Semi-new Fic! "My Past Struggles - 1/?"
Hallo!
I'm new here, fresh off the scrubsfic comm, and I decided to post one of my old fics from ff.net on here - it seemed to fit the criteria, anyway.
I saw "Anorexia" on that table, and well, I had already written this, so I figured I might as well post it. It may or may not be continued. :) Enjoy!
Title: My Past Struggles (1/?)
Author: ScathingSarcasm
Fandom: Scrubs
Summary: An offhand comment made by sends JD spiraling into memories from his past; none of which are pleasant.
Warnings: Slight hints of JD/Cox, and heavy suggestion of anorexia, as well as some explicit cursing.
Pairing: JDxCox
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not own Scrubs. Oh noez.
A/N: After watching the episode that the beginning quote obviously originated from, this oneshot sparked off in my mind. I hope you all enjoy.
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“You feel more like a pastry - a very doughy pastry!”
JD stood rigidly in front of his full-length mirror, examining his body with disgust. He remembered with absolute, horrifying clarity the days of his college sophomore through senior years, the classes that passed by in a haze of starvation and depravation. Measuring his waistline every morning and night, calculating calorie and carb intake down to the third decimal and every fucking gram, going for days on only bottles of water and sheer will power. The agonizing hunger pains; sometimes so strong that he had to hide in the bathroom away from his concerned roomie and run the shower for an hour just to disguise the sounds of his whimpers. Those had been the days when he was, in his mind's eye, pretty. It was never enough, but at least then he wasn’t so hideous to gaze upon, practically bursting out of his clothes as he was now. Though he’d usually have to hide his thinner form from his fellow alumni with ugly oversized clothing that made him feel like a bloated whale, when he went on the town, he’d looked like a greek god. He hadn’t been able to fit into those double zero jeans since his first year of med school. Unfortunately, even doctors in training tended to notice and take extreme offense to anything that could be interpreted as a “crash diet”.
They didn’t know how hard it was, for him. How easily the weight crept up on him, how every day he could see his wretched form expand and bloat and become obese.
He guessed they would never know. Carla, with her sweet curves and delicate face, caramel skin and plump lips; exotic and stunning. Elliot, with her smooth and flawless porcelain skin, big blue eyes and bright smile.
Dr. Cox, muscled and undeniably masculine, with auburn curls that made you want to tug your fingers through them and eyes the most entrancing ocean blue, even more so when they were livid with righteous fury.
Dr. Cox, who thought he was “doughy”.
A sickened sob escaped his lips, almost too quiet to detect, even in the dead silence of his tiny bedroom. The one he wanted approval from most of all, his most precious person had just dug up issues he’d though that he’d buried years ago, after his first year of med school. He’d put on weight, lost sight of his ribs and obtained a little silver coin that said Anorexia Rehabilitation: Year 1. He reached down into the depths of his pocket, fingering the coin that never left his person, always in the back of his mind. “As a reminder”, his councilor had told him with a kind, detached smile. A reminder that he was not unattractive, that the outside appearance of a human being wasn’t nearly as important as the inside.
That he didn’t need to starve himself to be beautiful.
Removing his shirt with one harsh tug, he ran one long-fingered hand down the surface of his stomach, feeling the bulge of his paunch as if it was a massive wound to his soul.
He thrust his fist into his scrubs pocket and tossed the rehab coin to the opposite wall, where it impacted with a dull ‘thunk’.
What complete and utter crap that was.
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A/N: Please R&R!