You retaliate with a small smile and a shake of the head, “Oh Tom, I can always count on you to make jokes in such a serious situation.” For a few minutes, you run your fingers smoothly through his wavy locks, slowly convincing yourself that he’s going to be just fine.
“Are you really not going to get me sushi?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence, “I’m seriously hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since I got a break on set.”
You chuckle, “Right away, sir. I wouldn’t want you feeling famished any longer.” You press a light kiss to his cheek before getting up. “Don’t get into any more trouble until I get back.”
“I can’t make any promises,” he shouts back before the door shuts behind you.
Thirty minutes later, you return with a selection of sushi, cold beverages, and a blanket, just in case he gets cold. You’re about to shout out your arrival when you notice that he’s drifted back to sleep. Someone, you’re guessing one of the nurses, has come in to check on him. There’s now an empty cup on the edge of his side table and his bed has been lifted up so that his back and head are slightly in a more upright position. You quietly place the bag of food and beverages down on the side table and sit back down in the chair beside him. You only realize that you’re starting to feel tired when your eyes start to droop. Giving in to your tiredness, you wrap the blanket you brought, around yourself and lean forward, using your arms as a pillow as you rest your head near his arm.
You’re suddenly woken up by the sound of shuffling near you. You lift your head, immediately noticing Tom’s hand restlessly fidgeting with the bedsheets. Then you hear his voice, saying something softly over and over. You hold his hand and lean in closer to hear what he’s saying.
“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N…” he repeats.
All of a sudden, he jolts awake, looking frantically around the room. “Y/N!”
“Hey, I’m right here,” you say, turning his face to look at you.
“Y/N,” he sighs, relieved. He pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close to his chest. “It felt so real. I thought I lost you.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here. It was just a dream,” you say, trying to calm him down. You’re still confused, wondering where all of this worry is coming from.
When he finally lets you go, he presses his forehead against yours, holding the left side of your face. His fingers are shaking, and you can feel his heartbeat gradually slowing down from its racing state. “I thought I’d lost you. Instead of me, it was you who got into the car crash, and I kept trying to call your name, but you wouldn’t wake up and-”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” you repeat over and over to him in a soft whisper. You squeeze his hand that’s holding your face and gently rub your thumb soothingly over his fingers. “Tom, you could never lose me.” You move your head away to smile reassuringly at him, letting go of his hand to once again brush your fingers through his hair. He always feels so happy and relaxed when you do this. He shuts his eyes, just enjoying the moment when he stops you and brings your hand down to hold it in his.
He then looks into your eyes in a way that he has never done before, but it makes your heart flutter. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. If there’s anything all of this has taught me, it’s that I shouldn’t be afraid to tell you how I feel. I love you. I’ve been so scared to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I’m even more scared of the thought of losing you and not even being able to tell you just how much I love you. Y/N, I love you so much, and not just as my best friend. I want to buy you flowers just because I feel like it, and I want you to know how special you are and that you deserve someone who loves you with all their heart. I want to be that someone who shows you that your imperfections are what make you perfect, and I want to tell you and the whole world every day, that I am in love with my best friend.”
You look at him bashfully and reply, “I really hope you’re not just saying this because of all the medications you've been taking, and that you remember all of this when you’re feeling better, because I’m in love with my best friend, too.”