Steel Skeleton

Release

 Gavin groggily stood on the scale at the early morning weigh-in. He barely saw the number, but he saw it clear.

117.

Damn. He hated the number, but he had been allowed to lower his meal plan closer to 3400. It was fine. He was fine. The training only burnt a bit, it wasn't as intense as his training time back with the company. The number of 3400 would be as close to his usual intake and output as they would let him get, and only at about 122 would they let him do that. They wouldn't even take the tube out until he wasn't underweight anymore.

It was frustrating, to be so close, yet still so far away.

He hated the number; it was the highest bmi he had seen in almost two years. He looked horrid. He swore. No one else seemed to see it, and his therapist claimed it was all just dysmorphia, but he swore it was true.

He had finally gotten bathroom clearance at least. They trusted him just enough.

Gavin got off of the scale and got his blood drawn for the week. The nurse smiled.

"You've made so much progress. Right on target." The nurse stated, and Gavin just sighed and pulled his hoodie over his gown. The fabric was rough. He hated the feeling on his skin.

He walked back to his room. Distraught over the number. He got back in, and Madsen looked up.

"Bad weigh-in?" He asked. Gavin just sighed. He changed into an older pair of jeans. A larger pair.

Horrid.

"Terrible." Gavin stated. He pulled a shirt over his torso, and then the hoodie.

"What happened?" Madsen asked. Gavin just sighed.

"Officially 117. I'm officially almost in a healthy range, and you know what? It sucks. Right? It really sucks." Gavin just ranted. His voice seemed to remain a normal volume, but it wouldn't for very long. He knew.

"Your abs might say otherwise. You're super thin, and you look real great. I know you can't see it, but you look fine." Madsen said, trying to give some advice, but Gavin knew he was young, and advice is hard when both are in the same situation.

"Man, I just don't know how to deal with it apparently. Therapy isn't doing anything. She keeps asking about a trauma that I didn't have." Gavin explained. He just melted onto his bed, and sighed. He wanted to cry, but what was the point of crying over his weight again. It seemed that was all he would do with any number.

"Bring it up with your team, or your therapist. It's ok to call them out. I learned that a while ago, and it's been a real help." Madsen explained. Gavin nodded, but tears seemed to still sting his eyes. He checked the time, and it was basically breakfast. Which he was not excited for. He wanted nothing to do with food. He just wanted out.

But to get out, he had to eat.

Gavin slammed his tray across from Lars. He just sighed.

"What's up? Bad Weigh-in again?" Lars asked. Gavin just nodded slowly. He found himself barely able to touch his food. It seemed all he wanted to do was sleep. He wanted to go home. He missed his apartment; he missed his friends, his coaches, his space. He missed his life, where this was all just a secret.

"A lot is going on. I'm just scared of the whole gaining thing. I'm already up to 117 again, and it's terrifying, haven't been this high in a few years." Gavin explained. He spread the almond butter on the bread. He was so sick of the bread.

"It makes sense, you're at the point where home is definitely a big thing. I can tell you miss it. I've watched you in the sessions while you train. You're absolutely trying to be home." Lars stated. Gavin just nodded. It was true, so damn true.
"I do, but it's nice here. It's a nice space, but nothing is the same as it would be at home." Gavin explained, and he eyed a nurse, who's eyes were turned. He quickly ripped a piece of the sandwich.