Outside the Lines (lashton)

(44) +0 -350

The grilled cheeses roll in and everyone flocks to the tables to get ready to eat. All but me. I'm still sat on the couch, now alone.

I grab the remote and find Friends on some channel, happy to find something familiar that will calm me down.

After a few minutes, a nurse approaches me - I think her name's Lucy - and she takes a seat next to me.

"Aren't you going to eat, Luke?" she asks.

"Not really hungry right now, maybe later," I say with a sweet smile.

"Alright, well, that's fine. But maybe try a little? We know you aren't the biggest fan of, uh, eating, for a lack of better words, but we'd like you to try."

So they already know about my eating disorder. Figures, the psychiatrist probably wrote it down on my file or something.

And now I kind of want to scream. Whose fucking body is it? Mine. I should be in charge of what I do, no one else. No one else should be pressuring me to do something except for me.

"What happens if I don't? I leave in three days anyways," I tell her.

"Nothing much, but don't you want to get the most out of these three days?"

And for some reason, that really sticks with me.

"I do, yeah. I really do," I say with a sick smile.

"Then why don't you come join the others and try to eat something?" she says gently.

I smile again and say, "No thanks, I'm good," then make my way towards the exercise bicycle and start peddling.

I can feel her stare on me but she steps away from the seat and makes her way towards the nurse's station again. That's when Sierra reappears for lunch, she takes a seat next to a handsome boy and digs in to her sandwich. But I ignore her.

It feels good, finally fully giving in to this feeling again. For a while now I've been trying to fight it, fighting my mind to eat. And although my attempts failed time after time, there were attempts made and that's what mattered.

But I'm done trying. Why fight something that feels so right, so good? Losing weight - it's always been here for me, like a trampoline in case I fall. I've always had it to rely on.

Who cares if it'll kill me? At least I'll die happy.

~

My psychiatrist, who seems to be the same one that I met when I got here doesn't seem pleased with my new thought process.

"Luke, this is your disorder speaking," Zack tries to tell me.

"No, this is me. This is what I want. I want to lose weight, and who's going to stop me? Why would someone stop me from trying to live my best life?"

"It's not a life if you end up dead," he says flatly.

"It would be if I was thin. It would be worth it."

He sighs, then asks me if I have family in the area.

"The closest thing I have to family here are my two best friends and my boyfriend," I tell him simply.

"Would you like to bring them in for a session tomorrow? I think it would help them and you."

I think it over, the hurt on each of their faces when I left. Maybe it could help them. Not me, but them.

"Sure, but I know they'll be disappointed in my decision, just like you are."

"I'm not disappointed," Zack says honestly, "but I wish you could see you the way other do. That there's more to you than being thin. There's more to life than being thin. I hope I'm able to show you that while you're here.

Also, I don't truly think you've made a conscious decision to go back to old ways. I think your disorder has and you believe it's you who's making that decision."

I roll my eyes at his last statement, not believing it for a second. "It's clearly me who's making the decision. I'm saying I don't want to eat. I'm saying I want to lose weight. It's my decision," I try to tell him, being brutally honest. I'm sick of hearing it's your disorder when clearly, it's not.

It's me.

~

Dinner rolls around and it's no different than lunch. Back on the stationary bicycle again. The same nurse as before asks me if I'll be joining the others for dinner but I politely decline. She informs me that if I miss two out of three meals in a day, she can't allow me to go outside for breaks, which I had enjoyed earlier in the day.

Well, that's a loss I'll have to take.

I politely decline again, but she doesn't give up.

"How about you sit at the table and interact with the others?" Why? It's not like I'll ever see these people again.

"Thank you, but no thanks," I try to tell her politely. She seems to get the message to leave me alone.

As she walks away, I realise how lonely I feel in here. But it's okay, I'm keeping myself busy so I don't think about it too much.

~

I get off the bicycle as soon as the boys walk into the unit. Whether they saw me get off it or not, I'm not sure. However, they do notice the pause I make after getting off. My head goes cold and my vision goes black for a second, but it passes as fast as it appeared.

The boys rush up to me, asking if I'm okay.

"It's fine, I know my limits, don't worry," I tell them, letting them know there's nothing to worry about.

This doesn't seem to make their worries go away though. "When did you start exercising again?" Calum asks me.

"Today. I came to a conclusion that I'm going to do something about my body."

Calum and Michael seem to brighten up, probably thinking the best, but I can see in Ashton's eyes that he knows my exact decision.

"So you're going to restrict until you're dead?"

This makes me laugh, while it makes Calum and Michael flip out at Ashton, telling him to shut the fuck up and could you be more rude and blunt?

"I mean, the plan isn't to die, but if it happens then it happens. Listen," I say, trying to make them understand, "this is what I want. This will make me happy. I want to lose weight, and it's my body so I should be allowed to," I tell them simply with a shrug.

They immediately protest against that.

"You don't have the right to do that when you're not in a clear state of mind."

"You don't even care if it will kill you? What about the future of the band?"

"What about us?" Ashton is the one to say that. He looks like he could break down in tears in a second. But I know him. He won't, he's strong.

Unlike me.

"If you guys want, my psychiatrist offered a family therapy session. You're the closest thing I have to family here in LA, so you're all cordially invited," I let them know. They all seem to like this idea a lot, which is probably going to be hell for me, but I'll deal with it when I get to it.

For now, I focus on the moment. "So can we talk about something else? Something happy?"

"Hard to be happy when you're locked away in a psych ward on suicide watch," Michael mutters.

"And rightfully so, if you think that dying from this disorder is better than living," Calum follows up with.

"Please," I beg them, and it seems to do the trick because Ashton sighs, but soon starts a new conversation, albeit looking sad as ever.

Ashton always knows what I need, he can sense it. And I really appreciate him for that.