running on empty

15 // Uno.

Ethan had forgotten how hard it was to get dressed on days like this.

His joints ached when he eventually rolled himself out of bed at noon - timed in a way to let him skip breakfast - and his breathing stuttered as he stood on shaky legs. The clothes lying on the chair, crumpled with days worth of neglect and abuse, would probably be his best bet if he didn't want to keel over and just about die, but his own vanity forced him to trudge over to his closet and pull out something that wouldn't make him look like a complete slob. Even if it wouldn't be an accurate portrayal of how he felt inside.

In short, it was a nightmarish event that took far too long to be worth the effort, and Ethan skipped it most days.

He hadn't meant to get this bad again, really. There was no delusion in his mind - no doubt about how awful this fucking thing was. No excuses, no convenient explanations involving "diets" and "fasting." He was ill, but he was getting better.

Until he wasn't.

With the added stress of the holidays, working to start his own projects, and a new sense of isolation as he lost the near-daily human contact that Unus Annus provided, he hadn't picked up the best eating habits.

Eating habits as in scarfing down thousands of calories of shit he didn't even like just to spend hours hunched over the toilet.

It was fine, though. It was cool. He was under control. And then he checked the scale.

The number flashing back at him wasn't what he was expecting, honestly. It was simultaneously lighter and heavier than he was imagining it would be, in the weird way that this disorder had fucked with his perception of food and weight, and he had very conflicting feelings about it. On one hand, he was expecting to be a lot heavier after that much stress-eating, and it wasn't like his weight even reflected on his character anyway. On the other, he was still mentally ill.

Body positivity didn't do shit when you were mentally ill.

So instead of confronting this issue like an adult and working to curb his binge habits to be a healthier individual overall, he turned to the only other coping mechanism he had at the moment and re-opened his "dieting" app.

The pop-up message about accountability didn't help him much.

So, no, he really hadn't meant to fall back into this. To work through meal times on "accident" and keep a log of his weight that updated five times a day, as though he would have somehow gained (or lost) seventeen pounds from the hours of two to five. Especially after all of the bullshit positivity posts he had choked down and awkward attempts from Mark and Amy to get him to eat a fucking sandwich.

But here he was anyway, hands shaking as he tried to button up his pants.

"So you're going to come over at five, right?" Mark's voice crackled out of his phone, left face-up on the dresser as he finally got changed for the day, to confirm their semi-weekly hangout. "Amy's making a charcuterie board - I'm so excited."

Ethan winced at the mention of the board, knowing those things could be hell to make, and pulled the collar of the shirt down from over his face so he could speak. "Yeah, I'll be there. Tell her to portion for two, though." He glanced over at Spencer, and needing a quick topic change so Mark didn't spend too long on his statement, grabbed the phone and pointed it at the dog. "Can Spencer come, too? I'd hate to leave him here."

There was a brief silence on the other side of the line, and then Mark's camera turned on. His concerned gaze took up most of the screen, and even though it was slightly off, like the man was looking at his screen rather than the camera, Ethan still felt like he was being scrutinized. Mark couldn't even see him - his camera was still pointed at Spencer.

"Portion for two?" His friend echoed, completely skipping over his question like he knew he would. "I thought you liked charcuterie boards."

Knowing he couldn't lie about that as Mark would probably cite the conversation they had not even a week ago bonding over the stupid things, Ethan sighed. "I do! I just... Don't want one today."

Another silence followed, and Mark's eyebrows furrowed. "You... don't want one today? Like you're not feeling it, or...?"

The unspoken question hung in the air, and Ethan cleared his throat. "Just - ask Amy to only make enough for you two, please? I don't want her wasting anything."