Control (Nine)
Title: Control
Author: Katie
Pairings: Jack Barakat/ OC, Alex Gaskarth/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Recovering from an eating disorder is not easy. Recovering from one while on tour is even harder.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Alex, or anyone in the lovely band and crew that make up All Time Low. They all own each other. Sunny and I do own all members of Hyperinflated Illuminations. Thank you.
Warnings: Obsessive compulsive disorder, eating disorders, alcoholism
http://turnthepageover.livejournal.com/74156.html
She could feel it in her bones; the ache that told her that she couldn't go on for much longer. The exhaustion was taking over her body, her energy and her life. The need to be more thin, to eat less, to have the biggest thigh gap was getting to her.
She was feeling light headed and delirious when she came back from a run. She had been running along the streets of whatever city they happened to be in-Wyatt would know what city they were in-hoping to find therapy in the long, smooth strides like she always did. But her vision started blurring and blotting before it usually did, and her stomach wasn't even yelling at her anymore. It was comfortable, as if it liked being empty now, and her throat was raw from throwing up a pancake she had forced in her own mouth that morning.
She stumbled through the security gates to get to the bus, somehow managing to show security her pass as she went. She was walking with her eyes closed, because it was easier, when she bumped into a body.
“S-sorry...” she mumbled out.
“Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you, Vina?”
She knew that voice. She had heard it many times before. She let the smile grace her face that she always let float up when she was talking to someone she knew and liked, then she opened her eyes and let the smile slide off.
“Happy to see me?” Alex asked her, chuckling.
“I don't...” She stumbled, trying to move around him, but he caught her.
“Are you okay? What's going on?” he held onto her arms with a firm grip.
“You're-you're hurting me...” she mumbled out. “I can't. I can't see...” her feet stumbled again, somehow closer and farther away from him at the same time. “Let go of me. I just need my bus. I just need...I'm not feeling well.”
“Were you drugged? Where were you? What the fuck?” Alex asked, pulling her up and trying to get her to pay attention to him.
“LET GO OF ME!” she finally blurted out at him, ripping her arms away from his grip and stumbling backwards and then forwards. The world was getting blotchier and blotchier, slowly going black, like when she'd stand up too fast. “This isn't good,” she said when it didn't clear, and slowly the black took over her mind too.
Alex rushed forward, barely catching her before her head hit the hard pavement. “What the fuck?” he asked. “Vina? Are you awake? Are you okay? Oh my God,” he checked her pulse, running his hands over her body, looking for anything that would tell him she was still alive. Her chest. The tiny thing she was, it still moved up and down with her breathing.
“Holy shit, what do I do?” he asked himself, picking her up. “Wyatt. Wyatt will know what to do.”
***
Wyatt had found it. It had taken him almost two weeks, but he had finally found Vina's food journal while she wasn't around. And he was utterly disgusted with himself. He should have found it sooner, he should have been watching her closer. Written in every day for the past three weeks was water time eight-on average-and an apple. There were the odd day that there were grapes or cantaloupe, a sip of juice and tea, but on average, the only thing Vina was eating and drinking was apples and water. He could feel the guilt weighing on him for overlooking her. Something had happened that he hadn't been aware of. Something had caused her to spiral down into this pit of anorexia.
“Don't sit on that couch,” Wyatt mumbled as he walked out of the bunk area. Jack was sitting on the sex couch, eating a bowl of cereal and watching Saturday Morning Cartoons with Landon.
“Dude, it's just a couch,” Landon pointed out.
“Plus, you cleaned it,” Jack pointed out.
“Not well enough,” Wyatt said, sitting down at the table and staring at the door in front of him, waiting for it to open. He was waiting for Vina to come back from her morning run, something he should have noticed was helping her with her idea that she was fat. He should have noticed it all. But he didn't.
“What's wrong?” Jack asked.
“I found it,” Wyatt said.
“Found what?” Landon asked, giggling when the Roadrunner managed to get Coyote to fall off yet another cliff.
“Vina's food diary,” he mumbled out.
Landon looked away from the television and over at Wyatt. He scrambled up quickly and looked over Wyatt's shoulder. “Shit,” he mumbled, leaning over to flip the pages quickly. “Shit, I'm sorry Wyatt,” Landon told him. “I don't know what to say, but it's not your fault.”
“What's not his fault?” Jack asked, moving to stand up.
“Yes, it is,” Wyatt shook his head. “I should have been paying attention.”
“Wyatt blames himself when Vina stops eating,” Landon whispered to Jack.
“Why?” Jack asked. “She's the one who does it. And he always helps her out.”
“It's been three weeks that I haven't done anything. Three weeks when I should have been paying attention to her,” Wyatt said.
“You were!” Jack insisted. “You've been talking to me about it since we've been back on tour. You've been searching for that diary for weeks trying to have proof!”
“Wyatt,” Adele came out of the back room. “You aren't responsible for all of us. I know you think that you are, and you give plenty of attention to myself, Vina and Landon. You being immediately ready to confront her when she walks in that door proves that you're not failing her, so don't feel bad.”
Wyatt looked up at her. “How are you?” he asked, immediately concerned. “Are you okay? Did you need someone to talk to or anything?”
“I'm good, Wyatt,” she smiled at him. “You can even read my diary,” she winked, sitting down beside Landon on the sex couch.
“You're all going to get AIDS,” Wyatt mumbled just as the door opened. Wyatt opened his mouth, ready to ask Vina to sit down across from him when Alex stumbled up the steps with the girl in his arms.
“WYATT?!” Alex asked, a note of terror to his voice.
“GET OFF THE SEX COUCH!” Wyatt screamed, immediately out of his seat. “What happened? Put her down. Gently!” Wyatt insisted. He was hauling a large First Aid kit out from under the driver's seat. “Landon, put a cold cloth on her forehead, Adele, check her pulse, tell me how fast it's beating,” he told him. He turned to Alex expectantly.
“I don't know! I don't know what happened! She ran into me, and she was talking all fucking weird and wasn't making any sense. I think she was drugged or something, then she fainted! But she's alive. She's breathing and she has a heart beat. Jesus, I don't even...I just thought you'd, but I should probably have gone...Fuck!” Alex ran his hand through his hair as he paced.
Wyatt gripped the man's shoulders. “Calm down. You did the right thing bringing her here. Jack, grab him a blanket, he might be going into shock,” Wyatt said, guiding him over to the kitchen's benches.
“She's got a normal pulse, for her,” Adele told Wyatt. “Maybe a little weak,” she supplied when Wyatt walked up.
“Here's more,” Landon handed Wyatt a large amount of cool, wet cloths.
Wyatt shook his head. “I should have noticed before,” he said, lifting her shirt up and rubbing the cool cloths against her skin. “C'mon, baby. Wake up. You can do it,” Wyatt murmured. “You'll hate me if I get out smelling salts, you can do it... Adele, get some cantaloupe out of the fridge please. Apple juice to go with it.”
Vina's mumbling started, her eyes fluttering before Wyatt's voice finally made her open her eyes. “Hey, Wy, what are you doing?” she asked.
Wyatt sighed, sitting back on his heels. “You fainted, Vina. I'm not even going to say anything. Eat the cantaloupe. Slowly,” he told her as Adele handed it to her with an apologetic smile.
“Is she okay?” Alex asked from across the room.
Vina glanced over at him as she put a piece in her mouth and chewed.
“What happened?” she asked, ignoring him.
“You fainted. On Alex, and that guy that you call an asshole brought you here, to me,” Wyatt supplied.
Vina shrugged. “I don't want any more,” she pushed the cantaloupe away from her after eating only two pieces.
“DAMMIT VINA!” Wyatt exploded. “I found your diary.”
“I'm tired, I'm gonna go to bed,” she said, struggling to sit up.
Wyatt shook his head. “I hope you enjoy your sleep,” he told her as she got up and headed to the bunks. “Because I'll be waking you up in an hour to eat some more.”
Scoffing, she pushed passed Landon and into the bunks.
It was quiet for a moment before Landon finally spoke up. “I like when Wyatt yells,” he giggled.
“Shut up, Landon,” Adele muttered, watching Wyatt who was still leaning on the ground. Adele had been on the receiving end of Wyatt's limited anger more than once. Wyatt wouldn't let anyone slip. He couldn't. His brain wouldn't allow his vision of his perfect bandmates to be disrupted. He had to get everything back to perfect.
“I'm going for a walk,” Wyatt finally said, standing up.
“I'll come-” Jack started.
“Alone,” was all Wyatt said as he left the bus.
Author: Katie
Pairings: Jack Barakat/ OC, Alex Gaskarth/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Recovering from an eating disorder is not easy. Recovering from one while on tour is even harder.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Alex, or anyone in the lovely band and crew that make up All Time Low. They all own each other. Sunny and I do own all members of Hyperinflated Illuminations. Thank you.
Warnings: Obsessive compulsive disorder, eating disorders, alcoholism
http://turnthepageover.livejournal.com/74156.html
She could feel it in her bones; the ache that told her that she couldn't go on for much longer. The exhaustion was taking over her body, her energy and her life. The need to be more thin, to eat less, to have the biggest thigh gap was getting to her.
She was feeling light headed and delirious when she came back from a run. She had been running along the streets of whatever city they happened to be in-Wyatt would know what city they were in-hoping to find therapy in the long, smooth strides like she always did. But her vision started blurring and blotting before it usually did, and her stomach wasn't even yelling at her anymore. It was comfortable, as if it liked being empty now, and her throat was raw from throwing up a pancake she had forced in her own mouth that morning.
She stumbled through the security gates to get to the bus, somehow managing to show security her pass as she went. She was walking with her eyes closed, because it was easier, when she bumped into a body.
“S-sorry...” she mumbled out.
“Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you, Vina?”
She knew that voice. She had heard it many times before. She let the smile grace her face that she always let float up when she was talking to someone she knew and liked, then she opened her eyes and let the smile slide off.
“Happy to see me?” Alex asked her, chuckling.
“I don't...” She stumbled, trying to move around him, but he caught her.
“Are you okay? What's going on?” he held onto her arms with a firm grip.
“You're-you're hurting me...” she mumbled out. “I can't. I can't see...” her feet stumbled again, somehow closer and farther away from him at the same time. “Let go of me. I just need my bus. I just need...I'm not feeling well.”
“Were you drugged? Where were you? What the fuck?” Alex asked, pulling her up and trying to get her to pay attention to him.
“LET GO OF ME!” she finally blurted out at him, ripping her arms away from his grip and stumbling backwards and then forwards. The world was getting blotchier and blotchier, slowly going black, like when she'd stand up too fast. “This isn't good,” she said when it didn't clear, and slowly the black took over her mind too.
Alex rushed forward, barely catching her before her head hit the hard pavement. “What the fuck?” he asked. “Vina? Are you awake? Are you okay? Oh my God,” he checked her pulse, running his hands over her body, looking for anything that would tell him she was still alive. Her chest. The tiny thing she was, it still moved up and down with her breathing.
“Holy shit, what do I do?” he asked himself, picking her up. “Wyatt. Wyatt will know what to do.”
***
Wyatt had found it. It had taken him almost two weeks, but he had finally found Vina's food journal while she wasn't around. And he was utterly disgusted with himself. He should have found it sooner, he should have been watching her closer. Written in every day for the past three weeks was water time eight-on average-and an apple. There were the odd day that there were grapes or cantaloupe, a sip of juice and tea, but on average, the only thing Vina was eating and drinking was apples and water. He could feel the guilt weighing on him for overlooking her. Something had happened that he hadn't been aware of. Something had caused her to spiral down into this pit of anorexia.
“Don't sit on that couch,” Wyatt mumbled as he walked out of the bunk area. Jack was sitting on the sex couch, eating a bowl of cereal and watching Saturday Morning Cartoons with Landon.
“Dude, it's just a couch,” Landon pointed out.
“Plus, you cleaned it,” Jack pointed out.
“Not well enough,” Wyatt said, sitting down at the table and staring at the door in front of him, waiting for it to open. He was waiting for Vina to come back from her morning run, something he should have noticed was helping her with her idea that she was fat. He should have noticed it all. But he didn't.
“What's wrong?” Jack asked.
“I found it,” Wyatt said.
“Found what?” Landon asked, giggling when the Roadrunner managed to get Coyote to fall off yet another cliff.
“Vina's food diary,” he mumbled out.
Landon looked away from the television and over at Wyatt. He scrambled up quickly and looked over Wyatt's shoulder. “Shit,” he mumbled, leaning over to flip the pages quickly. “Shit, I'm sorry Wyatt,” Landon told him. “I don't know what to say, but it's not your fault.”
“What's not his fault?” Jack asked, moving to stand up.
“Yes, it is,” Wyatt shook his head. “I should have been paying attention.”
“Wyatt blames himself when Vina stops eating,” Landon whispered to Jack.
“Why?” Jack asked. “She's the one who does it. And he always helps her out.”
“It's been three weeks that I haven't done anything. Three weeks when I should have been paying attention to her,” Wyatt said.
“You were!” Jack insisted. “You've been talking to me about it since we've been back on tour. You've been searching for that diary for weeks trying to have proof!”
“Wyatt,” Adele came out of the back room. “You aren't responsible for all of us. I know you think that you are, and you give plenty of attention to myself, Vina and Landon. You being immediately ready to confront her when she walks in that door proves that you're not failing her, so don't feel bad.”
Wyatt looked up at her. “How are you?” he asked, immediately concerned. “Are you okay? Did you need someone to talk to or anything?”
“I'm good, Wyatt,” she smiled at him. “You can even read my diary,” she winked, sitting down beside Landon on the sex couch.
“You're all going to get AIDS,” Wyatt mumbled just as the door opened. Wyatt opened his mouth, ready to ask Vina to sit down across from him when Alex stumbled up the steps with the girl in his arms.
“WYATT?!” Alex asked, a note of terror to his voice.
“GET OFF THE SEX COUCH!” Wyatt screamed, immediately out of his seat. “What happened? Put her down. Gently!” Wyatt insisted. He was hauling a large First Aid kit out from under the driver's seat. “Landon, put a cold cloth on her forehead, Adele, check her pulse, tell me how fast it's beating,” he told him. He turned to Alex expectantly.
“I don't know! I don't know what happened! She ran into me, and she was talking all fucking weird and wasn't making any sense. I think she was drugged or something, then she fainted! But she's alive. She's breathing and she has a heart beat. Jesus, I don't even...I just thought you'd, but I should probably have gone...Fuck!” Alex ran his hand through his hair as he paced.
Wyatt gripped the man's shoulders. “Calm down. You did the right thing bringing her here. Jack, grab him a blanket, he might be going into shock,” Wyatt said, guiding him over to the kitchen's benches.
“She's got a normal pulse, for her,” Adele told Wyatt. “Maybe a little weak,” she supplied when Wyatt walked up.
“Here's more,” Landon handed Wyatt a large amount of cool, wet cloths.
Wyatt shook his head. “I should have noticed before,” he said, lifting her shirt up and rubbing the cool cloths against her skin. “C'mon, baby. Wake up. You can do it,” Wyatt murmured. “You'll hate me if I get out smelling salts, you can do it... Adele, get some cantaloupe out of the fridge please. Apple juice to go with it.”
Vina's mumbling started, her eyes fluttering before Wyatt's voice finally made her open her eyes. “Hey, Wy, what are you doing?” she asked.
Wyatt sighed, sitting back on his heels. “You fainted, Vina. I'm not even going to say anything. Eat the cantaloupe. Slowly,” he told her as Adele handed it to her with an apologetic smile.
“Is she okay?” Alex asked from across the room.
Vina glanced over at him as she put a piece in her mouth and chewed.
“What happened?” she asked, ignoring him.
“You fainted. On Alex, and that guy that you call an asshole brought you here, to me,” Wyatt supplied.
Vina shrugged. “I don't want any more,” she pushed the cantaloupe away from her after eating only two pieces.
“DAMMIT VINA!” Wyatt exploded. “I found your diary.”
“I'm tired, I'm gonna go to bed,” she said, struggling to sit up.
Wyatt shook his head. “I hope you enjoy your sleep,” he told her as she got up and headed to the bunks. “Because I'll be waking you up in an hour to eat some more.”
Scoffing, she pushed passed Landon and into the bunks.
It was quiet for a moment before Landon finally spoke up. “I like when Wyatt yells,” he giggled.
“Shut up, Landon,” Adele muttered, watching Wyatt who was still leaning on the ground. Adele had been on the receiving end of Wyatt's limited anger more than once. Wyatt wouldn't let anyone slip. He couldn't. His brain wouldn't allow his vision of his perfect bandmates to be disrupted. He had to get everything back to perfect.
“I'm going for a walk,” Wyatt finally said, standing up.
“I'll come-” Jack started.
“Alone,” was all Wyatt said as he left the bus.