#spent like fifteen minutes scrolling the catch quotes looking for the one that was both most plausible and also funny to imagine him saying

[werewolf-transgenderism]

^ if you imagine him saying the silly animal crossing fishing puns in his silly voice they become 1000% funnier

[daydream-believer]

Summer Love - a Tom Holland imagine

So this is my first imagine that I’m posting on tumblr; and who better to write it about than Tom Holland!

This is based off of the song Summer Love by One Direction. I’m not really a One Direction fan (though I used to be), and when I couldn’t sleep at 01:40 am last night, I found myself listening to some of their songs, this one being one of my favourites. Whenever I listened to this song, I always imagined this little story to go along with it, and last night I decided to write that story and make it into an imagine!

Synopsis: Tom and Y/N have spent the whole summer together falling in love, but now summer is over and they must part.

I know it’s a bit strange to write about this kind of thing at the beginning of the summer, but oh well.

Y/N = your name       Y/E/C = your eye colour

Word count: 2704 (jeez, I didn’t realise that it was this long!)

Hope that everyone enjoys this! Let me know what you think: should I write more imgines? Have a great day!

I packed the last of my things, hoping and praying that this was some sick dream. 

Folding away the clothes which I had worn and worn throughout the summer only made all the memories come flooding back, forcing me even more to pull back tears.

I picked up the last item on my bed, my white t-shirt - which wasn’t so white anymore - and rubbed it through my fingers…

“I’ll never forget your face when you fell into that mud.” Tom said, standing in the doorway. I hadn’t noticed he’d been standing there.

I smiled. “I’ll never forget yours when you fell in after me.”

It had been a particularly humid July afternoon, and unlike all the other normal people, Tom and I had decided to go for a walk through the forest. 

Heaven knows why. 

We should have seen it coming, the dark storm clouds beginning to creep up on us. It soon began to pour down, with the thunder and lightening complimenting the rain. Attempting to run back to the cabin before catching hypothermia, in my not-so-sensible choice of footwear (pumps), I slipped in a puddle of mud and ruined my shorts and t-shirt. I just couldn’t stop laughing. Tom, attempting to rescue me, didn’t realise how slippery it was, and fell in too. We must have sat there laughing for ages, as the rain had almost stopped by the time we had regained sanity. Luckily, most of the mud washed out (except for my t-shirt), but I decided to keep it as a memory, since we didn’t have our phones that day and therefore no photos.

Obviously also recalling the memory, Tom laughed, as did I, and looked down at his feet. When he looked back up, I thought he was going to cry (one thing I hadn’t seen him do yet) but instead he just looked sad and shocked.

Shocked that this day had finally come. I was too. After booking by chance a last-minute two-month summer retreat to Cornwall, meeting Tom, becoming friends, falling in love with the whole summer stretched in front of us, our encounter felt like an infinity. But it had come to an end. I had to go back to my university course at MIT, and over the next few days, Tom would also have to return home.

The other thing that he hadn’t done in front of me, though nor had I in front of him, was say I love you. I was certain I felt that way about him, and I was pretty certain he did too: but either the moment just didn’t feel right; or we knew we would have to separate at some point, which would only make saying goodbye even harder; or a mixture of both.

He came and sat on the window ledge; one that had often been a place of comfort and solace for the both of us. It looked straight on to the sea, and at night there were magnificent views of the stars. He sat with his back against the side, and patted for me to sit leaning against him. We both looked out at the view, in a comfortable, contemplative silence.

“I’m going to miss you like hell.” I said, not wanting to have to say it later through floods of tears.

“I know, I will too. Like crazy.” He replied.

“We’ve had such a-”

“Can we not talk about it?” He blurted out.

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I just want the last moments to be like we have no worries in the world. Like this isn’t really happening. Not until we get to the airport at least.”

“Okay.” I replied, agreeing with him.

His arms were crossed over my chest, his right thumb was gently stroking my left arm, and I could feel his breath passing past my ear like the gentle summer breeze we had been enjoying.

I looked at my watch. 14:08. My flight was at 15:15, the airport half an hour away.

“We should probably go.” I suggested begrudgingly. “Ready?”

Tom sighed, deeply: a mixture of frustration and grief.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, which is not at all.” He gave me a sideways smile, which I guess was trying to make me feel a bit better, but couldn’t mask the feelings he was trying to hide.

“I’ll bring your bags down, you go and pick a good CD for the car.”

“Thank you.”

I went downstairs for the last time, breathing in the fresh, woody smell, and taking in the sights of the simple yet grand cabin one last time. Just that was starting to make me well up.

I got into Tom’s car and plugged in my phone; we’d shared so much music with each other over the summer that we basically now shared the same discography.

I scrolled through my music: Face the Sun by James Blunt and Amnesia by 5SOS were both appropriate choices for the situation, but I felt that something happier would lighten the mood. In the end I chose ABBA, to continue our running joke that Tom secretly adores them, he just won’t admit it.

I waited for Tom before I started Dancing Queen, but I realised that he was taking longer than I thought. After five minutes I was going to go back in and ask if he needed a hand, but he came out the door with my suitcase and rucksack in hand.

He shut and locked the door behind him, before loading my bags into the car.

He got into the driver’s seat.

“You know, for a minute there I thought that Spider-Man was struggling with some luggage.”

He pushed the sunglasses which were resting on the top of his head onto his nose.

“I’m a trained actor motherf*cker!” At this there was a brief moment of silence before an outburst of laughter. The amount of times he’d repeated that quote over the summer only made me laugh more.

When we eventually stopped, Tom asked:

“So; what did you pick?”

I pressed play, and Dancing Queen came on.

“Oh no, you didn’t…”

“I thought you’d enjoy it since I know how much you love them now!”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you pick!” He joked, starting the ignition and reversing out of the small complex of cabins.

Driving through Cornwall, I almost forgot about where we were driving to. The wind in my hair, the loud music, Tom and I choosing to only talk about trivial matters: it was like any normal, perfect, summer’s day.

Except it wasn’t. But I wasn’t going to let it cloud my thoughts.

I felt the summer heat against my skin, relishing it while I could. I turned to look at Tom; who looked deep in thought, but when he noticed that I was looking at him, he smiled and took my hand.

“I’m never going to let this go,” he almost whispered, squeezing it a bit. “Not really.”

I squeezed his hand back, telling him that I felt the same. I was already too choked up to respond.

About fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the airport. Tom parked, switched the engine off, and turned to look at me.

“My hair’s gone a bit crazy in the wind, hasn’t it?” Tom took a stray piece and tucked it behind my ear. “It’s always beautifully crazy.” He said, and I could tell that he was really taking in my features, soaking me up as much as he could while he still had the chance. I looked at him in the same way: his ocean-blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, his soft hair. After a minute or so, I broke our little trance.

I turned to look at my lap: “I should go.”

Tom took the car keys out of the ignition: “I’ll come with you.”

I took my rucksack and he wheeled my suitcase, and we made our way into the tiny airport and the departures area.

We quickly found the check-in desk and checked-in quickly. I went through security, and they allowed Tom through too so that he could wait with me. My flight was the only going that afternoon, and it was almost empty, so the small shopping area and four gates were quiet. Tom and I sat together, fingers linked, muttering sweet nothings to each other every few minutes.

Then the moment came.

They called my flight.

We watched the over twenty people board first, and then we had to do what we had been dreading from the beginning. The inevitable.

Saying goodbye.

We stood up, knowing that time was against us, and stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. Then Tom pulled me into the tightest hug I had ever received, his chin resting on my shoulder, mine on his. I felt the tears forming.

“Please never forget me. Us. This.”

“How could I forget you, Holland?” He pulled out of the hug and cupped my cheeks in his hands. I saw them.

“You’re crying…” I felt my own face crumple up slightly and the tears fall down. I had seen him cry. And it only made me cry more.

“I love you Y/N. So, so much. I love you. I always will. Hold on to that, please, for me.”

“I love you too, Tom. Forever and always, and you have to remember that too." 

He smiled again, and then kissed me. Of course we had kissed many times before, but never like this. I could taste the despair and the love in him. I felt myself coming together yet tearing apart at the same time, and I sensed that he felt that way too.

We pulled away, us both knowing that that was the last time.

"You have to go,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I managed to say back.

I walked over to the desk, walking away from Tom and everything I had ever dreamed of.

After my ticket was scanned and I was about to walk out of sight, I turned back to Tom. He was still standing in the same position, and even metres away I could see that he was wiping away tears. He waved, and I waved back. Then I knew what I had to do.

I knew that Tom was waiting at the airport until my flight had taken off, and once I was seated (in my window seat, with no-one else next to me in the entire row), I tried to find him through the glass building but to my dismay I couldn’t. And then, the plane began to move.

It jolted, taking me by surprise, and then made its way to the runway. It got there. The plane picked up speed. It catapulted forward, and I panicked, trying to find Tom but I couldn’t and all of a sudden I was gone. I waved, knowing really that Tom couldn’t see but making my feel better. A single tear rolled down my cheek, where Tom’s hands had touched only fifteen minutes ago. My heart ached at that thought.

I decided to reach for my headphones in my rucksack.

I opened my back, and next to my book, headphones, passport and water was something I didn’t remember putting in there last night.

An envelope.

It had ‘Y/N’ written on the front, and although I had only seen it a handful of times, I instantly recognised it as Tom’s handwriting.

I hastily opened it: 

Dear Y/N,

I was going to give this to you, or say this all to you in person, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t want to have to talk about this when we could be making more positive memories, but I still wanted to share this with you.

By the way, I put this in your bag before I brought your bags down to the car, though I wrote it yesterday. That is, unless my plan failed miserably, but if it didn’t, then at least that’s something.

If I haven’t had the balls to say it to you at the airport: I love you Y/N. Every bit of you. From your crazy-amazing hair, to your curves, to your small hands. From your laughing fits, to your uncontrollable hiccuping fits, to your gorgeous Y/E/C eyes. From your glowing smile, to your intelligence, to how you taste. All of you. And if I could have you for the rest of my life, I would.

But I can’t. We both can’t. And we both know that.

I’m an actor. You’re an MIT scholar with a glistening career as a doctor ahead of you. I don’t want to get in the way of your lifelong dream, nor do I want you to experience the burden of being in the limelight. You may argue against that, but I don’t want to see you get hurt, more than anything in the world. And if that means that I have to let you go then so be it.

I know that you’ve promised you’ll write and said you’ll call, despite me suggesting otherwise, but please Y/N. For me, please. I don’t want you to lose yourself to me. I’m not worth that.

This is going to seem unfair: we have to destroy our beautiful creation, in order to not destroy ourselves. But we both know, deep down, that this can’t go any further. And I’m only doing it because I love you. I don’t want our relationship to become disjointed and changed because of what happens next. I want to treasure this summer, and what we are, just as it was forever. I don’t want to lose it to the media and other such horrors.

There’s nothing that I want to change. This has been the perfect summer and I know that we will both look back on it as the best in our lives. I never planned on falling in love as deeply as I did but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. You made me the best version of me possible and I cannot thank you enough for that.

No matter who I end up with at the end of all this, I will always love you. And even though it hurts saying this so much, I think that we’re doing the right thing.

I love you Y/N. Never forget that. Ever. You will always be my summer love.

Love always, Tom x 

I re-read the letter over and over, agreeing but disagreeing with everything. Why was the world so unfair?

“Madam? Are you alright?”

I jumped in my seat a bit. One of the flight stewardesses was standing in the aisle. I realised that I must have been crying hysterically.

“Yes - I’m fine- no. I don’t know, honestly. I’m just numb. It’s, it’s complicated.”

“A break up?” she asked, worried.

“We didn’t want to. But I think it might be for the best, as much as I don’t want it to be.”

To my surprise, she sat in the seat next to me. “Love is cruel like that. The whole world is. Sometimes two soulmates meet, but at such a time that it is just not right. And it’s horrible. You finally find the love of your life, only to have them snatched away from you. But you must take it in your stride. Know that that person would give anything to be with you, and that they love you, and use that knowledge to achieve your dreams and everything you wanted to do in life. Because it is what they would want, because they really love you. And inside your heart, you know that really.”

She handed me a tissue.

“I hope that helped. Even if it’s just brought an ounce of hope.”

“It has, thank you. Very much.”

“No problem. Now, would you like a water, or something a bit stronger?”

“Just a tea please.”

She made me my tea and said that she would come and check on me later.

And so I stared out of the window, at the clouds and blue, blue sky, and thought:

I’m doing this for both of us Tom. I’ll always love you, my summer love.