Tom Holland/Peter Parker Imagines

empty [t.h.]

A/N: this is based off of my personal experiences with bipolar disorder, specifically about having depressive episodes and dissociating/depersonalizing/derealization. i'm writing this while having an episode, actually. it's a bit difficult for me to write, specifically because i can't think/explain of dissociating without putting myself through it, but i feel like i should write this because i need it.

Disclaimer: i am in no way glamorizing nor romanticizing mental illness. if you feel something is wrong, it's so important that you seek help in someone you trust, especially a professional. you can also message me if you'd like.

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warnings: mental illness, descriptions of mental illness, descriptions of depressive episode(s), descriptions of derealization/depersonalizing/dissociation

Summary: You're having another episode, but this time you have the company of Tom.

•••

You were laying on the couch in your apartment, shared with your boyfriend Tom. The rain was pattering heavily on the outside of your window in the room, gusts of wind heard hitting the trees though the window was shut tight. The blinds were open, with the grim, gray skies being your only source of light in the dim apartment.

It happened gradually over the week, enough for you not to realize what was happening until it was there, full force, unrelenting. Another depressive episode. You should have been used to it by now for having to live with your kind of mental health for so long, but realistically, you would never get used to it.

Some days, you'd be on top of the world, asking yourself how could I ever feel so down? On days like this, however, you asked yourself how could I have been so naïve? It was always bound to happen but sometimes you convinced yourself it never again would.

It always lasts at least a week. You'd feel a mix of things, all on what you'd like to call The Empty Spectrum. Sometimes it was a small kind of empty, one where it was there but not completely: something you could bear. You could comfortably function in your daily life, allowing yourself to accept your exhaustion in the privacy of your home and able to reenergize by the time it was morning.

On the worst end, it was — well — the worst. All you could do was distract yourself at this point. If you thought about it or became self aware of it, then all would happen was you would sink deeper into this pit of whole emptiness. You weren't sad, no. You were empty. You simply couldn't feel anything besides what this void put you through. You had to distract yourself, so not to allow your brain to tell you that your body isn't yours. You couldn't look at the curtains hanging off the window, or else you'd notice how odd the existence of it was. You couldn't look at your hands without thinking this isn't mine, because to you, you weren't making these motions. You were just watching through eyes that weren't yours, living vicariously through a body that wasn't yours in a life that wasn't yours.

It was a very odd movie, during these episodes. You could never tell if you were in the movie, a character in the movie, or the camera filming it all.

You heard keys jingle outside of your apartment door, tearing you away from watching a good, distracting show on the TV. You watched as the door handle twisted, the door itself opened, and in came your boyfriend.

"Hello, darling," Tom greeted you with a smile, unaware at how bad it's gotten. He closed the door and tossed his keys on the small dining table, taking his shoes and soaked jacket off before joining your figure on the reclined couch. "How've you been?"

You shrugged, laying there as he sat next to you, unable to show him your gratitude for simply being there.

Before, another person's simple presence in the same room exhausted you, but not Tom's. Before the two of you became a couple, you warned him of what's to come. You warned him of days you'd have no filter, sometimes being too truthful for anyone's good. You warned him of days where'd you give too much, become too excited that it could be overwhelming. You warned him of days like this, where you couldn't be emotionally available even for yourself. You warned him of boring days that would have mixes of everything combined.

And what did he do? That poor bastard who was helplessly in love with you said, "I'll be there with you everyday." The words followed with a speech of unconditional loving, learning how to help, and learning when he simply couldn't help but only be there.

He never broke that promise.

All he had to do was gaze into your eyes, notice the swarm of blankets covering your body, and he knew. He looked at you, sad. Not a pitying sad because you had to go through this, but a sad from knowing you had to go through it alone today.

He gave you a soft, knowing smile. "Can I join you, love?"

You nodded, eyes on the TV again as he shuffled into the blankets with you, wrapping you in his arms. You leaned yourself into him, inhaling his scent that always calmed you instantly, as if it were your own personal aromatherapy. You were already warm in the blankets, but Tom's body warmth radiated off of him along with the good intentions he had of being there with you.

"Do you want to talk about it, babe?" He looked down at you, and though you couldn't see the love in his eyes you certainly could feel it.

You shook your head no. The two of you watched the TV in a comfortable silence before you decided to speak up, moving your head so you could see his face. "Can you tell me about your day?"

He smiled gently. You told him before what helped you feel a little less empty, his voice being one of them. You didn't rely on Tom at all to help you with your mental health, you knew better than to do that with anyone, but he was definitely a comfort. "Of course, love." (Pet names were another comfort.) "Well, after I picked up Harrison..."

He carried on, with you listening intently about his day at work. You were well aware of the TV now being background noise, as well as one of his arms draped around you with the other underneath. You stared at your boyfriend and observed his physical features, dissecting things in your head (though you didn't want to).

You were so grateful for Tom. He couldn't necessarily help you on days like these, but he knew he couldn't and he understood that. He knew making you a cup of tea or bringing your favorite food home wouldn't work. Even cuddling and talking about how you were experiencing things wouldn't work. That was okay. He understood, and sometimes all he could do was simply be there, next to you, as you felt what you had to or lack thereof. That was okay. You still made a home and comfort in Tom.

"Tom?" you asked as he finished his story of his day.

"Yes, Y/N? Are you alright?"

You gave a small smile, as it was all you could give, but he understood that and to him it still meant just as much as all your other different sized smiles. "Thank you."

He hugged you closer to him. "It's no problem at all, darling."