Reddie Oneshots

reddie eating disorder fic part 17

⚠️trigger warning⚠️

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Music bubbled from his radio as Eddie sat in the chair by his desk flipping through everything he owned looking for his ticket. The bow tie that his mom had on him was a bit tight for his liking and every few seconds he was tugging at it and groaning.

"Hey, mom!" Eddie yells holding the collar as far from his neck as it would go.

A few seconds passed before he heard the TV mute and her yell back. "Yes?!"

"Do you know where my homecoming ticket is?"

"No!"

Eddie huffed and sat back in the chair perplexed before a thought popped into his bed. Moving over to his dresser and feeling around in the piles of his pajama clothes he felt the wrinkled-leather cover of a journal. He pulled it out and stared at the cover, turning to the bookmarked page where his ticket was.

Moving back to his desk Eddie reached for one of the strawberries in the bowl he made for himself, licking off the sugar before biting down into the sweet, juicy fruit.

September 16.

I lost 5 pounds and I have a gap between my thighs. I like how Richie looks worried when I take my shirt off and I like counting the ridges on my ribs. I can't press my knees together for long without them hurting.

My head spins whenever I sit up and I think that I am worthy.

I'm not beautiful... but I'm not fat anymore. Just porky.

It's better than being the whale that I used to be.

Eddie runs his finger across the words etched into the paper with a cheap blue pen. Their scrawly and would be discernible to anybody else. He wrote this one in a hurry.

He's gained weight since Halloween, ever since he's been eating again. Every day he wants to stop, begin again tomorrow and eat 300 calories. Try loosing 10 pounds in 10 days. But when he wakes up the next morning and passes the kitchen after a run, he wants eggs and ketchup.

And if he ignores it, he wants a two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.

And if he ignores that, he wants pasta and red sauce for dinner.

And if he ignores everything, he eats the entire kitchen for a midnight snack. He's disguising, and he knows it every time. But he doesn't have the control that he once had, it's disappeared somewhere and he's been trying so hard to find it. It doesn't come.

Towards the middle of October, purging became difficult. His fingers only brought up saliva and his toothbrush only choked him. He's tried everything, massaging his throat, sucking on ice coated in salt, spinning in circles drinking a diet coke, standing on his head.

His therapist told him that his gag reflex was gone.

It would be a long time before it would repair itself again.

He told her he wanted to stop binging and he just wanted to eat normal, healthy meals like all of his friends. He was tired of the back pain and the puffy face. Of his stomach being so full that it hurt to move and to breathe.

She told him to stop starving.

He's gained 3 pounds. He wants to care, but he doesn't. He chews on the strawberry and pulls out the ticket, hiding the journal back in his clothes. He's not going to throw it away. Not yet.

-x-

The rumble of a beat up truck comes up Eddie's driveway and he looks out the window watching Richie get out of the driver's side and straighten his blazer. He looks beautiful, handsome, sexy and Eddie feels the fire in his abdomen heat up.