You couldn't take your eyes off the screen, staring at the Instagram post in awe. It was real now. You and Tom were a real couple, and the whole world knew. You liked the photo and commented a red heart. In just the couple minutes since Tom posted, you'd received hundreds of follow and dm requests. Ignoring those, you scrolled through the post's comments, amazed that they were overwhelmingly not awful.

Unsurprisingly, they were all confused, since to them, this was all very sudden, and you were this completely unknown person. To be honest, you'd expected to see a LOT more hate...but maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as you'd thought. His fans wanted him to be happy, right? A disconcerting feeling of both relief and anxiety was building in your body. You pushed down all your anxious thoughts, choosing to focus on the positives. You looked up to find Tom studying you, gauging your reaction with slight worry in his eyes.

"So far, so good..." You tried your hardest to sound upbeat, burying the looming sense of dread. The hate would come, of course it would. It was just a waiting game now.

"So, how should we celebrate being Instagram official?" Tom's voice lilted, mocking the term 'Instagram official.'

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with something worthy of the monumental occasion, but the simplest plan was actually the most appealing to you. "I'm dying to get some fresh air...wanna go for a walk? I know it's not an elaborate celebration..."

Tom grabbed your hand, pulling you up off the couch and into his arms. "Sounds perfect, love." He kissed your temple before letting go.

There was a park not too far from your apartment, so bundled up to brave the frigid winter air, you headed in that direction, strolling hand in hand with Tom. This was the first time you were going out together as a couple, and the normality of it was beautiful. You'd never been so excited to be outside walking during a New York winter. Usually you avoided being outside at all costs when the temperature was this cold, but the bliss of not being hidden away or having to constantly worry about being noticed made you completely unaware of how cold it was. You could just enjoy each other's company like a normal couple, and you'd never truly appreciated this kind of simplicity before.

Once at the park, you wandered aimlessly along the path, relishing your newfound freedom. There were a few kids building snowmen in the open space—taking full advantage of the fresh snow that fell overnight—and their joyous laughter and chatter only added to your giddiness. You and Tom prattled on about random stuff and exchanged funny stories from your childhoods. All the time, you kept meandering through the park, unconcerned with anything besides Tom.

You were in the middle of telling Tom about the time you'd broken your arm when you felt him tense a little bit, his hand's grip tightening on yours. Your brows knitted together, eyes quizzically studying Tom's face.

You lowered your voice, "Babe, what's wrong?"

Tom shook his head microscopically and offered a reserved smile. "Nothing, was just recognized by a fan I think."

You quickly glanced around as inconspicuously as you could manage and spotted a young woman gaping at Tom—literally. Her mouth hung wide open as she gawked in your his direction. She was holding her phone up as though she had been taking a photo.

"D-did she take your picture?" He nodded. "They do that? Without your permission?" Your voice leaked the disgust that boiled in your stomach.

Tom wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and kissed your temple quickly. "Honestly, nothing to be worried about, but let's keep going, yeah? I er don't wanna invite more attention...we can always head back now if you'd prefer."

You let out a breath and assured Tom you were fine, just adjusting, and tried not to worry about it. Tom was used to dealing with fans—he would know whether or not a situation was bad. You kept walking and pushed the woman from your mind. You approached the center of the park where a big fountain stood, and even though it was drained for winter, it was beautiful. The area wasn't crowded, but several other people stood about admiring the fountain or buying hot drinks from a stand on the other side of the square.

You hadn't been there for even thirty seconds when you felt Tom's posture change again. A few girls had spotted him and had nervously approached. You held your breath, not sure what to expect...

"Uh, h-hi. We were wondering if we could get a picture?" One of the girls stammered.

A beautiful, if somewhat put-on, smile appeared on Tom's face. "Yeah, no problem. How're you guys doing today? Staying warm?"

You were in awe of how sweet he was with the young fans. Since you'd never been out in public with him, you'd never seen him interact with fans before, and it made you feel so soft. He took the time to speak with them, asking their names and what they were doing in New York. You offered to take the photo, and Tom made sure they were all happy with how it turned out before saying goodbye. You couldn't imagine that all celebrities took such time and attention when meeting fans out and about, but it made your heart swell with pride. Tom was really one of the good ones, wasn't he?

After the girls had reluctantly walked away, Tom slung his arm back around your shoulders, squeezing tight. "Are you ok, love? I know it's not fun to have strangers come up, and I'd understand if you're overwhelmed."

You smiled brightly. "I like seeing you interact with them...pretty sure you just made their day—no their year."

He shook his head, "Nah it was nothing. I'm no big deal."

"I'm not gonna go inflating your ego, but you're really something." Tom looked quite pleased with himself at your compliment. "Now let's get out of here before I have to share you again."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded with a cheeky grin, and removed his arm from around you to take your hand. The cold having seeped into your bones, the walk back was much more purposeful, and the only thing keeping you from complaining were the thoughts swirling around your mind of how you could warm up once home...

*****

The next day, Tom had to work, so rather than staying home by yourself, you tagged along to the press junket. Although boring, it was at least a few more hours you got to be in the same room as Tom. For most of the morning, you listened to the interviews, loving the opportunity to hear Tom talk about his work, but that got old surprisingly fast. They all asked the same five questions over and over...you really didn't know how Tom could do it. He was smiley and engaging for every interview, managing to give slightly different answers even after the tenth time being asked the same mundane question. Soon, you weren't even listening to what he said, instead zoning out while just watching your beautiful boyfriend give his animated answers, admiring the way his curls flopped when he laughed or the crinkles that appeared when he gave a genuine smile.

During the afternoon interviews, though, you mostly scrolled through social media, now being officially done the whole press junket experience. Over the last twenty-four hours, you'd developed a nasty habit of searching your name and sifting through Tom's tag, looking for fans' reactions to the news. Just as you'd thought, it hadn't taken long for the hate to appear. Thousands of comments cursed your existence, called you a gold digger, said a big Fuck You for stealing their man, and everything in between. Most of that didn't really bother you—they didn't know you, so who cares? The knot in your stomach kept growing in anticipation of someone finally finding a photo of you though, which no one had been able to do yet, since your Instagram profile picture was of the NYC skyline, and you'd been very careful to change the privacy settings on everything. You were sure fans would manage to dig up random old photos from God knows where on the internet, but the coast was clear for the moment.

Nearing the end of the day, Tom was sitting down for his last few interviews when you stumbled on a photo that made your heart stop. There you were, Tom's arm around your shoulders with him kissing your temple. It was from your walk in the park yesterday, and even though you knew anyone could have been taking your photo, the shock of actually seeing such a private moment posted on Instagram for everyone to see...you couldn't process it. Then you actually read the caption and immediately stoked your misery by scrolling through the comments.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you scrambled out of the chair, leaving the room as quietly as you could and praying Tom hadn't noticed your exit. Fuck, no. You are not gonna let them get to you. No, shut the fuck up. But the tears wouldn't listen to reason. They clouded your eyes as you hurried to the closest restroom. Once in the privacy of a stall, you sunk on to the toilet seat and gave up your feeble attempts of containing the flood of tears. Your chest felt like it was collapsing, and you struggled for air.

You clicked on the post again, barely able to read anything through the wetness, but you could read enough. Enough to see that practically everyone thought you were a cow, undeserving of someone like Tom. They couldn't believe you were actually together, some people saying it was all a scam and "no way in hell is he with that."

The moment you had been dreading since the beginning had finally arrived. The world had taken one look at you and collectively decided that no, you were not pretty enough, skinny enough, famous enough, or good enough in any shape or form for Tom Holland. You'd known it was coming, you'd tried to steel yourself to this kind of criticism, but how could anyone really be prepared for this? You'd thought you knew what it would feel like, to be told there was no way in hell your boyfriend could love someone like you. You'd thought you could handle strangers on the internet saying what you already knew, that you were fat and ugly. You knew all these things, and yet, having strangers comment your greatest insecurities on a photo that represented a memory you cherished...it was crushing you. You'd never be able to look back on that perfect walk and remember the happy simplicity of it. The memory was tainted with angry, hateful words—words you saw slashed across the insides of your eyelids whenever you closed them.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, and you heard heels click on the tile. "Y/N? You in here?" One of the PA's voice echoed against the walls.

You tried to keep your voice level, not wanting her to know you'd been crying. "Yeah, sorry. Lunch isn't sitting well with me, I guess. I'll be ok, just give me a few minutes."

The clicking started towards your stall, but then stopped. "You're sure? I can go get someone–or some medicine?"

"Nope, I'm all good. Don't worry about me." Your voice sounded hollow, but you hoped it would just come off as part of the sickness.

"Uh, okay. I'll be back in a few if you're still not out." She didn't sound very convinced, but her footsteps retreated out of the room.

You let out a shaky breath and straightened up. You had to pull yourself together, or Tom would be worried sick. You had assured him you were fine with all of this...and here you were, falling apart at the first little bit of hate. Pathetic. Thankfully, your tears had dried up, so you emerged to take in the state of your puffy eyes and streaked makeup. After fixing it as best you could, you squared your shoulders and exited the restroom, head held high like nothing had happened.

You found Tom, final interview over, speaking with the interviewer, so you casually wandered up and took Tom's hand in yours. His thumb grazed the back of your hand mindlessly as he said his goodbyes to the staff and crew. Leaving the hotel, his attention finally returned to you, and Tom immediately noticed something was wrong.

You fed him the story about food poisoning and not feeling great, and you weren't sure whether you were relieved or disappointed that he bought the lie. To be fair, he was dead exhausted—eight hours of practically non-stop interview will do that to anyone. He promised to draw a bath as soon as you got home, and the thought of soaking with Tom was appealing. It was bound to relieve the tension one way or another, that was for sure...

A couple hours later, dried off after your bath and feeling oh so relaxed, you lay in bed alone, Tom having gone back to his hotel for a quick meeting with his people. Thinking back over the day, your breakdown earlier seemed so ridiculous. Tom had just spent the last hour showing you how much he loved your curves, showering every inch of you with kisses and making your body shatter into a million pieces as only he could. What were a few comments online, anyway? They didn't know shit—just jealous, bitter people with nothing better to do.

It hadn't really seemed true until today, but it had finally sunk in: Tom was famous, and you were never going to have private moments like other couples else did. A walk in the park would never be just a walk in the park for you and Tom. It was a walk in front of the world, who would always be ready with their opinions and judgments.

Out of nowhere, the mere thought of those comments slammed through the dam that had been holding back a raging storm inside you. You rolled up into a ball beneath the covers and squeezed your eyes shut tight as tears stung them. No, I'm fine...I got over it.. Fuck them, fuck their opinions. Don't let them get to you...they don't know you...Tom loves you...Tom loves you...Tom loves you...

You stayed burrowed underneath the blanket for what felt like hours. Your phone vibrated as calls and texts poured in, but you ignored them all. You just wanted to be left alone. After you had finally cried yourself out (for the second time that day), you were on the verge of falling asleep when you heard the front door bang open, just about causing a heart attack. Tom's voice called out to you, but you had no energy to reply.

"Y/N? I've been trying to call you..." You heard his footsteps approaching. "Babe?" Concern clouded his voice. You heard him enter the bedroom and felt his weight sink into the mattress beside you. He tried to lift the blanket to uncover your face, but you grabbed tight to the edges, holding it down. "Baby," his voice was gentle as his hand found your back and began rubbing small circles. "Can you please come out from under there?"

You didn't move for a minute, but slowly, you poked your head out. Tom, who had been staring out the window, turned his head back to meet your red puffy eyes, brows furrowed. "Darling, talk to me...what's going on?"

You sniffled as you pulled the blanket up to your chin. "Nothing."

"Right, clearly nothing is the matter. You've just been crying and hiding underneath a blanket for no reason...c'mon, love. Tell me what's going on." His voice pleaded softly.

"You haven't seen what they're all saying?" You sounded rough from crying and couldn't help the slight tinge of accusation that filtered into your words. It wasn't his fault, but they were his fans after all...surely he could do something??

"What who's been saying?" His hand stopped rubbing your back, and he brushed some hair out of your face.

"Everyone—they all hate me. Think I'm not good enough to be with you." Realization dawned on Tom's face. "You didn't see the picture? The one from our walk yesterday? The photo is all over Instagram...and your fans. Th-they're terrible."

"Darling, I'm so sorry." His words were full of anguish, catching slightly in his throat.

You felt a stabbing pain in your chest hearing Tom's voice so torn up. He'd never sounded like this, and you were the one causing it. A few tears trickled down your face, and Tom leaned forward, kissing them away from your cheek.

"Love, please don't cry. I love you so much, and you mean the world to me. You are everything I've ever wanted, and you should never doubt that." His thumb stroked your cheek, brushing away another tear.

"I kn-know you love me, Tom. I'm just being overly sensitive. I'll feel better tomorrow, promise. And I'll learn to live with this. I'm just not used to this kind of attention...I'll get over it, I will." You weren't sure who you were trying to convince, Tom or yourself, but if you said it enough, surely it would become reality, right?

"They'll move on to something else, don't worry. How they can call themselves my 'fans,' and choose to hate the one person I love most...it's messed up."

You let out a humorless laugh, "Fuck if I know."

Tom sighed, shaking his head in disgust at the thought. "You're gonna be ok, darling. Just maybe stay out of the comments for a while, yeah?"

A sheepish smile played on your face. "Yeah, probably best..."

He leaned into you, placing a light kiss on your lips. "Now, how bout I make you forget about all of that? I'll make you forget everything, even your own name..."

You cocked an eyebrow. "Well by all means, go right ahead." The comments were already flung far out of your mind, at least for the moment.

*****

[A few months later]

Tom's flight was scheduled to get in at 5:15 PM, but you were so excited to see him again that you were at the airport a whole two hours early. You plopped yourself on the floor against a wall to wait. You scrolled through Instagram to kill some time, and even posted a new photo since you were bored. You'd slowly gotten used to the whole 'being a movie star's girlfriend' thing. After the initial shocking introduction to online criticism, you'd been able to move past it for the most part. Obviously, some days were harder than others, especially if you happened to see a comment or two unintentionally. But you never searched through tags anymore, or went diving into the comment threads on photos. You'd learned that wasn't a healthy place for you, and even if Tom could handle doing it to himself, you weren't at that stage yet.