note: wrote this awhile ago, but here's a short ass vent fic. so sorry </3. kinda struggling really, insanely, incredibly bad with my ed rn 👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽
warnings: uhh yeah, this fic deals with the topic of eating disorders (whats new).
sorry i know it's probably so annoying having to read shit like this (that is if you choose to). i just write to get it out, maybe it helps someone idk. also i hate lasagna with a burning passion. + no i am not romanticizing at all.
this is just a huge self-comfort fic for me, kind if a big vent fic too.
. . .
you weren't really sure what you wanted. on one hand, recovery almost seemed worth it – you'd be able to live normally outside of your eating disorder.
dates wouldn't end with natasha consoling you because you were in such distress that you'd eaten something. dinner wouldn't take over an hour to finish. natasha could trust you to be alone on your own. food wouldn't be a scary thought. you would be free.
all of these were things you wanted, things you missed.
but the downside of recovery (unironically) outweighed the upside. the thought of having your smallest clothes no longer fit could almost immediately send you into a panic attack. the thought of having to eat fear foods made you shake, and having to face the reality of your eating disorder every single day was terrifying.
it'd already gotten to the point where you didn't care what happened to you anymore. heart failure was no longer a shocking possibility, dying from your disease didn't scare you as much as it had in the past. nothing in life seemed exciting enough to live for, there was no spark or passion left from the person you used to be. your emotions were dulled down, you could never feel happiness or sadness in the way you should. everything was grey and desolate, two of the worst things you'd ever felt.
it was kind of sad to realize, because how did you let it get this far? one decade of it already surpassed and you weren't sure if you'd live through the next. not that you'd even want to anyway. no one wants to live with an eating disorder.
but say you were to try and change?
you'd have to validate your own issues, stick with meal plans, challenge every negative thought that ran through your mind, and accept weight gain and bodily changes you weren't used to. as much as natasha wished she could, she couldn't face these for you. she knew you had to do certain things on your own, but she would be by your side, more than willing to give her support.
you'd be losing a part of yourself, one that had been by your side way before natasha ever had. it was all you could think about, talk about, and feel. without it, you'd be at a loss of identity. knowing who you were without your eating disorder was a foreign concept – but thats not to say you couldn't find something new about yourself. maybe you liked to paint? or maybe you'd enjoy learning how to play the piano. who knew? that was entirely your choice to discover.
but here you were, a half-eaten plate of lasagna in front of you, tears rolling down your face as your hand trembled setting the fork down.
you were miserable. and incredibly full.
natasha hated seeing you in so much pain. if there was a way she could trade spots with you, even if for a day, she would do it in a heartbeat.
the redhead moved to get up from the table, picking your plate up and shoving the leftover food in the garbage bin. after loading the dishwasher, natasha took your hand in hers and lead you to the bedroom.
the both of you had a routine you'd fall into after meals if you chose to eat. she would never force you to do anything, only strongly encouraging you to at least have something to fuel your body. she didn't care if it was a bowl of fruit or a slice of pizza, just as long as you had food in your system.
you sat between her legs, her arms coming to rest on your stomach. the tv was turned on, some random romcom was playing in the background.
natasha rubbed circles on your stomach in hopes of easing the pain. aside from the insane amount of guilt, being bloated was the worst part of eating.
insecurities still spun around in your brain, but with the assistance of natasha's reassuring words, you felt more inclined to ask for her help.
"i hate this movie," you groaned, attitude shining through. natasha never took it to heart though.
her movements came to a halt as she leaned over to reach for the remote. she scrolled for a while until something finally caught her eye.
"how's kill bill?"
"that's fine."
thirty-five minutes later and the pain in your abdomen was beginning to subside. you snuggled closer into natasha's embrace, hoping that for once she could shield you away from your thoughts.
her fingernails lightly grazed up and down your body, occasionally bumping into the ridges of your ribs. she bit back her concern, knowing you were tired of hearing how much damage you'd done to your body. doctors already told you that enough every week, hearing it from her would only agitate you more.
all she could do for now was wait. and hope to god you would come around.
"i want to get better, i really do nat. and i want to want to get better. but it's just so hard and i'm so scared. i don't want it to kill me, but the thought of even having one full meal makes me want to-"
"i know baby," she cut you off. "i know."
natasha's fingers danced around your skin once more. her movements were small and gentle, as if one wrong move would shatter you into pieces.
"i'm sorry," you mumbled, head pressing further into nat's stomach. maybe if you did that enough, then she wouldn't see you.
but she did. natasha always saw you for who you were.
she rubbed her thumb on the side of your hip. "you have nothing to be sorry for."
after kissing the top of your head she began humming a russian song she heard as a child. the fear of having you slip away from her gnawed at her throat, but she swallowed back her tears and continued making sure you were comfortable.
