C⃣h⃣a⃣p⃣t⃣e⃣r⃣ S⃣e⃣v⃣e⃣n⃣t⃣e⃣e⃣n⃣

Harrison dropped me off at my house late into the afternoon. He helped me with my bike like the first time. Only this time he carried it all the way to the porch, instead of me rolling it up to it. Some part of me believed that he did it to show off a little but deep down I knew he was only being nice.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks. I nod my head. We say our goodbyes and I enter my house. Floating on air.

I was so happy with today's events that I wasn't even concerned by the pair of voices I heard. "Hey Dad," I call out, "how are you doing? Because I'm doing great."

"That's great sweetie. You won't believe who stopped by." I'm barely listening to him. Just thinking about Harrison.

"I mean-" my gushing about the day stopped short. My eyes widen and I think my mouth might have fell open. I did not expect to see the man next to Dad. What was he even doing here?

"Hey Y/N," he says with a smile. He hasn't changed. Or at least not much.

"Tom?"

Tom Holland. Used to annoy him a lot when I was younger, so he kind of hated me. Would do mean things to me to show his 'hatred.' Once pushed me out of a tree when I tried to follow him and Harrison up it. Then when a group of older boys started messing with me, he stepped in to stop them. Wrote his letter at age 12.

He stands up from the couch. "It's so good to see you." He goes in for a hug. I hug back but am still shocked that he's here.

"It's good to see you, too. What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you," he says smiling, "and other people, of course." Oh, those words.

"You two should catch up," Dad says. "But not here. I'm watching TV." Wow. Thanks Dad.

"Um, come on," I gesture for Tom to follow me. Dad stops me before I can get that far.

"He's Spider-Man, you know?" He whispers.

"Yeah, somehow I knew that," I say sarcastically.

"Leave the door open!" He yells as we walk up the stairs.

I was a little embarrassed since my room was such a mess, but Tom didn't seem to mind.

"I got your letter," he pulls it out of his pocket. "First of all why'd you have to make it out to 'Thomas'?" I look away knowing I did it just because it annoyed him, "and second of all I'm-"

"I know, I know," I cut him off, "you're not interested. It's okay."

He just looks at me. "Would I come all this way if I wasn't?"

Oh.

"I receive letters like these all the time, but with you it's different. The stuff you talk about in this letter," he pauses to search for the right words, "they're from years ago. That means you've felt this way about me since before I was famous." He can't do this. Not now.

"Look, Tom, I wrote that letter a long time ago," I tell him.

"I know, I know. I just needed to see you, to know how I felt," he steps closer to me.

"And?" I hesitantly ask.

"I still kind of see you as an odd little sister," He chuckles.

"Oh thank God. Because I really need an odd older sibling right about now."

We both sat down on my bed and I explained the whole letter situation. I told him about Harrison and I dating. Leaving the fake part out. It was nice to talk to someone else about this. And Tom was a good listener.

"Seriously? Five letters?" He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Actually... there's six."