𝗘𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 [ 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 ] ❜

𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝐸𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ ❗️

𝐼𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ - 𝑌/𝑁 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑

Inspired by: Good Enough ~ Little Mix

Before anyone gets excited by the ❗️ - this isn't smut!!

The ❗️ in this case is because for some this one shot may be triggering. It covers anxiety, in quite a lot of detail, something that is very close to my heart. Everyone suffers differently with it, but this is my take on it. Please read at your own risk, and to anyone who is reading this with anxiety or any mental illness then, I'm so proud of you, and if all you manage to do today is get out of bed and shower, then you rock! Xxx

♡'･ᴗ･'♡♡'･ᴗ･'♡♡'･ᴗ･'♡♡'･ᴗ･'♡♡'･ᴗ･'♡

Am I still not good enough?

Am I still not worth that much?

I'm sorry for the way my life turned out

I'm sorry for the smile I'm wearing now

A house, somewhere, 2002

Since I was born I'd always been different. Firstly, I had been a huge tomboy, educated in a school full of girls. Secondly, I was the girlfriend of former Take That singer, Mark Owen. Thirdly, and perhaps most signficantly, I was suffering from a mental illness.

Mark was very aware of my anxiety, and did everything in his power to help me. Especially as I had been there for him when the band fell apart in 1996, when Mark was left to question his own self worth and spiralled down a very dark hole. He always said to me - "whenever my girl needs something, no matter how big or small, I'll go to the ends of the earth for it." Sometimes though, not even Mark could do it all.

"Ready to get some lunch baby girl?" He asks kindly, coming out of our recording booth to find me sat scribbling lazily in a notebook on the couch. Him and I were working on his solo album together, where I'd write some lyric ideas and he'd record them.

I nod and then giggle at the nickname. Even after all the time we'd been a couple, I still get butterflies when he calls me that. Mark just rolls his eyes a little playfully, winding a protective arm around my waist as we take the short walk to our favourite little cafe.

There is a few people already queuing when we get there, and instinctively my hand latches onto Mark's arm when I hear a group of loud teenage boys file into the line behind us. My anxiety doesn't respond well to loud noises, or the close proximity of strangers, and I can feel my lungs constricting. Mark immediately senses my discomfort.

"Talk to me. Tell me how your lyrics are coming along." He encourages, taking my trembling hands in his own. He's trying to keep me distracted.

"Um, t-they're fine, y-you've seen most of them." I laugh, a hand flying up to my mouth a second later. You're laughing way too loud Y/N, imagine how much attention you're bringing to Mark with an ugly laugh like that. Do you really want to embarass him like that?

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but you're Mark Owen that used to be in Take That right?" A new voice pipes up suddenly from beside us, coming from a young and very beautiful girl around 25. Much prettier than I ever could be. She doesn't bother keeping her question quiet, drawing all eyes in the cafe to us in the queue and my hands begin to sweat.