More Than Just A Dream || Thomas Sangster Imagines

[2] Insecurities

[TW: Abuse]

You sat on your bed, legs dangling off the side as you texted your friend, Thomas.

Thomas: Hey, Y/n

You: Hello :)

Thomas: What are you up to?

You: Nothing much, just sitting around and texting you haha

You: What about you?

Thomas responded, but before you had the chance to look at it, you heard the front door open and slam shut, shaking the whole house.

You gasped, running to the top of you staircase. Glancing over the edge, you saw your father, drunk and unable to walk straight.

"Y/n," he smiled creepily with his tobacco covered teeth.

"Yes, father?" You asked, shaking.

"Come down here and give daddy a hug."

He grinned as you hesitantly walked down the old, torn-up stairs of your home.

Once you got in front of him, he grabbed your wrist tightly and forced you closer to him. He used his free hand to gently run his fingers through your hair and over your cheek.

Your whole body shuddered as he placed his hand on your hip and caressed your body.

He chuckled, a sick sound that haunted your dreams, and walked into the kitchen. "Go to bed now, Y/n."

You hurried up the stairs, tears threatening to fall from your tired eyes.

You grabbed your phone and looked at the messages from Thomas.

Thomas: Same thing hehe

-----

Thomas: Y/n?

You quickly texted him back.

You: Sorry, my dad just got home. I had to go say hi.

He responded immediately.

Thomas: Okay, haha. I got worried for a second.

You: You're a really great friend, you know that?

Thomas: So I've heard...

You: Haha, well, I have to go to bed now before my dad kills me. Goodnight :)

Thomas: Goodnight :)

You sighed, plugging up your phone to charge and setting it on the nightstand by your small bed.

You closed your eyes and silently cried yourself to sleep.

~ Time Skip ~

The next morning, you awoke to screaming and glass breaking. It was your father, drunk (like always) and angry.

You walked downstairs to the living room and saw him throwing empty beer bottles at the wall.

You stepped closer to him and the floorboard creaked. You quietly cursed as he turned around, his eyes wide and red with hate.

You threw a bottle at your head, but it missed and hit the wall behind you.

"You idiot! What the hell are you doing?" He yelled and threw another, this time hitting your arm. Blood started leaking from the cuts and you gasped, covering the wound with your hand.

He went to try again, but you quickly ran to your room and grabbed you largest duffel bag.
You stuffed as many clothes into it as possible and your phone charger and toothbrush, before running past your father and out the front door.

You ran and ran until you made it to your final destination, Thomas' House.

You knocked on the door, wincing at the pain in your arm. The door opened slowly to a confused Thomas.

You saw your face and smiled, "Y/n."

He went in for a hug until he saw the blood dripping down from where your hand was.

"What happened?" He asked, surprised. "Wait, never mind. Don't answer until we get you cleaned up."

He pulled you inside and led you to his bathroom.

He looked through the cabinets and pulled out some bandages and first aid things, then he cleaned up your cut and wrapped your arm.

"Now," he said worriedly. "What happened?"

You explained everything. You had never told him about the abuse before, so you expected him to be upset, but he wasn't. Instead, he hugged you gently.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered.

"I didn't think you'd care."

"Of course I'd care!" He said, gripping your shoulders. "Y/n, I... I..."

"You what?" You asked, confused and scared.

"I love you and you mean the world to me. I'd care about anything you'd have to tell me. You could tell me about what you're thinking, or even about some cat you saw while walking down the street. I'd still listen and love every minute of it. You could never bother me, even you tried."

Tears slid down your cheeks and you shook. You had never felt this important. All your life, you had been told that you were useless and ugly and that no one would care if you died. And you believed them.

You looked down and your feet and closed your eyes.

"I love you, too..."