BFDI AND II ONESHOT BOOK!

Penraser: What He Can't Digest

TW: Eating Disorders !! / (ARFID)

Eraser asks Pen out to dinner, but Pen secretly dreads it, he hates dinner dates, because they force him to face the eating disorder he's been struggling to hide from Eraser.

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Pen lounged on the couch, Switch in hand, lost in his game. His thumbs worked furiously over the buttons, completely absorbed, while beside him Pencil flicked through TV channels without much care. The room was quiet except for the rapid clicking of Pen's console and the occasional static hum from the television. They weren't talking, just existing side by side, comfortably detached in their own little worlds.

The buzz of Pen's phone on the coffee table cut through the silence. Without looking away from his screen, he nudged Pencil with his elbow.

"Pencil, grab that for me," he muttered, still focused.

Pencil sighed dramatically but leaned forward anyway, plucking the phone off the table. She glanced at the screen and smirked.

"It's from Eraser."

That caught Pen's attention.

"Well? Check what it says!"

Rolling her eyes, Pencil swiped down and read aloud, "He just got paid and wants to take you out for dinner."

Pen froze. His character on the screen died instantly, game over flashing, but he barely noticed. His throat went dry as the word repeated in his mind.

"Dinner?" he echoed, voice a little hollow.

"What's the big deal? That's sweet," Pencil said, handing him his phone now that he finally put the Switch aside.

Pen stared at the message, heart sinking. "Why couldn't it be bowling or something..." he muttered under his breath. Still, he couldn't leave Eraser waiting. He typed back reluctantly:

[Yeah, send me the location. I'll get Pencil to drive me.]

When the message sent, Pen pressed his palm against his face with a groan.

"Sooo... what's the issue?" Pencil pressed again, brows raised.

"He's gonna notice," Pen admitted quietly, staring down at his lap. "That I haven't been eating much. I've been trying to hide it from him..." He trailed off with a frustrated noise, just as Eraser's reply popped up on the screen, an address to a steakhouse.

Pencil frowned faintly, though her voice stayed casual. "Right. Then just order a salad or something." She knew about his struggles already; it worried her, but she wasn't going to force him one way or another.

"Yeah... it's fine." Pen got to his feet, forcing some energy into his voice. "I'm gonna shower. You'll drive me?"

"Sure," Pencil said simply, already half-absorbed back into the TV. "Just let me know when you're ready."

With a huff, Pen shut off his Switch completely and set it on the coffee table. He scooped up his phone, slipping it onto the charger in his room, then pulled open his dresser for clothes. Blue cargo pants, a plain white t-shirt, his blue cap, a silver chain, and matching sneakers. Casual but neat enough—he had to look good for Eraser, even if he didn't feel good about the dinner itself.

Arms full of clothes and a towel, Pen slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He set everything neatly on the counter, then twisted the shower knob. Steam began to fill the small room as the water warmed.

He peeled off his shirt, moving slower than usual, and placed it aside. In the mirror's fogging reflection, his pale chest looked sharper than it should, ribs visible beneath thin skin. He'd lost more weight than anyone realized. With a sigh, he shoved his shorts down and tossed them into the corner before stepping carefully into the stream of hot water.