Body Checks in the Mirror (Tim x Moby)

Pit

Tim grabbed his bag and walked down the steps while his parents kept talking.

"Goodbye!" Tim walked out of his front door while he heard no reply from his parents. The air was refreshing while he kicked a pebble he found on the pavement to his bus stop. Looking up he saw Moby at the end of the road leaning up against an electrical pole.

"Hi," Tim walked up to stand next to moby.

"Hi," Moby replied.

"Did you have any dreams?" Tim asked, "Anything special?"

"No," Moby answered, "I'm a robot."

"But you were made to dream," Tim remarked, "or maybe you weren't I don't know."

"I don't know either," Moby stated, "Did you have any dreams?"

"No sadly." Tim answered, "Or none that I can think of at least."

"Tell me one you have had in the past," Moby turned his head, "tell me."

"Oh well there was a purple sky while I was in a car driving home but no one was driving the car," Tim remarked, "And once I arrived home I went to the kitchen there was someone? I don't know their face was completely blurry. They grabbed my hand and crushed my fingers one by one."

"I'm a robot but that sounds painful."

"And then they pulled my hands off and started cooking it, I didn't do anything. I just stared at my body getting cooked. Then I was behind glass and saw a group of people sitting at a dinner table," Tim scratched his head, "A fancy butler walked out and placed my cooked hands onto the table. Then they all took pieces of it and started eating it. Weird I guess."

"Oh my."

Tim rolled his eyes, "They didn't even season it."

"That's worse than cannibalism."

"I know," Tim smiled as the bus pulled up.

Moby stepped up onto the bus as Tim followed behind, Moby sat on the inside of the seat, Tim placed his bag in between them.

Tim opened up Twitter. His eyes fixated on the bones he desired, there's a pit of regret. He turned to Moby to see him looking through the window. He turned his phone to face away from him.

The ride is bumpy. Too bumpy. Tim feels like his head is in a blender. By the time he arrives at school his head is pounding through his temples. He envies Moby for he cannot feel true pain.

There's fog in the classrooms, his clothes are weighing down but he's still cold. He leans up against tables to walk up to the chalkboard. His eyes flutter as his eyelashes become boulders. Moby is still there though, upright, awake, but unsure if he's alive.

Lunch. Moby doesn't need to eat, Tim follows behind. There are people around him, Rita, Cassie, Nat, Gary, Julianna. They're eating, Tim is counting as he watches. He stares at them, they're smiling and he cannot know why. They're indulging them selves and not caring, and yet, they're just as thin- if not thinner- than him. The pit of regret turns to anger as it sits in his stomach.

"Do you want my crackers, Tim?" Rita asks, "I see you haven't brought lunch."

He looks at her, her body is perfect, model-worthy even. He remembered having a crush on her for that reason years ago. Yet she still gets to eat.

"No."

"Ah alright, that's fine," She nodded, "But if you need some my offer is still up."

He couldn't reply, all he could do is close his eyes as the clear conversations around him turned to murky waters. It was Nat that shook him awake when the bell couldn't, he apologized as he walked to his next class.

They were giving out tests from the previous week, the teacher faced Tim's down as he put it on the desk. Flipping it over the pit in his stomach sunk. A 47% written on it in red marking.

"Talk to me after class."

Tim nodded. The light beats of his heart went through his limbs as his mind blurred the words on the chalkboard. The little number of fingernails he had picked off as the 90 minutes went on. Each minute became more blurred. He made a note of every 15 minutes, 15, five more left, 30, four more left, 45, 60, 75, 90. He stood up as he followed his peers but when he was at the door the teacher called.

"Tim we need to talk."

Tim's hand rested upon the white concrete, his fingers tracing between the creases. When he turned to his teacher he couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes sir."

"It doesn't seem like it, you used to be my star student. Now you've been sleeping in class, missing homework, and flunking tests. Now I understand how that could happen a few times but it's becoming a thing every day. Please tell me what's going on."

The pit grew larger, "I am fine... I have just been lazier... that's all."

"Why then? It couldn't have been a switch automatically."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright, that's fine. Just remember if you need to talk about something I'm here."

"Thank you."

Tim left the class and walked through the bright halls, florescent light glimmered on the linoleum tiles. His backpack grew heavy with every step to the outside bus. There Moby was, completely fine and unbothered. At least he'll be there. Tim sits down next to Moby as the bus started to move.

Another hour passes, bumpier than before. His brain is now liquid by the time he steps off. The afternoon birds call upon the tops of tree branches, there are dogs barking at one another, and a mother with a stroller is jogging by with her kid asleep. He looks at the child, so small, the pit grows to envy. Before he could even realize what he could feel, Moby was already gone.

He enters his front door to the Roomba running. He called out to his parents but there was no reply. He enters the kitchen and opens the fridge to pull out a peach. His thumb strolls across the tiny hairs as he enters his bedroom.

He sits at his desk with the lamp light showing the sunset hues of the fruit. He stares at the peach, turning it, his mind questioning. He opens up his phone to MyFitnessPal to log the fruit. He looks at the recommended number a day to lose substantial weight, he logs the peach and sees how little it is compared to the number.

A weak smile comes across his face.

He takes a bite of the peach, just a bit, the juice runs down his lips as he bites some more. He chews it slowly, savoring the sweetness, trying to have every last bit of energy so maybe he can be awake for the evening. But his teeth hit rock as he flinched away in pain holding his mouth. Drips of the peach get onto the carpet.

His eyes look at the peach. The pit was huge, at least compared to the peaches he's seen before. The creases of the pit are deeper than he remembered and he traced his fingers along it as the sugar soon developed to stickiness. His eyes closed as he placed the peach onto the desk, then dug his face into his sticky palms.

It must've been a bad batch.

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AN!!!

hii sorry for not writing in forever. I've been rly busy this past year with mental health, sports, n just other stuff in life. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more often but no promises. It's probably just gonna be whenever I get the motivation lolz!!

If you're struggling with an ED just remember ur not alone and recovery is worth it. If you don't feel like recovering right now that's fine, just remember it's always an option.

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Thank you so much for reading and stay safe <33