Tom Holland Imagines

Beautiful People

It was difficult being in the public eye every moment of your life. Despite having a year to get used to it, you never could.

You'd grown up a simple girl....no frivolous spending or expensive nights. That life ended the minute you and Tom went public. It wasn't that you didn't love the whole world knowing you were his. Quite the opposite. A weight had been lifted off your shoulders the day he posted your photo on his Instagram with your name in the caption. Secrets weren't and had never been your thing, and that was lucky since, under the limelight, you had none anyway.

Being in love with an A-list celebrity was glamorous, for sure. There was a different party every week and a publicity event almost daily. Your jewellery box was bursting with diamonds, simply because Tom could afford them, and though it was nice to have fancy things and live the life of a movie star, you were terrified of losing yourself in the sparkle of the prestige.

You had heard horror stories from Tom of celebrities becoming completely consumed by the fame, their egos swelling like bubonic sores fed by the constant fan mail, inconceivably large paychecks, and VIP invitations. And that was the last thing you wanted to become.

It was a beautiful Saturday evening in Los Angeles. July. The sun had already set, causing the sky to glow in an enchanting gradience of orange to pink to purple. You were, yet again, bedazzled with diamonds and silver in your long black cocktail dress. You gripped Tom's arm as he led you into the event. You had been to so many over the past year, you'd forgotten which was which, and this was no exception.

Smile and act cordial. That was your plan. A perfect Hollywood girlfriend, no skeletons in the closet. People greeted you as you walked in, though you didn't recognize most of them. You weren't cut out for this kind of life. But as you looked up at Tom, you realized no mistake had been made.

"I'm going to go socialize," he whispered into your ear, pecking your jaw just below it. "You'll do wonderfully. Don't worry." With a reassuring squeeze of your hand, he was gone. And within less than five minutes, you had been swept up into a group of socialites who seemed to know everything about you, though you knew nothing of them.

"Y/N! Darling, it's wonderful to see you. You should come to the estate sometime! There's a pool chair with your name on it."

"Oh, Y/N! I love your dress. Is it Givenchy? I swear I owned one just like it!"

"Y/N, angel! Congratulations on going public. When were you and Tom thinking about having children? You know, Brad has custody of ours. They're just delightful!"

"Oh, sweetie! You've been smiling so much lately you're getting crow's feet. Would you like the name of my plastic surgeon?"

You were bombarded with awkward and invasive questions from people wearing so much jewellery, makeup, and Botox that they looked rather like they belonged in a toy factory.

"Oh, that would be lovely, thank you!" You replied to the pool invitation, though you had no idea who had asked you.

"Actually, it's from Target," you laughed nervously in response to the dress question, though you couldn't quite say why you found shopping at Target so embarrassing.

"I was thinking we might get married first, you know?" You chuckled awkwardly after being asked about the prospect of children, knowing all too well how many broken homes came from premarital Hollywood relationships.

It was the last question that put you over the edge. You replied only with an "excuse me" and practically dashed over to the balcony. The glass door slid shut behind you and you took a deep breath of welcome fresh air as you listened to the calming lull of the city.

When you were a child, you'd dreamed about such a life. What little girl hadn't wanted to be famous when she was in nappies? It wasn't such a terrible life, after all, albeit completely public knowledge. But it had become a sensory overload, not once, but multiple times. And tonight was no exception.

"Hey," came a voice from behind you as you heard the glass doors slide shut again. You almost turned around to snap at the person who had followed you out...until you realized it was Tom.

"Hey," you replied dejectedly, playing with some peeling paint on the railing. Tom leaned there next to you and turned his head to look at you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tom gave you a look. "Okay, well, I'm not fine." You sighed deeply and rubbed your temples, then your eyes.

"Tell me what's the matter." Tom rubbed your back gently. Your eyes began to water a little.

"Do I look okay, Tom?" you asked quietly. Tom looked stricken. 

"Love, you look absolutely gorgeous. Why would you ask that?"

"Some lady in there that I don't even know just told me I needed plastic surgery because I smile too much." You sad-laughed and shook your head. Tom frowned.

"You most certainly do not need plastic surgery." He paused for a moment. "You know, Y/N, if this kind of life is this stressful for you, you don't have to go with me. I only want you to be happy."

"No. No, Tom, it's a wonderful life and it's one where I'm with you. I wouldn't give that up for anything. It's just...everyone here is so fake and on such high horses and...I know I could handle that properly if I tried, it's just..." you stopped to stare out at the sunset before looking back at him.

"It's just what, darling?"

"It's just...I'm afraid I'm going to eventually lose myself and become one of these...beautiful people someday. I can't do that, Tom. It isn't me."

There was a silence where Tom nodded and looked to the horizon for a moment.

"Y/N, these 'beautiful people,' as you called them, aren't just people who became famous. They're people with weak self-esteem and egos as big as this entire city. They didn't become beautiful because of the fame. They became beautiful because of their weaknesses. And that's not you. You're the strongest person I've ever known and you have never and will never lose sight of who you are. I know that about you because I'm the same way." You looked at Tom, blankly confused. 

"I've never liked these events. Never. I've never liked just wanting to go for a simple beer by myself and being mobbed by petty teenaged girls telling me they love me even though I've never known them. I've never liked having to talk to and costar with these people who are more real for the screen than they are for their own lives. These people may have the most parties and the most house guests of anyone, but they're also the loneliest people out there. Do you know why we don't fit in, Y/N? Because we're just ourselves. And if anything, that's the bravest thing you can be in a world like this." 

He paused again.

"We are not beautiful people. And although that may be the most stressful thing on the planet..." (he nudged you playfully and you managed a giggle) "I don't care. Because I have you to share my world with and those other people don't matter to me."

"Tom?" you asked, looking at him sweetly.

"Hm?" He smiled back at you.

"Thank you." You put your head lovingly on his shoulder.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Tom whispered.

"I say let's do it."

A/N: Heyo! I know this is a couple days late, but I hope you enjoyed!