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Chris' point of view:

I open the door to Ethan's room and step inside. He's sitting on his bed, staring down at the sheets. He looks so sad.

"Chris!" He exclaims standing up and rushing over to me, he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

He pulls away from the hug and goes back to sit on the bed, I join him.

"The doctors talked to your Mum yesterday," he says "they want to put me on medication Chris and that scares me, a lot."

"It's going to be okay Bub, you are going to be okay. The doctors know what they're doing" I tell him calmly

"You were here, they didn't put you on medication so why am I any different?" His eyes are wide when he looks at me this time.

"I don't know"

He's silent for a moment.

"Chris I think it's time I told you something."

"What is it?" I ask a little concerned

"I've been here before. I've tried to kill myself before." He whispers so quietly that I almost strain to hear him, but I do.

"Oh."

"It was after we finished touring with The Voice Kids. After all that shit happened. I didn't want you to find out, after I didn't succeed. I was afraid of what you would think of me. I guess there were hopes I would get better, but now I'm back." He explains fidgeting with his hands

"I'm sorry Ethan" I say "I'm sorry"

"You shouldn't be" he shrugs

"Ethan I-"

"They say I have an eating disorder." He cuts me off, staring ahead blankly

"I can't help it that I hate food, I can't help it that I hate eating. It's not my fault. It's his fault. This is all his fault." He says standing up abruptly and starting to pace "I can't eat, no one understands. I can't, I can't!"

I don't say anything.

"Eating is like giving in, eating is like re living every single time.. Eating is just another reminder" he starts pulling at his hair and hitting his head with his hands.

"Ethan," I say softly, standing up "stop."

I grab both of his hands and gently move them to his side and I hold them, he lets out a small whimper and bursts into tears. He rests his forehead on my chest and cries into it. I simply hold onto him and quietly hush him as I sway the both of us.

"It's going to be okay" I whisper

"What if it's not?" He asks quietly

"Then I'll be right here to help you" I tell him

He steps away and wipes his tears.

"Okay," he sighs wiping his eyes again "the doctors said that I'm underweight"

He sits on the floor and crosses his legs, he rests his chin in his hand and supports it with his elbow on his knee.

"I'm not allowed to leave until I gain enough weight. But that means eating. I don't eat because I don't want to throw up and if I tell them that then they're going to think I have more problems. Food is the problem." He explains

"You don't have to eat much, not at first. Just take it slow. I can help you." I walk over to the little table on the other side of the room and pick up the tray with his lunch on it.

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