Chapter Text
The courthouse was already crowded by the time Tom arrived.
News vans lined the street outside, reporters stood behind barricades hoping to catch a glimpse of somebody important, and fans had somehow managed to gather despite the hearing not even being publicized very heavily. A few people held signs supporting Tom while others simply stood around waiting for updates they would probably never receive.
Tom hated every second of it.
As he stepped out of the car alongside Zen and his attorney, camera flashes immediately erupted from somewhere across the street, making him instinctively lower his head.
“Ignore them,” his lawyer said calmly while leading them toward the entrance. “They’re looking for a reaction. Don’t give them one.”
Tom only nodded. The entire situation still felt unreal.
Just a few weeks ago, his biggest concern had been filming schedules, interviews, and whether or not his next movie would perform well at the box office.
Now he was walking into a courthouse.
Zendaya stayed close beside him the entire time. Neither of them spoke much while security guided them through the building and toward the courtroom.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was simply heavy.
Eventually they reached the courtroom.
Tom immediately noticed how much smaller it looked compared to television. For years, he had filmed scenes inside fake courtrooms built on soundstages. Those sets always looked grand and dramatic.
The real thing looked almost ordinary.
Wooden benches, muted colors, a judge’s seat, a few attorneys already preparing documents. Nothing special. Nothing cinematic.
For Tom, it felt worse because this was real. There wasn't going to be somebody yelling “Cut” if things became too difficult.
There wasn’t going to be a second take. There wasn’t going to be a script.
Zen squeezed his hand. “You okay?”
Tom let out a breath. “No.”
His lawyer sat down beside them and began organizing paperwork. “We’re mostly establishing preliminary facts today,” he explained. “Nobody’s expecting a final outcome.”
Tom barely heard him because his attention had drifted toward the side entrance.
Several officers walked in first. Then another figure appeared behind them.
Tom froze.
For a moment, he genuinely thought there had been some mistake. Because the person entering the courtroom didn’t look anything like the image his mind had created.
He had imagined someone older, bigger and meaner. Someone whose face looked cruel enough to match what had happened.
Instead he saw a teenager.
A seventeen-year-old wearing a simple button-up shirt that looked slightly too large for him.
His hair wasn't styled. His expression wasn't threatening. If anything, he looked exhausted.
The kid glanced around the courtroom once before following an officer toward the defense table without showing much reaction to any of it.
Tom felt something unpleasant twist inside his chest. Not sympathy and not forgiveness. Nothing like that.
Just shock.
Seeing a face made everything real in a completely different way.
That was him.
That was the person police believed had done it. That was the person who might spend decades in prison if found guilty. That was the person who had completely destroyed Tom’s sense of safety in a single night.
He looked younger than Tom seemingly remembered.
“You okay?” Zen asked quietly.
Tom didn't answer. His eyes remained fixed on the teenager across the room.
“Is that him?” Zen asked.
“I- I don’t know,” Tom answered.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Zen questioned.
“I didn’t see his face, I don’t know,” Tom muttered.
Zen nodded and looked at him.
“He looks like a kid,” Tom observed.
Zen followed his gaze. She had clearly been expecting someone else too.
Eventually she looked away. “He isn’t just a kid.
Tom swallowed.
“He’s a monster,” Zen finished.
Across the room, Y/N sat down beside his attorney.
Mia Sterling.
Tom recognized her name.
People had been talking about her online ever since she took the case. Some called her a legal prodigy. Others questioned why somebody so young had been allowed anywhere near such a high-profile investigation.
Especially that she is a famous YouTuber.
At the moment, she appeared completely focused on the documents in front of her.
Meanwhile Y/N looked like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
He wasn’t nervous, wasn’t scared. He was just disconnected. It was like the entire courtroom existed several miles away from him.
His mother sat beside him. Worry visibly written in her face.
The judge entered shortly afterward. Everybody stood to give respect.
The room settled a moment later, and then it began.
The prosecution started first, outlining the case, reviewing the timeline, and presenting the reasons investigators believed Y/N should remain under judicial supervision while the investigation continued.
Tom listened carefully.
Everything sounded convincing when presented together. Much more convincing than it had sounded during phone calls and police meetings.
By the time the prosecutor finished, several people in the gallery were already looking toward Y/N.
The judge nodded. “Mr. Holland.”
Tom's stomach immediately dropped.
His lawyer leaned closer. “Just answer honestly.”
Easy for him to say.
Tom stood slowly and approached the witness stand. Every eye in the courtroom followed him. The judge administered the oath.
Tom’s heart was beating too hard. His palms felt damp.
Then the prosecutor stepped forward. “Mr. Holland, can you explain to the court what occurred on the night in question?”
Tom stared at the microphone.
He had told this story before. To Zen. To his family. To detectives. To lawyers. Yet somehow speaking about it here felt different.
Now there was a judge. Now there was somebody sitting twenty feet away who might be connected to it. That was the difference.
Tom took a breath before speaking. “I finished filming late that night,” he began quietly. “We’d been shooting for hours, and I decided to go for a walk before returning to the hotel because I had a headache and needed some air.”
The courtroom remained silent.
His voice started shaking. “I remember hearing footsteps behind me.”
He looked down. “I thought I was imagining it at first.”
“I kept telling myself I was being paranoid.“
Suddenly his throat felt tight. Tom paused. His lawyer lowered his eyes.
Zen looked like she wanted to stand up and rescue him from the witness stand entirely.
“I thought...” Tom stopped. His voice cracked and looked away.
For several seconds he couldn't continue, then he did. “I thought if I just kept walking everything would be fine.”
His next breath came out uneven. “Then he grabbed me...”
Tom immediately felt tears burning behind his eyes. Damn it. Not here. Not now.
“He- he put it in me..” he started. “I- it felt so hurt to the point I bled-“ he stopped.
He clenched his jaw and tried to continue. But he failed. The first tear escaped anyway.
Tom lowered his head. Embarrassment immediately flooded through him. He was crying in front of an entire courtroom.
But once the tears started, stopping them became impossible. “I couldn’t get away,” he whispered.
“I tried,“ his voice completely broke. “I tried.”
Tom pressed a hand against his eyes. The prosecutor quietly handed him a tissue.
Tom let out a miserable, broken sound, then wiped his face. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” the prosecutor said softly.
Tom nodded, but he couldn't stop crying.
The courtroom remained silent for several seconds after Tom finished speaking. Even the reporters seated in the back seemed reluctant to move.
Tom slowly returned to his seat beside Zen, keeping his eyes lowered as he sat down. Zen immediately reached for his hand.
Across the room, Y/N stared at the table. His expression hadn't changed. He was looking down.
The judge glanced toward the defense table. “Ms. Sterling.”
Mia stood. Every eye in the courtroom shifted toward her.
She adjusted her jacket, gathered a few papers, and approached the center of the room.
Unlike the prosecutor, she didn’t immediately begin speaking. Instead, she waited.
“Your Honor,” she finally said, “before I say anything else, I want to make one thing absolutely clear.”
She glanced briefly toward Tom. “Nothing I’m about to argue should be interpreted as minimizing what Mr. Holland experienced.”
The courtroom remained quiet.
“He reported a violent crime. He deserves to be heard. He deserves a proper investigation.”
Tom looked up slightly.
“But this hearing is not just about whether a crime occurred,” Mia continued.
She turned toward the judge. “It’s also about whether the court currently has sufficient evidence to connect my client to that crime.”
Mia opened a folder. “The prosecution has presented a description.”
“Dark hoodie, dark jeans, similar hair color, similar eye color and a torn sleeve," she read from the documents. “With respect, that description could apply to hundreds of people,” she closed the folder.
The prosecutor frowned. But Mia continued before he could interrupt. “My client was arrested in public based largely on a general physical description.”
“A seventeen-year-old student with no criminal record,” she gestured toward Y/N.
The judge looked down at the documents.
“Investigators have not presented DNA evidence,” Mia’s voice remained calm. “No surveillance footage placing him at the scene, no witness identifying him, no confession and no physical evidence linking him directly to the attack.”
The prosecutor stood. “The investigation is ongoing-”
“And I fully support that investigation,” Mia interrupted politely. “But investigations are supposed to eliminate possibilities, not create conclusions before the evidence exists,” she turned back toward the judge.
The judge folded his hands. “Ms. Sterling, are you arguing that the arrest itself was improper?”
“I’m arguing that certainty has moved faster than evidence,” she explained.
The judge considered that.
Across the room, Tom felt a strange sensation in his chest. Everything Mia was saying sounded reasonable.
But that didn’t mean Y/N was innocent. It also didn’t mean Tom was wrong. But it reminded him of something he hadn’t thought about since the investigation began.
Nobody actually knew.
Mia inhaled. “My client has cooperated fully.”
She looked toward Y/N. “He answered questions, provided an alibi, surrendered his belongings and has not attempted to flee.”
She turned back toward the bench. “At this stage, the court is being asked to treat suspicion as proof.”
The prosecutor immediately stood. “We are not asking that at all.”
“Then present the proof,” Mia replied.
The judge raised a hand. “That’s enough.”
The room fell silent again.
“I’ve heard arguments from both sides,” he said as he looked down at the case file.
Then toward the prosecution. Then toward the defense. “This court recognizes the seriousness of the allegations,” he spoke.
Tom’s stomach tightened.
“However,” the judge continued, “serious allegations do not remove the burden of evidence.”
Mia remained perfectly still.
The judge closed the file. “I am ordering the investigation to continue.”
A pause.
“But based on the information currently before this court, I do not find sufficient grounds to impose additional restrictions on Mr. Y/L/N beyond standard reporting requirements.”
A murmur spread through the courtroom.
Tom felt his heart sink.
Across the room, Y/N blinked once. That was it. No smile, no relief, no celebration. Just a single blink.
Tom glanced at him. Y/N looked like he doesn’t care. Was he that cruel?
Tom felt something in his chest. Fear. Fear of something bad might happen again soon because the person accused of doing this to him wasn’t giving a single fuck.
The judge struck the gavel. “Court is adjourned.”