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Imagine Tom being there to help you whenever you are having an anxiety attack
Tom held your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You were trembling in your seat, violently shaking as if someone threw a bucket of cold water on you. Hot flashes coursed through your body and you sighed in relief at the feel of Tom's cold soft hands.
"You're going to be okay," he reassured. You nodded at his words not even paying attention to what he said. You were quiet, your eyes glaring at the floor as cool tears freely flowed from your eyes and down your cheeks.
Tom wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He ran a hand delicately through your hair as he whispered words of comfort. He supported your tired body by holding you tight against him.
"Everything is okay y/n, we're good" he continued to tell you these things, rocking you back and forth as he did so.
You silently cried on his shoulder, but you felt the weight slowly lift off from your chest. Your shaking hands clutched onto his shirt though, your fingertips stroking over the soft cotton. As you felt yourself come down from your attack you still tightly gripped onto his shirt as if he might slip through your fingers.
"Thank you" you murmured, your words barley forming from how tired you were. Tom placed a lingering kiss on your forehead.
"You don't need to thank me, I just want to make sure you're okay" he said.
You smiled to yourself as you slowly fell asleep, still pressed against his body.
*as someone who actually does deal with anxiety this was nice to write
