To Be or Not to Be | hamilton

thirteen : thomas

{theres some serious anorexic thoughts n stuff goin on. take care of yourself, dolls. and DO NOT compare yourself to johns weight. xx}

One week later.

"It's good to see you awake, John, it really is. Alexander was so worried."

John's body hurt.

"You look fatter now. Have you gained weight?" the voice cackled. John gagged, opening one eye and looking at his skin.

Oh, God.

He had to weigh at least ninety pounds now. He was disgusting. He had flab! His rib bones were more hidden. He tried to reach up to touch his collarbones, but a flare of pain stopped him. John groaned, falling against the bed.

"They force-fed you. The doctors and the nurses."

John needed to get out.

"John? Can you speak?"

John blinked rapidly, nearly dizzy with pain.

"I'll take that as a no. Oh, it's Thomas, by the way. Jefferson? You know, the one who found you dying on the beach?"

John felt dazed. Thomas... the name was familiar, like a far memory that was juuuuust out of reach.

"Alexander isn't here. He was here for you. He gave up, maybe two days ago. He's really upset- by the way, he's more dependent on drugs now than ever. It's your fault, too. It's all because you tried to kill yourself."

John's vision became clearer, slowly. He could finally make out Thomas' frame, which he took as a victory. He looked down at his body. With his clear vision, he looked even worse. He was fat.

"John, you really scared me. I like you. I do, really... but, I don't like Alexander. So I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

John's mind was like mud. He couldn't process the words.

"I don't have long before the nurses see you're not in a coma. So, I'll be brief.

"Alexander put your father in jail. But-" he walked to John, leaning down and whispering in his ear- "I'm going to bail him out next week. Lafayette- your roommate- he knows. But he can't tell anyone. He's scared. And doesn't know enough English." Thomas snorted. "These next few weeks- no, the rest of your life- is gonna be hell, buddy."

Thomas stood up, walking to the other side of his cot. "Good luck." He yanked out a tube, which John would later find out was his feeding tube. "Watch your back."

He left, the heart monitor spiking.

}{

The doctors were explaining what John would be going through, but it went over his head.

Alexander, on the other hand, was terrified. One of the nurses would tell him something and suddenly he would scream and it would hurt John's ears but he couldn't seem to talk.

John's head felt stuffed with cotton, his eyes felt like they bled like Oedipus', his mouth felt like sandpaper.

He hurt. And he was fat. God, he hated himself. He was oozing fat, and he knew it. John looked disgusting. He could look down and see the fat in his stomach, the crook of his elbows, he felt it. Ninety pounds. Ninety pounds of fat, yellow, lard. He felt sick to his far-too-large stomach even thinking about it.

"We'd keep him, but the money simply isn't here." The only sentence John heard. He didn't know whether to be happy he wouldn't be hospitalised, or upset because after all this time he was nothing but a price tag.

He didn't hear Alexander's response. He didn't want to.

He pretended to be asleep until they all left.