Broken Half: A Tom Holland Story

Knock Knock Get The Door It's An Anxiety Attack

MJ and I are in the car, and she's freaking out. I mean, I'm trying my best to calm her down, but it's... not... working. "Just imagine that it's not a red carpet!" I try to reason with her, "Imagine that you're just some superstar... and I'm just um... your chauffeur or something!" I say desperately.

"That doesn't help!" She exclaims, madly fiddling with the jewellery at her wrists and the multiple rings around her fingers.

I let out a long huff of air. The more I got worked up about this, the more anxious she was going to be about the whole thing.

I'm not gonna lie, premieres were stressful for me too. Even though it looked like all fun and games to everyone else, it was a night full of work for me. It was going to be a long one for sure, and I probably wouldn't get some personal time to myself until well into tomorrow morning.

I hold my hands up to MJ, defensive, "Hey, how about this, no more scenarios. Just try and be yourself. If you ever start to feel overwhelmed, just take a step closer to me... Step on my feet if you have to. Just to remind you that I'm here for you, and you'll be fine." I give her my best smile and surprisingly, without me even knowing it, my foot stops bouncing. Looks like my plan worked.

MJ's breathing starts to slow, but to everyone else, she still looks like a cornered animal.

---

Thankfully, the driver of the car stays out of my current meltdown, however, the woman in the passenger seat in front of us turns around to face us.

I immediately recognized her as Christine Nelli, Tom's personal hair and makeup. Tom had introduced us earlier and he talked about her quite fondly, but I hadn't realized that she was in the car with us. Immediately I felt embarrassed that she overheard all of my fussings, but she honestly didn't seem bothered.

"Hey MJ," She says in a calmer tone than I knew was possible, "Have you ever heard of 4-7-8?"

"Pardon?" I say, confused. Was she really trying to teach me a new code right before we were about to go onto a bloody red carpet?!

"4-7-8... It's a breathing pattern I was taught a long time ago by a friend. Whenever you're nervous or scared, breathe in for four counts, hold it for seven, and then release for eight." She holds the numbers up on her fingers then motions towards me, "Try it"

Sceptical, I do what she says.

In for four counts. Hold for seven. Release for eight.

Then I do it again. Then again. I do it until I finally calm down and can open my eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Nelli," I whisper. "That really did help."

"Call me Christine," she says with a smile, "and you're most certainly welcome."

"Yes thank you, Christine," Tom echos, rubbing a hand down his face, a genuine look of relief washing over him.

Miss Nelli only nods at him before turning back around in her seat; as if nothing had happened at all.

The rest of the car ride is in silence, the only sound is the same three numbers repeating themselves in my head.

"4-7-8. 4-7-8. 4-7-"