take my hoodie ✓

sixty-three | attempt

so many details i keep forgetting to add

the date is gonna be like 17-01-1?

i hate using numbers whilst writing

also idk what year he tried to khs so

~no pov

Draco Lucius Malfoy wasn't someone who ever asked for help. If he did, it didn't happen often. A Malfoy asking for help was a rare occurrence. If Draco asked for help, he'd ask Harry.

Now, in case you forgot, our Chosen One was currently unavailable. He had unfortunately got himself lost in a very long nap. Three months and counting to be precise.

Draco had been struggling for those three months, with his bulimia. At this point, he wasn't even sure if it was bulimia or something else. His eating habits were beyond fucked up, and if he wasn't careful, he'd end up right next to Harry.

In a hospital bed.

He was not being careful.

Draco was reckless. He'd been spending his father's money left, right and centre. He'd been binge eating, binge watching and binge spending. He bought food, gum, alcohol and drugs. He was losing himself more and more every day.

He went back to the tattoo shop and got another tattoo. He got a date. A date that just happened to be January Seventeenth, to symbolise his suicide attempt. He drew out scattered pills, twenty-three to be precise, and had a date scribbled over it. The tattooist took the hint, inked it perfectly onto the skin above his liver and asked if the blond was okay.

Draco laughed maniacally, which concerned the tattooist further. He had been worried about Draco and Harry when they got their NEDAs and semicolons, and continued to worry now. The medicinal drugs and a date had an obvious meaning. He worried that maybe Draco would recreate that day.

"What's your name?" the tattooist asked.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He smiled at the thought of how he greeted his boyfriend. He frowned immediately after, because his boyfriend hated the greeting.

"Alright, Draco, I've met you and your boyfriend a few times. Each time you've both scared me with what yous have tattooed. What's going on?"

"A cigarette snapped in half isn't scary."

"That's not what I meant."

"What's your name?"

"Aaron."

"Are you married?"

Aaron furrowed his brows. That was a random question. "Yes?"

"Is your husband's name Joseph?"

"Yes?" Now, he was a bit scared.

"Is he a nurse?"

"Yes?" Correction, really scared.

"My boyfriend is friends with him. He told Harry all about your romantic proposal, and he told me." Draco smiled. "He gave me my phone when I was in hospital. He was nice to me."

Aaron smiled back. "Joseph's a sweetheart to everyone. Why were you in hospital?"

Draco was mildly stoned. He was blunt when he was intoxicated. "I got drunk, purged and blacked out on a run."

"Purged?"

"I was bulimic." He answered. I still am. I'm worse now.

"Was?"

"Was."

Whilst tattooing the boy, he could feel how much thinner Draco had become. Last year, he was mostly muscles. This year, the muscles were less prominent. It scared Aaron. His husband had eating struggles, upon other things. Eating issues of any sort were dangerous.