Work Text:
Definition: “If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet once or twice by chance for a short period of time… then do not see each other ever again.”
“Ugh, of course it’s raining.”
It’s been months, MONTHS, since your last “real” date. Not that you’ve been counting.
(Though it seems like everybody else is.)
… Tonight is meant to be a simple dinner and walk in the park type-deal; set up by friends. You don’t even know your date-partner that well, but they’re cute enough to have you curious. Though… not cute enough to get the whole dressed-to-the-nines, balls-to-the-wall version of you, sorry. Between coming off a grueling shift and the nasty on-and-off stormy weather today, you resign to show up with your best smile and handy-dandy umbrella.
But now…. Where the fuck is that goddamn umbrella….
There is truly nothing worse than sitting in public, AC blasting, in wet clothing. If you were on the way home? Sure, fine. But sitting at dinner? On a date? Heeeelllll no. Never. You’re not gonna leave the house without an umbrella and some boots.
So, here you are, spending the next fifteen minutes digging through closets and bags for the damn thing. At this point, you could just take a Lyft or something to the restaurant, but it’s so close by and you don’t actually mind walking in the rain–
“Found it!” – with barely a second to spare.
You tumble out of your apartment, locking up and getting out on the street in a hurry.
You’re late.
Duh.
You dodge puddles and mumble profanities, but you still make time to smile to yourself as you pass by other people in the street. You like seeing the bobbles of patterned umbrellas and hoods and hearing their sloshing steps. It’s cute that everyone has their own method of avoiding the weather by doing anything but staying inside.
After you pass your first block, you head towards a busy intersection. This particular light takes ages to turn… And you watch it turn red.
You sigh loudly, the sound contained to your own bubble, and take heavy steps closer. Rain continues to drum overhead.
Nearing, you notice another person waiting at the light; no umbrella, no hood, no way to block the rain. He has a slight figure with his shoulders sloping downward, and you can see the rain splattering off him. He’s dressed in a dark suit, water dripping from his clothes and dark hair. He’s so drenched that you can barely discern the colors of anything besides the pale pink bouquet of flowers down by his side.
His head hangs low, and you feel your lips pout in sympathy.
Yikes.
Your heart immediately tinges for him; even though you’re totally unaware of whatever situation he’s actually in. Your mind fills in the blanks with a million and one scenarios of why this person is standing alone in the rain.
Stood-up? Rejected? Misunderstanding? Late? Missed the last flight? Just caught in the rain?
Poor guy.
Honestly, you usually wouldn’t be affected by other people going about their day, but you’re so wound up for your date and the hatred of wet clothing, that you can’t just stand there next to him.
I have to do something.
Right?
His solemn presence is magnetic, drawing you in. You can’t look away, you can’t stop yourself. You bravely step close to him, and hold the umbrella high. You speak over the rain,
“Hi! –Excuse me–, would you like to share this while we wait for the light?”
The umbrella first shades the side of his face, shoulder and shoe from the weather, you watch the remaining water slide down the textures. Then you hold it up higher, shielding all of him; and this safe, dry bubble fills with an expensive, heady, masculine cologne.
It makes your entire body fizzle with warmth.
You smile awkwardly, readying to make small talk– but it all catches in your throat as realization washes over you.
You’re met with a familiar face, wide brown eyes, unruly brows, boyish nose…
No Fucking Way….
He looks confused at first, then surprise colors his cheeks, but that’s nothing compared to the mind melting you’re experiencing right now.
“You’re…” you choke, blinking quickly as he completely turns to face you.
He’s Tom Holland, the marvel guy.
The guy on netflix, and all those damn Apple TV ads. The guy who’s posters you stand by as you wait for the subway. The guy you follow on instagram. That guy you’ve only seen through screens–
It’s him.
You’re panicking over what a weird stroke of luck it is to meet (one of) your celebrity crushes on the way to a fucking date, but… you can’t exactly tell what’s going through his mind.
You both just stare at one another, wordlessly trying to get a grasp of the situation.
What is he doing here?? What are you doing here?? Are you too deep into his personal space rn? What the fuck?
His eyes are still wide with confusion, darting between yours. You breathe out a rushed and hoarse, “I’m sorry!” And his lips spread into a crooked smile. You watch his eyes crinkle as he laughs shallowly.
???
He, Tom, looked so beautifully, poetically sad one moment then shattered your heart with that smile. Between your body, mind, and heart, you have no idea what to think right now––
“CUT! CUT!”
A voice crackles over a microphone, and suddenly you see lights and mics and people crawling out from under cars and stuff…
…
“Who is that? No one is supposed to approach Tom in this scene. Who is that–?” The chatter is louder than the rain. And it finally sinks in.
You’ve walked onto a set. A movie-set?
“What the fuck–?!” you squeak, stepping back away from him. Rain immediately douses him, and you jump back forward, offering half of your umbrella back to him. He lets out a wheezy laugh as water drips off of him again.
“Agh! Sorry! Sorry, I totally didn’t see that you guys were filming here?! That this was– work. Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You start to ramble, your shoulders pinching upwards. The ‘yikes’ settling in, and you spin around apologizing to everyone you make eye contact with.
Tom waves a hand by your face, nodding to the people around him.
“It’s okay. This is for a commercial,” he says smoothly, his voice calming your shoulders back into a natural position. He breaks that easy-going character of his and shivers hard. He laughs, annoyedly licking the side of his mouth,
“‘Figured we’d make sure of real rain.”
“Right.” You nod, sympathetically shuffling closer to him to shield him better. Your senses are swimming in that smoky cologne, and you try not to let your eyes settle onto the nearly sheer button-up under his blazer. “Wild.” You cough, looking back at him.
There are no words for this moment.
“Hi… who is this? How did you get onto set..?” someone approaches with a slight tone, making your cheeks heat with embarrassment.
There’s another apology on the tip of your tongue, but Tom steps forward, blocking them from you and takes the jacket in their hands. He retreats back under the shade of your umbrella, and shrugs it on.
“A misunderstanding. Can we take five though? It’s fuckin’ freezing.” Tom gives them a charming kiss-ass smile, and the person nods turning and throwing their hands up.
You watch everyone take a sigh of relief or annoyance that they’re stuck in the rain, freezing too. Umbrellas shoot up and they make themselves busy again.
You face him, and his charming buttery smile faces you too. It melts into something more sincere as he tilts his head to the side.
Tom is still sharing your umbrella, and he’s still holding that bouquet, pretty pink flowers glistening with dew.
“Uh, uhm, I’m sooo sorry,” you scrunch your nose, “I didn’t realize you guys were shooting on this street. I think I saw those signs– but I thought it had already passed and–. I didn’t mean to halt production.” A giddy laugh bubbles out of your throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah,” He shakes his head, water spraying from his hair onto you. You wipe your cheek. “Sorry,” he bows his head slightly and casually reaches out to flick away a droplet by your eyebrow. His gentle touch lingers.
“Don’t worry about it. The schedule got shifted to use this rain. So, our bad.” His dark eyes flick towards the pattering rain on the sidewalk, then to your hand holding up the umbrella, “But… thank you for this. That was really kind of you.”
Tom’s eyes shine with fondness.
You look up towards your worn out umbrella, the crooked bars and obnoxious inner pattern.
“No problem, I didn’t know who you were– Not that i wouldn’t offer it to anybody!! Or to you, specifically, if I knew– Uhm. You– You just honestly looked so pitiful, I couldn’t help but notice–”
He bursts out laughing, sucking his teeth in and wiping his hose with the back of his hand. The bouquet bounces along with his movements, brightly trembling and shaking with him.
“Okay, good, good.I was doing my job right, then. Thanks.” He speaks between laughs and shivers, you nod and he offers more, “We’re filming a perfume commercial. Though I’m sure I smell like a wet dog right now.”
You definitely don’t, Tom.
You mistime a sniffle, and you crack up awkwardly. You wave a hand and stiffly relate, “We all do.”
Nice.
The feebles spritz of perfume you sprayed on yourself probs weren’t holding up too strong right now. Still, the smell of rain and his intoxicating cologne under this shared space is all you can sense, and you’d love to bottle it up for the next rainy day.
Tom grins warmly, and looks around, everyone still busy and occupied. He gives you back his attention,
“So, where are you headed?” He ducks closer to stay under the shelter, willing to make small talk beneath the pouring rain. You don’t mind at all, and just try your best not look too starstruck. He smooths down his dark hair, pulling it away from his face. It’s shiny and near black.
“Uhm… to a date, actually…” you answer, slow and honest. You shut your eyes tight and laugh at the absurdity of it all, “But, I have to admit. I definitely have a little movie-crush on you, so, I’m not sure if i should have said that out loud. All of this too.”
He breaks into a hearty laugh, a healthy glow colors his cheeks again. You giggle too, rocking back on your heels as you confess,
“Sorry, I just had to say it. Not that, I think I have a chance or anything– nevermind. You’re awesome and yeah, uhm, my date definitely has a tough act to follow.”
(Sorry, date!)
“Thank you, thank you,” he beams, shaking his head– but skips over your fumbling [thankfully]. He continues on like a friend or cast name, or crew member, not like some random person who crashed his set. “So, long term? First date?”
“First date,” you entertain his question, tonguing your cheek. “So, you know how it is… I’m super nervous (and late), and it’ll be awkward but… most good things start off that way, right?” You look at him through your lashes.
“I don’t know, we’re vibing right now, aren’t we? No nerves on our first meeting?” Tom quips, crossing his arms and straightening his back. The flowers hug to his chest as he tilts his head with them. “We’re doing quite well in my book.”
Th-thump.
“Wooooooww, look at you,” you offer him a smug smile and roll your eyes. “But I dunno about all that, I’m flailing over here, Tom.”
“Well, can I–… Let me walk you over. Calm the nerves,” he looks over his shoulder. “There’s some other shots and b-roll they can get.” He offers it so coolly, and before you can reject his company, he’s waving down people and signalling his departure.
They’re surprisingly cool with it, maybe because Tom is so good natured on set or they’re more willing to stay under the tents away from the rain instead of on the slick street.
“Wha–?! You literally don’t have to do this, I’m okay, really!!” You hold both your hands up, making the umbrella tip up and go behind you. You both get a nice wet coat of rain on you.
You pause, the view in front of you looking like a romantic freeze frame. Tom has water trailing down his face and hair, while your familiar home streets glow in the background with rain blurring it all into a precious vignette; it makes you sigh lusciously. Even the sting of the cold rain makes this moment more magical.
It’s like watching a movie coming to life, even more so when he grabs the rim of the umbrella, pulling it back overhead with an impish smile. Watching his thumb and forefinger grip the nylon makes you shudder with excitement.
“I want to repay the kindness. We can… we can make this a date before your date.”
Oh, you are REALLY squandering my date’s chance now, aren’t you?
Or for all my future dates, tbh.
Jfc.
You quirk a brow, speechless,
“… A date…?”
“Mutually beneficial, I haven’t had one in ages and you could use some non-stressful company.” He motions between you both, as if he wasn’t causing you the most distress since your last job interview.
Yeah.. Idk what you’re going on about non-stressful, dude.
“Uhm,,,,….”
Tom simply motions towards the crosswalk, the light has finally turned. His eyes are bright with anticipation, and you can see it translate throughout his whole body, despite the gray weather and shade.
“Sorry, I never got your name?” He adds, body tipping close.
You can barely breathe it out, because before you even finish he snatches the handle from your hands and starts galloping towards the crossing. He calls for you to follow, and you’re caught in the rain for a moment, cold pellets tapping across your face.
“GO! You dumb bitch!!”
And in that moment, you can’t be sure if your inner thoughts screamed over the slap of precipitation, or if it was a crew member yelling in sync with your heart.
“Right.” You laugh out to yourself, jogging to catch up with him in the middle of the walk. When you’re back at his side, he tilts the umbrella towards you, slowly to a casual stride.
Tom still has those pretty flowers tucked beneath his arm, hand in pocket, while the other holds the umbrella up for the both of you.
You settle cozy next to him, biting your lips together to prevent a dorky smile from erupting across your cheeks. You busy yourself by pulling your phone out and scanning for the directions. You chatter softly about the places you’ll pass… and realize that this would be a breezy 15 minute walk….for you, but a 30 minute round-trip for him– god.
Your eyes wander downwards, noticing he’s only in some dress shoes and that his socks and ankles and the bottom hem of his pants are horribly soaked and darkened. You wince.
“Hey, uhm, you really don’t have to do this– We could just go halfway–” your brows pinch together in concern. “I’d hate to make you stay out in this weather any longer than you have to.”
“I don’t do anything halfway,” Tom retorts quickly, grinning. He looks ahead, eyes softening. You peek at his reddened ears, he must be cold. He taps his thumb on the handle and shrugs, “Please don’t worry about it, I need a good stretch. And… I was really touched earlier. I can’t just let you go.”
“I can’t just let you go.”
Those devastating dark eyes flick towards you and your heart, and feet, skip a beat.
You trip over a weirdly laid brick, but right yourself quickly. Your body pulses with scribbles of emotion, fighting to be identified.
“O–oh. Yeah, it’s no big deal,” you shake your head lightly. Your throat squeezes with sympathy, “You looked like you needed the help.”
“Thank you.”
You walk together with the soft pitter patter all around. You pass by people coping with the rain in their own ways; running, walking with their heads low, plain black umbrellas, crazy patterned ones… everyone is too focused on themselves and their journeys to look up at the sky beginning to part.
That makes sharing this tiny, worn umbrella more intimate. No one knows who you both are, besides a pair seeking shelter, huddled together. It’s just you and Tom, walking together in this silly, simple, shared moment.
It’s funny how comfortable and comforted you feel right now.
“So… do you go on dates often?” He asks casually, his voice straining as he tries to speak over the drizzle.
“Uhhh, about as much as anybody else,” you shrug, honest again. “It’s just tiring to keep opening myself up every time.”
Like, how many times and how many people are you going to say, “I like you” to, before it turns into “I love you, let’s spend forever together.” It’s already been too many times to count.
“Like, how many times will I have to introduce myself and go through ice breakers over shitty wine?? Ugh.”
“Tell me about it,” Tom breathes out. He rolls his shoulders back, regaining poise.
You reflect on how he has probably met a million more people than you; had to introduce himself to faceless crowds and high-up execs. How much pressure it is to leave a good impression, to fit the shoe of their expectation… Oof.
“Does it ever get easier?” You tilt your head, half joking but also curious about his perspective on it.
“Only when you stop thinking that it’s hard.” He shrugs easily, ending on a scrunched up face and smile.
Ha-ha.
“Wow, such… sage advice. I’ll be repeating myself into oblivion, I guess. Hi, I’m So-and-So, and I like This-and-That… barf.”
Tom nods while looking down, watching the sprays of water that kicks off his shiny black shoes. He bumps into your shoulder playfully,
“So, do you end up liking everyone you meet or something?”
“Uhm!! That’s a cheeky fuckin’ assumption, Tom!”
Your laugh is trill and loud, but he’s not put off by it. He cheeses, apologetically, if that’s possible, and you roll your eyes. Hmm. You like being able to talk to him like this.
He cracks up over frail defense, bumping into you again. You push back.
You pretend to act offended, but he’s right on the mark.
“… Not everyone. But a lot of people. I go on these dates and always find something special about everyone; people are great. Genuinely. But.. sometimes I feel like a stray dog looking for home, and not everyone is ready for that.” You cringe at your own metaphor.
“I get that,” Tom answers coolly.
Do you?
His hand bumps against your shoulder this time, and you look at this pinkened knuckles, the tense veins on the backs of his hands as he rights the umbrella.
“Lots of love to give, and now where to put it, right?” He rambles.
“Yeah something like that,” you shake your head side to side, as if weighing the love. “It’d just be cool to find a solid partner, you know?”
“‘Cool?’” He airily mocks your wording before you can correct yourself.
“Yes, ‘cool.’” You throw your hands up a little then cover your mouth and chin, speaking into them. “The best parts about a partner is all the dumb shit you get to do together. Like, romance and sex can be essential and valuable, no doubt… but… someone who wants to do things with you? All the weird, fun, mundane shit? Outside? No matter what it is… that’s cool.”
“So, like, outdoor sex?” Tom cracks up over his own joke, tipping the umbrella back in his excitement, catching you both in the rain. “Damn, that’s kinky, Y/N.”
“Oh. My. God! Noooo, you know what I meant!” Your jaw drops as you smack his shoulder. You rake your brain to assist your point, “Well, maybe. If that’s your thing, but i meant like, going to see shitty movies. Adventures, dumb museums, gimicky coffee shops. Someone who takes you to petting zoos or whatever. Someone you’d be willing to just… walk around in the rain with…”
Shit like this.
Tom faces you, dark eyes smoldering into a delicious squint as he rubs his nose with the bouquet in hand.
“Well, that is quite the list.”
“… Yeah, I’ve been on a lot of dinner dates. But I’m so over it, and I’d like to skip over to the new things,” you admit gently. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but I’m just sick of it…”
Like, of course, you want most dates to start slow and easy. You want to get to know the person before you plunge into something that requires more than a matching schedule and picking off a menu. But at a certain point… it becomes monotonous. You always choose the pasta dish, you always choose this bubbly drink, you always end up going home a little in love– only for that to be squashed.
There should be a limit on how many people you introduce yourself to, only to get fucking ghosted, man.
You roll your neck back and sigh, “At the end of the day… you have to put yourself out there to find anyone at all. I just wish that my knight in shining armor would hurry the fuck up, haaa.”
You send him a defeated, yet dazzling smile, wondering if he could ever relate to this, or if he’s just listening to your laments out of courtesy. You can’t imagine he would share his personal life with a totally random person.
“I hear you,” he predictably relates back. A beat and thread of rain patter and pass as he breathes in,
“Though, I feel like I’ve met my knight in shining armor today.”
He sends you the same defeated, and dazzling smile back. Only his is a lot more handsome and sparkly. You want to reach out to cup his cheeks, feel the warmth of your kindness beneath your fingertips.
“… You’re a fucking cheeseball, Tom.” You beam, laughing as you shake your head.
He makes a “meh” face and shrugs it off.
You continue to smile at him, soaking in this glow. Your body is so hot, you’re sure he can feel the appreciation radiating off of you.
Tom Holland, a celebrity– who has the ability and privilege of being pampered and praised at any time of the day, is sincerely touched by your tiny gesture.
Just a teeny-tiny, spur of the moment thing. An offer to share shelter, that was only meant to last the countdown at a crosswalk has his face pink and heart trembling… You’re sure he’s surrounded by loving and warm people, but your random act of kindness has become a bright, memorable spot in his day.
And that’s really, really fucking sweet.
“Soooo, it’s only fair that you answer too, but… How’s your dating game, Tom?”
Worth a shot to ask lol.
“You tell me,” He deflects easily. He gives you a pretty boy smile and wink, “How am I doing?”
You waggle your jaw, openly laughing at his tight-lipped history. You don’t expect or even want to know anything. You’re just curious of how he would wave it away. Good for him though; keep your heart business close to your own heart.
“So great,” you exaggeratedly gush back at him. You clasp your hands together, and bat your lashes slowly. “I’m going to get aaall my nervous energy out with you, and all my dates forward will be smooooth sailing. Thank you.”
Sarcasm seeps out of your buttery smile, and you expect him to laugh.
But he doesn’t.
Tom’s jaw ticks and he dances his head around in stiffly.
Oh?
“Is it… absurd that I’m jealous about that already?”
“Uh– a little bit,” you scoff, actually surprised by his candor.
“It’s kind of fucked that I’m on a date, walking you to your date.” His voice scratches an itch you never knew you had. Your stomach drops, and you suck in a breath.
“Hey, man. You asked me out to this,” you give him a half-quirked smile, softly nudging his arm. You cough,
“It is a little fucked though.”
Tom sends you a smug look, one you’ve never seen on screen before. His eyes are half-lidded, while his brows brood low. His thin lips pout into a hard line. Wow. You’re overtaken by a moment of blind courage.
You reach out, hugging his arm; the one holding up the umbrella. You press your hands against his wet jacket, until you feel the solidness of his arm. You latch on and snuggle close. It’s an awkward position, but you’d suffer through the pose to hold him at any capacity.
“… is this okay?”
He hums in approval, and you’re sure you can feel his arm flex as he rolls his shoulder back.
You lick your lips as you look down at the cracked sidewalk.
“So… Tom Holland is a jealous guy,” you note out loud. You briskly add in the same breath, “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty hot.”
No holding back now.
“Maybe I don’t get to go on a lot of dates… and maybe you’re leaving a really good impression on me.” He speaks evenly, as if weighing the words as they come out of his mouth.
“Super hot,” you say quietly as you look over at him. Tom still faces forward, eyes storming with an internal struggle.
“Maybe I’m someone who falls in love with everyone a little bit too.”
“That is, also, very hot.”
You exhale a laugh, trying to read his face for a reaction, but he remains totally aloof.
Is he actually being transparent with you? About… dare you assume, liking you? Or your general presence? Or is this… all a part of his push-and-pull game. Is this all just for… shits and giggles all around. You really can’t tell, but you’re colored with curiosity.
You can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue.
“Maybe… I don’t want to drop you off to another guy.” He clears his throat, then bites down on his lip, squinting forward still, “Ever.”
Stupid fucking hot, is what you want to say. But your teasing responses are caught in your throat, because Tom has stopped walking and you’re one block away from your cafe date.
Confusion, conflict, anticipation wash over you.
Tom turns to face you fully, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Your hands slide off his arm, and are clutched to your chest now. His face is angled and still flushed pink. His brows furrow slightly and he whispers very slowly,
“I don’t… know what I’m supposed to do about this.”
The chemistry you both undoubtedly feel. This magnetic attraction. All that playful banter has turned out to be painfully revealing.
“Me neither.”
You nod as your eyes flick over him again.Those pale pink flowers he’s holding are tilted downwards, petals falling onto the wet pavement.
A moment ticks between you both.
… You genuinely like this guy. Like, you’ve always thought he was cute, whatever– but, this stupid walk has shown you so many new shades of him. And you’re dying to unsheath more. There’s a whole person to discover beneath those polite smiles, you can tell he’s dying to show you…
And, for Tom, he’s still caught up in your kind but mighty gesture. It’s so simple, so plain, yet it’s shaken him to his core. Maybe it was the emotions he had prepared for the set, or the heavy clothes, or the unrelenting rain, or the inviting vanilla scent beneath the umbrella– but he is hopelessly enamored.
He wants to stay.
Right here.
… But, this is just a 15 minute exchange. A random day of the week, an odd hour in the evening, a shifted schedule, a sudden spout of rain. When you turn the corner, you’ll be on a date and back to your life he knows nothing about. And he’ll be hopping back to set, acting his heart out and jetting to his next project.
… There isn’t any space for one another… besides this lovely walk in the drizzle, beneath a shared umbrella.
It’s all romantically, beautifully… helpless.
And you’re surprisingly at peace with that.
You watch him again, pushing aside your anxieties and look him in the eye. They’re dark and unwavering, striking your heart with fiery intensity. You want to turn away, but you don’t, hoping he can read your eyes too.
“This… isn’t a sad thing, Tom.”
You speak your thoughts aloud.
“It’s really, really heartening to know that I can click with someone so seamlessly like this. And that you can too.”
This not a beginning, this is not an end… this is a moment we can visit back fondly.
The man in front of you smiles softly. He shuts his eyes and pinches his brows.
“You… don’t think that this could be the one time for… forever?”
You’re stunned again, by his earnest and unwavering romance. It’s almost so innocent that you want to laugh; not at his expense, but just the absurdity and timing of it all. That.. you were thinking it too.
You clear your throat; you indulge in fantasy, but your head cannot ignore reality.
“I think… that this is a crazy, wild, beautiful moment I’ll remember forever… I’m– I’m not sure what that means… for us.”
His eyes cast downwards, and he rubs his nose again. You can see him tense, and you instantly feel sorry for what you’ve said. You straighten and reach out to him, but he cuts in first.
“What’s the difference between meeting this person for the first time, and meeting me? Why… not take this chance… on me?”
You can taste every note of his voice, and it casts chills down your spine.
The rain roars alongside your heart. You can’t believe it hasn’t let up this entire time. And that neither has he.
Tom Holland, soaked to the bone, dark hair swirling on his skin, earnest brown eyes and jagged pout. Effortlessly charming, too good to be true.
You just smile at him, feeling oddly mature and wise. You’re not sure if this is a “run away with a cute boy” kind of day, or one where you cut your losses before you even enter the ring.
It’s been a lovely daydream, to say the least.
“Why don’t we think on it?” you velvety suggest, eyes crinkling against your will. You beam at the romance of it all – even when you don’t entirely know what the right decision is.
“Like.. take a raincheck?” Tom laughs bitterly, a dark edge that makes you swoon.
“Mhmm.”
You just officially met the guy– but your whole body already breathes for him. You’re already scared of what things will be like without him.
The same as it’s always been, I guess.
“I… go one with my little life, and you with yours.” You voice clicks, trying your best to sound hopeful. “Let the universe give us a sign if this is meant to be more than a moment.”
Tom purses his lips, then smiles sadly. He tilts his head and you stare at the angles of his nose, the quirk in his smile, the edge of his chin. You can see the million thoughts zipping through his head; the absurdity, curiosity, defeat, romance, humor– all of it.
“I’m not really a ‘leave it up to fate’ kind of guy.” He tongues his cheek and calls your name softly.
“You’ll know how you feel… the second you leave me.”
His words hang in the air, begging for you to reach out to take them back.
You shake it away, hugging yourself and shivering slightly. You bite wistfully,
“How do I even know that you’re not totally bullshitting me right now. There’s no way you’ve fallen in love with me in the past 10 minutes.”
“11 minutes now,” Tom shrugs, as if admitting you like someone is that easy.
He asks you to hold the dewy bouquet and you do, hugging it against yourself. Now with an arm free, he throws it over your shoulders and directs you to walk again. The steps feel heavier now, but he gleefully adds,
“Favorite few minutes of my life, and counting.”
Fucking. Cheese. Ball.
“Well, this is the weirdest afternoon of my life. I don’t hate it, but I can’t… figure it out. Figure you… out.” You sigh, not exasperatedly but out of relief… finally vocalizing the tension. Your gaze washes over him, memorizing the pretty slopes and grooves of his face.
You don’t… know if you fully believe in his interest– his infatuation, with you… or whatever this is. You’ve genuinely never felt this instant affinity for someone. Maybe the rain is bringing out some natural pheromones, making the mood. The scent of his dreamy cologne mixing with the evening dew. Or the fact that you’re date-ready and he was acting as a man in love; that definitely had to have added to the layers of undeniable attraction, right?
“Can I ask… what were you guys filming, exactly?”
What did I crash through? To throw you in a loop like this–
Tom chuckles, almost bitterly and you realize that you’re only a few shops down from the restaurant. Your steps slow as your heart squeezes.
“An ad for cologne. I’m playing a man who’s walking home after being stood up on a date. You know how they go.”
“Ouch,” you mumble at the irony. You muster your most unaffected laugh as you look over him, “Sorry, bud.”
He glances at you and nods slowly. Your theories aren’t wrong; your individual days have led up to this turning point, heightening all lovey-dovey senses; both wound tight. You’ve been feeling this longing before you’ve even left each other.
You just don’t know what to do with it.
Tom guides you both under an awning, a space where two brick buildings create a bit of an insert. You both wordlessly squeeze into it, bumping elbows and knees. Then he lowers the umbrella, setting it to the floor.
He looks at you, really looks at you. All warm chocolatey eyes and dark hair that’s beginning to curl at the ends. His shoulders pinch upwards as he laments,
“Sorry, I can’t walk you right to the door.” He sucks in a deep breath and adds, “I really, really don’t want to see you go.”
“It’s okay,” you coo, holding the flowers up higher so that the petals kiss your nose and chin. You offer sincerely, “I appreciate you accompanying me at all.”
He stands still, watching you fondly. You feel too seen, hunching your shoulders and burying your face deeper into the flowers. The smell is sickening sweet, clouding your mind. He must have seen it in your face, because he smirks knowingly. He brushes the petals away from your cheeks, the pads of his fingers burn deliciously against your damp skin.
“Now… I have to ask you something.”
“Yeah…?” your breath hitches, and he watches the rise and fall of your chest.
“Do you kiss on the first date?” He asks sincerely, stepping into your bubble, one hand pushing your armful of flowers down. His smoky cologne replaces the sweet essence, making your heart race.
You can hardly believe the sight before your eyes, Tom Holland making moves on you in first person perspective lol.
What a fucking day.
A huge grin stretches across your face, to his relief, and you bite down on your bottom lip to stop the laughter from bubbling up. He continues to utilize those puppy dog eyes patiently, as you compose yourself.
“You would really kiss me now, right before I go on another date where I might get kissed again?”
“Yeah, if you let me.”
You turn your head, smiling brightly into your shoulder. You mumble, “WOW. The guy I’m meeting next seriously has no chance, huh?”
All the guys.
“I’m going to make sure you never forget me,” Tom proclaims haughtily, smiting you with his earnesty and ballsy game.
“I promise I won’t.”
He chuckles as his eyes rake down you. Your whole body vibrates, brazenly begging to be touched. You itch to reach out to him, but your mind hesitates– and he senses that.
“Don’t worry, If ‘The Universe” doesn’t give you a sign, I will.”
Ha-ha.
Smiles disappear and are replaced with glossy, parted lips and heated faces. Tom steps closer, making you back into the brick wall. His hands pin your upper arms into place, as he leans in with a tilted head. You grip the bouquet in your hand tight, and it slaps against the wall.
You giggle nervously, but you love, love this dominant side flaring out of him. It excites you so much you let out a lush sigh. His lip quirks upwards, obviously pleased by your reaction.
His strong hands smooth up your arms, peeling you from the wall, and he pulls your close. You’re engulfed in an innocent–enough bear hug, a little surprised. Your hands are trapped between at first, but you manage to wriggle them out, and hug him back with the flower petals falling around you both.
It’s the kind of hug that swallows you, that you melt into, that you wish you could wear as a blanket every night… it’s nice.
His hands spread and crawl up your back, and then another tangles into your hair, holding your face against his shoulder. He tugs and smothers you against his collar.
Your nipples pinch in pleasant surprise, and you hug deeper to make sure he can’t see that expressed written all over your face.
The smell of his damn cologne swirls in your mind, and you make a promise to buy whatever the hell perfume he’s advertising when it comes out. You want to trap this moment in a bottle, to revisit at a spritz. You already imagine yourself reminiscing to this day, before the best part has even happened.
After a few seconds of holding on for dear life, Tom leans back first and your eyes refocus on one another. His dark lashes are wet and clumped together. His pink lip trembles from the cold, and his freckles disappear into a slight blush.
“You’re really pretty…” you whisper, all sense squeezed out of you.
Tom laughs and thanks you, shaking his head.
“… Close your eyes for me, will you?” He murmurs, his fingernails gently scratching the base of your neck.
Your skin prickles with anticipation, and you follow. You shut your eyes, and tilt your head down, unconsciously holding your breath.
You can hear him scoff and shuffle. Tom places a knuckle under your chin, raising your head.
First you feel a flutter of heat on your forehead, a peck on your nose, then his soft minty breath fans across your cheek.
Your fingers flex, and they find his body, smoothing up his solid chest. The flowers in your hand swish against your cheeks.
Tom kisses you at the base of your ear, a soft suckle that soon drags across your jaw.
Then, you feel his lips hover while his fingers tighten, threaded through your hair. He pulls your head back, and kisses the side of your mouth, daring you to smile.
Oh my–
His soft lips slide across yours, a chaste kiss at first. He coaxes you to part your lips, and you gently fit into place together.
Heat rushes across your face, starting from the bud of your lips. Your hands snake up higher, wrapping your arms over his shoulder and holding him tight against you.
Tug and slide, tug and slide.
This… this is the moment.
You can imagine a melancholy 70s song playing over this kiss in the rain, pink petals falling around you. All the love to give, but not enough time in the day. Slow but urgent.
You suckle on his bottom lip, trying not to leave a teasing bite as he pulls away. You could have been making out for hours, and it would always feel too soon to stop.
Tom kisses the other side of your mouth as it splits into a smile.
And that’s it.
He pulls his head back, and the warmth disappears, grays and blues take its place.
You open your eyes, and he’s taken a step back, just far enough that only the tips of your shoes touch. His eyes crinkle into an adoring expression.
You catch your breath; body pulsing and heart hammering from those tempting touches.
It was just one kiss, and you’re shattering over here.
“I-is that how you end all your first dates?” your voice cracks against your will. You clear your throat and fall back against the wall. You hug the flowers close again, and they look like they wink at you.
“Gotta leave ‘em wanting more,” Tom shrugs, leaning back and mirroring your pose. He smirks, but breaks into a full smile, bowing his head to hide it from you.
You laugh, watching his head bob. You start to play the possibilities, but your mind won’t let you commit to it.
Ha, I don’t think I can even imagine “more.”
You break the tension, phishing off the wall and waving the bouquet towards him.
“Well, wow. We totally just shared a moment.”
“Mhm,” he smiles lazily, taking the flowers gently, clasping his hand over yours. “We did.”
You want to ask him if he felt the sparks flying, but stop yourself. He lets go of you, and you straighten up together, side by side.
You gaze at one another, at the edge of the opening in the brick wall. Tom looks tired, and you’re sorry that he’s walked you all this way again. That he’s… “fallen in love” with you, and you don’t know how to feel about it all.
“Thank you.” You hum.
“Mhm.” He hums back.
He waits a bit, angled towards you but with nothing to say. He blinks hard, pressing his face into a hard line. He looks regretful before he smoothes himself back to neutral. His voice is warm but firm,
“Alright, go on. Get inside now. To your date.”
You face chills, but you nod stiffly, psyching yourself up.
Fate, you better give us a sign.
“This is the part where you say goodbye and wish me luck.” You try to tease, as he hands you your umbrella. The handle is still warm, but his touch will fade.
Your heart is still pounding so hard, you can’t fully register that you’re already sad about his departure.
Regardless, you both share the same smile, knowing this might be just a 15 minute moment. You might never see each other again. No contacts to exchange other than first names, no personal info, no tastes to remember other than that killer first kiss…
And that’s okay.
Right?
Tom pulls out a single flower from the bouquet and hands it towards you.
“Luck.”
You take it gratefully, and your eyes settle on a bright and cheery pink flower– unaffected by the gray rain and crossroads. Your heart swells from this memento, and you shove your precious umbrella into his hands. After fussing, he reluctantly keeps it and you just laugh,
“Keep it. Please use it on your way back.”
Tom nods slowly, tilting his head to the side. He weighs it in his hand and his dark eyes shine with fondness again,
“Thank you.”
All loose ends have been tied, and you can say that this is a satisfying ending. You give him a beaming smile and bring the flower close to your face, before stepping back into the light drizzle.
“See you around, Tom.”
Tom bows his head, taking a step out too, opening the umbrella and holding it overhead. There’s still a fire in his eyes, but he lifts the flowers and gives you a devastatingly handsome smile.
“You too.”
You turn away before you can feel anything, and he runs back off into the graying rain.
Like two ships that pass in the night, you never expect to meet again.
…
…
..
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Months have passed since that shimmering, rainy day, and since then you’ve one on about two total dates with that guy A.T. (After Tom).
That first one was magical, and you weren’t nervous at all– excitedly chatting and having a nice walk in the rain. He had luckily brought you an umbrella and walked you home. That date ended with a half-hug and social media trade. The filming had ended by then, without a trace that it had even happened on your home street.
But then came the second date… and it lacked the spark. They were nice, but the glow had worn off.
No third date.
It’s fine, you’re not disappointed. In fact, you’re more determined than ever to find that sparkle and fizzle with someone else. Out of the desire for partnership and spite.
Sheeeesh, you hope that Tom Holland hadn’t ruined ALL dates for you. But deep down, you know that you’ll never replicate that movie-magic kiss in the rain.
You smile whenever you think back to it, and glance towards the (now) dried flower you hung inside of a glass frame. It’s the only reminder that what had happened was real.
Sigh.
Today is another relentless, rainy day that fills you with nostalgia and longing. And even though you said that the universe would give you a sign, you find yourself venturing out during downpours for a chance to bump into a familiar famous face.
Armed with a new umbrella, you duck out and head to a local cafe. You order yourself a huuuuge hot drink– a reward for your troubles.
You mull over the idea of putting yourself back out there, of looking for the next date… the next shot at a knight in shining armor…
… And as you check instagram, the universe slides into your stories.
Tom Holland has posted a new IG story.
Speak of the devil.
Your heart warms, as he often doesn’t do so. He’s only updated a handful of times since you last saw him. And you laugh bitterly at the tragic comedy that YOU follow him, and he’d have no idea who you even were out of the millions that follow and view his stories.
Even if he was looking for you, how could he ever know?
You shake off the thought.
You fish around your pockets and put in earbuds, in case he decides to serenade the millions with his guitar. Finally settled, you open it.
It’s a short clip of the commercial– the street immediately recognizable. Your heart skips a beat as you swipe up to the link and watch it.
Oh my god, this is it.
The clip opens with Tom walking out of a restaurant into the pouring rain. He runs, then slows to a steady pace, totally drenched. The music is rich and low as they capture shots of rain dripping down his nose and neck, white shirt clinging on tight muscles under his blazer– whew.
You look over your shoulder, and hope that no one notices how wide your eyes are or how tightly you’re clutching your phone. You cover your mouth with your hand and continue on.
The commercial rolls on, capturing b-roll of the sky, his shoes, the bouquet gripped by his veined hand. The plot is unclear, and the music dips even deeper. Tom comes ‘home’ into some dim, warmly lit apartment with a killer view. He strips his top and grips the countertop in the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, turning his face side to side. Dark, wet hair clings the nape of his neck, and the camera pans down the strong columns of his back.
It focuses on the amber bottle of cologne on the counter, then to a shot of it being sprayed onto tanned skin. He looks into the mirror again, devilishly sexy and with renewed confidence.
The doorbell rings and he turns, only his dark eyes shine over his shoulder, amusedly. He begins to walk to the door, and the brand name flourishes overtop of the shot. Suddenly, we’re outside of his apartment door, and he opens it. There’s a gratuitous shot of his body lounged against the door, as his eyes flick up to the camera, at you.
His voice huskily breaks the rising tune,
“You again?”
And it fades to black, with the title and last few fading notes.
Oh my god, chills… you think to yourself as you blink at the blank screen. You face flushes hot as you think about your shared kiss, and how his voice rumbled in your fucking ear.
It felt like he was calling you. Not the millions, you.
Though, you suppose anyone with ear buds could feel that way.
Whatever, that moment, the flower on the wall and now this commercial feel like such treasures.
Obscure, precious, fleeting treasures that you may never be able to fully share with anyone else. You’re not even sure if you’d want to share this story with anyone.
You laugh to yourself as you sip the coffee, laying your phone down and looking out the window. You watch the rain dance and race down the pane. You lose yourself to the ambiance of chatter and muffled music.
Once you blink back into reality, you pick up your phone and it unlocks back to IG. You notice that there’s still a lit circle around Tom’s icon in the stories tab.
That’s odd, cos he usually just posts once and fucks off for weeks.
Unless it’s a double post, lol.
You take a deep breath, and open it.
It opens to a black screen with white typewriter text that reads,
“There’s someone I’d like to meet again…”
Your finger shakes as you tap next.
You’re now greeted with a grainy, stylish black and white film reel looking clip. It looks like the beginning of the ad, Tom standing at the edge of the crosswalk with rain pouring around him.
The camera is still and far off, so instead of looking sexy… he just looks soaked and sad.
Then, a familiar shape and umbrella cut across diagonally. A person approaches him, and they initially hesitate as they come towards the crossing… then lift the umbrella over Tom’s head.
The shot shakily zooms forward, and there’s a moment where they both just look at each other. Only grainy profiles beneath one umbrella.
Your heart leaps, when it registers this moment.
In the clip, Tom bursts out into a big, lively grin, pivoting so that you can see the flowers against his chest. Color returns into the clip, and everything is yellow and blue and gray, spots of warmth amongst the dreary rain. He rocks back into a laugh, and your figure does too.
The clip ends and flicks to the next story, a simple rainy street view.
You see a pale hand gripping a familiar, worn umbrella handle. The camera shows the buildings around him, and everything falls into place. You recognize the street he’s on, the crosswalk.
This is it.
The text in the bottom corner has you scrambling out of your seat and running back into the pouring rain. You retrace your steps to that day and actually welcome the sting of cold rain on your face.
Fuck waiting for your knight in shining armor.
You’ll find him yourself.
“See you soon xx”