Tom Holland X Reader - The Journey We Call Life

Chapter 2 - The Painful Backstory

You forced yourself to read it anyway.
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We regret to inform you that your application was not accepted for an internship at Marvel Studios, but thank you for applying! It's because of people like you who take risks, blah blah blah.

It was at that moment that your heart shattered. Into exactly 3,000 pieces.

You just sat there, your back against the wall, your lips parted slightly, your eyes staying on "application was not accepted" while a mix of emotions flooded you.

Mostly disappointment. And sadness. And anger, at yourself.

Disappointed because years of your work were all for nothing. Your dream was to direct, to practically make a movie based on how you wanted it to go, but still without coming up with your own entire storyline. This wasn't the first time you've been rejected by a studio, but it's the one that hurt the most because you worked so hard on your application. It was the best you've ever done.

Sadness because it's what you wanted to do, your heart was set on it. If this was the best you could do, and you still were denied, then what does that mean for your future? Were you really more horrible at this than you realized? Are you even good enough? Are all of those years practicing and taking classes and creating and building up to this moment, only for it all to go to waste?

Then anger, that you weren't good enough. You were angry that although giving your application your best, it wasn't good enough still. You thought you could've done better than this, and frustrated that you messed up your one shot at the career you've wanted for years, with crew members and role models you've looked up to since you read your first comic.

A couple of tears streamed out of your eyes, and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.

So you didn't. You let warm rivers of salty water pour out and swim across your check, before jumping off at your jawline and onto your shirt.

You brought your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, while you did nothing about the tears running down your face, except letting them. You needed to feel like this. Holding up your feelings wasn't good, you learned that the hard way. It just bottled up inside of you, so that it could be used against you if you subconsciously and unintentionally broke down.

(I realize that it may not make sense, but bear with meeee,,)

It kept you up at night, feelings just wandering aimlessly throughout your mind, seeping into parts of your life that were important, that used to be fun, and heartwarming. Activities that were exciting hobbies became scary, because most of them left you alone with your own thoughts.

The anxiety doesn't really help either.

T/W: Depression, Mention of Suicide, Self-Harm, and more. Read at your own risk. Essential to story, but you could go with skipping it. Read with caution, PLEASE
The overthinking, the insecurities, and not just walking up to throw something away in class, without fearing that people will be judging you with every step. It's more than that. It's a feeling that you can't really confide in anyone, in fear that they'll judge you too. Whether they want to or not. It's being scared that everyone around you that you get to close to will not understand. They won't do anything but call out your insecurities, just teasingly, but you take it to heart. It's crying yourself to sleep almost every night because of your parents or school or stress or just because you've been holding all of that in for a day or week or month too long. It's waking up the next day, with a fake smile so good no one thinks anything is up. It's you then crying because no one is able to see through that either, believing that no one will ever be close to you enough to ask if something is up, and actually caring because it's so hard to find people like that. They call you their friend yet they unintentionally don't act like one. You cry in front of them because you were either comfortable enough or you just broke down because of something small that has more meaning than they realize, but they respond by calling you over emotional and saying you had no reason to cry because it's nothing. It's hearing how you're too sensitive because you can't take a joke that also has a bigger meaning behind it than anyone knows. Then staying up till two AM on a school night listening to your parents fight from the vent in your room that carries up way more than they realize. It's then getting angry because your siblings were dragged into it, unwillingly. It's hearing your brother, Ryan, cry for the first time because he didn't want them to fight, and sneaks downstairs to tell them to stop with his own tears streaming down his face. It's being alone. You cry yourself to sleep almost every night, alone. It's being so sad and angry and down all the time that you're wanting to end it, but too scared to die. It's being too hard to handle one day that you are crying your eyes out because you're tired of feeling like it's your fault, that you could've done something, anything or that the same things happen over and over again and don't seem to get easier. It's taking those scissors or that knife and putting in your dominant hand, and committing self-harm for the first time. It's seeing small blood drips fall out because you're too scared to go any deeper. It's feeling that burning, tingling sensation and rushing to a sink away from adults and people in general, applying cold water and looking for something, anything, in a closet to make sure it won't get infected. It's feeling disappointed in yourself and blaming yourself even more. It's hiding it with a long sleeve shirt in summer and getting questions from people of why you'd wear that when it's above 80°F/26.7°C. It's more than just anxiety. It's depression. It's witnessing too many failed relationships, whether your own or other's, and being hurt so much that you begin to build a wall around your heart, never letting your guard down and never letting anyone else know that your smile is fake af, even though you really want to. It's wanting to talk to someone without being judged or hearing that they "relate so much" then hearing their (also fake) story for attention. It's wanting someone to say more than "it's all going to be okay" when you need comfort and saying things like "it's okay" in a soft, gentle way that indicates that they're fine with you ranting and tearing up and not making eye contact.