Late December, 1978~ A Falsettos Fanfiction

See How You Handle It

Trigger warning- eating disorders (not fetishizing, this is the reality of it, fellas)

Whizzer feels colder than usual when Marvin hangs up on him, not the kind that comes with his every day body temperature. It's another kind of cold, that he isn't quite sure he's felt before.

It surges throughout his body, this cold, ill feeling; that came from this sudden feeling of confusion and anger.

Because none of what Marvin said made sense. Not in the context of the past events. He fucked him, said he loved him, told him how much he loved him but didn't think he would ever see him again, then told him over the phone that he was basically worthless. Does that make any fucking sense? No.

Whizzer wants to pretend that that conversation didn't happen.

A part of Whizzer really hopes that what Marvin said was because of a thing called internalized homophobia, and he needed to take his inner turmoil out on someone other than himself. That someone just so happened to be Whizzer.

But still. That doesn't mean he isn't upset. He had expected this, what with Marvin having the pressures of having a wife and son and not wanting to ruin his semi-picture perfect family. It still hurts. It still leaves his body cold and still. It still leaves him with some kind of physical pain that he can't even explain.

Fuck it. He'll just have to understand that he'll just be lonely for the rest of his life because he's not thin enough, not pretty enough, not desirable enough.

Just gives him an excuse to just not eat a thing today and run three miles instead of two today. An excuse to drink more water. An excuse to, if he even tries to eat, eat slowly and savor every bite. An excuse to go to bed earlier so he won't get hungry later in the night.

He runs his hands through his thick, silky brown hair, and debates on calling Cordelia. She's always worried about him, not that she shouldn't be, and insists on him calling her whenever he needs to.

The process of calling her had been easy the first couple weeks. But then sometimes he'd call her and she wouldn't answer. Because she was busy going out with Charlotte and going vegan and meditating and doing everything that didn't involve working out with Whizzer. Drinking with Whizzer, watching shitty movies with Whizzer, going clothes shopping with Whizzer.

Binge eating with Whizzer.

Purging with Whizzer.

Competing to be thinner than the other with Whizzer.

Cordelia got a life, that's why she doesn't answer his calls. Cordelia knew how fucked her life was. Cordelia knew her eating disorder was ruining her life, and she needed to fix it. Whizzer doesn't, still, after how long now?

Ten years.

He doesn't feel like calling her. She has a life. He doesn't. He only has the time for counting calories and abusing laxatives.

He reaches for the tearstained phone, his mind not working properly. He dials her number.

She won't answer me.

The phone rings for a bit. He decides to hang up and let Cordelia be a normal human for once, but she answers. "Uh, hello? This is Cordelia,"

"Yeah, uh," he swallows any urge to cry or make it sound like he's on any level of crying. "It's Whizzer, can we talk?"

Cordelia makes a sound, but it doesn't sound like she's mad. Just a light "Hmph," or something of that nature. Then she says, "You can talk to me any time, you know? I'm glad you decided to call me again, we've not talked in awhile."

"Yeah,"

Because you didn't pick up and moved on with your fucking perfect life. Now you're happier than ever and I'm just stuck here. It's not fucking fair. Why can't I just stop messing everything up? I'm the reason you're clean, because I- 

"So," she inhales and goes on to talk to him about how he's doing, if he's taking care of himself, anything to let him know she's there.

"Really, I'm okay. It's just-" he pauses, trying his best to plan out his next set of sentences. "I hooked up with a guy last night, who I, I just really wanted something good to happen between me and a guy for once. We fucked, we laughed and had a good time before and after, we talked about random shit. I guess, I guess you could say I felt, kind of, something between us- oh, fuck, that sounds stupid."

"No it doesn't. Just keep talking," Cordelia's caring smile radiates through the phone, and Whizzer immediately realizes why he loves this girl so much.

"Right, okay. So then this morning, he left- typical closet queen, right? Anyways, a few hours later he calls me just to tell me how disgusting and awful I am. He called me a faggot, Delia. And a pedophile, and a crossdresser, which actually isn't bad, but you know how fucked our reputation is. He told me I was horrible, bottom line. Now I just feel so shitty and worthless and gross. Worse than usual."

He chokes on scalding, hot tears, and lets the emotions held in from the last events seep into the phone, at last. It leaves him like a suppressed cough, and leaves him feeling embarrassed yet relieved all at once.

Cordelia doesn't say anything for a while. "Come over to my apartment, love. We'll talk and have a great time."

Whizzer can't resist. Not one bit. He sniffles and wipes his eyes before releasing a shaky, "Fuck yes," from his cracked lips.

He puts on a coat and fills a water bottle so he won't have to eat a lot at Cordelia's apartment, then he's off.