teach me gently on how to breathe || tradley/brad

خائف

"Morning!" someone greets from behind the boy. He can't see who it is. Brad's standing on a scale again with his back facing the door, but according to the only American accent in the center, it's quite evident. Although, Brad can't figure out why the doctor from group therapy decided to visit him in his room. At 07:00.

The same overly happy, inaccurate nurse from last week jots down Brad's weight, and he quickly steps off the scale. Dr. Hans is happily standing in the doorway with a topless box strapped around his neck, like he's selling hotdogs at a football game. Brad groans at the sight of him. There's way too much smiling for it to be this early in the morning.

"I have something for you," the doctor says, glancing around the box after the cheerful nurse finally leaves. There are little clear zipper locking bags inside with names written on them. He pulls out a clear, plastic bag with Brad's name on it... and a chip inside.

Brad doesn't reach to get it.

"Remember how I mentioned a challenge from last week?" he asks. Before Brad replies, which he wasn't planning on doing any time soon, Dr. Hans continues, "Today, I'm challenging the patients to eat the food that most affected them." He waves the bag, indicating Brad to take it, but he doesn't move. "I'd like you to have finished it by group therapy. And don't worry, it's still hot."

Which is about four hours from now, he thinks to himself. Impossible.

"Um." Brad blinks. He still hasn't taken his assigned chip, and the doctor is still patiently holding it out for him. "What?"

"I know that it's scary," Dr. Hans says sympathetically. "But there's nothing to be afraid of."

Afraid? Ha. What a dumbass.

"Time for breakfast," his nurse announces as she enters the room. Brad believes this is the only time he'll ever be relieved to hear those words. He automatically joins her.

"Brad?" Brad turns around again. Dr. Hans is still holding out that stupid bag for him. "You forgot your bag."

He sheepishly smiles, reluctantly grabbing the bag and pulling it into his hand. The chip's heat feels like it's on the verge of burning a hole through the plastic. "Right. Thanks."

"'Welcome." He steps pass the nurse and Brad. "Don't let me down!" he hears the doctor say before he's disappearing down the hallway.

Brad feels like laughing at him. He's already decided he's not eating it.

As he heads to the cafeteria, his nurse informs him he's officially finished the liquid diet and moving to a different table. At the new table he'll be eating partials. It just has to be his lucky day. Under two minutes he's been instructed to eat his number one binging food in four hours, and then he's informed he's starting on eating actual food.

"Morning," James greets, like every other morning Brad comes for breakfast. The table looks the same as the other one the boys sat at. Some girl is seated with them this time, though, and the table is missing Tristan.

Maybe he's just late, Brad thinks, but he's instantly proved wrong when he eyes the old table. Tristan's still seated there, staring at his bottle like last week. There's some new girl seated at the table with him, quickly talking to him with a lot of hand gestures and facial expressions, but Tristan doesn't seem like he's listening. He's in his little world, running his hand through his hair and frowning. He looks so sad.

"Damn, Brad, staring won't give you the power to see through his clothes." Brad slowly pulls his eyes away from the blond, realising everyone at the new table, even including the girl, is laughing at him.