The Chronicles Of SallyFace

Bon appetit (Sal x Reader)

Please be advised the following contains : E.D , Mentions of S.H , feelings of worthlessness, and Panic attacks, please don't read if any of these topics are triggering to you. Remember you've been advised. (Also if any of you are struggling with any of these thoughts, please seek help from people you trust and remember you've got me on your support team.) ❤️ (+ Don't romanticize this. It's an actual struggle that I'm just projecting on a fictional character.)

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Sal's eyes went wide at your words, his hands started to sweat and his mouth went dry. He felt tiny, microscopic. Small. He felt ...small.
You could see the rising panic and spoke in small whispers. "Sal...why didn't you tell me?"
He choked on his words..."I, I... I don't know... I d-didn't want you to to worry about me. I'm sorry." He said curling into his knees. You quickly sat up , avoiding the food on the ground. You sat behind the boy, cautiously taking him into your arms. "You know I'll never judge you right?" Small tears prickled at the corner of his eyes at the words of comfort.

DONT YOU DARE CRY.
DONT.
I SWEAR TO GOD
YOUR  SUCH A DAMN CRYBABY.

His head was pounding and screaming at him cruel words, and he believed them. He was just sad. He felt pathetic, always having to have you come and save him. It made him sick, he didn't understand how you put up with him. He often wondered what you thought of him at times like these, when he would begin to cry and you'd wrap him in your arms like he was a sad child who's toy was ripped. He hated himself when he got like this and he wasn't afraid to make that known. He began to laugh a bit. Which instantly made you worry.

"God's , I'm sad aren't I?" Sal turned his head ever so slightly to face you, "I'm so sorry you have to deal with me, I don't know how you do it. I'm not surprised if my Dad gives me up at this point. 'oh look , he already cuts his wrists why dont we add a frickin eating disorder to the mix!' haha.." He spewed. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Sal..." He shakes his head,eyes half-lidded and watery. "I'm pathetic. You came over here to have a nice day with your boyfriend only to have me ruin it like always, cause I've got to many damn issues. I didn't even have the decency to eat it and puke it up later-" He stops eyes going wide, yours do too. You didn't know that.

"What?" You say quietly. He shuffles out of your arms nervously. " Y/n I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." His eyebrows are screwed with worry. You didn't know what to say, not only was he refusing to eat, he also was struggling with Bulimia. You felt sick knowing he was doing this to himself, and you were unsure how to help. You yourself were just a teenager, so this wasn't your job at all. But sal isn't a 'job.' he's your boyfriend, who's struggling right now and all you wanted was to help; constantly. But he needed actual professional help. you decided Mr.Fisher and Him would have to deal with that later, You on the other hand were gonna try to the best of your ability to support him and help.

"How about we try something?" Sal's head which was previously down in shame perked up. "w-what?" He sniffed a couple times from tears.

(Which looked quite interesting If I may add due to his lack of a nose.)

"What if-" you studied the array of food around you and your eyes settled on the soup. You picked it up gingerly, eyeing it. There was only chicken shreds and small veggies in the clear container plus chicken stock. Light and easy on the stomach. You opened the soup and grabbed a plastic spoon. Sal watched you curiously, then recoiled like a cat to water when you turned the spoon towards him. He frowned , "Y/N... I can't." How did he get himself like this was what you wondered, You had the feeling you liked him a lot better than he did himself. He stared at the mixture like it has been poisoned.