length: 611 words
warnings: panic attack, self-deprecation
requested: yes
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Clutching your phone in your hand, you walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You sunk down to the cool marble floor, bringing your knees up to your chest.
Your phone buzzed. You had been tagged in another comment. Slowly unlocking it and opening Instagram. You read the comment.
@tylerseguin you could do so much better than @(y/n)seguin 😘
This was just one of hundreds that had appeared after Tyler posted the picture of the two of you together, holding your 3 month old son. They were all telling Tyler how great he was, how he should meet up with them, and most of all how unattractive they thought you were.
You dropped your phone, attempting to blink away the tears that were forming. What if they were right? Obviously Tyler could do better than you but what if he didn't love you anymore. Maybe before your son was born you had looked good enough for him but now your body was riddled with stretch marks and you still hadn't managed to lose all of the weight you had put on during the pregnancy. And who wouldn't want to be with a tall, beautiful blonde girl? You were just plain.
Breathing harshly, your panic started to consume you, their comments flying around in your head. You clenched your shirt, twisting in your fingers. Black spots appeared in front of your eyes as you were struggling to breathe.
A loud knock at the door cleared your mind for a second before you were swept back under by your thoughts. The knocking persisted and you heard Tyler calling to you faintly.
Finally you shuffled towards the door, unlocking it, and then sinking back to the ground. Tyler noticed your tear-stained cheeks and raspy breathes, immediately surrounded you in a hug.
"It's okay, baby. I'm here," he whispered into your ear. "It's going to be fine, just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?" He rubbed circles on your back and you pressed your face into his t-shirt. "We're going to breathe in on three, okay. And then breathe out on three. One, two three," he inhaled with you. "One, two, three."
You exhaled with him, already feeling slightly calmer. "That's great, baby. Let's keep doing it though."
Tyler repeated this with you for five minutes before your breathing finally slowed to a normal pace. "(y/n) are you okay? What happened?"
Wiping your cheeks, to started to speak. "It's just that there are all these beautiful girls online who want to be with you and I know that you can do so much better than me and my body is gross and I just hate it," you rambled, starting to cry again.
"(y/n), you're as beautiful as the day I first met you. Those other girls have nothing on you. And you're the one that could do so much better than me," he smiled. "Your body is not gross." He lifted up your shirt slightly to run his fingers lightly over the stretch marks. "These only remind me of everything that you've given me, the best thing in our lives." Tearing up, Tyler continued, "We have a baby boy, (y/n), and he's incredible. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and you're the only one I want to wake up to. You're my everything."
You smiled up at him, reassured, and pressed a kiss to his lips, interrupted by the sound of your son wailing.
"Back to the grind," Tyler grinned, walking out of the bathroom.
"He takes after his dad!" You yelled after him, hearing him chuckle.
