Tom Holland X Reader - The Journey We Call Life

Chapter 27 - Childhood Trauma

I was scrolling down Instagram, threatening to unfollow the fan accounts the kept reposting the original photos and videos.

But then the door slammed open, noiseless.

(Y/N) stood still, not daring to move.

And she was crying.
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WARNING: Hidden (musical) reference :)

I didn't bother looking around the room, already knowing everyone's shocked stares. I saw Stephanie was quick to open her mouth, probably in an attempt to ask what was wrong, but I happened to be quicker.

By the time I had ordered everyone to leave, (Y/N) stood near the door, trying to blink back the tears that were racing down her face.

Surely she cries this much for a reason, I thought to myself as I took her by the shoulders and led her to the two-person couch she and Steph were sitting on earlier. I looked her in her eyes, both figuring out what to say myself and waiting for her to talk first.

"What happened?" I asked, sympathetically as possible, keeping my hand as it lay gently around her lower arm.  Back at the mall, which was a horrible decision on Zendaya's part to travel there, I didn't get a whole lot of what (Y/N/N) had been ranting about. Just small parts like, some things about her internship and some things about her father. She seemed really vulnerable, as if everything was about to fall apart and take her down with it.

"I really don't want to talk about it," she said heavily. I didn't bother to read her body language because I could already tell how she was feeling.

"Are you okay?"

She stared at me, expressionless. And for good reason too. It didn't matter if she answered yes or no.

"Does it matter?" She scoffed through her teary face. "I don't want to talk about it either way."

"See, (Y/N), that's the thing," I started. "For some reason you've chosen to let some of your walls down with me. Why me, I have no idea, but you did. And I see that you're going through something and yeah, sure, I want to respect that, I really do."

Sighing, thinking about my next words, and rubbing my thumb over the lower palm of her hand for comfort, I continued. "But I see you. I know that there's something going on that's bigger than you can handle- and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong- but whatever it is, it's not enough for me to just be there anymore. I can't just stand around while you cry into my shoulder. I can't ignore the way you tense up each time you get a text, then acting like everything's okay."

Before I could even get my next sentence out, she cut in, "But it's not like you can do anything about it."

"Try me," I tempted her in a questioning tone. I restrained from giving her the whole 'pfft. I'm Tom Holland. I can do anything' comment, although I really, really wanted to.

"Promise you won't judge me?"

I promised her. She sighed.

"Basically, growing up, my dad wasn't always the best father, and he wasn't there for a whole lot of my life. Typical abusive father stereotype. But, at one point, it became really bad. I don't want to go too much into it, but drugs hit really close to home for me, along with substance abuse and a load of other things."

As she took a second to slow her breathing, I cautiously got up to move slightly closer to her, to help comfort her.

"I was only 13 when he left us, it was a week after my birthday, but from then, my whole life was a big pile of loneliness, self-hate and living in fear that he'd come back. He did...He wasn't a good man," she said, visibly trying to hide the almost unnoticeable voice cracks. "For most of my teenage years, I was scared that one day he'd stomp back into my life and there would be nothing I could do that would be able to stop him. He did things, Tom. Horrible things, and he made me just sit there and watch."

"I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must've been." She took the edge of my fingertips and kind of just fidgeted with them, bringing them closer and resting them on her knee.

"You don't understand, it being 'hard' is such an understatement that I've lived my whole life scared I'll have to go through even a small part of the past again. That even talking in detail about what I went through will freak me out emotionally. That he's made me afraid to get close to anyone because he taught me that getting attached means being vulnerable. My own father, Tom, messed me up more than anyone else could."

She wasn't crying anymore.

"I just wanted a nice...a happy life. Without having to worry about him." (Y/N) let out a breathy laugh. "But of course, dad couldn't even give me that."

She gently tightened her grip on my fingertips, before relaxing them again. "So what was the phone call about?" I asked, after her short period of discomfort.

"Oh, that," she sighed. "Right."

(Y/N) got settled once again. "Well. He's in London. He's here. Wasn't awfully quiet about it either."

"'Hey, pumpkin, I was told you'd be here in London. How you doing? When I tell you I saw you on that social media thing, I noticed you weren't that far from where I had landed, so I immediately took a taxi to the Westfield Stratford City mall and guess what, babe? I saw you there, with that boy too, now what's that all about? Thought I told you no boyfriends until I meet them first.'"

"When I asked him why he was in London, all he told me was, 'It's because of you. I'm here...for you.' Then after I didn't answer because I was still partially in shock, he smacked his lips and said, 'You know what? Daddy's gotta run real quick. Maybe we'll...see each other, or maybe...I'll come find you. Small world, huh? See ya later, sweetie.'"

She sighed deeply.

"Then it all came flooding back."

~End of Chapter Twenty-Seven~

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