running on empty

7 // Movies.

Mark stood up, stretching out his limbs with a satisfying pop. He had been sitting at his desk for nearly twelve hours - juggling a mixture of filming, editing, and research, only getting up occasionally for breaks. 

Ethan had truly scared him the other night. The older man didn't want to say anything, but he could hear how raspy and stuttered the other man's breath was, and how his limbs shook when he did something as simple as turn the heat on.

Yes, Mark was pissed at having to leave the house that late, but he would always be there for a friend when they needed him, even at one in the morning. Especially if they looked as haggard as Ethan did. 

After dropping him off, Mark immediately drove home and started scrambling to find out anything he could. If there was anything he could do to help his friend with this he would do it in a heartbeat. Sleep wasn't as important as Ethan was, and if he had any doubts before the vision of the younger's thin hand shaking as he adjusted the heat quickly changed his mind.

Making his way to the kitchen, he gave Chica a few pets as he passed her. The fluffy fur beneath his fingers brought him slightly back to the present. Staring at a screen for too long always made a thick haze settle in his mind, and he often needed a few minutes to adjust to the real world once more. 

Ecstatic from the attention, Chica wiggled happily as she followed him into the kitchen. Her nails clicked gently on the floors, allowing Mark to come back to the present that much quicker. He smiled at her - a welcome reprieve from the ache of constantly frowning - and pet her once more. "You're not getting anything, Beeks," he teased. Chica didn't seem to understand or care.

Sighing gently, Mark stood up straight again, barely registering the late-afternoon sun on his back. He needed to take a break from his computer for at least an hour, and the faint rumbling in his stomach gave him a perfect excuse.

Chica watched him as he moved about the kitchen slowly, gathering ingredients for a small meal. It felt nice, being able to slow down and just make something for himself for once - feeling the warmth of the sunlight as it streamed in from the window and looking back at the golden dog in a playful staring contest. With everything happening recently he hadn't had time for a simple evening.

He stared at his food as it sizzled in the pan, getting lost in the small bubbles occasionally popping up. Was this really what Ethan had trouble with? Eating? Mark had to assume so, but... it seemed so simple. The stove clicked as he turned the heat off and dumped the contents of the pan on his plate. 

Making his way to the table, he couldn't stop thinking about the younger man. All signs pointed to him having an eating disorder, but Mark still couldn't wrap his head around it. Did he really think of food as some sort of... enemy? An obstacle to avoid whenever he could? Having grown up with food as a comfort and meals as a way to express love, he couldn't understand how someone could just... hate it. 

Then again, maybe he didn't have to. He scooped a bite into his mouth, looking out the window at the setting sun. It wasn't necessary for him to understand, he just had to support his friend. Even if he didn't quite understand, he'd do anything he could. 

The dining room dimmed as the sun finally fell below the horizon, leaving him in a faint darkness. His plate was nearly empty by now, but he didn't bother getting up from the table - too lost in thought. How could he even help his friend? Almost two months had passed since he started noticing Ethan eating less and he had done nothing. Only now was he realizing that his new "diet" was probably going too far - how could he hope to help at all?

Mark groaned, pillowing his head on his arms. "Chica, what am I going to do?"

Chica only gave a small boof in reply, nudging her nose against his knee.