langst.

someone so shallow; part 1

A/N: hello, its me, Oliver. Im aware that I have been gone for, like, a thousand years. I fell out of my voltron phase, but your support has inspired me to make this, at least one more story arc. My writing style may have changed a bit, and I base these stories off the first one or two seasons. With that being said, this contains triggering topics such as depression and eating disorders.
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Not good enough.
Disgusting.
Pathetic.
Lance's subconsious whispered to him, and he shakily nodded in agreement. How could he not agree? The brunette was looking at himself in the mirror, and he wasn't good enough. Not good enough for his unrequited crush, Keith, either. Lance knew he would have to stop eating so much to be good enough. His thoughts of his new 'diet' were cut short.

"Lance? You coming down for dinner, buddy?" Hunk called out fromn the large dining hall.

"Give me a sec!" Lance replied. He mustered up enough excitement in his voice as he could, but his face was tearstained. Taking one last disgusted look at himself in the mirror, he rushed to his bathroom and doused his warm face in cool water. He choked back a few sniffles and dried his face. He soon walked out, plastering a fake smile on his relatively pale face.

"Hey, guys! It looks great, new recipe?" Lance joked, eyeing the same substance they always eat.

In reality, food made him sick.
He was sick.

He swallowed his feelings and grabbed his plate, taking half of what everyone else had. Sitting down, he picked and played with his food. Nobody really noticed, or so he thought. By the end of the meal, he managed to sneak most of it into his jacket pockets.

He stood up and put his plate back, and headed to his bathroom. He first threw his pocket's contents into the trash. Then, he slowly looked at his toilet. Kneeling over, he shoved two of his long fingers to the back of his throat, gagging.
He did it again.
And again.
And again.
After his eighth attempt, he finally vomited up stomach acid and what little food he had consumed. Feeling proud, Lance washed his mouth out and got rid of any evidence of that happening.
He had a small smile on his face, until he heard pounding on the door.

// Keith's POV //
I was already in the dining area when Lance came down. His thin face looked sickly, almost. I wanted to ask if he was alright, but I assumed he was alright after he made some stupid joke. We ate in silence, which gave me the opprotunity to glance at the Cubam sitting diagonally of me. He was acting different- he was freezing up whenever we made eye contact. When I managed to watch him, he was shoving food into his jacket? I silently questioned Lance, but he didn't notice.
I felt concerned when he walked out- I'll just go after him, when I'm done helping Hunk with the dishes.
True to my word, I soon approached Lance's room. He wasn't in there, but I heard faint retching coming from his bathroom. Was he okay? I knocked on the door, more forcefully than I had intended. "Lance? Are you sick? Open the door."