tea - dreamnotfound

hidden in the depths

this can't be real. the numbers just don't add up. how've i had that much? where did my self-control go? how could i sink so low?

my handwriting gets more and more illegible and faded the longer i keep on going. i can barely even finish the required pages. the lump in my throat is rapidly growing, tears are threatening to spill. my mind keeps screaming. do you really think clay would wanna be with such a pathetic loser? look at you, failing even the most basic of things. just wait until he's had enough.

with shaky movements i bend down and reach for the scale that's safely tucked away under the bathroom sink. please at least tell me this won't be a train wreck.

i try and fail at taking a deep breath as i hesitantly step on. at first i keep my eyes shut, fearing the absolute worst. whatever the pin's pointing at can't be good, i know that for a fact already. when i finally dare take my hands off my face the lump immediately chokes me of air. i reposition myself in a panic as if that would change the scale's decision. as predicted, it stays the same.

"fu-uck," i choke out, falling to the floor in defeat.

there's no holding back my tears anymore. they come streaming down like waterfalls, soaking everything in their way. it feels like all the oxygen has escaped from the air, all four bathroom walls closing in on me. i aggressively rip out pages from the little black book beside me, erasing all my progress in a matter of seconds.

the worst part isn't even the fact that i've fucked up and lost control again, it's that clay could never love me when i'm like this. he could never love a stupid, ugly, fat and crying fucking mess who just whines and is useless at everything in life.

the thought grinds my heart into dust. i scream, not even caring if clay hears me anymore. my brain is lost in a thick fog. i pick up the scale with a jerk and throw it against the solid wall, shattering the glass display and making pieces of it fly out. great. now i can't even weigh myself. nice job, dipshit.

clay could never love me, he could never love me now.

"george?"

the shout is faint, most likely coming from the living room. rushed footsteps approach me, followed by more incoherent words, drowned out by my constant, violent sobs. i can barely muster up enough courage to look at him when he pulls the handle down and barges through the door.

"george, are you o- oh my god!"

he gasps, staring at me in shock before quite literally launching himself into my arms. i cling onto him tighter than ever before, burying my red, swollen face into his shoulder. all the racing thoughts, the pressure on my chest, everything, i just want it to stop. please make it stop.

clay realizes that i'm having a panic attack and starts pulling the right strings to calm me down at least somewhat.

"okay, look at me georgie, look at me baby," he starts, hiding his own panic. with both hands he cups my wet cheeks, tilting my head up so that we have eye contact.

"i need you to breathe with me, it's easier if you come a little closer, here."

he lifts me slightly so that i can feel his entire upper body against mine.

"now, in through your nose and out through your mouth, do it with me."

i try my best to follow the steady rhythm of inhales and exhales, but i'm still too shaken to control myself. the tears refuse to stop flowing and i refuse to stop sobbing.

"please, don't lose focus. i'm right here, okay? i'm right here. you're safe now."

he rests his forehead against mine, looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes of his.

"in... and out, in... and out."

after a while i start getting the hang of it.

"good.. you're okay. everything will be okay."

he wipes the last tears off my face with his thumbs before leaning in and kissing my lips, slowly and softly. a sad little smile has crept up onto them as we part.

clay suddenly spots a torn out page from the notebook laying on the floor next to us. he furrows his brows as he carefully picks it up and skims through it. i so badly want to just rip it away and burn it so he never finds out, but i'm too weak.

instead my fingers simply brush over the material, a silent 'noo' escaping my throat. clay is frowning when he takes his eyes off the note and shifts them towards the smashed scale on our other side.

"pl-please don't h-hate me," i whimper, the familiar salty liquid starting to roll down my cheeks again.
"why would i hate you baby?" he wonders, voice smooth and deep.
"because i-i'm such a pussy."

"no, you're not a pussy george. you're the farthest thing from a pussy. the fact that you've battled this alone in silence is.. insane. i can't imagine how hard it is."

i hide my puffy face in the crook of his neck. he doesn't seem to mind the unpleasant feeling of wet tears against his bare skin.

"i will help you find someone good to talk to."
"no, please..." i gasp, "i hate them. i've already done that shit before and i never wanna go back, please!"
"you really need it though, you can't live like this honey, you need professional help."

"i don't care! anything else, just not therapy, none of that! please i beg you, trust me i've been there and it made everything so much worse!"

i cringe at the desperation in my own voice. clay sighs, petting my hair.

"okay, listen," he mumbles, "i promise that i'll be here with you throughout this entire journey even though i don't know much about any of this. i'll stay with you all the time, help you ride it out. i'll support you as best i can, okay? cause i really care a lot about you. but you have to promise me something too."

"what?"
"that you go get real help if it gets any worse. i understand it'll be up and down, but if you drop more weight or in general start feeling worse you need to go see a professional. promise me that?"
"i promise."
"pinky promise?"
"pinky promise."

he intertwines our pinkies, giving me a calming smile and a peck on the nose.

"and, one more thing," he declares, "don't do this just for me please. do it for your own sake. you recover because you yourself want to recover, not because anyone else wants you to. i'm just here as a support beam, a shoulder to cry on. someone who gives you lots of love along the way. the real battle you have to fight alone, if you get what i mean."
"i do."

clay looks relieved. calm and relieved. even i feel better now.

"i love you so much georgie, don't ever forget that."
"i love you more, pissbaby."