𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - TMR AU, Thomas

𝟢𝟦𝟦， "𝐡𝐚𝐡𝐚"

༺ FORTY - FOUR ༻

The day after the lasagna, which for once didn't vanish in the toilet through my mouth, I felt a little better.

I thought of how it would be to eat like that again. Have lovely meals every night. Be excited for the next morning a few days each month, knowing Dad bought something I like, or already smelling the eggs Newt is baking. To make my own Pinterest inspired lunches again.

But then I think about the number and gaining weight, and I'm disgusted again.

The the days pass by and I'm hanging on a thread, unsure. Why can't I just keep losing weight without being in terrible danger? It's either stopping this and gaining more weight, or I'll... well, you know.

It's weird experiencing this when I compare my thoughts before all of this happened. To the articles I've read. The way I wondered why someone would even starve themselves. How I couldn't imagine someone not wanting to stop doing anything at all, while it meant dying.

And then Aris kind of told me that, and I'm wondering why he'd be worried I'm dying, but doesn't take any action. I don't want him to, obviously, but I'm just wondering.

Moving on. Another thing decided to show up because news and discoveries is all that I'm getting these days.

Ha...ha.

Can't do a real 'haha' right now.

Bloody hell.

It's a quick change of mood, really, but I only realized it a few days ago and I can't seem to get it off my mind.

I assure myself that it's just because of my eating patterns, the reason my period is almost two weeks late, but... nope. Impossible.

I'd have the urge to kill someone, my father would definitely threaten about killing someone, Newt would straight up yell he's going to kill Thomas.

I sit on the toilet, my head buried in my hands. It probably really is just the eating. It must be. No way.

Alright, alright. I just keep calm. It's always less bad than you think. I'll tell Thomas, buy a test, and do it. Then negative will show, and it's just my eating patterns in the end.

I'm convinced it is.

I take some deep breaths. When will I tell him about this? It's not that big of a deal, but I don't want to hold it back. And I can't lie to myself about 'one more day' now, because he just needs to know.

Tomorrow. Yes. And I'm not exactly motivated to buy a test like that all on my own, while I look like crap, so he'd agree to coming with me. And then maybe he can have the first look.

But it's my eating. To protect a body, the reproductive system shuts down. And my body wouldn't even be healthy enough to carry a baby, so it makes sense.

✵

"Hi!" Calling Thomas will never fail to make me smile. His voice only, or the fact I'm his girlfriend already makes me happy. "How're you?"

Yet I'm a little nervous, because if he agrees to meeting up, that means I'll be forced to tell him.

Gosh, it's not a big deal, Rose. Two weeks late while I struggle with eating is logical. And there really is no need to worry Thomas with this, but alright.

I'm just a wee bit scared.

"Oh, hey, Rose," it sounds on the other side. "I'm good, thanks. And you?"

"I'm alright," I say. "Just calling to thank you for the lasagna. It was delicious."

"Eh, yeah. No big deal."

I press the phone harder to my ear, to hear him even better. It's been a while since I saw him.

Well, two days, but you know.

"I was wondering if you want to meet up tomorrow. Before ballet and work," I start. "Perhaps there's like a good movie at the cinema. Though I don't mind spending a whole morning petting Glitter either."

"Tomorrow morning... I'm kinda busy," he says. "I'm sorry. But another time."

It's relieving and disturbing at the same time.

"Sure," I agree. I'm not gonna make this complicated or name ways to solve this. Whenever someone says they can't meet up, I'll let go of it. Not five different ways until they finally admit that they just don't feel like hanging out, or squeezing a meet up in a busy day.

We're silent for a while. Then I speak again. "Any plans for today?"

"Not really," he answers. "Might call Chuck or somethin'."

"I'll leave you, then," I decide. "Hope to see you soon. Bye, Thomas."

"See you."

"I lov—"

But there's a peep, meaning he hung up. I shrug to myself. I'm not going to overthink this little thing.

✵

Another week flies by. I could've told him, because my fingernails are bitten off because of my stress, but I didn't.

Not in a random drive to work, "Hey, did I mention I haven't had my period in weeks?" or in Random Cowshed, "I might be pregnant, or I'm just so messed up that I ruined my periods."

Whatever. It's February. Meaning, my first Valentine's Day with a boyfriend who's amazing like this.

Would I be delusional if I say that might be the reason he's acting so weird right now? Or would I be selfish? I don't know, maybe Thomas is planning something.

I should probably start thinking what I can get him. Roses are simple. And he already has a Rose, so no.

Now I can say haha.

Would letters be cliche? I'd love to receive them. I could write about him everyday, then make a little bundle. Or just pay for a movie night?

"Hi, Teresa." I'm on the phone again. I've been speaking to the girl quite a few times through the phone, and now I'm calling for her help. "Quick and random, but what do you think I should get Thomas for Valentine's Day? I wanna have it ready early enough."

Yes, basically everyone knows about our relationship now. Half of the people weren't even surprised. Minho got commanded to take a bloody run around the house before he'd scream everything apart, according to Newt.

"Oeh, that's a nice question you ask here." She hums. "I think something handmade. He won't need all the expensive stuff. Just something that'll remind him of you."

"Would letters be weird?" I wonder.

"No, not at all. I'm sure he'll love anything you get," Teresa encourages. She lets out a laugh. "And I was thinking to maybe ask Aris out."

"Really?" I yelp. "That's awesome! You totally should, Tes."

"I'll try to get the confidence."

And there a few more days go. Every night, I write about Thomas. My experiences with him, both new and old ones, what I like about him, things that have altered my brain, et cetera.

It's not hard. I'm less exhausted now I've finally made the decision to start eating a small lunch on ballet days. It's really just like three bites of a sandwich, but I'd prefer to stay alive after all.

As long as the number continues to lower, it's good.