Falling - Hyunlix

In it for Himself

Felix lay awake in his bed, the covers strewn about messily as he stared at the ceiling aimlessly. It was nearing four am and yet Felix couldn't take his eyes away from that damn dull, white ceiling. He knuckles at his eyes in frustration, for some godforsaken reason he just can't sleep, and every passing moment seems to fill his mind with sinister ideas to escape the silence of his bedroom. It was getting worse again. Every night he lay here, on the verge of tears and far away from them all at the same time.

Felix glances over to the clock on his desk, it stares back at him glumly...almost mocking him for not even being able to perform basic human functions. He feels pathetic. He feels utterly pathetic. The hunger pains keep him awake, they coil in the pit of his stomach like knots made of course rope, it hurts. Hurts so so much. Felix curls in on himself, skeletal arms wrapping around his waist in a pitiful attempt to alleviate some of the pain. Tossing and turning into the late hours of the night does nothing. He can't bear it anymore.

Slipping out from under his blanket, Felix cards his hands through his hair-it's becoming thinner each day his stomach goes without food. Although he can't bring himself to care that much. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. He'll sacrifice everything to reach his goals. That moment of utter disbelief on Chan's face when Felix's lies unravelled like wool almost encourages him. In a sick, twisted sort of way Felix truly wants him to worry. He wants to see everyone glance suspiciously at his protruding collar bones, wants them to notice his efforts, wants them to try-and fail-to help him. It's wrong, isn't it? It's dehumanising...but Felix can't help it.

As quiet as he can possibly go, Felix trudges to the bathroom. Of course, no one is in there-it's the middle of the night after all. The whole world is sleeping, and Felix isn't. He likes the quiet of the bathroom, the chilling feel of icy tiles as he stands barefoot. The scales are gone...he expected as much. He also expects to have a group meeting called in a few hours when the rest of the world wakes. Anticipating the forced recovery, Felix already made a mental list of all the ways he'll avoid the watchful gaze of his members. He doesn't want to gain weight...he refuses. All his hard work would be washed down the drain like drizzly rain. It would be most sickening of him to resort back to the body he was once praised for, he'll go even further, he'll garner even more praise.

That's what he tells his reflection as he stares blankly into the mirror-face drained of all colour. Wow, it doesn't even look like him anymore. That's a good thing, right?

That's what he was aiming for.

Felix looked thinner. Well, he didn't think so. That was probably the cruel body dysmorphia that comes with an eating disorder though. He lifted up his nightshirt, thin fingers encircling his waist...why did it feel like he was still the same person he was when he started restricting. He knows there has to be a difference otherwise he wouldn't be catching frequent worried glances out the corner of his dreary eyes. Were those bones there before? Was he ever able to wrap his hands around his waist this far? Did he always look so sickly? He just doesn't feel like he's thin. He hasn't got to the utter emaciation he so desperately desires.

Fuck.

It feels like he failed himself.

Oh no. Here come the tears.

He sinks to the floor slowly like the little strength left in him had evaporated. Bringing his knees to his chest, Felix feels tears blur his line of sight, the world now a hazy sorrowful sight. He doesn't know why he's crying, it's his own fault for not trying hard enough. Chest rising and falling, he clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the morose whimpers falling from his bitten lips. It's at times like this, old urges resurface. Felix is very much aware of the razor in the cupboard under the sink, he knows exactly how to unpick the metal from its casing and draw out the blade.