why are you doing it?

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warnings: mentions of eating disorders and disordered behaviors

age: 17

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Y/N's POV

Sometimes I think my mom takes me for an idiot.

'Oh, honey, I just don't have much of an appetite today' becomes a lot less believable when it turns into every day.

She still cooks meals for me, just not for herself. I know for a fact that it's been more than just a few weeks since she's eaten a proper meal.

So, as a test, I've taken on the task of making dinner today. I'm making chicken paprikash, a meal she can't resist.

Never in my life have I known my mother to turn down this particular food, so my suspicions will be confirmed if she does.

"Evening, mother dearest," I greet my mom as she walks through the front door.

"Hi," she smiles weakly, hanging her coat on the coatrack and slipping her shoes off. "What a day!" she exclaims and starts walking over to me. I'm immediately brought into a warm hug, and I can feel how bony she is through her baggy shirt.

"Work not good?" I ask, rubbing her back slightly to calm her down.

"Just... tiring, I guess. Whatcha making?"

I pull away from the embrace so she can see what's in the saucepan on the stove. To my surprise, she actually lifts up the wooden spoon to her lips and has a small taste of the sauce.

"Mm. That is lovely."

"I'm glad, because it'll be done soon. Can you get the plates out, please?"

"Plate," she tries to correct me, reaching up into the cabinet, only to bring one down.

"No, mom. Plates. You're having some, too."

As if she thinks I'm making a joke, she starts laughing right in front of me. "Oh no," she chuckles, "I can't eat this," she says, halting her giggles.

"And why is that?" I push, feeling that if I keep up the interrogation, she might crack.

She then looks at me in confusion, like she knows I know. "I ate a big lunch. Tony ordered pizza for us all."

"Oh, so despite the fact that it's a Tuesday and he spends Tuesdays at home with Pepper and Morgan, he managed to order you guys some pizza?"

That's when she knows she messed up. Her eyes go wide with realization and she shakes her head, likely disappointed with herself for not being able to keep the lie going.

Seeing that she's close to tears, I hurriedly wrap her up in my arms again and let her cry for a little while.

"Mama... why are you doing it? Why are you starving yourself?"

Letting out a shaky breath, she pulls away and sits down on the kitchen floor, I join her.

"I just needed some control over something. Work has me feeling crazed and it's just a bit much at the minute. I don't want you worrying, though."

"Well that's ridiculous. You're my mama, of course I'm gonna worry. I already am worried. If it's about control then why don't you try to be in control of something that won't have as many consequences? Control me! I'm your daughter, control every move I do. Become one of those psycho parents who doesn't let their kid do anything fun."

"You'd give up your freedom for me? God, you really are the sweetest girl," she sighs and shuffles over to lift me into her lap. "I can't control you, baby. I had all my teenage years taken from me because of people who would take excessive control over me. I would never do that to you."

"Well then you need to get some other help," I tell her, holding onto her hand.

One thing I know for definite is that my mom is the strongest person ever. She doesn't back down from a fight, and I know she won't let this eating disorder beat her.

"I know I do. I just don't know where to start."

Not knowing what to say to help right now, I stay silent as I think.

It's not very often that I have to be the one to comfort her, it's usually the other way around, me being her daughter and all.

"You start with eating this paprikash," I decide, not really giving her a choice.

"I think I can do that," she whispers, pressing a kiss against my temple.

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