𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈 - "𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠"
Word count: 3.9k
Chapter I // Read this chapter on Wattpad.
tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder... (probably not suitable for minors)
genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama
Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?
A/n: Honestly I could have written 10k on this chapter. And whatever you think is going to happen next isn't. Trust me! I love this story so much and it's only the beginning. Pls let me know what you think of it!
Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)
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Tom and his brother sit in the dark on his dirty sofa – the curtains are preventing the sun from coming in. They’re both embarrassed about the situation, they’ve never had this conversation before, but they can’t keep avoiding it anymore.
Tom curls his fingers together in quick movements, looking down at his shaky legs. His brother is looking at him in the eyes, trying to pierce the barrier he’s constructed over the years that pushes him away. Tom keeps his head down. He’s always considered Harry, and he’s ashamed not to be a role model anymore; his sibling now understands something in him is off, and it terrifies him. The room is so quiet Tom can only hear his lungs struggling to catch the small quantity of air he’s able to inhale.
Harry peers down at his sibling’s burnt arm and raises his right brow. Tom immediately notices and positions it behind his back to hide it.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Harry asks, breaking the dense and ponderous silence. “I don’t care about this GQ interview – you’re my brother, I can’t let you be like this” he adds forcing himself to remain calm. But his nerves are fragile, he’s on edge. He can’t keep watching his brother acting with such a self-destructive behaviour. It’s only been a couple of years he’s lived on his own, out of the family house, and he’s lost so much weight. His dull skin emphasises his hollow cheeks and dark circles; he’s even aging with prematurity, and the wrinkles around his eyes are one example.
Makeup displays another reality during the day, a false image. And his tendency to wear oversized clothes is a proof he’s aware of his physical deterioration. But if it really was a problem, people would notice, right?
Harry is worried for his brother but has never said anything so far. He’s always thought it was just a phase and that he’d get through it in just a matter of time. He now comes to the realisation it might be too late. It doesn’t just happen to other people.
“Fuck, Tom!” he bursts out in anger and gets up, walks towards him, and falls on his knees. “Will you tell me what the fuck’s happened to you?”
Tom keeps avoiding his gaze and turns his head to the side. His lips are sealed, shaking; he wants to tell him the truth but he’s apprehensive of his possible reactions. His tired eyes are blinking, and tears are streaming down his face. He wipes them off as soon as he feels the wet pearls of sad feelings caressing his dry skin.
Harry’s crying as well, in silence. He’s crying for help; he wants his brother to be healthy again. He wants to see him laughing and smiling and singing all the time like he used to; it’s been months since it last happened.
The Tom he used to know is disappearing and is being replaced by a soulless body. A body that’s ravaged by trivial matters, draining his life out.
“I . . . I fucked up” Tom’s voice quavers with pain. He finally glances at his brother and loses control. His face dramatically shifts. As the tears are flooding, he brings his hands to his temples and envelops his face with his crippled fingers. “I really did!” And he heavily falls on the floor. He grabs both his legs in a foetal position and sobs, eaten up with guilt. Harry takes his sadness in stride and strokes his brother’s hair with patience waiting for him to give details about the situation.
“I nearly killed a woman last night” Tom whimpers. “I wanted to go to Pryzm, and she came out of nowhere, she crashed against my car . . . I didn’t know what to do!”
“God, Tom—where is she?!”
Tom doesn’t reply. He is too afflicted by his traumatic experience. The tiredness, the pressure, the shame, and the depression will get the last of him.
“Let’s go to the hospital” Harry says as he gets up and reaches out to Tom to help him stand on his feet.
Tom nods and stays on the ground. He’d rather cry to death than face what he’s done to her.
“You didn’t leave her dead, did you?”
“I—I had no other choice—”
“YOU ALWAYS HAVE THE CHOICE!” Harry angrily shouts at Tom. He clenches his fist with rage and groans his exasperation out. His boiling blood is turning his face red, and his eyes darken as they meet Tom’s.
He’s never seen his brother this angry before and it’s horrifying.
A soft chill freezes his bones making it impossible for him to grab Harry’s arm as he walks away. As if Tom wasn’t alone in his body, as if he couldn’t control his actions anymore, as if he was just a passenger forced to watch the horrendous show his life had just become.
Harry reaches the front door and silently pivots. He glances at his brother lying on the floor, shivering, and sobbing, and so miserable in his gutlessness. And as he exits the house, he slams the door shut behind him.
The loud thud releases Tom from the grip of his own fears, like an unleashed dog. And it feels like a freefall from the top of a skyscraper. He can’t feel his body; he is so light, almost like a bird, but if he doesn’t react immediately, he’ll crash to the ground.
But what should he do now? He can’t let his brother leave to discover the harm he’s caused to this woman. He softly counts to ten to make his final decision; a trick his father taught him when he was younger to unlock his brain when he must make tough choices.
1, 2, 3 . . . If his brother goes there on his own, Tom will never be forgiven. 4, 5, 6 . . . But watching the result of his actions terrifies him. 7, 8, 9 . . . Now that Harry is involved, he can’t pretend this nightmare will just vanish. 10.
He needs to go with him.
Tom stands up and trips, his exhausted body can’t handle his weight anymore. He falls but his numb arms can’t protect his face that smashes against the wooden floor. He ignores the sharp pain, the blood streaming down his nose, the blurred vision; he stands up, struggling, and keeps going towards the front door. He faintly grabs the handle and puts his last bit of energy to pull it, as if his life depended on it.
“Harry!!!” his cracking voice shouts and echoes in his ears until he loses balance and falls against the wall.
Harry who’s already within a good walking distance hears his brother and turns around. He sees him with blood all over his shirt. Blood that wasn’t there when he left a minute ago. He peers around, luckily no one’s here to see the mess. He runs back to the front door and kneels to align with his sibling’s puffy face.
“I’ll come with you . . .” Tom whispers with half-shut eyes. “I want to right my wrong.”
Harry shows a soft grin and lifts his brother up in a gentle manner. He walks him towards the house with small slow steps. He needs a hot shower, a decent meal and strong emotional support to survive today.
Tom’s arm is curled around Harry’s shoulders, his feet dragging, and blood dripping on the floor, making a murderous path on the front garden. Tom intensely watches his brother and gives a soft smile; he’s feeling hopeful for the first time in months. He is going to get better after all . . .
Or maybe not.
The sound of a cracking leaf coming through Harry’s ears makes him startle. He abruptly pivots towards that noise around and sees a man with a camera in his hands.
“Shit!” he hisses. “Fuck off!” he shouts at the paparazzi and accelerates his pace despite Tom’s pain.
The man approaches and tries to take more pictures, but Harry makes sure to hide Tom’s face with his body. The blood on the floor however doesn’t lie, and he’s aware of it. Although the clicking sound of the camera is far away behind them, Harry knows the guy has been able to capture Tom’s bloody face.
When they finally get in the house, Harry locks the door behind him and stares into space. His mind is elsewhere, imagining all the possible consequences of these pictures being published. He must find ways to stop them from being revealed to the public. But his concerns are now with Tom who’s using the wall to support his weak body. He’s so pathetic it’s difficult not to feel pity.
“Let me see your nose” says Harry inspecting his brother’s face. He grabs a towel on the kitchen shelf and uses it to soak up the blood. “Yeah, it’s definitely broken.”
“Not sure GQ will appreciate that” Tom answers with a grin on his face.
Harry smiles back. The situation is so disastrous and embarrassing it’s become funny for them both. They need to let go of their nervousness even if it means laughing about the heart-breaking situation. What could possibly be worse?
It takes about half an hour for Tom to take a shower and dress up. Harry is cooking lunch for him whilst he’s getting ready. He’s never been that good a cook but it’s a way for him to be busy and not to overthink the situation. He’s trying to help his brother out, and Tom surely doesn’t need any additional stress. But he has so many questions . . . So many uncertainties; so many scenarios playing in his head and he can’t differentiate what’s real from what’s not.
Tom gets down the stairs wearing a black hoodie, blue jeans, and his favourite trainers. The long sleeves hide well his burnt forearm, but his nose is still too visible. Harry decides to ignore it for a minute and gives him his food.
“Eat before it’s cold”
Tom avoids looking at his sibling and grabs a spoon to eat the rice. It would be expected of him to gulp down his food, but he doesn’t. He’s not hungry. He only eats because he needs it to survive. Or because his brother is here watching him. He glances at the fridge and unintentionally shakes his spoon trying to think of something else. There is no beer in the fridge, he finished them last night. Last night when he almost killed that innocent soul. Last night when it was the one glass too many.
Harry notices his obsessive behaviour – his urge to swallow a sip of liquor. He can almost picture the intrusive thoughts going in Tom’s head and hauling him down to the dark abyss. The whispers of these undesirable voices are causing him distress. It’s tearing Harry’s heart apart to see his addict brother act this way. But what got him so broken? It can’t be the fame; it can’t be his notoriety that destroyed him. He’s supposed to be the happiest person on earth instead . . .
“Before we leave, we’ve gotta do something about this” Harry says pointing at Tom’s face. He grabs his baseball cap and hands it to him. “Better keep a low profile.”
Tom presses his lips together and places it on his head. “Thanks.”
“Let’s go see if she—you know . . .” Harry stutters.
He scans the exterior through the curtains to check if the paparazzi is still around. The street is so quiet he can hear the leaves scratching the ground as they fall from their tree. Harry steps back and pulls the car keys out of his jeans’ front pocket.
The drive to the hospital is made in silence. The tension is so heavy it electrifies everything around them like a lightning bolt when it’s about to hit the surface, and seconds appear to be minutes. A simple glance would jolt them. The radio is turned off, they can barely hear the tyres rubbing against the asphalt; it’s leaving them with their thoughts as the only sound in their head, and it’s particularly difficult for Tom. As he observes the steering wheel, hidden voices describe horrible scenarios that could happen in the hospital. And these voices are so soft, so mesmerising that anyone would believe them. Their charisma is based on psychological aggression and constant fear, and Tom lets them pave their way in his brain. Because he’s just a man.
He’s quickly emerged out of his universe when Harry opens the door and leaves the car. Tom is much slower than his brother and makes sure to take all the time he needs before exiting the parking lot. His pace is slow, he walks with short, light steps, almost looking like a phantom. Harry waits for him in front of the lift but doesn’t bother looking at him. He’s too anxious about the fate of this unknown woman, and the potential consequences on his family – because not only Tom would suffer from his mistake, but his whole family would go down with him too.
When they enter the lift, Tom scrutinises his face in the mirror and notices his purple, swollen nose and the several scratches on his jaws. He grabs the bill of his grey cap and pulls it down in a poor attempt to be undercover.
The doors open and a brouhaha blows Tom away. His brother walks out of the lift, but he can’t move. He’s paralysed, contemplating the nurses walking around in white uniforms, the doctors delivering news to a patient’s family. And he squints his eyes as the white lights burn his retina. It is so bright he feels wobbly and struggles to breathe. His chest is oppressing his lungs, and his throat tightens, allowing less and less air to travel. He coughs with his right hand pressing against the wall to give him balance, and the other one assisting his chest. He’s going to die here and now. His vision gets blurry and—
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry whispers grabbing his brother’s shoulder.
Tom looks at him in distress, eyes wide open, and not able to pronounce a word. He’s having a panic attack.
“Come ‘ere,” Harry says pointing to the waiting area. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”
He makes sure his brother finds a seat before joining the main counter. All Tom can see is a blurred silhouette talking, and waiving, and walking in circles, presumably angry. And it lasts for a couple of minutes. All he hears is a tinnitus that envelops him away from the rest of the world until Harry comes back.
“Please, stay here Tom” Harry whispers. “I had to pretend I was her brother—I can’t believe no one came for her yet!”
And within the snap of a finger, he’s back to reality.
“No!” Tom grips Harry’s hand as soon as he steps back. “Don’t leave me here alone, please don’t do that.”
Harry sighs and swivels towards the nurse holding her pager, waiting for him. He runs his hand through his hair while approaching her.
“It’s my cousin, he knows her too. Could he please come with me? It’s not gonna take long I promise”
The nurse squints at Tom, she keeps looking at him until he meets her eyes. And she frowns her eyebrows in return.
“Is he alright?” she asks Harry.
“Is he—Oh yeah, he . . . He loves her and when he heard about it, he—he fell.”
Harry closes his eyes and sighs releasing his irritation. How could he be so bad at lying? He’s always been the cold headed one, and for the first time ever, when the stakes are so high, he’s unable to perform an act.
The nurse smirks and nods a yes. He can come too.
Harry’s just about to call Tom but discovers him surrounded by two young girls who seem to look at him like an alien. And Tom tries to hide his face with his cap, he’s sitting there petrified like a kid who’s lost his parents in a park.
“Oh my God, you’re Tom Holland, aren’t you?” says one of the girls. She has a bright smile on her face but waits for him to confirm. Because he looks so different from the pictures.
Tom doesn’t move, he doesn’t even acknowledge them. He prays for them to leave when they’ll be tired of him ignoring them. But they keep watching him.
Harry comes rescuing his brother by gripping his arm. They’re walking towards the nurse, but the fans start yelling in their back.
“IT’S HARRY!”
“Yeah, I told you it’s definitely them! Oh my God!” answers the other one.
Tom turns his face and looks at them before flying away with Harry and the nurse. They’re taking videos with their phones. And now it’s clear for him; he hates them so much. He hates his fame, his celebrity, his exposure to the entire world. What he thought would be amazing, to be known and renowned, is now a burden.
For a minute, he makes a wish; he prays God (and he didn’t know he believed in any God-figure until today) and begs Him for mercy. He places the palm of his hands facing the ceiling hoping he’ll be given strength. By the time he’s done, he’s in front of the room 403. Her room.
“You have 10 minutes, be concise” says the nurse before leaving.
Harry grabs Tom’s hand and helps him get in the room. For Tom, it feels like venturing into the devil’s lair. His body is screaming ‘get me out of here’ but Harry’s gentle hand forces him to enter the room without a word.
And there she is. Lying on her hospital bed, eyes closed, with a pale face, a broken nose, and cuts on her lips. Half of her face is covered with bruises. She has long black curly hair and a tattoo on her left forearm. Tom and Harry stand next to the door and observe her, speechless. She looks bad.
“At least she’s alive” Harry breaks the silence. “Maybe we should let her rest and come back when she wakes up”
“Can you give me 5 minutes with her?” Tom asks.
“Yeah, sure” Harry says and opens the door to leave.
“Harry, wait!” Tom adds. “Thank you for this. I know you don’t have to . . . It really means a lot.”
“You’re my family” he answers with a soft grin.
“But still. I owe you an apology”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re always a family. I will always come for you no matter the cost”
These words bring Tom strong emotions. It’s difficult for him to understand what it exactly is. It is warm, intense, and particularly pleasing. As his breathing picks up, he gives Harry a tight-lipped smile and enfolds him in his arms.
“I love you” the eldest says.
Harry shyly smiles and breaks the hug, then sneaks out of the room. Tom walks towards the bed and stands in front of the injured woman, wondering what she might be dreaming about. Or if it’s all black in her mind.
He takes off his cap and places it on the bed, next to her arm. He catches a glimpse of something written on her hospital bracelet. He grabs it and pulls her wrist closer to his face to read the label.
“Lauren Avery Pearson . . .” he whispers with a soft smile. A pure and delicate smile that shapes his face like the one of a kid seeing snow for the first time.
But he cries. He cries without a sound, still holding her wrist and taking her hand and curling his fingers around hers. He doesn’t know her, but he wishes he did. He wishes she could’ve been spared. He pulls her hand to his mouth and kisses it and then places it on his chest, close to his heart. He is so sorry for what he’s done to her. Remorse is a terrible feeling to have.
“I wish I could have stopped you, Lauren. Stopped you from driving so fast, stopped you from being around me at this time . . . I wish I had known, Lauren. I wish I could go back in time and change this. All of this. I wish I could be happier. And maybe meet you another way. I’m sure you’re an amazing person” he pauses to sob.
His face is just above hers; he scans her features hoping for her to wake up. But she doesn’t.
“I bet you have many talents. You must be a good cook, or a great singer, or maybe even an amazing football player. But not better than I am, because I’m very good, you know. I’m sure you wouldn’t let me beat you though. You’d fight until it’s a tie. And I’d let you win because you’re amazing.”
He wipes his tears off.
“And—And I know you love your husband. And I’m so sorry for him, and for you, I’m so sorry. I wish you could forgive me.”
He releases her hand and places it on the bed. He makes sure to be gentle, so she won’t feel any pain.
“I wish it could be me instead of you” he adds before getting his cap back and leaving the room.
The emotions are too strong for him to cope with them. He can’t handle such a thing. He can’t handle having so much remorse, shame, and sadness at once.
Harry joins him and they both silently walk out of the hospital. They’re headed home.
He drops Tom off in front of his house and looks at him in pain. He wants to say something, but he knows his brother is on the edge. If he adds anything, he might break down and he doesn’t want to see this.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, take care brother.” Harry says when Tom opens the car door.
And he drags his feet on the front garden and sees drops of his blood on the ground, cruel reminders of his past actions. He closes the door behind him and falls on his settee. He can only think about two things: the biggest mistake of his life and quenching his thirst.
He clenches his fists and tries to resist to the urge of drinking. This visceral need that shakes his entire body and poisons his mind. He squeezes his eyes as if it would help him not to think about the refreshing taste of a shot of vodka. As if it would make him forget about all the muscles cramping in his body. He’s agitated, can’t stay still; he could run 15 miles just to grab a bottle. He’s feverish and has a terrible headache.
He’s showing early signs of withdrawal, but he can’t expect to beat his demons on his own. Especially not in a situation like this.
He opens his food delivery app and orders from the closest liquor store in just a few clicks. He only realises he’s done something bad when the delivery guy knocks. He grabs the bottle and shuts the door. He feels discomfort and indignity, but this bottle of Absolut vodka will help him wipe everything away until he is happy again.
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Thank you for reading! I hope you liked the chapter.
So, what do you think of it? What's your take on Tom's mental health?
Please reblog and follow me to show your support, I would really appreciate it.
Next chapter will be posted soon...what do you think's going to happen?
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THIS CHAPTER WAS SO GOOD!!! LEA YOU DID IT AGAIN, IM IN LOVE WITH IT. YOU DESCRIBE THE EMOTIONS HE'S FEELING SO WELL. THIS WAS AN AMAZING CHAPTER, EVERYONE PLEASE GO GIVE THIS A READ!!!
thank you so much omg. this is the kind of message that keeps me motivated to do better. I hope you'll like the next one 💕
