skinny boy » joshler

twenty five || josh

the world is, uh, wobbly.

he can't really stand up. he tried, a few minutes ago, and that's why he's on the ground. did he pass out?

probably. when's the last time he ate, anyway?

josh is losing track of everything. except, of course, the calories he's eaten.

today? 0. yesterday? 0. the day before...?

fuck, fuck, fuck. his vision is swimming, in and out. there's a pounding in his head, and he hasn't stopped coughing since his eyes opened again.

if he could, josh would reach for his phone to call tyler. tyler would know what to do.

but he can't... fucking... move.

slowly, he tries. flexes his fingers. they move, slowly, and he tries to move his feet. roll over. baby steps. he can't stand up, but he drags himself to the bed and pulls himself up.

lying there, josh pants, exhausted. shit, when's the last time he exercised? yesterday, right? a few sleepless hours on the treadmill... a few hundred calories burnt...

fear seizes him. how much does he weigh? is he sub-100? why isn't he skinny enough? josh can feel the fat hanging off of him. disgusting.

he's going to die. this is it, this is the fucking end. he can't eat, he can't fucking sleep, he's going to fucking die right here on this bed.

eyes closed, josh grabs for his phone. how many times has he dialed this number, panicking?

"tyler," he gasps out before the boy even picks up. "i'm going to fucking die."

tyler doesn't pick up. it goes to voicemail after three rings.

almost as if...

tyler hung up on him.