Fix You ~Completed~

Act Three

"Honey, do you love me?"

Forget that I used that nickname. I shouldn't have used the nickname. Kyla hates nicknames and he hates talking about his feelings even more.

"If I loved you, I'd fucking tell you, wouldn't I?" he'd grumbled irritably. I simply stared at him. "You think I love you, Clem? You think I actually feel something for you?"

I felt a smile stretch across my face, because I had a good answer for this one: "Why would you be with me if you didn't love me?"

Kyla went on his usual rant about how he just felt bad about me and how I had been the only openly gay boy in our high school (even though I wasn't open, I was very closeted around everyone but Kyla because he was the only person I spoke to) and how he only stayed with me because I let him do whatever he wanted and never complained.

"I won't pretend I have any love for you," he made clear, shaking his finger in my face. "I won't lie."

"Please pretend," I pleaded, taking his hand and swallowing it up in my own. I held his calloused hand and gently stroked his wrists, smiling up at him. "Even if it's only for a second, act like you love me?"

"What'll you do for me if I do?" he tested.

"Whatever you want me to. I can make you your favorite dinner or-"

"Get on your knees and beg." Kyla smirked, his hands on my bruised shoulder while he guided me to a kneeling position. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, feeling a sense of disgust welling up in my stomach. How did he get off on this? "C'mon, Clem. Beg for me to love you."

It took a few seconds for me to get enough breath in my lungs to speak. "This is so weird, Kyla," I stammered weakly. I didn't like being in this position; I felt weak when Kyla stood over me like so. "I don't like it."

"And I don't love you, so I guess we're even," he huffed, shoving me backwards. I landed on my back and remained there while Kyla went to the little kitchen in the corner of our one bedroom apartment to make himself a snack. Getting up would require too much energy, energy I just didn't have. "Are you gonna starve yourself now? I'm getting really tired of listening to your fucking stomach growling all the time. Acting like a insecure teenage girl isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Boys can have eating disorders too, you know," I mumbled, mostly to myself.

It was something I couldn't stop thinking about lately. All my life, I thought only girls could be anorexic or bulimic, but it turns out a number of boys suffer from eating disorders as well. I learned this while sitting at a table, alone, during the weekly Karaoke Night at the Campus Café. Kyla was outside smoking a cigarette with some friends he refused to introduce me to, so I remained planted in my seat, watching these two joyful boys sing "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5. I almost started crying halfway through because that song always turned on the waterworks. Somehow, I kept myself from becoming too worked up, but a ginger boy at the table over seemed to notice for he offered me a tissue. I overheard his conversation with the group he was sitting with; a couple of them were psychology majors and they were spending their days learning about the causes and care of people with EDs. (Apparently, that was the abbreviation for eating disorder. ED. How awful for guys named Ed.)

Apparently, one of the kids- a brunette who was built for hockey or football- had a male cousin who suffered from bulimia. He was in wrestling and had to get his weight down, which turned out to be incredibly tough for him. To make it work, he turned to returning anything that went inside of him right back out again to get his weight to fall.

I never did that. I didn't have a reason to lose weight or to keep my weight as low as it was. I wasn't even in range of my BMI; on my last doctor's visit, senior year of high school, I was told I was twenty pounds underweight. I hadn't gone in since out of fear of how far down I was now.

I simply couldn't eat. I couldn't tell why, but it just wasn't an option.

"You think you have a fucking eating disorder?" Kyla returned and slumped down on top of me. He was straddling me while eating a banana.

Silent, I shrugged.

"How sad. Have a banana. You love these, don't you?" he snickered, shoving the fruit into my mouth. I choked, trying to shove him off as the mushy white contents inside the peel slid down my throat whole. It probably wouldn't clog my windpipe, but I couldn't take a chance. "Hey, don't be rude! I'm trying to help you overcome your eating disorder! Doesn't that make you feel special, Clem?"

I started crying so hard I couldn't even see him anymore.

Kyla leaned down and pulled me up, forcing more of the banana into my mouth as though I were a disobedient child. Removed of the will to deny any longer, I took it and thanked him afterwards in between my sobs.

"Why do I put up with you?" Kyla sighed, pushing a thick lock of hair that fell in front of my red eyes behind my ear.

"B-because you l-love me?" I stammered hopefully, collecting a fistful of his t-shirt. I wanted to hide in his chest, but I knew Kyla hated it when I fell apart against him. Instead, I settled for simply sitting underneath him with my teary face and hold his shirt.

He tsked. "Whatever makes you stop crying. Jesus, you got some of your tears on my shirt. Thanks."

"They're for you," I whispered hopelessly, wishing I had a smile to show him. I wished I could lie to him the way I lied to my mom and wear a nice smile. It'd match the lie that I kept living; the lie that he did love me and needed me as harshly as I needed him.

My life was nothing but a big lie.