but you'll feel better when you wake up | imallexx

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"Alex, f-" A nurse began to speak before halting her words upon seeing the two other males in the room with Alex. "Oh hello. Sorry, but visiting hours ended about five minutes ago." She apologised.

"Oh shit, yeah, sorry." James spluttered. Both George and James both sprung up, leaning down to give Alex a little side hug and wave him off before rushing out of the room. Alex was left feeling emptier than before, damn near completely devastated knowing that's the last time he would see his friends for a very long while.

"Right, it's lunch now, and we've changed your schedule up just a bit to fit it in with your section." The nurse from before, Nurse Penchant, informed. Alex bit his lip, tapping his fingers nervously against his knee.

"Didn't they just get it settled yesterday? Do I have to start today?" Alex fired questions that he knew would ultimately lead him nowhere- at least nowhere that he wanted.

"Yes, yes you've got to. Come on then, to the lunchroom." Nurse Penchant began leading her way to the little cafeteria, Alex following about a metre behind.

Lunch didn't blow over easy. Alex was provided a tray of carrots, bread and meatloaf and alongside that sat a fruit drink that was equal in the amount of calories as the tray of food was. At first Alex had denied the food, pushing the tray away several times and pleading with the nurse, trying to make a promise he wouldn't keep, but she was just as peristaltic as he was.

Nurse Penchant would remind him of how he had been sectioned, meaning that they could restrain him and feed him, whether that be through a tube or not. Alex argued back, making points that sounded deluded when spilled from his lips; even Alex himself recognized that.

In the end Alex had caved, drinking about half of the fruit drink in a little under two hours. Nurse Penchant had attempted to persuade him into drinking more but he flat out denied it. Nurse Penchant congratulated him and sent him on his way with a smile all while Alex could practically feel his life, his beloved control, slipping through the holes in his fingers.

The meal he ate at dinner was the last one he'd have on his own terms. The next day he'd revolted, keeping his mouth clamped shut and his eyes fixed on the nurse in front of him. After that he'd ended up being force-fed, several members of staff restraining him while they kept his mouth open and poured the drink down his throat. Alex was fighting them at first, kicking and screaming and struggling so much that they had to get around five nurses just to hold him down. Somewhere halfway Alex had just given up, weakly pulling against arms holding him down and letting silent tears roll down his face.

Things went on like that for a few more days before the hospital decided that Alex's food intake wasn't nearly enough and he isn't gaining any weight. The nurses told him several times before that he couldn't survive at the rate he was going at, that no grown man could survive at only 38 kilos and he would be dead soon if he didn't comply, but Alex continued to refuse the food and, so, he was put on a tube in addition to the force-feeding sessions.

Alex had been put on the tube before, but only once, and it was when he'd fainted for nearly 20 seconds and was barely strong enough to tell the nurses he was too weak to move. They'd hooked him up to a feeding tube when he was able to stand again and, even then, Alex was far too out of it to even process what was happening.

For four months straight Alex was fed like that. He found that each day it didn't get easier like he hoped it would. He found himself losing control, like it was slipping out of his grip slowly but surely, and then all at once. He couldn't even see how much he weighed when he was on the scale anymore. He didn't control what he ate or how much of it he ate, he couldn't control when he'd wake up and when he'd go to sleep, he couldn't control when he got to talk to his mates. He felt like he was free falling except he didn't remember the beginning and was terrified that everything could become much worse at any moment, like he was waiting until he reached the bottom of that pitch black hole so it could swallow him up and ruin him.

On the eighth month, Alex was taken off the tube. He'd began eating meals himself and when he couldn't do it on his own accord he wouldn't struggle when a nurse or two did it for him. He was ecstatic about hearing the news that he would no longer have to suffer through having a needle jabbed into his arm every other day and having to sit through knowing what it was doing to his body.

Sometime during the eighth month he overheard a few doctors talking about taking Alex off his section. He perked up immediately, but scrambled away as to avoid being caught listening in on staffs conversations. Alex ate all that was on his plate that night and sure didn't miss that shimmer in the surroundings nurses eyes. He slept easy that night.

Alex was officially taken off his section half a month later. Once he actually began to eat on his own terms he found that his chest would no longer squeeze in panic and that the thoughts that whirled around in his brain every time he took a bite were muffled to the point of being barely comprehensible deluded rubbish.

Alex was allowed leave the following weekend after being taken off his section. He approached his flat, hands going cold as ice with nerves. He barely got to turn the door handle before it was being swung open and he was wrapped up in more than just one pair of arms. Alex was frozen in shock for a second but managed to will himself to hug back, even if he had no idea who he was hugging as his head was buried in the torsos of several people.

He found himself sinking comfortably back into his life at home that weekend. To be fair, he was a little overwhelmed with having George, James, Will and Fraser all together with him, but he was honestly just more happy than not. They'd taken him out to a few places but most of the time they just stayed at each other's flats. Alex knew the moment George commented on how much healthier he was looking that he was beginning to recover, as he didn't have a single second thought about what that meant. He just smiled at George and wrapped him in a swift embrace.

Alex was back in the hospital at 6 AM sharp. He felt a longing to be back home where he knew his friends were waiting for him again and he could feel himself becoming a bit more paranoid that he'd end up having to stay in the hospital for another eight months. He only wanted to recover fully so he could go back to the way things were. He didn't want to have to worry about calories or his weight or when he'd next be restrained. He just wanted to wake up at 12 PM and go to bed whenever he pleased, he wanted to be able to record and upload videos and interact with his followers. He wanted to spend time with his friends and ask how they were doing or play shitty board games that were missing several pieces. And in order to do all that, he would have to get better.

Alex spent the following month in hospital, eating his meals and doing his best to be better and just accept himself for the way he was. The nurses saw how much better he was doing. The doctors saw it, his therapist saw it, hell, even the other patients saw it.

On the first day of the tenth month, Alex was officially discharged from the hospital. James was waiting in a Uber for him when he walked out, hands full of bags containing precious and difficult memories. James wrapped Alex in a tight hug upon him entering the car, pressing a kiss to Alex's cheek who smiled sheepishly and let James have at it.

Back at home, Alex had a difficult time adjusting to his old, now slightly altered, schedule. For starters, he kept waking up at 7 AM and felt unable to fall back asleep. Then, he had trouble with meals, as he wasn't at risk for being put on a feeding tube or having latex fingers shoved in his mouth while a drink was painfully poured down his throat. George usually was able to coax him into eating, and on the off chance just had to call James over and that usually did the job.

Besides the schedule issues, Alex readjusted to normal life pretty well. He woke up at a rational time, in his opinion, attended his therapy sessions on Monday and Friday, ate regularly, took his meds and was sure to pay a visit to the ones he loved at least every other day. He explained why he had fallen off the face of the earth for ten months in a sit down video, mostly glossing over the extreme bits like his weight and how he was force fed, to which he received mostly lovely messages in response.

The relapses and generally struggling to readjust played a massive part in how Alex felt after being released. Though, in time, Alex knew he would be better, maybe not fully, but a lot more than he was. Soon, he'd be able to take off his shirt without being insecure or maybe eat a whole meal in front of others. He'd be better soon; he, an everyone else, knew he would.