progress || a falsettos oneshot

progress.

A/N: dedicated to maddytries , who made this AU with me. if you're reading this, hello! ily and i hope you enjoy this!

tw: eating disorders, hospitals, fainting, mentions of purging

Today had been a blur for Marvin. He didn't remember waking up or pulling on an old shirt that had fit him in elementary school. He can't recall skipping breakfast, as he did on the daily. He was proud of himself - he'd dropped several pounds since the year started. Currently, it was the penultimate week of junior year, and Marvin was a totally new person. His face was drawn and pale, his cheeks sucked in and obvious circles were under lifeless blue eyes. His arms and legs were twigs, ready to snap at any moment. But Marvin didn't realise any of this. All he knew is that he'd reached his goal.

He didn't recall stumbling off the school bus and navigating the halls with half-shut eyes. What he did remember is that he's tired. Very much so. He'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour, courtesy of his mother, and yet he was exhausted when he woke up the next morning. Hell, he'd fallen asleep at lunch hour and didn't wake up until he was ten minutes late for geometry. All Marvin wanted to do the whole day was sleep.

In addition, he felt strangely lightheaded. Walking to class felt like he'd ran ten miles without water. His Spanish classroom spun like a top, and he could have sworn he'd seen Mendel do a handstand during said class. It wouldn't have surprised him, honestly. Frequently he'd have to lean on things to rid his vision of the black dots that were situated all over the school. He could often be found against a locker, staring into space, or leaning heavily on his friend Whizzer as they went to class, digging his fingers into the pitcher's baseball letterman jacket.

"Is anyone else...sleepy? Like, really sleepy?" Marvin addressed his tight group of friends in English that afternoon, covering his mouth in a yawn.

Trina, sitting behind him, quirked an eyebrow. "No? It's 3 PM, Marvin," she mumbled, pausing her note-taking.

The boy chuckled, giving the girl a misty smile. His lightheadedness gave off the impression that he'd smuggled vodka into school and was extremely drunk on it. "'M tired. And sick. I...I feel sick,"
It was true. Moving too fast or simply just concentrating made the boy feel like he was on a rocking ship. Occasionally, he'd let out a gag, but never actually throw up. There wasn't anything in his stomach to regurgitate. Marvin didn't eat much anymore. Come to think of it, he barely ate anything at all.

Whizzer was glad to have an excuse to stop confusedly squinting at the interactive board. English had never been his best subject. Well, nothing had, really. "Are you okay, Marv? You barely ate at lunch. Just some of Mendel's grapes-"

"Marvin!"

Miss Goldberg, the English teacher who wore sunglasses inside, pulled the boy out of his reverie. She liked Marvin, because he was one of the only kids who took her class seriously. He did well, scoring high grades on essays and assignments and tests. She stared expectantly at him through her sunglasses, hands on her hips. "Can you save my brain from turning to mush and tell me by what means does Shakespeare show the changes in the relationship between the tragic hero and the tragic villain in Act 3, Scene 3?"

Normally, Marvin would know the answer, but now he was too sleepy and nauseous and dizzy to pay attention to Othello's shenanigans over in Venice. Tragic heroes...what were those? And had they even read up to Act 3? Who was the villain in this story...? Fuck you, Shakespeare.

"I..."

And that was the last thing he remembered before he hit the ground.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Whizzer screamed, aggressively pointing at Marvin's limp body.