Chapter Two

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*TRIGGER WARNING*

Anorexia is a very serious eating disorder, I’m hoping this imagine will help some people learn to cope with it and find the strength to recover.

A/N: Its super short, I know, I'm sorry guys!

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“I’m not anorexic,” Oli repeated, still lying underneath the mounds of blankets his lips pressed tightly together.

“You weight one hundred and nine pounds, Oli.” You whispered, struggling to cry, “I weight one hundred and five.”

He stayed silent for a few minutes his chest rising and falling slowly, “So I’m thin. I’ve always been.” His eye twitched slightly, and you knew he was lying.

You always knew when he was lying.

“Let me help you.” You croaked out, grabbing his hand in yours and he stood up pushing your hand off, before burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t have an eating disorder.” But even now you heard the dullness in his voice, the denial, and you wouldn’t- you couldn’t- let him do this to himself.

The room was silent for a few minutes before you stood up going into the kitchen and coming out with a pack of crisps, you set them in front of him silently. “Prove it.” A visible shudder ran through his body, and he reached out quietly his hand trembling slightly as he opened the pack, taking one out and making a deliberate crunch on it.

“See, I told you.” He murmured softly, his voice had always been quiet, but not as soft as this. He sounded lifeless. He sounded like someone dying.

You ran a hand through your hair, before sinking onto the couching beside him. “Finish them.” His eyes drooped slightly, and he dutifully reached into the bag again taking minuscule bites out of the crisps.

After eating two more he rose crumpling the packet slightly, “Oscar needs a walk.” He whispered quietly, leaving the room and you felt hot tears rushing to your eyes as you saw his collarbone jutting out from his skin.

As soon as he left the house, the tears broke free of your eyes. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how to help him.

~ Two Hours Later ~

Oli strolled back inside blowing on his hands unable to meet your eyes, and for the time being you decided to let his weight go. Maybe he really was just thin, and felt healthy. “Movie?” You asked him hopefully, and he nodded gratefully a half-smile curving across his face

As you both settled against the couch, sitting on the floor, you took one of his hands in yours. It was like grabbing ice. You jerked backward, rubbing the sudden cold spot on your hand. “What?” Oli looked around suddenly, and you breathed out quickly.

“Fuck you’re cold.” You explained, gingerly taking his hand again to press it to his face. He flinched back from it, and you let out a toneless laugh, taking his hands in yours and holding them between your own. After a few minutes you resorted to blowing hot air on them, and Oli’s eyes began to droop slightly.

As Oli began to doze off you couldn’t help but pull his shirt up slightly, and your fingers ran over his abdomen lightly. You winced feeling the sharp points of his ribs, and traveled higher, his collarbone jutting out from his skin.

You knew he was still awake but he wasn’t fighting you either. You tried to grab the fat that should have been on his stomach, but you couldn’t. “Oli…” You breathed out, fighting against the tears and went onto your knees.

You cupped his cold cheeks in your hands as his eyes opened looking into yours. “Why won’t you let me help you?” You whispered, a tear rolling down your face as his dark hazel eyes stared back into yours.

And for the first time they weren’t filled with love or happiness, not even contentness. They were dull, the sparkle in them gone, and when you looked deeper all you saw was hopeless, and he whispered quietly back to you.

“No one can help me now. No one.”

And somewhere deep down in your chest, you felt your heart beginning to break.

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