Chapter Text
clearly, this can only go on for so long.
chris feels the effects every day now, whether it’s the dizziness or the fatigue or the brain fog or the hair loss.
he knows what he’s doing is definitely taking a toll on him.
but still, he doesn’t value his own health enough to stop.
he obviously doesn’t value it more than getting matt and nick’s care and attention— which seems to be lacking recently, they seem to be tired of this new ‘not eating’ gimmick.
so he pushes limits, to see what gets their concern.
for example:
when he wears t-shirts, he lives for the worry in their eyes as they observe his visible weight drop.
when he refuses food again, even though it’s gotten old, they still make that double-take and keep asking.
when he loses his balance, or pauses after standing up, he notices that if they’re nearby to see it, their hands are always instinctively out to catch him.
but the limit is exceeded one night, when chris is in the kitchen.
he’s leaning against the counter because his legs feel off, like they’re not fully locked in. matt’s at the stove, nick’s sitting at the table. nothing tense. nothing dramatic.
he takes a sip of water.
the room tilts.
he barely has time to register it before his knees give out.
he goes down hard, shoulder hitting tile, breath knocked clean out of him. it’s clumsy and loud and humiliating.
“chris—” nick’s chair scrapes back. “what the fuck?”
hands are on him immediately. matt drops beside him, one arm sliding under his shoulders to keep him from slumping flat.
“don’t move,” matt says, tight. “look at me.”
chris blinks up at the ceiling. his ears are ringing.
“i’m fine,” he says automatically.
nick snaps out of sheer panic, already checking his wrist for his pulse. “you just fell over.”
“stood up too fast.”
“you were standing,” nick says, not angry, just baffled.
matt adjusts his grip when chris attempts to sit up. “hey, no. stay down.”
the physical contact feels grounding. heavy. chris lets his weight sink into it without really thinking.
matt notices, but doesn’t move his hands, neither closer towards nor further away from chris.
nick’s fingers press harder at his pulse. his mouth tightens. “that’s not great.”
chris exhales. “you’re stressing.”
“we are,” matt says. “because this is fucked.”
there’s a pause.
“when did you last eat?” matt asks.
chris hesitates. his head feels foggy. “yesterday.”
nick looks up. “yesterday when.”
“…i don’t know.”
the kitchen goes quiet in that awful way, like both of them are running the same calculation on him.
matt rubs a hand over his face. “okay. listen. if you’re doing this on purpose, you need to stop.”
chris frowns. “doing what.”
“not eating,” nick says. “losing weight. whatever this is. i don’t care what the internet says about your body, this isn’t—”
“it’s not for that,” chris says, quick. he successfully shrugs matt, who is now distracted, off him in order to finally sit up.
nick looks at him. “then for what.”
chris opens his mouth.
his brain feels slow, like there’s a delay between thought and speech. the words come out wrong, unfiltered.
“because you started caring.”
nick freezes.
“…what,” he whispers.
chris swallows. “when i stopped eating, you noticed. so i didn’t… fix it.”
they both go still.
“you’re saying,” matt says carefully, “you’re starving yourself to make us care.”
chris shrugs. it makes his head spin. “i guess. sounds like a dick move when you say it like that.”
nick sits back on his heels, staring at him. not mad. not yelling. just completely thrown.
“that doesn’t make sense,” nick says.
chris looks at the floor. “i know.”
matt exhales, sharp. “you collapsed.”
“i know.”
“you could’ve passed out completely,” nick adds. “you could’ve killed yourself.”
“well, that would’ve really made you guys notice.”
matt’s jaw tightens at that.
“don’t say that,” he says immediately. not angry— rattled. like the hypothetical sentence itself scared him.
chris doesn’t respond. he’s focused on the way the floor still feels a little unsteady under him, even sitting. his hands are resting in his lap because he doesn’t trust them not to shake if he lifts them.
nick drags a hand down his face. he looks tired in a way that’s new. “i don’t get it,” he says. “you know we care.”
chris lets out a short breath. “yeah.”
“then why would you—” nick stops himself, searching. “why would this be the way you do it.”
chris shrugs again, smaller this time. “i didn’t plan it. it just… happened. and then you noticed.”
matt shifts closer without thinking, knees almost touching chris’s. “we noticed because you look sick.”
“i know.”
there’s a long pause. neither of them seem to know what to do with that answer.
nick glances at matt, then back at chris. “you didn’t think to tell us you wanted us to pay more attention to you?”
chris presses his lips together. “i didn’t think it’d matter.”
that finally gets a reaction.
matt’s voice breaks. “why wouldn’t it matter, chris? you know we love you, right?”
“yes.”
“are you actually serious, then?”
chris’ eyes are welling up at this point, because shit.
they really don’t get it. he doesn’t want to explain it, either.
but he does, “i wanted to hurt myself so you would care. then, you would pay attention.”
nick shifts closer, grabbing chris’ face to make him look at him. “do you realize how scary that is to hear?”
chris avoids eye contact. “i get that now.”
nick’s tone adopts a twinge of bite, “no, chris. you don’t get it.”
chris moves his head away at that. “no, you guys are the ones who aren’t getting it.”
silence.
“this isn’t about you. maybe i did it for you, but i’m the one who’s actually dying. i’m losing the weight. i’m the one eating nothing. i’m the one sitting up at night wondering why i can’t stop killing myself— why i can’t just tell you how fucking alone i am.”
matt flinches like chris slapped him.
“don’t,” he says quietly.
not angry.
hurt.
“don’t say it like that.”
“why?” chris snaps. his voice cracks immediately, which just pisses him off more. “that’s literally what’s happening.”
nick drops his hand but stays close, knees still on the tile. his face has gone pale. “you’re not dying.”
chris laughs bitterly. “you don’t know that.”
matt swallows. “chris, please, we’re right here.”
“now,” chris says. “you’re right here now.”
that lands harder than he expects. matt looks away first.
“you can’t possibly think we don’t notice you unless something’s wrong,” nick says slowly.
chris wipes at his face with the back of his sleeve. “i think nothing sticks unless it’s bad enough.”
nick shakes his head. “that’s not true.”
“then why did this work,” chris fires back. “why am i on the floor and you’re both freaking out.”
no one answers him.
matt stares at the floor. nick looks at chris like he’s trying to reassemble something that just broke in his hands.
finally, matt asks, “did you think we’d stop caring if you stopped hurting yourself?”
chris doesn’t answer right away. his jaw tightens.
“…i didn’t think it’d be this much,” he admits. “not at first.”
nick’s brows pull together. “you thought we’d just notice and then move on.”
“kind of,” chris says. “and then i figured i’d stop.”
matt swallows. “and you didn’t.”
chris shakes his head. “it got harder.”
“because of the food,” nick says.
“because of everything,” chris corrects. “my head feels fucked. i get shaky. i forget stuff. and every time i thought about eating again, i kept thinking you’d stop looking at me like this.”
“like what,” matt asks, terrified of the answer.
“like i matter,” chris says, immediately regretting it. “sorry. that sounded—”
“no,” nick says quickly. “don’t walk it back.”
matt leans closer, careful. “did you actually want to get hurt?”
chris shakes his head hard. “no.”
“but did you think you could,” nick asks, “and that it’d be fine?”
chris hesitates. too long.
nick closes his eyes for a second. “okay.”
matt’s voice goes quiet. “you understand why that scares the shit out of us.”
“yeah,” chris says. “i do now.”
another pause.
nick shifts his weight, still on the floor with him. “we thought maybe you were doing this because of comments. or looks. or something stupid online.”
chris lets out a weak laugh. “i wish.”
matt looks at him. “so it really wasn’t about that.”
chris shakes his head. “no. it was about you guys.”
nick rubs his face. “that’s… not something i know how to hear.”
“i know,” chris says quietly. “i don’t really know how to say it either.”
matt reaches out again, resting his hand on chris’s arm. solid. not dramatic. “we don’t want this to be the thing that keeps you close to us.”
chris nods. “i don’t want it to be either.”
nick looks at him. “then we have to change something. because this can’t keep going.”
chris’ stomach twists. fear, immediate. “are you mad?”
his voice is small, so unlike his usual upbeat and self-assured manner, that they swear they can’t recognize him right now.
“no,” matt says instantly. “god, chris, no.”
nick shakes his head as well.
chris lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. it comes out shaky anyway.
“then what,” he mutters.
nick looks at him for a second before answering. “we’re scared. confused. trying not to fuck this up.”
matt nods. “yeah.”
chris picks at the skin near his thumb. “you looked exhausted of me.”
that one hurts to say. it just sits there.
and nick immediately remembers using the exact word ‘exhausting’ from the other night, which makes his stomach drop.
“we weren’t. we aren’t, and i’m sorry i said that. i was just so scared and frustrated that i didn’t know what was going on with you,” nick frowns, trying to explain himself.
chris barely nods at the admission, because he believes nick, but he doesn’t believe in himself.
matt rubs his hand over his face. “i hate that you thought hurting yourself was the safest way to say something.”
chris stares at the floor. “it wasn’t safe. it was just… guaranteed.”
nick exhales. “fuck.”
another pause. longer this time.
“i don’t want to keep doing it,” chris says finally. his voice is quiet. “i just don’t know how to stop without everything going back to normal.”
matt looks at him. “normal like what.”
“like you not caring again.”
nick answers before matt can. “we will always care.”
chris glances up. skeptical.
“we will always care, chris,” nick repeats. “not because you’re sick. not because you scared us. just— because we love you. that’s just how it is.”
matt nods. “we care so much, and i know part of you fully knows that. you used to.”
chris frowns. “i need you to actually mean that.”
matt shifts closer, shoulder brushing chris’s. solid. intentional. “i do.”
nick mirrors it on the other side. not touching much. just there. “we do.”
chris’ eyes burn. he blinks hard. “i know.”
they don’t interrupt him.
“i just can’t remember it for some reason.”
matt’s hand returns to the youngest triplet’s shoulder, gently rubbing it as he moves closer, “i will remind you every fucking day, then.”
nick leans his head on chris’ shoulder in agreement, “and we’re sorry our actions didn’t show it at all. i can’t believe we made you get this bad.”
“it’s not your fault,” chris corrects, before getting interrupted by matt who seems to have read his mind by saying, “and it’s not yours either, chris.”
chris responds by nuzzling closer into the warmth of matt’s hand on his shoulder.
he stays like that for a second, leaning into matt without really thinking about it. his body does it before his brain can argue.
nick notices and shifts too, closer than before, shoulder pressing into chris’ other side. just there. anchoring.
chris lets out a shaky breath. “guys, i just wanna clarify that i don’t need you hovering.”
“good,” nick says. “because that’d be annoying.”
that gets a small huff of a laugh out of chris despite himself.
matt squeezes his shoulder once. “but we are gonna eat together.”
chris tenses automatically.
nick feels it. “not right now,” he says quickly. “just eventually. when you’re ready. and we’re not gonna freak out every time, but we’re also not gonna pretend it’s fine.”
chris nods slowly. “okay.”
“and if you start thinking we don’t care,” matt adds, “you say something. even if it feels stupid.”
“especially if it feels stupid,” nick says.
chris wipes at his nose. “i’m bad at that.”
“we noticed,” nick says gently.
matt leans his forehead against chris’ temple for a second. “we’ll help.”
the kitchen is quiet again, but it’s different now. not sharp. not tense. just soft and heavy.
after a minute, nick stands, offering a hand. “couch?”
chris hesitates, then takes it. his legs wobble a little when he stands, and both of them notice, but no one comments. matt just keeps a steady hand at his back until they’re moving.
they settle him in the middle of the couch like it’s instinct. matt grabs a blanket, drapes it over chris’s legs. nick disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of juice, setting it on the table within reach.
“you don’t have to drink it,” he says. “it’s just there.”
chris nods. “thanks.”
they sit with him. close. matt’s knee against his, nick’s arm resting along the back of the couch behind him.
chris exhales, long and tired, and lets his head fall back against nick’s shoulder.
no one moves away.
for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel like he has to earn this.