Tom Holland Imagines

Insecure

Day 23- Idol in pink

I want you to know that if you feel this way about yourself, you have to get help. Your mental well-being is the most important thing to me and I love you all so much!

You walked past the full-length mirrior in the hallway. It was unavoidable. Every time you went down that hallway, it was there. 

This time, you got so disgusted by your own appearence that you stopped, forgetting what you were going into the living room for anyway, and made a face at yourself in the mirror. The face turned into a sneer and the sneer turned into a stream of words...words meant for yourself. Words so terrible that you wouldn't have said them to your worst enemy.

"Ugly, terrible, horrible, fat, bitch." You snapped at yourself. You looked at yourself. You were nowhere near ugly. Not even close to fat. And you were the nicest person anyone knew. But you just couldn't see that. You muttered things at yourself furiously, each syllable making causing the lump in your throat to rise. 

Tears clouded your vision and you just couldn't take it anymore. You drove your fist into the center of the mirror. Nothing happened. You hit it harder, the cold glass bruising your knuckles. Once more, and a web of cracks rippled out from the point of impact. You, however weren't satisfied. Gathering all of your anger and strength, you slammed your fist into the already broken mirror once more with an exasperated yell.

You felt glass embed itself in your fist as the rest of it rained down to the floor, sounding eerily beautiful and tinkly...like rain. You broke down sobbing and slid your back down against the opposite wall, cradling your injured hand.

"What the...?" You managed to look up. From behind your blurred vision, you saw Tom standing at the end of the hallway. Great. Now he would be mad at you too.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm..." you repeated over and over.

"No, no, no, love. Come here." Tom outstretched his arms to you. You stumbled over the broken glass, thankful you were wearing shoes and threw yourself into him.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to..." You buried your head in the crook of his neck and cried.

"No, Y/N. Please stop apologizing. You've done nothing wrong. I don't care about the mirror, I care about you." This only made you blubber harder.

"But I...I couldn't stand to look at myself."

"I know, darling. I heard what you were saying. I hope you know that breaks my heart." Tom's voice dropped off halfway through, thick with emotion. "But I want you to realize that you are none of those things. None of them. You are so kind, and beautiful, and smart, and funny, and honest, and brave, and caring. I could go on forever. The point is, I wouldn't change a thing about you. I love you just the way you are."

You wiped your eyes and smiled at him. "Th-thank you. I l-love you too." You leaned in and gave him a teary kiss. "I...I hurt my hand," you told him, holding it up. Blood oozed from between your fingers and on your knuckles.

Tom shook his head, heartbroken. "We'll fix it, love. Anything hurt can be fixed."