Victorious Preferences [COMPLETED]

You Are The Strongest Person I Know (Robbie Shapiro Oneshot)

Requested by somedumbassweeb - one of Sikowitz's classes proves too much for you. This chapter depicts an eating disorder, so if you don't want to read it just skip to the end for a funny picture. If I have gotten anything incorrect or misleading about eating disorders, please comment or message me about it and I'll be sure to change it.

"And stretch! And stretch! And now... downward dog!" Sikowitz shouts as he stands on the small stage of his room, dressed in a white tee and bright blue shorts so tight that they should be illegal to wear in front of minors. Or perhaps that's just your envy of your own teacher being thinner than you.

Beside you Robbie pants like a dog in the summer. "Can't... believe... Sik...owitz... is making... us... do this!"
Panting yourself from your head feeling a bit swimmy, you reply, "But... at least... it... gets us... to burn calo...ries."
"What?" Robbie says as incredulously as he can, "You're... already... thin as a... pin... you don't... need to... burn... calor...ies!"

You roll your eyes as he starts the jumping jacks Sikowitz makes you all do. As you begin to jump up and down you gradually start to feel your head get swimmier, fogged up with thoughts of food you've forced yourself not to eat - so, like, nearly every food that isn't fruit and veg - and what your friend said ringing round your brain.

'Thin as a pin...' God, and you thought Robbie was too nice to make those sort of mean jokes. You look down at your body as you jump: you've taken great care the past few months to hide your figure, as you know people would comment on how bloated you've become and you couldn't bear it, but now you're all exercising your stomach is covered in only a vest and you can see it poking out further than ever.

It motivates you to push on, despite your feet feeling like they're moving independent to your mainframe. You jump higher than ever, a miracle considering how heavy you are. That voice in your head keeps praising you, the first time it's done so in weeks, telling you to push more. You do, and through the fog in your mind, you finally begin to feel not disgusting.

And then your feet fall from under you, and your vision goes entirely black.

•●•

You open your eyes slowly and find yourself on the nurse's bed, Lane standing next to you and Robbie biting his fingernails against the closed door.

When Robbie sees you're awake he starts to rush to you, but gets cut off by Lane who sits on the chair next to your face and picks up a clipboard.
"Hey, Y/N," he nods, and you nod back. You're confused; what happened to you?

As if he could hear your thoughts, the guidance counselor reads the clipboard and tells you, "You passed out in the middle of Sikowitz's class - Robbie says you were really going for it.
"Yeah, they were," your friend pipes up, back in his place at the door, "you really scared me, Y/N."

You mumble a sorry, and Lane frowns at the clipboard. You lean over to look at it as best you can as your body feels weak, and in a jumble of letters the clipboard explains that your vitals are lower than average for someone of your age. You blink - what does that mean?

"What have you eaten today?" Lane asks gently, and you lick your lips and gulp.
"An apple. And a couple of slices of peaches."
Robbie behind Lane gasps. "But... it's been the entire school day! How could you not have eaten anything?!"
"I have eaten," you retort indignantly, but a glance at Lane's crestfallen face confirms to you that it isn't enough. As you always knew anyway, but never told anyone.

You lick your lips again nervously. "I know it's bad, but... I can't do it. I can't eat more."
"Why not?" Lane asks, gently but firmly.
You shuffle about on the bed a little.
"I just... I can't. I'm too big. Too big for acting, too big for singing and dancing, too big for exercise. Too big for... anything. I know it's bad, but I can't stop. I can't eat any more."

Robbie moves forward to take your hand, and in one split second you swear it looks birdlike in his small hand. Then you blink, and it swells up to accumulate all of your fat, and you know you were just kidding yourself.

Robbie's face holds a mixture of sympathy and earnestness, and you wish he would stop feeling sorry for you. He has no idea what you're going through, or how dull the ache in the pit of your stomach is, or how bad it feels when everyone is tucking into juicy tuna sandwiches at lunch whilst you're eating a banana so slowly it looks to everyone else you're eating multiple. Though of course you're not.

You look between Lane and Robbie, and both look at you with expressions that makes you know they want to help. How much will they help, even if they know everything?

You guess... only letting them help is the only way you're going to get the answer.

You squeeze Robbie's hand, feeling the squishiness of your own hand, and say weakly but with more strength than you've had in a while:

"I want to stop. Please help."

To readers who skipped to the end: here's a funny picture!

If anybody has an eating disorder, either you or someone you know, please search online how to help and call organisations that are dedicated to help eating disorders.

The helpline for Beat Eating Disorders is 0808 801 0677.