Strong

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Notes:

Sooo, it's been a while huh? *hides* But!! I made this chapter extra long (5380 words) so that you don't hate me lol
Enjoy!


A groan was heard across the room.

A thump.

A retch.

Splashing water.

And...

Fuck, he couldn't do this anymore.

If it wasn't understood by now, Xuxi was having an awful day. Granted, 'good days' weren't really part of his vocabulary anymore, but this day was just a particular brand of absolutely terrible.

He breathed heavily as he let the wave of nausea and dizziness pass, a strip of saliva hanging from his mouth, falling slowly into the toilet water.

He had forgotten how throwing up felt like. Naturally throwing up, that is. Turns out it's very different from purging. When he slipped his fingers down his throat and gagged until all the calories were out of his body, he had control, a weird type of control, but control nonetheless. This? This felt like drowning, like gasping for air and not finding any.

He hated it.

Rushed footsteps were heard from the hallway before someone was crouching beside him.

Xuxi didn't look up, his gaze stuck in the gross water below him.

"Hey," the person said softly.

Ten, Xuxi recognized.

He didn't dare answer, afraid that if he opened his mouth the only sound that would come out would be a painful sob, and not only was he not willing to embarrass himself any further, but he was pretty sure his throat was not ready for the complete abuse that is crying.

So he just lifted his head, a quiet acknowledgement to the other boy.

It was obvious Ten was disappointed. They had spent the past three hours sitting at the table in hopes that Xuxi would finish his food.

That had obviously failed if the putrid smell that filled the bathroom was anything to go by.

He had tried, he really had, but the second he woke up that day, he knew it wasn't going to be good for anyone involved. His stomach was cramping, he felt bloated and nauseous and he blamed it on his members forcing him to eat the night before.

Xuxi had explained all this to the others. Told them how awful he was feeling and that if he tried to put a piece of that dammed apple into his mouth he might just throw it all up immediately. They didn't listen because "You need to eat" and maybe they were right, said the logical part of him, that part that he hadn't been paying much attention to. The other, the strong, emotional, and dare he say, dramatic part of him screamed how if they hadn't forced calories into his mouth, this wouldn't be happening.

Told you - he wanted to say to Ten. He didn't, of course, because he wasn't a complete asshole, but the idea lingered.

"You know this is for the best,"

And, yeah, there it is.

He knew, okay? He knew that he had to eat, he understood the dangers of continuing on restricting food, he got it.

That didn't make it any easier.

The doctor spoke the same way. Spouting pretty words and easy solutions as if knowing how many people recovered from eating disorders like his would make anything easier.

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