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astronomyparkers · 5 years

Text

Silence {IX}

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Vigilante!Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: as usual, I seem to be sticking to my three months between update schedule, and for that, I apologize. School has been hectic and my university is trying to shut down my program so we’ve been fighting with administration (ya girl wrote a three page letter to a bunch of news outlets and got news crews to come to our school to film and do stories) and it’s been stressful but!!! I’m heading into finals which means I’ll be done soon!!! So hopefully my next update will be sooner lmao. As always, let me know what you think! And I apologize in advance for that cliff hanger. Also, because I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I could, I didn’t have a beta or proof reader so...apologies for any errors in grammar. And a reminder: I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!!!! THE REASON WHY IS IN MY FAQ!!!! ANY/ALL MESSAGES REGARDING THIS WILL BE DELETED!!!!

{masterlist}

Tom’s bedroom was, unsurprisingly, dark and unrevealing. His walls were a dark grey, which his bedspread matched. There were no pictures on the walls or dresser, no personal items on any shelves. It struck you as vacant, like a place he was occupying. Not anything that he would consider home.

You looked over at his sleeping form beside you. He was more relaxed as he slept, younger looking. His dark brown eyes were closed, but there wasn’t a scowl on his features. His face was smooth and soft against his pillow, his hair a mess of tangles (half from sleep, half from you pulling on it). Even with the storm raging outside, rain pelting the windows, you could hear the quiet noise of his breathing, see the rise and fall of his pale chest in the dark. The only things breaking up his smooth skin were the various scars scattered around, from wounds long healed. The mark that troubled you the most was the long white scar by his hairline, barely visible, usually covered by his hair or his hood. You had a suspicion you knew where it was from.

And then there were the marks that you left. Dark purple bruises along his neck, his collarbones, his chest. There was no mirror in his room, but you suspected that you looked the same. Now that there were no secrets or barriers between you two, you saw no reason to hide yourself from him. You hadn’t even realized that you wanted this until he was carrying you to his room, laying you back on his bed, asking if he could take off your shirt…

You shivered at the memory. Between those thoughts running through your mind, and the rain pounding on the window, it was clear that you were getting no sleep that night. With a sigh, you sat up in bed, careful not to disturb Tom as you climbed out. You crept quietly to the pile of clothes on the floor, pulling on your underwear and Tom’s shirt, which was so much more comfortable than your work dress. Once you were (partially) dressed, you crept quietly out of the room. Now that you were awake, you were dying for a glass of water.

You made it to the kitchen and filled up a glass at the sink before being caught. You were looking out the window above the sink, and didn’t realize you weren’t alone until you heard Tom speak.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

You jumped, spilling some water on yourself. “Jesus—I get you’re the Silence, but try not to sneak up on me, alright?”

“Sorry.” Tom chuckled lightly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“And I didn’t mean to wake you.” You said sheepishly, grabbing a dish towel and drying your shirt.

Tom shook his head and made his way around the kitchen island. “You didn’t.” He grabbed a glass for himself and began filling it. “I don’t sleep very well, anyways. I always wake up.”

You just nodded, unsure of what else to say. Tom could obviously sense your hesitation, as he kept walking until he was right in front of you, placing a hand on your waist.

“Why don’t you come back to bed?” He suggested, his voice low and thick. “You had a long day. It’s still early.”

“I don’t think it would help, really.” You admitted, pulling away from him a bit. “After today…I can’t turn my mind off.”

“No, I bet you can’t.” Tom chuckled dryly, sighing a bit. “Always thinking…”

“William knows I know.” You looked down at the glass in your hands, trailing your fingers over the rim. “He knows that…I know you’re different people, that he’s been lying, and that he’s the bad guy in all this. And he…” You swallowed hard, unable to keep the fear out of your voice. “He was in my home, Tom. He was looking for me.”

Tom raked his teeth over his bottom lip before licking it nervously. “I know this is…a lot to think about, but there’s a good chance that—”

“—that William was the one who sent those hit men after me.” You finished. “I know. I thought that too.”

“Of course you did.” Despite everything, a chuckle worked its way out of Tom. “You’re smart, curator. Too smart for your own good.”

“Not smart enough.” You set the glass down with a sigh. “I realized all of this too late. I-I was practically inviting him into my life, and he was just using me to—”

“Hey.” Tom took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

“But it’s not.” You protested. “He was using me to get to my files. And now that I know, he’s—”

“Now that you know, we can take him down easier.” Tom brushed his fingers through your hair, moving it out of your eyes. “He can search your apartment and your office all he wants. You’ll be here, safe, out of his reach. And you brought the Holland file here, didn’t you?”

You gave a small nod.

“That’s what he wants.” Tom said in a soothing voice. “That’s what’s incriminating for Holland Enterprises. And it’s here, safe and sound. So are you. And it’ll stay that way.”

You pulled away from him, looking at him with a raised brow. “You want me to stay here? Not doing anything?”

“Of course.” Tom said brusquely. “This is a family matter.”

“He tried to kill me.” You reminded him. “I’m a part of this!”

“If you step foot off these grounds, you will be in danger.” Tom’s voice was firm. “I’m not allowing that to happen.”

“I’m part of this now.” You said, your voice equally low. “I can’t just sit on the sidelines—”

“I’m not discussing this right now.” Tom cut across you. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’ll get hurt.”

The argument wasn’t over, but you knew that you weren’t going to get anywhere when both of you were like this. “Fine.” You sighed. “What will you be doing, then?”

“I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing all along. I’m going to take down Corewell, and Holland Enterprises with it, if I have to.” Tom replied. “Even if it means I have to…get rid of my father. My…brother.”

Your eyes widened when you heard that. “Tom, you don’t think…you really—”

“I’ve killed before.” He half shrugged. “This wouldn’t really be any different.”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head. “This is your family. Despite everything that’s happened—”

“William set me up without so much as a second thought.” Tom cut across you coldly, sharply. “And my father didn’t notice. Family doesn’t matter.”

“What about…after it’s over?” You couldn’t bring yourself to discuss Tom killing anyone anymore. “Will you keep being the Silence?”

The fight seemed to go out of Tom, and he slumped back against the counter, his face falling. “I don’t know.” He admitted in a low voice. “This is all I know. I…I don’t really remember how to be anything else. How to be…Tom.”

You cupped his cheek slowly, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re Tom to me. To Harrison. To Jacob.”

Tom just nodded. “Yeah. I guess.” He cleared his throat and steadied himself again. “Let’s go back to bed, curator. Come on.”

It was easier to fall asleep once you had talked through your worries and fears with Tom. You slept through most of the morning in his arms, but when you woke up, you were alone.

There was a folded stack of clothes at the edge of the bed, all with the tags still on them—someone had gone shopping. You showered quickly and dressed in a pair of jeans and plain t-shirt from the pile (which, honestly weren’t the best fitting clothes you had ever worn, but they were decent enough) before going back downstairs.

Jacob and Harrison were in the kitchen, drinking something from mugs as they talked quietly, tensely. They stopped once you entered the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N.” Harrison smiled brightly at you. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay.” You shrugged and sat down at the counter. “Who went shopping?”

“I did.” Jacob answered. “We didn’t really want to go back to your apartment, but you needed clothes, so…do they fit okay?”

“Pretty decent, yeah.” You smiled gratefully at him as he handed you a cup of coffee. “Where’s Tom?”

“Tom is…” Jacob glanced at Harrison. “He’s, um, doing some training—”

“In the gym?” You began to stand up. “I’ll go see—”

“No!” Harrison and Jacob both yelled at the same time, making you freeze. “He’s just—he’s—he had to go—”

“He left?” Your brow furrowed as you looked between them. “Without telling me?”

“He didn’t want to wake you.” Harrison said it apologetically. “He left to try and find William about an hour ago.”

You set down your coffee cup. “Right. I’m going after—”

The moment you moved, Jacob and Harrison moved to stand in your way. You looked between them, realization settling in.

“You two aren’t…going to let me leave, are you?”

Harrison grimaced. “Sorry, love, but—”

“We have distinct orders from Tom not to let you leave.” Jacob finished for him. “It’s not safe.”

“You’re holding me captive?” You raised an eyebrow and laughed once. “Really?”

“Not really captive, exactly.” Harrison had the decency to sound sheepish. “You can go anywhere you want in the manor, and go out in the grounds. You just can’t—”

“Leave.” You cut over him. “So…you’re holding me captive.”

“Well, that’s not really a nice way to say it.” Jacob sighed. “Think of it more like…a vacation.”

You laughed incredulously. “A vacation? I can’t take a vacation, Jacob! I have a job! Friends! Family!”

“You and the Holland file need to stay here until it’s safe.” Harrison said firmly. Then he softened. “I know it’s not ideal. I know. But it won’t be too long before this whole matter is done, and then you can leave. Until then…” he handed you your mug back. “Why don’t you go upstairs, grab your jacket, and we’ll go take Monty for a walk?”

You knew there was nothing else you could say or do. And, on some level, you knew they were right. You were safe here. The Holland file was safe here. If those two factors were different, then leaving would be necessary. But they weren’t.

Still, Jacob and Harrison kept you under careful watch the entire day. They kept you busy with walks, movies, training, and more, until you finally called it a night and headed back to Tom’s room.

You collapsed on the bed, exhausted. At the beginning of the day, you wondered if they kept you so busy so that you wouldn’t think of leaving, but now you knew the truth. They kept you busy so that you would be too exhausted to leave. Right now, all you wanted to do was change into some pajamas (Jacob had bought you some with the print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night on them and they looked ridiculously comfortable), climb into bed, and fall asleep.

You did just that, except—as usual—sleep didn’t come to you. You sighed in frustration as you sat up. Something just…didn’t feel right to you, and if you had learned anything these past few weeks, it was to trust your instinct.

Getting out of bed, you walked over to your bag in the corner of the room, pulling out the Holland file. You then climbed back into the bed before opening the file.

You expected to see the usual front page, which was a bio on the main donor. For the Holland file, that meant a bio of Dominic Holland. What you saw, however, was a bio of Orson Hoene, a donor from two years ago.

Cold dread washed over you as you flipped through the contents of the file. You had grabbed the file when William surprised you at the museum, and in your rush, you must have grabbed the wrong one…which mean the Holland file, which contained all the incriminating information that William was after (and willing to kill for) was still in your office at the MoMA.

You tried to steady your breathing as you sat back, sinking into the pillows. You almost wished you could really sink back, falling into the headboard and the walls like Alice fell down the rabbit hole. She went from her boring, every day life to a strange new world, but you wanted the opposite. You wanted to fall back from this strange world into your boring life. You missed it.

After a few closed eye, steadying breathing minutes, you sat back up. There was no time to wish for the life you had before. This was the life you had now, and, despite everything, you wanted to keep living it. That meant staying in the safety of the manor, with the file…

You bit your lip. The file. It wasn’t here with you, in safety. It was back in your office, a place William had probably searched by now. It would be a miracle if you went back and found it still there…

But there was a chance. After all, it was nearing one am; the museum wasn’t open. Only someone with keys would be able to gain access, top security clearance that only a handful of people had. And you were one of them. William was not.

That settled it. You had to go back for the file, and you had to do it now.

With a sigh, you pushed back your blankets and dressed again, in black leggings, a hoodie, and sneakers. You had a feeling that your usual uniform of a dress and heels wouldn’t work for this situation. Then you tucked the Hoene file back into your bag, making sure you had your museum keys, ID card, and the gun from the day you met the Silence. You hoped you wouldn’t need it, but…better safe than sorry.

Escaping to the garage was easier than you expected. Jacob and Harrison must have trusted you not to leave, because no doors were locked, and they were tucked away in their rooms. You crept down the stairs with your shoes in your hand, waiting until you were down in the garage to put them on. Then you grabbed the keys for the sleek black car (Tom’s motorcycle was still missing), starting it and driving up and out of the garage as slowly and quietly as you could. When you drove away from the house, the lights were still off. Harrison and Jacob hadn’t noticed you’d left.

At this time of night, the traffic heading back into the city was much calmer than you were used to. You drove in silence, the radio off so it wouldn’t distract you. When you pulled up to the museum, you parked on the unusually empty street, hurrying to the locked front door. You unlocked it with your keys and walked pointedly to your office. You were used to hearing the echo of your high heels as you walked along the tiled floors, but in your runners, all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing.

You went through all the motions quickly, scanning your key card to gain access to the employee area, walking down towards your office, unlocking the door. You didn’t even bother to flick the lights on before heading straight to the filing cabinet, unlocking it and pulling it open. You thumbed your way through the file folders as fast as you could. Something about being here, so late at night, made you feel…uneasy. Especially when you went through all the H’s in the cabinet without finding the Holland file.

“Where are you?” You asked out loud, a frown plastered on your face. You didn’t expect an answer, of course. And yet…

“Looking for this?”

Whipping around, you saw William seated at your desk, leaning back in your chair. In one hand, he held the Holland file. In the other, he held a gun, which he was pointing straight at you.

You felt a cold sweat break out over your skin. You fought to breathe, tried to think of something to say, but no words came to you.

“I have to admit, your research is very thorough.” William said, almost in admiration. “Such a smart woman. It’s a shame I’ll have to kill you.”

The click of the gun cocking echoed like thunder through your silent office.

{part X}

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