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that day had gone worse than he expected, the party left alois consumed by an empty feeling inside, despite eating almost everything there, his body felt awkward, too full to even move and too empty to not scream out in agony.
not to mention the ... lust-filled stares he got from the older men there, the light yet uncomfortable touching too. he remembered the old men grabbing him, tossing him around as if he was just a doll, putting their hands on his shoulders and caressing, trying to get a glimpse of his pale skin. were parties always that disgusting? maybe it was time to let himself rest for a while.
he was laying there, curled up on a small couch, staring into the void, his hands grasping his thighs while he muttered to himself. of course he could ask claude to get him back to his room to rest, but that would be beyond humiliating, his pride would not allow it. and claude would probably utter in reproach. "then you shouldn't eat so much, your highness." or "if you knew it would be painful, you shouldn't keep going." or something like that. as if he knew it would make the guilt go through the roof, as if claude always knew how to push his buttons over and over again. as if it was harmless fun for the demon.
it's not like alois could have stopped it, he just ate a little snack (to be nice, of course. that sweet, old lady had brought a bunch to test a new recipe and wanted him to taste one, how could he deny it? he was her lord, after all!) and his empty stomach called for more, like a hungry beast that couldn't get enough no matter how much it feasted. it was so gross, it reminded him of ... that man, the man who never got enough no matter how hard he tried to please him.
so, as he used to do with lord trancy a while ago, he gave in. now suffering the consequences.
what were the consequences? feeling the fat hang more and more from his body with every bite, that disgusting feeling of fullness in his stomach, and the feeling of not being able to speak because he was sure bits of food would fall from his mouth, was that even possible? alois wasn't sure, but he felt repulsive. the young earl had no clue about what his body was doing, he had no clue about why his stomach was burning recently, why he was being woken up by the pain most of the time ... and then he finally stood up, grabbing his stomach with one hand, trying to make his way to his bathroom while leaning into everything he could. walls, furniture, anything. it was on the second floor, inside his room, so he had to try and deal with the stairs without agonizing, passing out or throwing up right where he was standing.
whispering could be heard bouncing off the walls, and they made him want to die, they made him want to kill everyone in that place and run away too.
every step felt like torture, his usually lightweight body felt chained down, like the roots of a plant.
and once he was there, he immediately got on his knees, the cold tile touching his bare skin and causing a goosebump to run through his small body. he remembered lord trancy, and how much he used to eat at dinner, parties, ceremonies ... no wonder he was that big, he always felt grossed out touching his skin, as if he was some contagious virus that, if you weren't careful enough, you'd catch.
alois couldn't look like him, he couldn't behave like him, he couldn't BE him.
he couldn't allow himself to do so, because it would mean he was just as filthy as that old, greasy, wretched man.
and alois trancy (maybe even jim macken, if he knew about the deceased lord.) couldn't bear the thought of being like him.
the dainty little ballerinas he once saw didn't look like ugly, filthy, vulgar men, and they definitely didn't binge on sweets and desserts. neither did butterflies. they were always flying around, just collecting their food and spreading it on the flowers to make them look beautiful.
no one binged like men, and he wasn't a man, so he refused to be a man just for that mere reason.
it took alois a while to realize he was crying, he was flinching and coughing a bit too much, whilst his own fingers dug deep into his throat, over and over again hoping to make himself empty his insides.
how did hannah allow claude to do something like that to her to take out that sword? ”what an impressive gag reflex she has!“ alois thought, maybe she wasn't so bad.
his chest was aching, he could feel spasms run through his body, his chest and stomach groaned in pain. it took a while just to look and ... notice some blood mixed between all those little bits of food and gastric fluids, it was a disgusting mess, did his body do that? eating was already a gross task, the feeling of food against his lips always felt awful, like poison.
the tingling in his lips always made alois avoid it, bitter reminders of the nights of of torment he lived sucking, coughing and being forced to suck once more.
he threw up a multitude of times during those days, it made his soul feel clean and pure once again.
but his mouth? no matter how much he cleaned, no matter how much soap he had to taste and eat ... his mouth, his lips were never clean, which made food dirty no matter how clean it seemed. the thought of bodily fluids entering his mouth made alois vomit again, this time against his own will, and more blood fell. he began coughing and wheezing loudly, covering his mouth with one hand and keeping the other one on his chest, grasping the clothes as if his life depended on it.
"is everything alright, young master?" a familiarly-soft, feminine voice could be heard outside the room, followed by knocking.
"go away!" alois screamed, his voice broken and raspy from what just happened, the taste of iron creeping slowly in his mouth, as the crimson liquid stained his hand and the edge of the toilet. "get the fuck out of here, hannah! and ... don't you dare call claude."
he began to cough once more after the effort given by his throat.
trancy felt his chest tightening up, as his body tensed up, curling up while on the floor, allowing himself to cry just this time.
and annafellows knew that she had to leave if she wanted to keep her other eye intact. however, something gave her the strength to come back moments later with glass of warm water. this time she refused to knock on the door, which made alois hiss and throw a brush at her. "get out, hannah!" once again, he was screaming at her, the routine was always that.
except this time there were tears in his eyes, and his sleeves were stained red.
surprisingly, the maid didn't back up. "you should drink some of this, it ... could help with your throat, young master." it was a lighthearted suggestion, one that alois could easily misunderstand and think she was mocking his own weakness.
as if the stars aligned, he accepted the glass of water.
he took a generous sip ...
and threw it towards the maid, failing and letting it shatter against the wall she had behind.