One shots || Jake and Johnnie

You're eating, right? || Jake & Johnnie

Johnnie is starting noticing that something is wrong with Jake, like his not being himself anymore. Johnnie decides to figure it out on his own.

(TW: Eating disorders, depression, anxiety)
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Johnnie's P.O.V

I stood at the entrance of our big house that we shared togheter, a dull ache settling deep inside of my chest as i glanced over toward Jake's closed bedroom door. Their lives togheter was a way that only the best of friends could manage. Yet, in the past months, Jake had grown distant, retreating into himself like a turtle hiding in its shell. The laughter that once filled their shared space, and made even the heaviest days lighter. But everything seemed to have drained away now.

And i couldn't shake off the sense of worry curling inside of my stomach. Jake had always been somewhat of a solitary creature, wrapped up in his thoughts, but this was different. There were no more late night snacks while they binge watched their favorite shows, no more spontaneous pizza orders that ended in lots of laughter and playful food fights. Now, Jake would often skip dinner altogether, brushing off my concerned glances with strained smiles that didn't reach my eyes.

That evening, as the sun went down beneath the horizon, painting the sky in pink and orange, I decided to check in on Jake. I found him in the bathroom, steam still lingering in the air, from the shower he must just had, the mirror fogged up. I stood outside, hesitant, but the muffled words that i could hear through the door sent a chill down his spine.

"I'm so pathetic. Look at you. You're a mess," Jake's voice was tinged with self-loathing. "Why can't you just be better?"

My heart raced, a mix of anger and consetn surging inside of me. I had never heard Jake talk to himself like that, and it cut me deeper than any physical wound. I swallowed hard, trying to digest the truth of what i had just overheard.

I quickly went into my room and closed the door behind me. Anxiously, i sat down in my computer chair and opend up my computer, leaning against the chair as i typed into my search bar: "symptoms of eating disorders."

As the screen filled with articles and listings, my thoughts spiraled. The term "anorexia" stood out, the definition striking a nerve. I read about bad body image, severe calorie restriction, and the psychological battles that happends within a person's mind. The pieces started to click into place like an puzzle. It explained Jake's long pauses when discussing meals and the darkness shadowing his once vibrant spirit.

I decided it was time to confront Jake. He walked back over to outside the bathroom door, taking a deep breath to steady himself before knocking gently.

"Hey, Jake? Can we talk?"

For a moment, there was silence, the air heavy with uncertainty. Then, the door creaked open to reveal Jake, his hair damp and his expression unreadable. I started to searched Jake's eyes, looking for any sign of acknowledgment, but was met instead with a wary glance.

"Is everything okay?" Jake asked, his voice low.

I sighed at him, the knot in my stomach tightening as i took a step into the room. "I don't know, man. I've been worried about you. You... You haven't been acting like yourself lately."

Jake shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. "I'm fine, just... busy, you know?" He gestured vaguely, but i caught the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands.

"No, you're not," I pressed gently. "I overheard you in the bathroom. I heard what you said... about yourself." The deep concern in my voice cracked the façade that Jake had carefully crafted.

A flicker of vulnerability crossed Jake's face, and he pressed his lips together, as if bracing for a storm. "It's nothing. Just... thoughts, you know?"

"Thoughts that are hurting you, Jake," I murmured, moving closer, my heart aching for my friend. "You're not alone in this. You don't have to carry all of it by yourself."

Jake finally met my gaze, his dark eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I don't know how to fix this," he admitted, the walls he had built around himself crumbling with the weight of his words.

"You don't have to fix it alone," I assured him, taking a step closer. "Let's talk. Let's get help together if you want. I'm right here."

Jake's shoulders sagged, the tension that had woven itself around him loosening ever so slightly. "I'm scared, Johnnie," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," I replied softly, holding out his hand. "But you've got me. We'll figure this out, one step at a time."

After a long pause, Jake reached out, taking a grip of my hand. It was a small gesture, yet it felt like more, like a quiet thank you.

.