band one-shots

i won't let you || jalex

hhhhhhhhhhh

tw for eating disorders. anorexia +  some bulimia to be specific.

ship: alex gaskarth x jack barakat

~

Alex is going to be the skinniest boy ever. He's going to make the fans drool over his slender figure. His rib cage is going to prominently peek through his shirts. His collar bone is going to finally show. He's going to have a thigh gap.

That is, if Jack will let him.

It's nearly impossible to do anything self-detrimental, because Jack always has an eye on him, to make sure Alex doesn't do anything that might get himself killed. It's really sweet, and any other person would be so goddamn lucky to have that level of undivided care and supervision, but he doesn't need it.

Alex isn't going to kill himself. As much as it may look like he's trying, he's really not. It's not being alive that he hates, it's just his body. All he's trying to do is live.

So he isn't quite sure why Jack keeps looking at him with the saddest puppy-dog eyes he's ever seen in his life.

It's just one meal he's skipping. Everyday. He never saw the point in lunch anyway. An unnecessary binge, just to fill up on more calories between breakfast and dinner. He won't miss it.

He weighs himself a few days in. The scale has dropped half a pound. He still feels the same.

~

After one of his many skipped lunches, with him isolated in his room with a guitar while the rest of the band eats, Jack decides to talk to him.

He isn't quite sure what he's going to say to Alex on his way up the stairs, but he knows he needs to get him to stop. This isn't good for Alex's body, and it's not good for Jack's state of mind to be watching this slow suicide.

But Alex only has to glimpse the shadow hovering in the door-frame before the perfectly calibrated excuse is spilling from his tongue.

"I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, sure." Jack sits on the bed next to Alex and wraps his fingertips around the boy's slender wrists. It's scary how the tips touch at the end with ease. "Please eat something."

Alex nods his head a little, giving in, if only to appease his boyfriend. "I'll eat at dinner tonight. Promise." His voice cracks a little bit.

Because there's one thing he's refraining from telling Jack.

The next phase of his plan involves skipping dinners as well.

~

He's lost 23 pounds.

His shirts hang off his frame. His skinny jeans aren't tight anymore. His ribcage pokes out.

And he's so goddamn tired.

He can barely find the energy to pluck the strings on his guitar, and everything's so dizzy and blurry. He can barely make out Rian or Zach's face. Yet he still continues to stumble through studio sessions, ignoring the looks they give him.

He looks better than he ever has before.

So why doesn't he feel better?

~

It's not until he blacks out while recording 'Missing You', that he knows he has a problem.

One moment, he's trying to keep his voice steadily in key, focusing on not being shaky, the next he's on the floor with his head resting in Jack's lap.

"Dude, what the fuckin-" Jack cuts himself off and sighs, staring at Alex's small frame. "Fucking eat."

"I'm okay." He tries to push himself to his feet but Jack doesn't let him. "Let go."

"No. Not until you eat something."

"I'm not hungry." Alex's voice breaks.

"When's the last time you ate?" Jack asks him. "The last time I saw you eat was the day before yesterday. Two fucking days ago, Alex. So if you ate anytime between then and now, I'd love to hear about it."

"I-" Alex groans in defeat. "Yeah, that was the last time."

"Eat." Jack pulls a small bag of chips from his guitar case. "Please." He tosses it to the frail boy. "At least one?"

Alex regretfully rips the bag open. His eyes lock with Jack's for a moment before darting away out of guilt. He can't eat this.

He fights the urge to turn the bag over, to read the calories, to read the grams of fat it's laced with. Instead, he slowly bites into one single chip.

Jack smiles a little, and Alex eats another one. He can do this. If only to make his boyfriend smile, he'll do it. He'll manage.

It takes close to 15 minutes, but he eventually finishes them all. He gives Jack the bag back, and he catches a glimpse of the nutrition label on the underside.

160 calories

No. No. No.

That's kind of a lot. Alex had been in the double-digits for calories per day (on the days that he did eat), and one single bag of Doritos is fucking that up. No. His hand is visibly trembling, and Jack takes it.

"You good?"

He barely manages to shake his head, no, he's not good, he's bad, he's so fucking bad. He's a failure. How could he fuck it up, he was doing so well.

"I'm going to the bathroom." He stands and finds the door, wrenching it open and then closing it again as soon as he's inside. The scent of lemon disinfectant invades his nose. It burns.

He leans over the basin, cringing at how clean it is. It's so white and smooth and perfect, and everything Alex will never be. The chips churn in his stomach, and nausea rises in his chest, as he imagines his body taking in the fat, and the calories, and all the gross chemicals designed to keep him from reaching his goal.

He doesn't even notice his finger is halfway down his throat until his gag reflex kicks in.

Bile rises in his throat, and in a few short seconds, the sink doesn't look quite so perfect anymore.

~

Alex comes out of the bathroom, maybe twenty minutes later, his eyes haunted and his expression dull. Jack crosses the room towards him.

"Hey.....you okay?"

Alex stumbles against Jack's shoulder, and presses his fingers into the muscle. Jack actually has muscle. He has a sturdy body, with protection lining his bones.

In contrast to Alex, who has starved all his protection away.

As a response to Jack's question, he shakes his head and thinks of the Doritos that he just threw up. He tried to please Jack, just a little bit, and he couldn't even do that without becoming sicker.

"Jack..." Alex's voice is wobbly, like his balance at the moment. "Help me. I don't want to do this anymore." He sinks into Jack, pressing his head into the crook of his boyfriend's neck.

Jack wraps his arms around the skinny boy, enclosing him in a veil of solace.

"I know. I know you don't. And you're not going to anymore."

"I might..." Alex admits.

"No. I won't let you."

~

we 👏 support 👏 recovery 👏 in 👏 this 👏 house

and before u all yell at me for writing more angst, aT LEAST THIS ONE DOESN'T HAVE SELF HARM, IM IMPROVING 👏👏