Fic: Weighty Ghost
Title: Weighty Ghost
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: Major triggers for eating disorders and disturbed body image. Please don't read if you're easily triggered.
Word Count: 3,369
Summary: “There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine,” I say, my voice is strong and I wonder who I’m trying to convince. “I’m fine.”
It's hard to ask for help when you don't realize you need it.
A/N: I sat down to write the next part of my Lovesong verse, and wrote this instead. It doesn't have the hopeful feel that Lovesong does and deals explicity with eating disorders, so please use discretion when reading. This will probably be AU after tonight. The next part of Lovesong is coming, Burt just has a lot more to say than I thought he would.
The title for this comes from the Wintersleep song of the same title. Because I lack the creativity to come up with my own titles.
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Everyone reacts the same. They see me, after four months apart, and their eyes light up, arms outstretched for a hug, or hand raised for a high five. I smile back, tell them I’ve missed them too and reciprocate. They always notice, something, even if they don’t really know what. We break the hug and they give me that look, questioning as their eyes flicker over my body, but they don’t say anything. They don’t really know how. So they just ask me how I’ve been and I’ll answer with a genuine smile and turn the conversation back to them. And then we’ll be on our merry way and the smile slips from my face.
Mom says something. Of course. She greets me at the airport and wraps me in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek, and she asks if I’ve been sick (oh you have no idea mother) but I just brush off the question with a smile, telling her I’ve been a little stressed but assuring her it’s nothing. She smiles and says she understands, she was in college once too and god knows if she had time for three solid meals on top of her studies. Dad claps me on the shoulder when I get home, the strong grip makes my bones ache, and he asks if they feed me at the school of mine. I laugh, even though my stomach is churning, and despite how much I’ve told myself I hated it there, I want nothing but to go back. Back to my tiny dorm where no one pays attention to me, no one asks me questions, no one says anything.
Christmas break at my school starts sooner than NYU so I have a few days before Kurt gets back, which I’m thankful for. I miss Kurt, I miss him so much, but if there’s anyone who would say something, it’s him. Kurt knows, he sees things, and he will see right through me, I know this already. Even after four months apart. He’ll know all my reassurances were a lie. And it’s strange. Part of me wants him to know, to notice. To see what I’ve gone through, what I’m going through, how dead I feel most of the time. I know it’s not right, what I’m doing to myself, but I just can’t stop. It’s like my brain is divided in two. There’s the part of me that knows this is wrong, sees the bones through my skin, the way my hair has thinned. I’m tired all the time and sometimes I just want to stop. But I can’t. That’s where the other side of me comes in. The stronger side. The side that knows I’m not good enough yet. That if I was, I would have gotten into NYU with Kurt. It morphs my body until I can’t stand to look at it and tears spring to my eyes, and I feel so empty that I just want to lay down and die sometimes but I don’t because I can’t give up and instead I go for a run.
Kurt wouldn’t understand. I don’t even understand half the time. I can’t explain it to myself, not in any way that makes sense. So I don’t. I just do what it wants me too. My parents don’t say anything when I start taking my meals to my room, or pushing my food around on my plate to look like I’ve eaten something. They don’t say anything about the shower running after every meal, or the way my eyes are bloodshot and my hands tremble after I come out. They don’t say anything because they don’t want to know. To acknowledge that maybe there’s another thing wrong with their son. And while most of me is happy they don’t say anything and screw everything up, there’s a part that wishes they would. Because wouldn’t you think your son coming home from college forty pounds less than when he left would count as the tiniest plea for help?
I push away these thoughts as quick as they come. I don’t want help. I want to be left alone and not have everything I’ve worked for ruined just as quickly. So I won’t tell Kurt. I won’t tell my parents. I won’t tell anyone. Because no one needs to know.
No one wants to know.
-
It’s the day Kurt gets back and I’m nervous. I’ve pulled apart my closet, looking for the right thing to wear. If I put two pairs of sweatpants under my jeans you can’t see quite how far apart my thighs are, and I layer on a long thermal, two t-shirts, a sweater, a cardigan, and my jacket, completing the look with a scarf wrapped around my neck. It’s actually not that different from what I normally wear. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t cold and layers seem to help, slightly. I smooth the gel in my hair and pat some color into my cheeks. I can do this. Kurt’s my boyfriend. We may not have seen each other in over four months, but there’s no reason to feel nervous. Kurt loves me and I love him and that’s what matters.
My phone beeps.
Kurt [2:23] Back five seconds and Lima is already consuming what’s left of my soul.
I chuckle and another text comes before I have a chance to respond.
Kurt [2:23] Please tell me you can get here as soon as possible. My soul is at stake here. And possibly Finn’s life.
I type out my response.
Be there in 30.
And now I’m in Kurt’s driveway, hands shaking, mentally preparing myself to be reunited with my boyfriend. I check myself in the tiny car mirror for the hundredth time and nearly jump out of my seat when there’s a knock on my window. I turn and see Kurt, an amused smile on his face.
“Did you want to come inside, or were you going to look at yourself all day?” He asks with a smile as I step out of the car before grabbing me in a tight hug. I hug him back and realize I’ve forgotten how good this feels. How right. Kurt’s lips find mine and we’re kissing, in the driveway, and it’s freezing but right now I don’t care. I almost want to cry, I’ve missed this so much.
When Kurt pulls away his hand finds mine and he leads me into the house. It’s warm and homey inside and smells like baking bread. My stomach growls but I ignore it. I’ve gotten good at ignoring it. Carole comes in and I find myself enveloped in another hug, but instead of growing self conscious and pulling away as I normally do, I never want to let go because I feel so nice and warm and loved. But I do and Carole smiles, telling me how much she’s missed me and taking my coat. I don’t miss the way Kurt’s eyes graze my body, a frown creasing his forehead.
“I’ve got some fresh bread if you’d like,” Carole offers kindly and I feel panic rising in me. I knew this would happen, I’ve been mentally preparing myself, going over a million ways to politely refuse, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. I’ve barely stepped into the house.
“Thank you, Carole, but I just ate,” I say to her with a smile, hoping she can’t see the fear the flickers through me. There’s something in her eyes and I know she doesn’t quite believe me but she nods and assures me I’m welcome to it if I get hungry. I just thank her again and let Kurt lead me to his room. We meet Burt in the hallway and he gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder, asking how I’ve been. I lie. Kurt’s eyes are narrowed, like he’s seeing right through me, but he doesn’t say anything.
It’s nice. We sit on Kurt’s bed and he tells me about school, not that I haven’t already heard everything, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to hear at least one of us is adjusting well to college. He asks me how finals went and I tell him what I’ve been telling everyone, that they were stressful and I’m lucky to have survived, hoping he’ll blame that for my change in behavior. I try to be lively and talkative, to have the energy that I used to, but it’s hard when I just want to curl up on the bed and sleep. When my limbs ache every time I move and my eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds.
I’m pretty good at pretending though, and soon our talking has turned into Kurt crawling over me, our lips desperately seeking each other. We keep it tame, all our clothes stay on and our lips stay above the shoulders since the door is open and Kurt’s whole family is home. It’s fine by me. It’s been so long since we’ve done this, since I’ve even seen Kurt, that I feel like I need to ease back in, even though I know it’s probably not normal. I can tell Kurt doesn’t feel the same, his body pressing close to mine, his hands trying to sneak down my back, his tongue explorative and desperate.
Times like this I wonder if something is wrong with me. If it’s normal to feel so confused, like I’m being torn in half by my emotions. Part of me wants to feel everything, to hold Kurt close and tell him how hard it’s been. To stop lying and tell him how much I hate college, how I haven’t made any friends. How I read my textbook at lunch to hide the fact I have no one to sit with. How my roommate doesn’t even care to ask why I have the stomach flu almost every night. The other half of me, the half that always wins, feels nothing. Just a void that keeps pushing me to be better, that constantly reminds me I’m not good enough yet. And sometimes I fear I’ll never be good enough.
Eventually Kurt senses my lack of enthusiasm and pulls away, face flushed but full of concern.
“Blaine,” he says. “Is everything alright?”
His eyes flicker over me again and I want to kick myself. I force myself to stay calm, and shrug.
“Just a little tired,” I respond, as honestly as possible. “It’s been a long week.”
Kurt nods and I’m not sure if he believes me but he lets it rest for now. He suggests we relax and watch a movie and I agree. We make our way to the living room and Kurt picks out a new romantic comedy that Carole rented, snuggling up next to me on the couch. I’m sure the movie is funny, but I can’t concentrate. My brain feels fuzzy and Kurt is warm against me, the way he nuzzles against my neck reassuring, comforting, and I drift off before the movie is even half over.
I wake when Kurt nudges my side, my eyes blinking open, disoriented. Kurt smiles at me, eyes soft but concerned.
“Wake up sleepy head,” he says with an amused chuckle. I rub my eyes and look around. It’s almost six.
“Carole has dinner ready,” Kurt says gently. “She wants you to stay.”
And that wakes me up. I jolt to my feet, hands fisting my jeans nervously.
“I can’t,” I say quickly and Kurt frowns. “I, uh, my parents have dinner planned already.”
“So call them,” Kurt says, genuinely confused and I hate myself for reacting so badly. I try and calm down, taking a deep breath.
“It’s important. Sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow?” I say and make my way for the door, not giving him a chance to argue further.
“Um, ok. Drive safe,” Kurt says, walking to the door with me. When I go to leave he grabs my hand and I look at him.
“Are you sure everything is alright?” He asks. I nod and I know my smile is too bright. Too fake.
“Yup. Fine. Bye!” I say far too cheerfully and with an enthusiastic kiss I’m out the door.
When I get home I tell my parents I ate dinner at Kurt’s.
-
It’s the day before Christmas Eve (Christmas Eve Eve?) and Kurt invites me over with the promise that his dad and Carole will be leaving after dinner, and Finn has plans with Rachel. I know what this means.
I spend a good three hours mentally preparing myself. One dinner. I can do one dinner. Everyday I’ve visited Kurt and made up some excuse as to why I can’t stay. I turn down Carole’s baking even though it smells so good. And I can see it in their eyes, Kurt and Carole’s. The way they look at me with every excuse, ever decline, like I’m some foreign creature to be studied. So I figure one dinner won’t hurt. I haven’t eaten anything today, and everything I ate yesterday just found its way into back into my toilet. I ran this morning and did my crunches and I know this won’t hurt anything. Won’t set me back.
I’m feeling pretty good actually. Happier then I’ve felt in awhile. Maybe it’s the thought of alone time with Kurt, maybe it’s knowing I’ve got a handle on this. That I can eat dinner without setting myself back. Maybe it’s none of those things. When I look in the mirror I like what I see, for once. I feel confident, which is good, because I know what Kurt has planned for this evening. So I wear only one pair of pants, a long sleeve tee and a dark blue sweater. I’m cold but it’s not unbearable and I know I won’t have any trouble staying warm this evening.
Dinner goes well. I eat most of my food despite Carole and Kurt watching me like hawks, smiling triumphantly with every bite I take. If they’re trying to be subtle, they’re failing miserably, but I indulge them and compliment Carole’s cooking as often as I can. Burt and Finn don’t seem to notice anything, which I’m thankful for, and after dinner I offer to help Carole clean the dishes.
“Is everything alright, Blaine?” she asks as I’m scrubbing dirty dishes in the sink. I actually don’t mind doing dishes, immersed in the scorching sink water is the only time my hands ever really feel warm.
“Perfect,” I say with a smile, and I wonder why everyone seems to be asking me that.
“You know you can talk to us about anything,” she says, looking up from her drying. “Kurt and I, we’re always here for you. Burt too.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” I say though my words sound less sure then before. We finish cleaning in silence.
Another hour later Kurt and I finally have the house to ourselves. We’re on Kurt’s bed and he wastes no time getting to business, his mouth roaming over mine, down my neck, tongue stroking that spot below my ear and I moan. My hands are on his body, and he leans into my touch and god, how did I go so long without this? My fingers work shakily at the buttons of his shirt, pulling them away, his chest pale and smooth. I know I’m forgetting myself, I’m letting my guard down, but my boyfriend is throwing his shirt to the floor and for once I just don’t care and today has been a good day and I’m allowed to be happy every once and a while.
I let my hands wander down his chest, switching places so my mouth works at his neck and he lets his head fall back and groans and it’s possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t even protest when he yanks the sweater over my head, my long sleeve tee following immediately after. I feel alive and try to move forward, to press my body against Kurt’s, when I notice Kurt has stopped moving. And he’s staring.
And suddenly I feel so stupid.
His hands ghost over my side, where I know my ribs pop out, even if I can’t really see it. His eyes move over my collarbones, my chest, my stomach, down to my hipbones, before moving back up to my face. He looks like he’s about to cry and suddenly I can’t breathe.
Why did I think this was a good idea? Did I think he wouldn’t say something? That he wouldn’t notice? I’m so stupidstupidstupid. And I need to leave. Now. It’s won. However confident I’d been feeling all day is gone. I can feel myself being pulled away, the void creeping back in and more than anything I need Kurt to be gone. I can’t deal with this with him here.
“Blaine,” he breathes. “What did you do?”
“I need to go,” I say, my voice cold and harsh and I grab for my shirt. Kurt latches onto my arm but I shake him off.
“Blaine, please, stay,” he pleads. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I look him straight in the eye and he flinches.
“There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine,” I say, my voice is strong and I wonder who I’m trying to convince. “I’m fine.”
I push myself up abruptly, trying to escape Kurt’s grasp and take three quick steps forward before I realize my mistake. I feel the head rush coming on like a train, my vision tunneling, a loud rushing in my ears that overpowers Kurt’s voice, the tingling in my limbs as my blood struggles with the sudden change in position. My knees go weak and my hand reaches out for support, finding only air. There’s nothing I can do to stop it and I’m going down, only slightly aware of the muffled thud as I hit the floor.
-
I wake up in Kurt’s bed and my brain feels fuzzy, like I’ve been sleeping too long, though according to the clock it’s only been a few minutes. Someone is stroking my hair and I turn, blinking sleepily. Kurt is sitting beside me, legs pressed against my back. I realize I’m dressed in one of the loose sweatshirts he owns but never wears, the mass of blankets on his bed pulled up to my chin. Kurt looks sad, his face streaked like he’s been crying.
“What happened, Blaine?” Kurt’s voice is soft and I shut my eyes so I don’t have to see him. I bury mine in his pillow as he strokes my cheek and for the first time I feel sad and ashamed.
“I think,” I start, finding the courage to say this now, while it, the disease, whatever it is, is sleeping and I feel like I’m actually me, for the first time in months. “I think I need help.”
My voice is muffled in the pillow and I can hear the scrape of my eyelashes on the fabric as I blink. There’s silence for a moment and normally I would be panicking, but right now I just feel so tired. Kurt sniffles beside me. I don’t turn to look at him. I can’t. Those few words took everything out of me and now I just want to lay here until the end of time.
“I’m here,” Kurt says and the bed shifts as he lays down behind me, nestling under the covers and drawing me into his arms. He’s warm and I can’t help but sink into him. “I want to help you. Whatever you need.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t, because I’m crying, my shoulders shaking with sobs I’ve been holding in for months. I don’t understand what’s happening with me and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I really want to fix it. But lying here, in Kurt’s arms, his hands stroking me comfortingly, his chin tucked over my shoulder, whispering I love you over and over in my ear, I know something needs to change. I need to change.
And it’s the scariest thing I’ve thought in a long time.