All The Angels (Frerard)

Chapter 1: Better Out Than In

Hey it's me I hate myself. I'm 17 years old and I'm actually writing a frerard fanfiction.

This is gonna be a lil similar to another one I've written, but I'm much better at writing now and I had some different ideas, so I figured it'd be easier to just make a new fic.

This fic has a lot of graphic eating disorder mentions, and I want to make it clear that everything I'm describing, I have done to myself. This is based on my ED, so please take that into account before you start sayin shit abt romanticizing disordered eating, because that's the exact opposite of what I intend to show through this. I want to get across just how awful and painful and disgusting I feel on a daily basis, so yeah if you have an ED please be cautious, I don't want anyone to fall out of recovery.

Also the chapter title isn't supposed to be referencing shrek, but that's kinda what it sounds like lmao

Okay here we go.

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Ch. 1

It came in waves. After reaching as far back in his throat as his bony fingers could, it only took a few thrusts against his sore uvula before the first of many rounds of puking out his guts began.

It came out with a stinging pain that made him sputter and cough. The amount of times that he had almost choked on his own vomit had long since become too numerous too keep count, so he decided to simply stop thinking about it. He knew he was taking tremendous health-related (both physical and mental) risks, but at this point he couldn't motivate himself to care.

Rotten teeth, balding, chronic fatigue, and ultimately death didn't scare him anymore. From the moment the word "fat" had escaped his mother's lips, a cold, unrelenting numbness had swept over and consumed Gerard, leaving no room for concern for his own well-being.

Thin was all that mattered. Since he was 12 years old, Gerard could not help but constantly hyper-fixate on weight and body image, both his own, and of those around him, which he compulsively compared to his own. The pain he felt when he saw someone skinnier than himself was unimaginable; this was the ultimate failure, but after the pain subsided, it gave him a new goal to work towards, so that the excruciating pain would not return.

Gerard realized that it would never stop. He told himself this every day. But nothing he said to the part of him that he referred to just as "ED" could make them reach a consensus, so that Gerard could finally come to terms with the reality that he would never be satisfied with his body. The dialogue between Gerard and ED was one of constant bitter debate, debates that often ended with Gerard surrendering once again his basic needs so as to appease ED.

And so the cycle continued.

Gerard slowly stood up, his knobby knees aching from the prolonged contact with the bathroom floor, his eyes red and teary, the blood slowly returning from his head to its rightful places. He stared into the puke-splattered toilet-bowl, feeling oddly proud that he'd managed to get it all out. His mother had made them spaghetti and garlic bread, and though he had only one serving of each, he could feel the impulse to make his stomach once again empty growing rapidly inside him. Once that impulse was born, it could not be snuffed out, until Gerard had fulfilled ED's wishes.

He swept the sleeve of his already dirty sweatshirt across his mouth, in the hopes that all evidence of his most recent purge would be removed.

"Fuck," he said softly, as the pounding in his head began, exponentially becoming louder and more frequent. He flushed the toilet, wincing at the increased pain in his head that the sound caused. "God my mouth smells like shit," Gerard mumbled with an air of humor under his breath. He knew brushing his teeth would just make them weaker, so instead he grabbed a piece of gum from the pack he had already laid out on the counter, unraveled the soft paper and placed the mint chewing gum in his aching mouth.