I'm More Me When I'm With You

Worn Out Eyes, Beauty Lies

  TW: mentions of ED, mentions of drugs, and allusions of self-hatred and self-loathing
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       Tommy is quick to serve everyone mushroom stew, which isn't everyone's preference, but it's all Tommy can really make. Technically, he's lucky to even manage that. He would have more of Dream came more often, but he quickly shoved that thought to the side.
       He's perusing a 'cook book' for a recipe involving the flowers he's found outside. Poppy seeds are an amazing topping, but aren't much more than that. He could make dandelion honey, muffins, jelly, cupcakes, butter, and even a dandelion fritter. In any case, he's doing anything but eating. Real healthy, he knows.
       He can feel a pair of eyes on him, and he looks up from his cook book to see Deo glaring at him. Not in the same way that Dream does it, though. Dream's eyes narrow, and have this glint in them, making him seem more intimidating than he actually is.
       Deo's eyes however, are narrowed slightly, and his eyebrows are knitted together out of concern and curiosity. A way of saying 'why aren't you eating,' without ever having to verbalise his question or bring unwanted attention to Tommy.
      Tommy lowers his gaze in a shameful manner,  because honestly? He's been going without food for such a long time that he's forgotten that it's not normal to not be hungry at this time of day, or at least not eat food with others for the sole sake of seeming like you're not hungry.
       He gives his head a slight shake, his way of telling Deo 'not now,' without having to concerning the others or make them feel unwanted. Deo lets out a soft sigh, a sign that he'll accept that answer, although he prefers a much more thorough one later.
       Tommy hates that he can read Deo so well, but loves it at the same time. What he hates the most though, is that Deo can read him just as easily. Deo may not have noticed how much skinnier he is, or he just had the decency not to comment on it, but he knows that Deo knew.
        It's not like Tommy doesn't know either. He does. He faces it every time he passes by water in the cauldron, or the ever still sea that he's currently residing next to. Of course he knew, he witnessed it on a daily, if not hourly, basis, and he hates it.
      He sees it, he looks at it, and he seethes. He is filled with an anger that is hard to explain to those who aren't him. A sadness that shouldn't be there, yet it is. A pang of guilt that he doesn't understand why he feels it. So many emotions that his mind conjures the minute he makes eye contact with his watery reflection, all of which shouldn't be there.
      
      Deo takes in his husbands appearance carefully. He's skinnier, and not in a healthy way. He's paper thin, and more bone that fat and muscle. He genuinely looks like his bones will pop out at any moment, ready to join the skeleton army.
        He seems to drown in his shirt, even though it has its fair share of rips and tears throughout. His shorts seem to be baggier than normal, and sure, Toms has always had skinny arms, but they were never that skinny.
      He's supposed to have those cartoonish weak nerd arms, not 'washed  up drug addict' arms. Did Tommy always have those eyeballs, or are they new? Has he always seemed so tired and exhausted, or was he just worn out from a day of picking and tending to the flora that exist outside?
     He doesn't know, but he hopes that it's the latter of the two. He hates to imagine his Tommy, his Sunshine, has not been lost to the sadness of the rain. He prays that his Sunflower hasn't been trampled over, to the point past helping. He knows, moreover, that he's as resilient as the Poppy flowers that he adores, and that he will have his bright smile again.