The Pack and Sidemen Oneshots

ZerkStar- Starving Part 1

Josh's P.O.V.

Vikk had always been tiny, shorter than ever other member of the Sidemen and, ever since I had first met him, he had been skinner than all of us. He was even smaller than Simon, the tall, lanky and noodle-like Simon, and when I first met the tiny 18-year-old I thought he might snap.

Living with him for 4 years gave me an insight to what he was like and it just fuelled the worry about him and his eating habits. For the first year or so I wasn't too worried, he ate normally, 3 meals a day even if he only ate half of what was on his plate.

He was eating somewhat healthily, he ate normally and snacked, took the time to eat but that quickly fell apart. He got more into YouTube and became more withdrawn, from his friends, from his family, from himself. He stopped coming down for breakfast and lunch, appearing only for another cup of coffee and a snack, and he only sometimes had dinner. Even when one of us cooked, he made some excuse that he was busy, he had already eaten (he hadn't), he wasn't hungry.

I got so worried about him and his health that it caused my own mental breakdown and my month hiatus from YouTube, because I was so scared for him. He didn't seem to eat at all, he barely snacked, he seemed to survive on coffee alone.

"Vikk?" I asked, knocking on his door. He looked up from his boxes, almost his entire life shoved away in boxes which was how my life was at that moment too. Moving house was stressful, and it was showing on him too. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Uhh- yeah?" He said, his brow furrowed. "What's up."

He went and sat down on his bed, which was still only a mattress on the floor after almost two years, and patted the spot next to him. I went and sat down beside him, steeling myself for one of the most difficult conversations I would ever have to have.

"Vikk... look. Something's really wrong, and I'm so worried for you at the moment." His hand was resting on his bed so I reached out and grabbed it, squeezing it gently. "I've noticed that you haven't been eating. Like, at all."

He gaped for a few seconds, the shock clear in his eyes. He might have only been 3 years younger than me but at that second he looked like a little child, staring up at me with both wonder and fear in his eyes, so vulnerable, so small and so, so scared.

"Josh I- I-" He stuttered, his fingers trembling. "I-" And then he just fell apart. "I don't know what to do."

He burst into tears and it was all I could do, I just hugged him close, held him as he sobbed and let everything out that he had been holding in for far too long, years maybe. He sobbed himself to sleep in my lap, tears streaming down his face, and my heart panged.

Vikk was so much like a kid, he didn't understand so much because of how he had been sheltered and it had lead to this, this disaster and breakdown. I wanted to do everything I could to help.

I was his friend, his roommate and sometimes I wanted to be more. I wanted to be more than a friend, but I wasn't going to force that upon him now, not when he was going through that.

Maybe later. I told myself. Maybe later.

---------------------------------------------------

Later turned out to be almost a year later, and my crush on him was still strong. There had been some ups and downs during the move, the first few months in the new house, the grind of recording and editing and above all, his time in other countries every month.

His eating habits slowly fell down the drain.

At first he stopped coming down for meals at all, never breakfast, never lunch, never dinner. The snacks we bought for him stopped disappearing from the cupboard and I knew he never went to the supermarket, he never left his room.

After a year in the new house, he was completely starving himself.

He didn't seem to remember that conversation we had had just before we moved out of the old house, where he had cried himself to sleep in my lap and I had told him that I had noticed. But I didn't have the courage to talk to him again, tell him that now I was really worried, that his health, both physical and mental, were failing.

One night I stood outside his door, steeling myself to get it together and talk to him. He was editing, I could hear his keyboard and mouse clicking away periodically, so he wasn't asleep, but I had to talk to him soon. I had to. His life was in danger at that point, I knew that, so why couldn't I talk to him?

Instead, I knocked his door.

"Vikk?" I called, listening for conformation he had heard me. "Dinner's ready, be down in 5."

-------------------------------------------------------

Vikk picked at the food on his plate, swallowing barely a mouthful. All of our housemates were there, JJ and Simon, but they didn't seem to notice that Vikk wasn't eating and were instead engaged in their own conversation about JJ's upcoming trip to LA.

They both left the table first and Vikk took that as an opportunity to leave as well, scraping his food into the bin and going up the stairs in silence. I followed a few minutes later, now willing and ready to talk to him because he had seen me watching him, he knew I knew; but what I heard standing at his bedroom door made me pause.

Every bedroom in the house had an en-suite so none of us had to share bathrooms, but as I stood outside Vikk's door I could hear him retching and then finally throwing up. My heart sank. It was worse, far worse than I had thought. He wasn't just starving himself.

I knocked when the horrific noises stopped.

"Vikk? Are you in there?" I didn't hear anything for a few seconds, and then a low, quiet, mumbled reply. I pushed open the door.

Vikk had made his way over to his bed and was lying, curled up into a tiny ball, on top of it, tears streaming down his cheeks. I could see a bit of bile still on his chin and my heart broke for him because I knew it wasn't his fault, he wasn't responsible for having feelings like that, but I had to get him out of it. He wasn't going to claw his way out on his own, not after all of those years, and I had to get him to face it, side by side.

"Oh Vikky..." I sighed, sitting down on the bed beside him. "Why did you never tell me, you knew that I would be there."

"I couldn't!" He sobbed, burying his head in his arms. "I don't want to do this anymore but I can't help it! I thought it was getting better!"

I thought he was too, thinking back on the brief period when his eating habits seemed almost normal. I shouldn't have dismissed it so easily, thinking it would get better on its own.

"Hey, hey, look at me." His teary eyes met mine, blinking fast. "You can't keep going down this path, it's only going to get worse, but I know you can't do it alone. I'm not exactly qualified for this but whatever comes, I'll be there, okay?"

He nodded but I could sense the doubt.

"You need help Vikk. Professional help."

"But that's what I'm afraid of." He whispered. "I can't tell a stranger how much I'm fucked up, all of the ways I can't keep going."

"Then tell me." I said softly, running a light hand up and down his back. "But remember that when you're ready to tell someone, and that might not be for a while, I'll take you there. And from now, I'll be here. I was so scared for you, for your health and I still am now. God I just wish I said something sooner."

"I'm just glad you said something at all." He mumbled, the tears beginning to dry up. "I don't wanna feel like this anymore. I don't wanna feel nauseous whenever I'm around food, I don't wanna be able to not eat anything. I'm sick of feeling like shit all the time." He paused. "Mentally and physically."

"That's good Vikk." I said, moving so I could lie down beside him. "You want to get better. That's the first step I think, and it's a good place to start."

For the first time in our conversation he cracked a smile, and I leaned over to wipe the bile on his chin off with the corner of my sleeve.

"Thanks Josh." He mumbled, tugging a blanket around his shoulders. "For being here."

"I'm glad to be here." I whispered back. "I really, truly am."