Help!

~ Chapter One ~

this is my first fanfic, please leave any comments/suggestions/ect.

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 "Fuckin' hell." John stood in front of the guest bathroom mirror, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. He let out a long sigh as he dropped his hands to his side, staring at his reflection. 

He though about the dinner he just excused himself from. He couldn't help himself reaching for seconds, then thirds, and then a little bit more of that roast beef and potatoes -who knew Paul was such a good cook?  He slowly unbuttoned his shirt to see the damage, letting the fabric fall to the bathroom floor.

John groaned softly and ran his hands over his soft tummy, his eyes picking out every imperfection he could make out in his reflection. His hands started to pull lightly at his skin, which soon turned to harsh tugs at any flesh that would dare give. His eyes threatened to spill tears, which he quickly, but unsuccessfully tried to blink away.

He told himself to not reach for a second serving this time. He knew that he didn't need to eat another plate full of Paul's delicious cooking. He knew that a single serving was more than enough, having already eaten more than he had planned to today, and yet he just couldn't stop himself! 

     "How pathetic!" He thought. "Can't even control yerself.... cryin' like a fookin' bird..."

His light sniffles turned to barely supressed sobs as he continued to lower his self esteem. He quietly sunk to the hard tile floor, hugging his knees tight to his chest.

     "Fat... ugly... no good... stupid.... undesirable.... unworthy pig-"

Two sharp knocks sounded from the other side of the locked bathroom door, startling John. He tried to regain control of his uneven breathing before his friend voiced his concern.

     "John?" Paul called. "Johhnny, are you alright?"

"Damn," John thought. "Fuck, shit, bollocks, Jesus shitting Christ."

He quickly pulled himself up from the floor, busying his hands with the task of rebuttoning his shirt.

     "I'm fine, Paul." He called back, his voice wavering and ice cold. "Can't a lad take a shit in peace?"

John hastily and rather roughly wiped the tears that were staining his face while waiting for Paul to leave.

     "You sure, luv? You've been in there for quite a while, y'know-"

"Jesus, Paul, I said I'm fine!" John shouted, feeling even worse about yelling at his friend. 

     "I- Alright. Sorry, John, just worried is all..." 

John waited until he was sure Paul's footsteps were far away. He glared at himself in the mirror one last time, pushed down the knob on the toilet to further convince Paul how fine he was, and left the bathroom.