𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - TMR AU, Thomas

𝟢𝟧𝟣，𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

༺ FIFTY - ONE ༻

During Teresa's visit, we're basically just chatting about anything but the reason I'm here. And those visits are the ones I like the most. They're here for me, not my stupid disorder. Same with Aris, who visited yesterday.

Once Teresa and I have talked about the things we wanted to talk about, it falls silent. I take some breaths, clear my throat, and swallow. "Eh, have you maybe... seen Thomas lately?"

She shakes her head. "No. He says he's busy all the time."

Well, at least he didn't only tell me he's busy.

"Alright. Thanks," I say, my voice about to break. "Have you seen him at least once since we— you know?"

She shakes her head another time. "No. But I was planning to check up on him today. It's a weird idea, but you could come with me."

"Oh, no." I let out an awkward chuckle. "That would be awful."

"Alright." She gets up, lying a hand on my shoulder. "You got it, alright?"

I nod. "Thank you. Would you tell me if Thomas is alright?"

She nods. "I will. Bye, Rose."

"See you."

✵

Mac and Cheese. I don't want bloody Mac and Cheese.

"Mary," I start, quite formally. "If you give me two pills, I'll be able to eat this whole bowl and I'm sure a few calories will be left."

"You're not allowed to have your pills, Rosalind. You know that."

"But—"

"Nope."

"One! Just one." I nearly knock the Mac and Cheese over when I move too much. "Please, Mary."

Mac and Cheese also used to be my favorite food. But Thomas often made it for me and it contains a scary amount of calories that I do not want in my body.

"Can I get something else? Please? I'll eat that."

"We don't have much. What would you want?"

"Laxatives."

"Rose." She palms her face, sighing.

I think about how nice that would be. Have the thing to either melt on my tongue or just to swallow it away with water. The awareness of it killing calories. The delusion of the drug that's in there, easing me.

"Maybe a tube would really help," she says. "For the first steps."

The idea of someone else being able to control what calories go in my body and that that thing goes all the way to my stomach... no.

"If you give me my laxatives, I might."

"No."

Worth a try.

I know I should be recovering, but those pills would help a lot. What if I just go from five a day all the way to none a day? Isn't that possible?

"Do you think I'll ever be able to dance properly again?" I wonder.

"Eventually. But during recovery, you'll get older, and so will your muscles. You won't always be as flexible."

I've ruined everything.

The thoughts about food made me unfocused on ballet. I barely cared about the lessons, at some point. All I thought about was food. If I would be perfect enough. But in the end, I was barely thinking about ballet itself. Just the number. The stupid number.