- tw -
- body image issues -
- disordered eating -
Very few things are easy when you have an inhumanely busy mother: talking about your day, getting help with homework, forming deeper connections with said parent. One thing that is easier, however, is getting away with almost anything. Evan was only eating dinner every other night, and at lunch, he'd only eat a few bites of his food to ward off any concern that may arise.
"When did you start packing a lunch, Ev?" Jared asked as he took his place across from him, "It's all, like, healthy shit, too."
"I'm just trying to b-be healthier, " Evan declared.
"Jesus, you're not going vegan, are you?"
"What's wrong with vegans?"
"...Anyway, when is our Chemistry midterm? I'm trying to get Alana to lend me all her notes from last year."
The conversation between the two continued as Connor stared at Evan's hands, which were pulling apart every bite into tiny pieces before he would eat it; some too small to even be considered a full bite. Eventually, his sandwich was just a pile of pulled apart crumbs, making it look like he'd eaten a lot, though Connor was sure he'd only seen him take four bites.
"Do you not like your sandwich?" Connor asked, pushing his tray towards Evan, "You can have the rest of my lunch."
"Oh!" Evan smiled a tight-lipped smile. "I'm s-so full, but thank you f-for the thought."
•••
Evan stared at his shoes tapping on the linoleum floors as he focused on his breathing. He felt like such an idiot; he'd planned to get there at 4:26 so he would be on time for his appointment without running the risk of having to talk to anyone. Instead, he arrived at 4:15 and had to debate whether he should wait inside out outside, but ultimately decided on waiting inside because he was wearing a black hoodie, and he was afraid he'd look like a delinquent if he lingered outside.
"Evan Hansen?" the secretary called out, scanning the room, "Dr. Sherman is ready for you."
Evan stared at the floor as he made his way to his therapist's office, steadying his breathing and wiping his hands on his pants every few seconds in case they got sweaty. When he reached the office, he announced his presence by lightly knocking on the already-open door, then, feeling self-conscious about it, tried to cover it up by clearing his throat.
"Evan?" His therapist looked up from the papers in his hands, "Come in, sit."
Evan followed directions, taking a seat as he nervously chewed his already too short nails.
"I have to say, I was a little surprised when I saw you on the schedule today. What are we here for?"
"What do you have t-to tell my mom?" Evan questioned, not making eye contact.
"Well, you shouldn't worry about that. Just tell me what's wrong and we'll get you the help you need-"
"Please?"
"Well you're turning eighteen next week, so everything we talk about is confidential now."
"You won't tell her anything?"
"No... I won't."
The next hour was spent with Evan sharing the details of his hospitalization, specifically the fact that he never really felt like he was better but pretended to be because he was afraid of upsetting his mother. He'd left out the parts about hurting himself, not fully trusting that his therapist wouldn't alert his mother.
"I'll see you next week, Evan." Dr. Sherman rose from the chair, opening the door. "Tell your mother I say hello." Evan nodded before making his way back to the car to see messages from Connor.
Con :)
ev
oh crap aren't you at your therapist
sorry
well you haven't texted me telling me to shut up yet which i'm gonna assume means i'm not bothering you
so just text me whenever you see these cause i wanna hang out
do you wanna get lunch or something
Ev
I'd love to hang out.
I've already eaten, but I'll go to lunch with you anyway.
I'm just not gonna get anything.
Con :-)
but eating by yourself isn't fun
Ev
I didn't know eating was supposed to be fun.
Con :-)
ugh, fine
meet me at chick-fil-a in twenty
Evan locked his phone, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hated lying to Connor; he really did. He wasn't going to lose anyway weight if he kept eating the way he usually did, though, and there was no way he could stay as heavy as he was. He sighed as he rolled up his shirt a little, poking at the small pocket of skin that stuck out as he bit his lip. He was so hungry all the time, and he still wasn't seeing any difference in his appearance. He shook off his invasive thoughts as he put in directions to the nearest Chick-Fil-A and turned on the radio.
