"Ive got it under control, Josh, promise".
Ever since the incident, Tyler's never been the same. Josh knows exactly what's best for him.
Sequel to 'Joshler/Gay'
Some inspiration has been drawn from the Netflix original 'To The Bone'
Fluff :) Tyler's POV: Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven... My veins in my head feel like they're going to burst but I must reach fifty before I get back up again. Forty-one, forty-two...
I jump up from laying in the middle of the study floor and I go for the mirror. As I'm scanning and turning in the reflection, my head lcomes over really foggy all of a sudden, and my knees shudder and collapse under me, luckily, the couch is there to catch me in time, or I would've fell to the ground. I gather myself as I slowly sit up and rub my temples. I just got up too fast.
I tread out to the kitchen where there's no sign of Josh, apart from his mess he left behind. Thanks, hun. Looks like he was in a rush as there is butter left out and a plate with crumbs on by the sink. The TV is left on from the news he must've been watching, so I turn it over to the music channel, and "HUMBLE." by Kendrick Lamar starts playing, it's a great energising song. The sink tap runs for the washing up and I tap my foot against the floor to keep myself moving and fidgeting. My calloused hands dip into the scalding hot water and I briskly wash the plates. Over the sound of the music I can hear my stomach rumbling. I am hungry, I can't deny that I haven't ate in about twenty odd hours.
Are you hungry? Or are you being greedy?
I'm not that hungry though. I can probably go another ten hours, if my belly stops rumbling. My hand wanders over my chest and stomach and I don't like what I feel. I'm out of proportion for my height and size and I wish I could just take a knife to myself and take off what I don't like.
My thoughts are exchanged to my phone that's lit up from next to the sink:
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Oh shit- it's just gone half one! Fuck fuck fuck!
I'm rushing round the apartment like a headless chicken, trying to find appropriate clothes, and brush my teeth AND trying to dress myself, all simultaneously. I text Jen back apologising:
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Fuuuck- why did I agree to going out!?
I grab what I can from around the demolished apartment, which are: keys, phone, coat, and I rush out. My feet stomp on the stairs as I throw myself down them to reach the door. I chose to ignore the screaming emptiness in my stomach that's scraping at the sides of it. Only I would manage to give myself a head ache from rushing.
