Give Up On Me

Punished

He was being punished. Hunger clawed at his stomach, growling when Chris pushed it back down. His brain felt clouded, and he winced when he weakly attempted to push himself out of bed.

He was being punished. His knees almost buckled under his weight, joints sore after not being used for almost thirteen hours. Chris had been sleeping a lot more these days. He suspected it was his body's way to distract him from the hunger.

He was being punished. Stumbling into the kitchen, Chris poured himself a glass of water and downed it in an instant. The liquid sloshed loudly around inside his empty stomach. He was too weary to take notice.

He was being punished. Chris slowly opened the fridge, bolts squeaking as the door swung to the side. It was nearly empty, half full bottles of condiments scattered, a jug of orange juice, a package of string cheese. He scowled, resting his pale hand upon his stomach to calm the waves of nausea that came whenever he looked upon food. But he knew he needed something. Something small. Just to get him through the day. Chris grabbed a cheese stick and a box of crackers from the cupboard. Slowly peeling off the wrapper, he scowled and bit down on the food. He was determined to keep it down today. Just today.

He was being punished. Because he had agreed to meet up with some friends today, he was being punished with a sickly stomach and weak limbs.

Chris rubbed his arms, trying to knead out a muscle cramp that had formed while he was eating. When he was finished with the joke of a meal, he hastily cleaned himself up and returned to his room to get ready.

The floor length mirror mocked him as he changed into a black tee-shirt. It mocked him as he zipped up his jeans. It mocked him as he laced his sneakers and attempted to brush through his tangled blonde hair with his fingers. Chris leaned closer to his reflection, taking notice of the dark circles under his eyes. He attempted a smile, only to be met with a sad mockery of a man in front of him, corners of his mouth turned enough to show his desperation to seem happy. Sighing, Chris dragged a hand down his face and turned away, uncomfortable with looking at himself for so long.

His phone dinged from the bedside table, lighting up to show his wallpaper of him and Jordan and Max. He chuckled lightly while looking at the picture, remembering when they had taken it. When Max had convinced the two of them to walk along the Golden Gate Bridge with them. They had driven for two hours from Sacramento to get to San Francisco, singing cringe-worthy karaoke to Jordan's playlist. While there, they had taken several selfies, showing the city shining through the fog in the background. One of which was Chris' Lock Screen.

Turning his attention to the notification, he forgot the fond memory as he read what Max had texted him.

'Yo, are you guys excited ?! I've got our lunch reservation ready to go, be prepared to meet me at the diner in twenty.'

Chris frowned at the text. He was ready. He was dressed and prepared. He had eaten. He was ready.

He hadn't seen his two friends in a couple months, for they had all been busy with work and had no time to meet up. Chris didn't have the heart to tell them that he had lost his job and was currently ( and not all that successfully ) looking for a new one.

Another text appeared in the group chat, this time from Jordan.
'Ya, I'm excited to see you guys. I just left the house and I'll be there on time. Chris, you better be on your way as well ;)'

Chris felt his heart patter inside his chest, reading and re-reading the text from Jordan. He smiled weakly, his mind racing to think of a suitable reply.

For a split second, Chris considered making up an excuse so he wouldn't have to go. His friends had never seen him this bad. Chris always reserved a couple ounces of strength every day when he was regularly meeting up with them. Back then, he ate more regularly. He didn't punish himself as much when he thought people would notice.

But no. He had to go. He loved seeing his friends. He loved seeing Jordan. The two months that he hadn't laid his eyes upon him were torture. They texted and talked on the phone frequently, but it still wasn't the same.

Chris glanced at himself in the mirror again. He looked like a hollow depiction of his past self, with sunken in eyes and protruding cheekbones and jaw. His skin was pale and sun-deprived, lips chapped despite his heavy intake of water.

He had really given up on himself, huh.

Shooting a quick 'omw' to the group chat, Chris grabbed his keys off the dresser, and left for the diner.

When he arrived ten minutes late, Max and Jordan were already there waiting for him. He greeted Max first, ignoring the way his scruff tickled Chris' neck when he was pulled into a tight hug. Max pulled away and set his hands on Chris' shoulders, eyes scanning his face. Chris saw the worry on his friend's face as he took in his sunken features. Before he could comment on it, Chris pulled away and turned to greet Jordan.

Goosebumps covered his arms as he met Jordan's bright green eyes, smiling down at him. Jordan towered above Chris, his thick brunette hair sweeping across his forehead. Chris melted beneath his gaze, his eyes working madly to memorize each curve and freckle on his face, as though his brain had forgotten what he looked like after a couple months.

Jordan pulled him into a hug, and just before their bodies met, Chris prayed. He prayed to whoever was up above, that he would be over Jordan. That he would have lost his feelings. That he was no longer in love with his best friend, and everything could go back to normal.

As Chris was enveloped warmly within Jordan's arms, a hot blush spread across his cheeks, holding his breath with anticipation. And when his heart began racing against Jordan's chest, he knew. Cursing under his breath, he shut his eyes to the intruding thought in his head. He was still in love.

Dammit.