𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

✮ summary: chris tries to ease your worries as you try to find the perfect outfit

warning/s: mentions of insecurity, low self esteem

♤°♥,..♤°♥,.. ♤°♥,..

CHRIS WAS WAITING for you downstairs as you scrambled through a big pile of clothes, attempting to find something perfect to wear.

You were all going to dinner to celebrate the release of their new podcast. It was supposedly going to be huge - pretty much all their friends would be there. You haven't met them all yet, so this was your chance to make a good first impression.

Chris had tried to calm you down countless times but you weren't having any of it. This needed to be perfect.

Pulling on a pair of jeans you recently bought you moved to look at yourself in the mirror. Something seemed off about it.

When you had tried it on in the dressing room it was flawless, but now you felt lumpy and weird. It hugged you in all the wrong places and you felt like you couldn't breathe in them.

Huffing, you unbuttoned them at the speed of light and threw them across your room, annoyed.

"Everything okay up there?" came Chris' voice.

Throwing on a pair of cargos you stared at yourself in the mirror once more. You grew more and more agitated by the second - why did everything look so... weird on you?

You groaned as Chris gently pushed the door open, his head peeking in to see what all the fuss was about. His eyes darted from corner to corner, seeing the mess that you made while trying to look for an outfit. He immediately understood.

"Can't find anything to wear?" he asked, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

His eyes studied you in the mirror, trailing across your collarbone and hair, admiring the way your legs looked in these pants.

"I can find something to wear - I just look atrocious in all of them!" you said.

You were angry and upset. Even his comforting arms encircling you felt claustrophobic. You never understood what he saw in you - could he not see what you saw in the mirror? How could he stand to look at you? How could his perfect hands ever touch you so gently when you felt like the worst person in existence?

"I think you look good in those," he responded quietly.

Moving away from him, you go to sit on your floor, continuing your search for something that would make you bearable to look at.

Rooting through the mounds and piles of fabric, your heart began to race. You had gone through almost everything in your closet and still nothing was good enough.

Digging your palms into your eyelids, you tried to push back the onslaught of tears that threatened to break out.

Chris, sensing your discomfort, walked slowly towards you. Sitting next to you, he rubbed your shoulder.

With his other hand he picked up a black top. It was his favorite, he always complimented you when you wore it. In his eyes you were absolutely breathtaking - and he wished he could make you see that.

"Don't cry," he coo'd, "How about this one? You know I love when you wear it."

His attempts at easing your insecurities only made your tears fall faster. You hated yourself for feeling like this. Today was his special day and you were ruining it by being a crybaby.