Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He didn't mean for 'it' to start, much less for 'it' to turn into anything. Not that he really saw it as anything, but he wasn't so stupid to think that everyone else would see it how he did. But like many things, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and the snowball effect quickly grew too big for someone to overcome alone.

If asked to pinpoint exactly when it started, Alfred wouldn't be able to tell you. He could already picture people rolling their smug eyes with the assumption that it was a recent thing, a flippant decision made on a whim that was better not acted upon. Because at the end of the day, he could already hear them calling him lazy for doing it the way he did and chalk it up to attention-seeking.

But for Alfred, it seemed like the inevitable outcome and people shouldn't be so surprised. All his life he had been vaguely aware of a few ideas and usually when they were brought up he never paid much attention to them. After all, they had just never applied to him. He just never clicked with the idea that these warnings were for him. 

He knew that eating too much makes you fat. Well, he 'knew' it without ever being explicitly told. That didn't make any sense, did it? People told him without telling him and that's how he knew that it was bad.

He enjoyed food but he didn't eat that much. He wasn't exactly as careful with what he ate as someone who pretended (at least, he assumed they pretended) to enjoy salads, but his eating habits weren't so bad that he needed a diet! He knew that children didn't have to worry about it too much, there's no need for them to be in shape. Being a late teen was still very much a child in many people's eyes and his own. People would always remind him that it's a good thing he's still growing while he was eating. It was rude and he shrugged it off, but the strange comments were never really forgotten.

Forget when the seeds were planted. He'd never be able to think so far back to be able to pinpoint. His whole life he'd been brushing off weird comments and vibes associated with food. If he had to choose the moment he started to take action, then he had a precise setting in mind.

He was having a frustrating, long day. Honestly, he just wanted to go home and become a vegetable on the couch as he played video games or doom-scrolled memes for the rest of the day. It was Summer break! The only thing that should be on his mind was absolutely nothing! He only had one Summer break left for the rest of his life! Well... schooling life. After that, it was the real world, and he didn't want to think about that! 

Instead of enjoying himself, he was navigating thick, loud crowds following the whim of his older brother/wannabe mother as they marched between stores. Usually, the mall wasn't so aggravating, but a series of bad moments led to a bad day and now Alfred was in a bad mood. He made sure everyone knew it. Groaning and mumbling to bypass annoying derivative conversations and encourage everyone to hurry up so they could just get home already.

One thing he particularly hated was clothes shopping. Shopping just wasn't his thing, y'know? It was boring and stupid at best and grating at worst. He never knew what the big deal about clothes was but to each their own he supposed. What he really detested was being made to participate, something he made clear when Arthur demanded he tried on clothes because 'he could use them' and 'Arthur was just trying to look out for his sodding brothers', as if what Alfred had at home wasn't fine enough or he even wanted this.

There was no arguing as he sighed and accepted the pile of clothes thrust into his hands. He slinked away to the changing rooms and pulled the curtain harder than necessary. There were 3 mirrors, one to his left, right, and one directly in front of him illuminated by a soft light between them. He stared at his reflection for a moment before breaking eye contact, pushing his glasses onto his head and scrubbing at his face. As much as he wanted to just hide in there and take a breather, he wouldn't put it past his overbearing helicopter brother to walk in and check how the clothes fit. Considering how packed the line of changing rooms was, that would be super embarrassing. Everyone would be able to hear them with only a curtain for privacy. 

He just wanted to get this over with.

There was a plain white shirt, no doubt for 'formal occasions'. He sighed and dumped his favourite jacket on the floor and kicked it into the corner. The pile got bigger as his shirt joined and he turned to the white pristine shirt, free of smudge marks and wrinkle lines, unlike his own clothes. Awkward fingers undid the buttons one by one and he took it off the hook. It felt strange as he put it on, but from pulling the middle together he could tell it would fit. He almost didn't 'put it on properly' by ignoring the buttons, but more time in the changing room was more time for everyone else to finish.

Doing up the too-small buttons with too-big fingers wasn't much of a challenge. With no subtlety, he started to check himself out in the mirror. He didn't look too bad! If you ignored how his faded jeans clashed - his favourite pair to throw on because he was too lazy to style - then he definitely looked smart. He was quite pleased that he found something that he could buy and felt like he achieved something on this trip. Maybe if he says yes to this dumb shirt then Arthur would finally get off his back and worry about Alfred's more cooperative brother that Arthur would demand to clothe too.

But first, he had to be sure that it was actually good. Sure, it would be all too easy to just say yes and then never wear it, but if he actually had to wear it (big if) or got a chance to wear it and impress everyone with how smart he looked, then he'd have to make sure it would fit.

He did some stretches, moving his arms from side to side, then up-

Suddenly the shirt became a crop top and his stomach was exposed to the world. Alfred 'tsked' as the fabric crunched uncomfortably and suddenly was too rough against his raw skin and his brain was screaming for him to get it off and he wasn't going to disobey those commands. His fat fingers hastily fumbled with the buttons and he internally growled at the fact that they just wouldn't come off-

Thankfully he got them off and freed his skin from the wretched piece of clothing. He tossed it aside vindictively, but now he was faced with having to try on some pants. Plain-looking black slacks, for formal occasions. 

They didn't go any better.

He knew that they must be a size too small but he was determined to get them up over his thighs, but no matter his stubborn pulling he couldn't fight the taunt fabric.

He quickly got them off, irritated at the stupid garment that it just wouldn't fit right away. Now when Arthur came in and heard they were too small, he'd just go get another pair to make Alfred try on! He groaned out loud and crashed his head against the mirror. He didn't want to try on more shit, couldn't he just say no and go home? Seriously, he was almost an adult. He should be allowed to say no!

As if it were that easy. He could picture Arthur pulling the 'you live under my roof, you follow my rules' bullshit. Plus the minute Alfred turns 18 and becomes an adult, Arthur would probably charge him rent. Even if he's technically a single parent at the age of 20-something and therefore in theory sympathetic, Alfred didn't give a shit. The minute he had to pay rent the minute he was gunning for his independence.

But that wasn't really relevant and Alfred still had to try the clothes on. He sighed, loudly, uncaring who was listening to his ordeal or judging him for turning it into such a big deal. 

There was still another pair of pants to try on and here he was standing in his underwear inside a cramped cupboard-sized room having a staring contest with himself in the mirror. Not wanting to be found like that and chastised for his lack of cooperation, he pulled himself away.

Alfred wanted to punch something when a pair of 'trendy' khaki pants wouldn't go further than halfway up his thighs. Seriously, did they have to be so tight?! He groaned. He wasn't that fucking fat, was he? He glared at himself in the mirror. Sure, he knew that the pants were just a little bit small, but it didn't stop him from noticing, really noticing what his body looked like.

His thighs bulged over where the pants couldn't go any further and his gut seemed a bit pudgy. The mirrors on the side weren't doing him any favours as he caught his side profile. The first image that came to his mind was a grey alien because no way was that silhouette human.

He knew that was just what he looked like and any other day he would've brushed it off and just taken it as a fact. But today, he couldn't stand it. Today was a horrible day, and he had a horrible body.

Naturally, Arthur came in then and saw the pants were too small. Apparently, he thought that was just his size. Bitterly, he wondered if that was the size he was supposed to be. Was this what he got for not taking care of himself? For eating too much and being a big slob? Would he not be subjected to this if he was just 'in shape'?

He resolved to change that ASAP. 

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When he got home, he claimed he didn't need dinner because today had just been so busy and he wasn't hungry. It was unusual for him to claim as such, but nobody forced anything down his throat. All he got was a raised eyebrow from Arthur, who then immediately forgot when he heard the click of a boiled kettle and Alfred slipped from the room.

So when Alfred climbed into bed that night, despite the squirming and clenching of his hungry stomach edging from distracting to painful, he felt like he was making progress. He kept repeating that in his mind as he lay awake for hours his clenched eyes as he willed himself to sleep.

When he woke up, there was a calmness inside his body and he knew he could go without breakfast too. But he broke his streak by lunch. He was hungry and microwave pizza was too good to resist. He enjoyed eating it at the time but then he felt guilty about breaking his streak over something so small. His stomach growled and demanded more, his salivating mouth chimed in as his body wondered when it would get its lunch dessert. Alfred really had to fight himself to resist. He knew where the chocolate was and he just wanted one bar... fuck, his mouth really wanted to chomp on something. But he couldn't just eat nothing, right?

So he picked an apple. Even if it was boring and he really wanted the chocolate bar. That's healthy enough right? Maybe that was a good idea. Just a couple of small changes here and there, plus going for a run around the block once a day. 

Seemed fair to him. But how would he know if it's working or not?

In the end, he decided to weigh himself every day. And because he knew his memory was really shit, he'd write it down too so he wouldn't forget how much he weighed the day before. 

Between missing 1 meal a day and choosing 'healthy' options, he figured it would be enough. Hopefully.

A little voice in the back of his head told him he wouldn't see real change unless he did something extreme, but Alfred was lazy and the struggles of yesterday didn't piss him off as much as they did yesterday, so he figured as long as he was trying something, it would be enough.

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To his frustration, he stayed a stable weight for a couple of weeks, which was really discouraging because wouldn't he at least lose a little for his efforts? He was sacrificing chocolate for fucks sake! He hadn't had chocolate for weeks and you're telling him he hadn't lost a thing!

Figuring that it didn't make a fucking difference, he ate all the chocolate in one night while playing his favourite game instead of going for a run or something. He's missed it and it felt sooooo good in the moment. 

Until he saw how the wrappers piled up. And the moment had passed. And he couldn't even taste the chocolate in his mouth anymore.

He probably didn't need to eat them all in one go. He didn't need them at all. Did he really even enjoy them? Now he had none later and despite knowing he made no progress over the past few weeks, it felt like he was going back on it anyway. Suddenly he didn't feel right anymore and an uncomfortable feeling made a home in his chest.

Fuck it, he could still balance it out. He didn't have dinner and went to bed with a churning stomach. It hurt and was hard to get comfortable, but determination filled him as he reminded himself of the calm feeling in the morning. That episode with the chocolate was the last. Alfred hoped he enjoyed it because now he was serious. He was going to lose his damn weight and finally get into shape!

His whole life he'd been asked when he was planning on getting into shape, some kind of ideal form of being that Alfred just never understood. He never understood why they asked or the way they asked, because that just implied there was something wrong with the way he was now. Like he was supposed to be somewhere else and choosing, stubbornly, not to get there. Of course, he just never thought those comments applied to him. He could move, he could run, ergo he was 'in shape'... enough. But apparently not.

He was starting to see it now. Suddenly he felt stupid for not getting it and he could feel his face heat up when he thought about how everyone must've been shaking their heads behind his back and judging him for what they probably thought was purposeful and obtuse ignorance.

Alfred stared at himself in the mirror the next morning, the early sun illuminating his room in fresh light and allowing him to examine everything with great scrutiny. Standing there in only his underwear, he could see his pudgy body for what it was. Fuck, that was what he looked like? How embarrassing. He cringed. Before, it was just his vessel, but now he knew it was more than that. He turned to his side and was disappointed when the imperfections popped out. His belly hung over a little and he should definitely stand up straighter, his spine was kinda weird and there was a bump on the back of his neck, probably from looking down at his phone so often. But he was always an optimist in the face of adversary. It gave him hope that it seemed the solution was so easy.

From now on, he'll pair his techniques. He'll swap out bad food for healthy, skip some meals, go for runs, and force himself to have good posture and hold his phone higher so his neck doesn't bulge out. Hopefully, that would make a difference.

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Being consciously aware of all this stuff is really exhausting. Alfred's back hurt from forcing the posture but he really didn't want to slump. Sitting normally before never felt weird, but being mindful of where his body was at all times made him feel like he'd been weird all this time and now he didn't know how to sit normally. Could everyone else see it? Were they just politely not saying anything?

He'd have to figure out how people sit before he goes back to school. 

Or sooner, because he thought he saw Arthur giving him weird looks and while Alfred pretended not to notice, he couldn't ignore the way his heart sped up and his hands clammed up.

Holding a phone at eye level so he didn't look down really made his arms hurt, he never knew he was so weak and was disappointed in himself. But maybe if he kept at it then it'd tone his arms because they were kinda flabby. It felt like morbid curiosity to look at the bag of fat on the underside of where his biceps should be. With each movement of his arm, no matter how small or exaggerated, it swung and juggled and with detached contempt, Alfred detested that it was attached to him.

But most people had fat on their arms, right? That didn't make him feel any better about having it attached to his body though. He just hoped no one noticed it as much as he did. Now that he knew it was there, every time he checked himself in the mirror he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Alfred managed to switch out bad foods for good though. It was relieving to be able to do at least one thing right. His body adjusted to not having breakfast. It wasn't a good idea to miss so many dinners. Because it was Summer break, his breakfast was actually lunch, so no one would notice him skip. When school came back, he'd still be able to skip because everyone was busy in the mornings and couldn't keep track. It was less risky to skip than dinner and now his body was already adjusted for when school started again! 

Going for runs actually went well and he found himself getting faster and faster. It did wonders for his motivation and soon he was adding on one block after another to really tire himself out. No matter how tired he got, he forced himself to keep going. More running meant less weight after all. 

He didn't weigh himself for a month while he mixed all his tactics together. He didn't want to be disappointed when there wasn't a massive change day after day, so he figured that if he just waited he'd be blown away by his progress. As time passed he became more nervously excited to see how he did and he couldn't stop betting on the number. He had to have lost 30 pounds (~13 kg). At least. With that number in his mind, he felt like all his hard work was worth it. After all, what's a Summer break without constant snacking?

So this morning, Alfred was prepared to be blown away by how much he'd lost since the last time he stepped on the scales aaaaaand... he saw he lost a grand total of 8 pounds. (~3.6 kg)

Are you fucking kidding me?

That's hardly anything! He had googled how much someone his age should weigh and he's 44 pounds overweight! (~20 kg). The exact number is irrelevant, but tears pricked in his eyes when he saw he still weighed over 200 pounds! (~90kg).

And all he could lose was 8 measly little pounds. That was fucking nothing.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Alfred kept muttering as he stared at the number. "Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck me!"

Alfred glowered at the scale and smushed his shoe into it to either punish it or make him feel better. It did neither.

He balled his hands up as his face contorted in frustration. So what the hell was all that work for then! If he hardly lost a fucking thing why did he put in so much effort?! He's tempted to throw the scales out of the window, but the logical part of his mind reminds him that he needed it and how else would he tell if he lost weight? Plus Arthur would never shut the fuck up if Alfred broke something and whenever Arthur was breathing down his neck, Alfred was always stressed. Stressed equalled eating so he really should avoid that.

But back to losing weight, he still needed to lose it. Though it seems he would only lose the weight by magical means! Because seriously, what the fuck? Life was so unfair!

Feeling bitter and wanting to bring himself comfort, he stormed to the kitchen with only one goal in mind: chocolate. He was a little put off when he came face to face with his distorted mirror image.

"You alright eh?" Matthew asked as he ate a pancake omelette, which Alfred could not take his eyes off, even as Matthew read Alfred's mind and partially shielded it. Fuck chocolate, he was scabbing his twin's food!

Wait. He was so stupid. How could he forget he had a twin? He supposed it was fair, considering they didn't share a room and they both did their own thing most of the time. But this meant he had a frame of reference for what he could be if he actually tried. Matthew!

Matthew was 'in shape' and Alfred was always being compared to him. Though usually, it was about their temperament. Intelligence or cleanliness, sometimes it was about the fact that Matthew played a lot of sports and Alfred played e-sports and it showed in their bodies. Not that Alfred really noticed their bodies before, they both work oversized and baggy things. Alfred was never seen without his cool-ass bomber jacket and Matthew had a cozy maple hoodie so it wasn't like Alfred saw a major difference between their bodies anyway. 

It wasn't like he was ever looking. That was probably weird. He didn't know, he just never thought about it and now he was considering how weird it would be.

The chocolate and pancakes were still at the forefront of his mind - because he's Alfred and he's always thinking about food ha ha ha - but now he was focused on his goal of seeing what his body could look like! If it was just normal for his body to look this way, then so would Matthew's! Alfred would have to find out what Matthew looked like before he undid all his progress by having some yummy, yummy food. Because if it was so hard for him to lose weight, then maybe he was meant to look like this. So before he gave up, he needed to scheme a scheme to find out what he needed to know.

"I'm booooooored," Alfred slumped in the chair opposite his twin, his eyes drawn to the movement of his brother moving the pancake out of reach. "Did you wanna go swimming or something?"

"Swimming?" Matthew repeated suspiciously. What the hell was so suspicious about it?

"Yeah, we haven't been to the swimming centre before and I'm bored so why not? We haven't hung in ages!"

It was probably his fault they weren't as close as they could be. He prioritised video games and doom-scrolling over everything and could waste the entire day away. Sure, Matthew would join him here and there if he was playing a multiplayer game and they'd get super competitive and have a lot of fun, but ultimately Matthew just didn't love video games as much as Alfred did and wouldn't play them day in and day out.

Luckily Alfred didn't need to push hard to get what he wanted. Maybe Matthew was bored or didn't have anything else to do, but he agreed with a shrug. 

Alfred scrambled together what he needed in his room. He got a towel and goggles and changed into his swimming trunks. He stepped in front of the mirror and for the first time Alfred could ever recall, he was nervous to go out because of what he was wearing. Was that weird? He blinked as he thought about how that insecurity was stereotypical of a teenage girl. Would it be sexist to assume this was only a girl's problem? Did boys ever worry about things like this? He assumed they didn't because he hadn't ever heard a boy complain. Or maybe boys weren't meant to complain? So he sighed and resolved to make sure no one knew he even thought about it. That would be weird anyway and he didn't want people thinking he was weird. Or looked weird...

His bottom half looked fine, being covered by shorts and all, but his top half... his stomach seemed to spill over the hem of the shorts and his arms were still flappy. He frowned and wondered if he should put a shirt on or something. But then that would be weird. Why would he need to wear a shirt? He never did before and it wasn't like he was protecting his skin from the sun inside a covered building... but he just wanted to put on a shirt. He didn't want to see what he looked like and he didn't want Matthew to see or be grossed out if he did look bad. Alfred wanted to see Matthew, not the other way around!

Would that be weird without context?

But he had already made up his mind. No matter what the results were and if Matthew's body looked just like his, Alfred still couldn't accept looking this way. It was gross and he was gross.

A scheme came to him, if Matthew was wearing a shirt then Alfred would put on one too, so he didn't look weird not wearing one. Yeah, that sounded good. He ignored how he found himself hoping Matthew was wearing one as he went to check on his brother.

"Come in," Matthew said as Alfred rapped on his door and Alfred kicked it open. Matthew was sitting on his bed and shoving his stuff in a bag... and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Alfred's plastered smile faltered when he realized that now it would be weird if he put one on, especially when Matthew just saw him without one. Fuck, he should've thought that through. But he really wanted to cover up. If people saw him and Matthew side by side then their differences would be as bright as day and Alfred felt shame in knowing people would notice.

But he didn't know for certain if Matthew looked any different from him, for all he knew-

Matthew stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. Alfred could see exactly what he wanted to and suddenly he wished he didn't. Matthew was certainly 'in shape' and more fit than Alfred would ever be. He wasn't chubby or pudgy, he was lean and slim and Alfred felt bloated standing right there-

"Are we going?" Matthew asked, confusion on his face as to why Alfred was zoning out. Good thing he didn't notice his brother staring at his body and Alfred quickly snapped his act back together.

"Sure are! Lemme grab my shit."

When he came back, he was holding his bag in front of himself and his spine was pulled as taunt as he could get it in a desperate attempt at 'posture' (what even is 'posture' anyway? The word doesn't feel like a word anymore). He didn't want Matthew to notice what a slob he was. When they walked into the centre, the bag stayed protectively right in front of him. He clutched onto it when they walked along the edge of the pool and passed all the parents sitting there with arms or legs crossed and with sunglasses over their eyes which only had Alfred catch his own reflection when he looked their way... He only parted with the bag to get into the water and hoped that between leaving it on the seat at getting in, no one noticed and judged him.

Seeing his not-so-identical twin be wayyy better than him not only ignited a slight jealousy that wasn't there before, but also really motivated him to stop being a pudgy freak. He spent most of his time in water deeper than his shoulders, miserable and motivated as he schemed.

Once they got back home, Alfred didn't eat anything for the rest of the day. It was very difficult but he did it. Instead of eating, he ran around the blocks until his knees were knocking and he was tired enough to sleep on the sidewalk. Only then was he satisfied that would finally make a difference. 

When the next day came, his stomach was churning. He really didn't want to give in, not after all that effort, so he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. He couldn't be hungry if he was sleeping. Only the hunger pains kept him from getting comfortable and gifted him a headache. He sighed and couldn't help but think of all the delicious cereals waiting for him in the kitchen... so quick and easy to grab, nice to munch...

He resolved that he'd have lunch, a nice healthy lunch, but until then he had to distract himself from eating. Maybe drinking would suffice until then, you couldn't gain weight from water, right? He drank a whole cup of water and then jumped into the shower. He got out feeling refreshed and stepped on the scales. He hadn't magically dropped by any great number, it had only been a day, but Alfred still felt disappointed. He noted the number and when he got to his room he collapsed into his wheely chair and wrote the number down with all the others. It had been some time since he had regularly recorded but suddenly all he wanted to do was take notes on it obsessively. For some reason, he couldn't wait for tomorrow when he'd weigh himself again and found himself looking forward to filling out the week.

He looked over the numbers he had already wrote and frowned. Maybe it was normal for weight to fluctuate a little each day, but as long as it was moving in a downward trend then he'd be alright with it. Taking out some paper, he drew a graph of all the previous numbers and dates. It seemed rather stagnant until he didn't weigh himself for a month and it dropped in comparison, quite a lot. But not enough. He could stand to lose more. He patted a hand against his stomach and cringed when it jiggled. He could grab it with his fist and it made him feel sick, cringing at the change of taste in his mouth when he felt the fat flesh.

He drew another graph. If he measured each day then maybe it would make him feel better, make him feel like he was making progress. He resolved to weigh himself every day. At the very least it would keep him motivated.

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A week passed, far too slowly considering how each day was a battle and the kitchen cupboards were far too close and convenient. While Alfred may be a lazy slob, he was also stubborn as hell and he wanted to stick this through more than he initially thought. Resisting sweet, sweet sugary food was all worth it though and Alfred was pleased that his graph was slowly inching down. Not as fast as he would like, but progress was progress. It did make him wonder how much more efficient he could be though. He felt like he should be doing more.

But he didn't know what else to do. It already felt like he was doing a lot and he was finally getting results that validated that. What else could he do? Once he had the question in his mind, he knew he would be stewing until he had an answer.

But that wasn't the only thing he was stewing over when something else came to his attention. Something he forgot, or didn't realise changed everything and he needed a way to deal with it, fast or he risked backtracking all the effort he painstakingly went through!

Every week or so, Arthur demanded they have a family dinner. Even before Alfred started all these changes he found these family dinners to be fucking annoying and it grated on his nerves how Arthur just whimsically tried to play happy family every now and again and Alfred was just supposed to play along.

He supposed the family dinners were entertaining enough, in theory. Alfred and Arthur got along in the strangest way, but it was always entertaining for everyone involved. Well, maybe not Arthur, because when he and Alfred got into arguments he seemed genuinely invested in making his point as loud as possible as if he could really convince Alfred otherwise. It probably was only entertaining for Alfred, because he knew Matthew wasn't impressed by the conflict he caused.

But at the end of the day, it didn't really matter. Dinner always came to an end (eventually) and when it was a family dinner, it meant a feast. Or at least what Alfred had pretended was a feast in the past. If anything, there were just a few modest options to choose from and Alfred just saw it as an upgrade from the usual everyone-for-themselves routine that applied to any other day of the week.

In the past he always looked forward to these family dinners because Matthew would cook a few options to outnumber Arthurs and put something edible on the table, which Alfred always appreciated. He never cooked anything himself but he didn't need to when Matthew really enjoyed it and always insisted that he was fine with labouring for so long and making so much.

He really was the better twin, wasn't he? Alfred felt guilty at the thought. He just hoped no one else noticed how little he gave and how much he took...

Who was he kidding? Of course they noticed.

Aaaaand with that in mind, Alfred resolved to figuring out how to approach family dinner. Not only was there no way not to get away with not eating, Alfred wanted to eat it and enjoy the food but he really didn't want to undo any progress. He lost 5 pounds (~2kg) this week and he wasn't about to put it back on by being a greedy dumbass. He would just take a reasonable amount and stop eating once he wasn't hungry. He didn't need to be full, just not hungry.

And while he was at it, he would thank his brother for pulling both of their weights because Alfred didn't contribute at all, as usual.

Arthur had made a salad, as usual, along with some other things that looked healthy. Alfred eyed them and questioned his sanity. Usually, Alfred would ignore the salad as a valid option but with great dismay, he thought he should at least consider it. He did, then remembered that Arthur made it and decided that it was not on the menu for him. 

"So, how have you been?" Arthur asked as he put the salad on the table and engaged in the traditional small talk that was boring and stupid as fuck.

Alfred shrugged. He didn't really have a lot to say. There was only one thing on his mind daily but it wouldn't be smart to say that. It would make the conversation weird and he might be oblivious at times but he knew it was inappropriate to voice things like that about himself. He wouldn't want it to be taken the wrong way after all.

"Just video games y'know, what's new?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Right, of course. I dread to see the energy bill after you go back to school," Arthur said, sounding disappointed and Alfred glanced away with annoyance and a little guilt. Arthur just sighed and changed the subject.

"Now, are you going to at least try my salad this time? I know you think healthy food is boring, but I think you might appreciate the dressing. At the very least, it would be good for you."

Alfred's stomach sank. It would be good for him, wouldn't it? He should, shouldn't he? He didn't want to, but life was apparently full of doing things you don't want to do and he'd come this far... if he had to do it, then so be it.

"I'm not hearing you say no. Good lord, do you have a temperature or something?" Arthur muttered and placed a hand on Alfred's forehead. Suddenly Alfred was more irritable than he'd ever been when just arguing, at least not when actually fighting with Arthur. Proper fights were rare, but usually they had more warning than just coming out of nowhere.

"Why the fuck did you ask if I'm not allowed to say yes then?" He exploded and felt like shit when Arthur flinched back, yanking his hand away in surprise before a stormy expression came onto his face.

"Because I'm making conversation, brat. And I'm looking out for you by suggesting you take better care of yourself! Do you want to eat yourself into an early grave?"

"If you think that eating is so bad then why don't you tell me not to eat your stupid salad?!"

Matthew tried to break them up but Alfred just ignored his annoying glare. No doubt he thought Alfred was starting drama for no reason for something stupid like attention and not because Arthur was being an asshole!

Their fight didn't last much longer anyway. Not when Arthur suddenly decided to snap and put his foot down. He actually sent Alfred to his room and Alfred had to keep the shock from his face. Easy enough to do when his mouth suddenly sneered and he stormed away. He wasn't doing it because he was obedient, he was going it to get away from fucking Arthur.

Though the second he turned, Arthur decided he would keep on yapping.

"If you don't apologise for starting problems, then you'll be missing dinner!"

Alfred gave him the finger, because fuck that! Why the hell should he apologise when Arthur started it just as much as Alfred did! In the past, withholding dinner was only a threat Arthur had resorted to in order to keep the table peaceful. It was only ever used against him though, supposedly because it was only effective against him. 'Alfred loved food' and if you controlled the food you controlled Alfred. 

But not tonight. He groaned and stomped to his room, kicking the door closed and flopping onto his bed with his arms crossed while he pouted. But the anger was only on the surface, inside he was elated because he just realised how clever he'd unintentionally been. Fuck, he's a genius.

If he didn't apologise, it wouldn't be all that strange or suspicious because he was so stubborn. If he didn't apologise, he wouldn't have to eat tonight and he won't accidentally go back on everything he'd done so far! Genius! All he had to do was pick a fight with Arthur every time he came and then he wouldn't have to worry about eating. Now that he thought about that sentence, that was a first. But he supposed he had to grow up sometime. Long gone are the days when he ate whatever he liked without consequences.

He spent some time scrolling on his phone and tuning out the muffled noises coming from the other side of his door as Arthur and Matthew chatted without him. Alfred just tuned them out, he didn't want to hear about how Arthur preferred to eat with Matthew over him. So Alfred just distracted himself with his phone.

Alfred had almost forgotten about what was going on in the other room when Arthur strutted into his room, arms crossed and stuck up scowl on his face. Alfred sighed and threw his phone down as he prepared himself for whatever was about to go down.

"You're more stubborn than I give you credit for," Arthur sighed and leaned against the door, raising a single eyebrow. "Though I must say I'm surprised. I thought you'd suck it up and apologise because your appetite came before your ego." 

Alfred could feel his face contorting into offended annoyance at the jab. Could Arthur just get the fuck out of his room? He didn't need to come in here just to taunt him.

"Fine, have it your way. Don't apologise. I'll be the bigger person and let your moment of teenage angst go so you can still have dinner. Lord knows how grumpy you would be if you don't get to stuff your gob."

The annoyance bubbled into bitterness inside of Alfred. He had a plan and now Arthur was ruining it! And for what? Because it would make him feel like he's better than Alfred? The teen bit his tongue as he thought about how he was meant to respond. He had to tread carefully here because if he was too suspicious, then he'd give himself away and he really didn't want to get in trouble for what he was trying to do. The last thing he needed was for someone to try and stop him from achieving his goal.

In the end, he didn't get a choice. His hesitation was too long and Arthur sighed and threw his hands up.

"Well, it's not like I was expecting gratitude! Forgive me for expecting some manners, a simple 'thanks' would do. Suit yourself, but you'd better come out of your moody cave sometime soon or there won't be anything left for you to eat."

Arthur stepped out and left the door open a sliver instead of fully shutting it and Alfred glared. Fuck, his brother could be so pretentiously annoying sometimes. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled as he thought about not going out there. His hand formed a fist, his blunt nails dug into his palm and he punched his bed. Fuuuuck, seemed he'd be going out there.

Stepping out of his room to see his brothers were already sitting around the table gave him the strange sense that he was being evaluated. With their eyes on his, his annoyance skyrocketed and he had to fight to stop it from becoming full-blown anger. He had to stop everyone from noticing how much of a foul mood he was in for he'd have explaining to do as to why he felt so entitled to be angry. Because Alfred loves food and should be happy he gets to eat.

So he choked it down and took his seat.

There was a sizeable portion of the shared plates missing, but there was still food on his brother's plates so they hadn't been eating for long. Maybe they had been too busy talking... probably about him. Alfred swallowed back any worry for what they were saying and focused on the task at hand.

At least Arthur didn't demand that Alfred say grace, so he could think in peace. Usually with every shared meal, they said grace and everyone lunged towards the food, desperate to scab what they had a hankering for before someone else did. Usually, Alfred was always the swiftest and most aggressive, Matthew a close second because polite courtesy did not apply to hunger and damn could his twin get hangry. 

He distantly wondered if anyone ever said comments to Matthew about his appearance or weight, or if it was just Alfred.

That was irrelevant now. This time Alfred was the last one to put something on his plate and never before had he hesitated like this. Everyone moved on instinct while he was rooted in his chair actually thinking about what he could eat. Conversation started around him, but he couldn't focus as the thoughts in his head consumed him. His eyes were stuck on the food and he was terrified to look anywhere else. All he could do was imagine everyone was staring at him with judgment. Judging him for acting weird... wow he really needed to get a grip and put up an act. But he could also see them judging him for piling up his plate and polishing it clean. That was something he vowed would be a thing of the past but he could still imagine what everyone was thinking, unknowingly to him at the time. He hadn't really considered it at the time, he was just enjoying the food. But no doubt he grossed everyone out. Always the one to take the last drink and slice of pizza. He could only imagine what a critical Arthur was holding back, no doubt thinking he was virtuous for holding his tongue and not pointing out how his little brother was putting on unnecessary weight. Alfred wondered what Matthew was thinking, no doubt keeping silent to keep the peace and feeling like he was the bigger person by pretending it wasn't his business.

Arthur probably favoured Matthew over him. He only needed one good twin, right? Matthew was active, fit, and went outside instead of playing video games all day. Arthur openly praised him for that, so who knows what else... Matthew probably knew what grass felt like. To top it off he was polite and didn't complain half as much as Alfred. Yeah, if it was Alfred's choice, he'd have a favourite too.

"Alfred, you should call an electrician because I believe the wiring upstairs is faulty."

"Huh," Alfred blinked and focused on Arthur, who had a thick eyebrow raised in his direction as he ate. 

"He's calling you an NPC," Matthew added helpfully. Alfred couldn't help but feel cornered under their scrutinised gazes. 

"Sure, that," Arthur sighed. "Go to bed early tonight. I doubt it would do any good but there must really be something wrong with you if you're hesitating to eat."

Alfred didn't really feel like eating. Sure, he was hungry and the smells were tempting, but he didn't really want to actually put it in his stomach. But tonight was okay, because he had to. Plus it was only one night. If he ate a lot today then he'd just eat less tomorrow. That seemed reasonable. Yes, that was a plan.

"I just didn't know what to eat first, 's'all," Alfred snarked and he put some things on his plate. A little bit of each salad and a small cut of each meat. Maybe if he got a variety and spread it out a bit it might look like his usual portion of 'a lot.' But the idea of that still made him feel guilty. Seeing just how much he used to casually eat visualised out in front of him made him hate himself for eating himself into this predicament in the first place. If he just held back a little bit (well, a lot actually), then he wouldn't have to work so hard now to get himself to where he should be.

But when Arthur politely and routinely asked him about whatever current game he was playing, Alfred was able to take his mind off of his obsession as he moved on to another one and in great detail described the exploits of his video adventure.

He was too busy talking that eating just happened naturally. It was comforting and he enjoyed the taste. When his plate was empty it was hardly a hard decision to add some more. It was second nature and he put no real thought into it. After all, he was going to eat it. His mind wasn't fully present to stop him or beg him otherwise with reason.

It was only after, when his brothers were packing up the leftovers and wrapping things up that Alfred realised that he could've just kept on eating, and it wasn't because he was hungry. He was eating because it was there and it was something to do. He felt too warm as he tried to figure out just how much he ate and why the hell did he eat so much? His body was burning and he was too hot for his own skin. His stomach felt too heavy and out of place and Alfred wished he didn't eat all that. Paranoia settled in as he just wanted to break away and jump on the scales to figure out just how much he set himself back.

He took steadying breaths. Why was he getting so upset? If he lost the weight before, he can lose it again? Besides, it was only one night.

He kept repeating that in his head. The taste of the delicious food on his tongue had turned to ash and the satisfaction had worn off. He was hyper-aware of how his stuffed body felt when he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, rationalising that he was taking this too far, that feeling this shit was wrong but also entirely his fault.

Of course, he felt shit. A grown adult didn't need to eat as much as he did. He just won't eat that much again.

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He didn't eat that much again, but-

After family dinner, he swung the pendulum as far as he could the other way. He ate as little as possible and only stuck to a few very boring, healthy options when he did. 

But eventually, the pendulum snapped and he fell back into bad habits.

It all started when he saw that Matthew put away some blocks of chocolate in the cupboard. Although Alfred really missed chocolate, he knew he couldn't have it. It was a 'bad' food and he didn't need it. But he just couldn't stop thinking about it.

In the end, he decided it was okay if he had one row. Sure it was full of sugar and sugar was bad, but he didn't have that much to eat today so it wouldn't actually affect his weight, right?

So he paused his video game and snuck into the kitchen. No one was there to see him break off a singular row and return to the game. He played for a couple of minutes before he paused the game again. The row he had was gone and it wouldn't really matter if he had another, right? He went back into the kitchen, opened the cupboard and snapped a row before putting it back. It tasted soooooo good and it melted in his mouth and it was gone before he even unpaused the game. He played for a few minutes as he enjoyed the lingering taste in his mouth. He hadn't had anything overly sugary for the past forever! It had been beyond difficult not to give in, but with most things hidden in the cupboards, it had been out of sight and out of mind. 

He kept playing the game but couldn't stop tapping his foot. He itched to pause the game but he didn't want to have more. Two rows were more than enough.

But he could enjoy more.

He wanted to focus on the game and kept playing, but somehow he couldn't become fully immersed.

He paused the game.

Somehow, he was hardly surprised when after so many trips, he was holding the empty wrapper of what was once a full block of chocolate only half an hour ago.

shit
shit shit shit shitshtiishsihtshtishitsshit

It had just been so easy to keep eating once he had the taste of chocolate in his mouth. Each row was hardly big enough to really enjoy the taste and it was all gone too soon.

Alfred buried the wrapper in the outside bin so no one would see what he'd done. He didn't go back to his game, he couldn't enjoy it anymore, so instead he locked himself in his room as he paced and pulled at his hair.

He didn't mean to do that. He didn't mean to do that! His eyes burned as he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Why couldn't he stop himself? Fuck, was that going to show up on his graph? Pacing back and forth only made him restless. Fine, he slipped up, but it was only one slip-up, right? He could still work it off. Today was just a cheat day. A reward for losing another 10 pounds (~4.5kg) in the past week. He dressed in his athletic gear and left through his window. Who knows what his brothers would say if they knew he was going to exercise. 

All Alfred had to do was work it off and he'd be fine. He'd just have to make sure it didn't happen again.

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It happened again. Not immediately, thank fuck, because he'd never be able to forgive himself if he sabotaged his efforts again so soon. But no, it was a week later when he woke up to a glorious smell wafting through the house and what he should've done was lock himself in his room and try to fall back asleep. Going back to sleep had been working most mornings whenever the threat of pigging out on food was too big to handle. But he didn't go back to sleep. No, instead his sleep-addled mind dragged his zombie-like body out of his cozy warm bed to go check it out. Matthew was making pancakes. And since his twin was in a good mood, he was happy to share.

One thing led to another and Alfred ate the pancakes. He shouldn't have even had one. He was no longer hungry in the mornings so he didn't even need to eat it. But he did and he had another, then another, then another- Each covered in a new topping that made him crave another. One with ice cream and strawberry sauce, one with a shitton of crunchy sugar and lemon juice, one soaked with maple syrup because if he didn't then Matthew would use up all the syrup and Alfred couldn't let that happen-

He felt sick afterwards. When he returned to his room Alfred turned the mirror around. He was too upset to even look at himself. He wanted to pull at his hair and scrub at his eyes because he just couldn't resist. He had been losing weight too! His graph was going to be so fucked up! How could he keep the weight off if he just loved food too much?

He fell back onto his bed as his breaths came out short and rough. He ached to take back the action, to make things right. But he just couldn't do the right thing for himself no matter how hard he tried. Why couldn't he just not be fat?

He wanted to eat, he wanted to taste. But he didn't want the consequences that came with it. He needed a solution before he sabotaged himself again. He didn't trust himself at all and didn't want to touch it again.

Until he came up with a solution, he would just have to try not to eat at all. He would only eat if he absolutely had to. He knew he had to eat something, it was just a matter of what and when. But until he worked out a better system he was safer not eating at all.

Surely he would come up with a solution before he starved to death.

Chapter Text

So, it would probably be easiest to explain Alfred's thought process here, but the good news was he had a solution and it'd only been 3 days.

The bad news was he was kind of stupid for taking 3 days to think it up, but in his defence thinking was hard. His stomach wouldn't stop hurting on the first day, but by the second he felt delightfully empty and by the third, he was sure his stomach had to have shrunk and he wanted to know just how long he could keep this up. How big of a number could he make this streak?

(His streak of not eating lasted 5 days and then they had another family dinner. Alfred had no choice but to break it then, but he wasn't too upset about it. He ate healthily and not excessively and he figured that if it kept his brothers off his back, then so be it.)

It was the only thing he ever thought about when he wasn't distracted by gaming or running around the blocks over and over, so by day three he finally had a solution. He didn't know much about how the body worked, because he kinda slacked in biology, but from his general knowledge that everyone had, he assumed he had the basics. 

He figured the nutrients of food are absorbed through the stomach but not immediately. If food was healthy then it would have good nutrients that wouldn't make him fat. Sure, if he ate a lot of healthy food he would still put on weight so he would have to look out for that, but that wasn't the point. Bad and unhealthy food had bad nutrients that would definitely make him fat and ruin his skin and teeth and probably be bad for him in other ways that he didn't exactly know about - but he just knew it was bad and to be avoided at all costs.

So that meant he could majorly modify his current plan. He'd keep the exercise and go for runs whenever he felt compelled, but he'd scrap the dietary restrictions. He didn't want to miss out and if he couldn't resist yummy delicious food, then he wouldn't stop himself. As long as he ate everything bad within a short period of time and removed it before it started to digest, then it wouldn't be a problem, right?

Alfred thought that his idea was super smart and it really put a bounce in his step as pride took over. Once again, he was a genius and now he could go back to enjoying summer break! Because summer break was all about eating as much junk as possible, right?

Alfred realised his approach to getting in shape wasn't exactly conventional, but it was suited to him so he knew it would work, and he'd rather do what he was doing than become some kind of gym junkie that got up at 5 in the morning. Who got up early during summer break? Probably Arthur and only Arthur because his brother was weird and no way was Alfred doing the same, not when he liked sleeping so much. Plus when he was sleeping, it meant he wasn't eating so he couldn't give that up. And also because sleeping in was a staple for a good summer break so that too.

Anyway, Alfred wasn't delusional. He was just trying to do what worked for him and he knew he was lazy and he liked sleeping so there was no way he was getting up that early to go to a gym. Also, why the heck should he waste money at a gym when he could get himself in shape for free?! If he wasn't lazy he could get it done, all he had to do was stick to a routine and actually try hard, right?

Plus he was a little hesitant to let his family know about him working out. If he went to a gym, they'd notice and they'd comment. Alfred really didn't want their attention. He cringed at imagined scenarios of Arthur and Matthew finding out and it gave him the shivers.

So he just took measures to make sure they wouldn't find out and all was well.

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So now that bad food was back on the table, Alfred had to be careful when he ate good food. He knew he needed good food and he wasn't going to evict that from his stomach. That needed to be digested, so he couldn't eat it within the same timeframe as bad food.

So now his schedule looked a little different. Regular free-for-all fix-yourself-a-meal dinner was just off the table. Alfred didn't need that much in when he didn't put that much out. Energy and effort-wise, that was. Even if he did exercise, he was still mostly a couch sloth. But since he couldn't get away with not eating family dinner, the event was now about eating a reasonable amount of healthy food, which to his annoyance caught Arthur's attention.

"I'm so glad you're finally serious about your health," Arthur said as he walked through the kitchen and saw what Alfred had on his plate. "Keep it up, I'm proud of you. It may just be the light but it looks like you've slimmed down a tad."

Alfred wanted to snap at the first comment but then found himself faltering at the second as he felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He couldn't help but feel... proud that someone was actually taking notice! That meant what he was doing was working! But it also left him feeling ashamed because it wasn't that Arthur was just noticing... it meant he knew before but didn't say anything. It didn't feel right to be grateful for it.

Alfred just told himself as long as he changed and didn't undo all his good work then no one had to be disappointed. No one. Because now people could see the difference he couldn't go back because then they'd see.

No pressure.

He'd have family dinner so the good food could be digested as he slept. It was good to have at least one reliable meal a week that wasn't too big but full of good stuff. Especially since the rest of the day before dinner was unscheduled. 

Alfred may or may not have breakfast and lunch. It was entirely dependent on his mood and whether someone else was eating or not. Read: If Matthew was making food and Alfred could convince him to share, because Alfred was a scab and he just took and took. Other times he had nothing. But more often than not he would eat at the designated meal times, though only eating small healthy portions. It pained him knowing there were tastier options, but he did it. He could eat whatever he liked when he wasn't fat anymore but until then, it was a necessary sacrifice.

There were no morning or afternoon snacks either, especially if he wanted to digest whatever he just ate. If he ate something healthy then stupidly had something unhealthy, he just ruined everything and wasted whatever good he just had because he'd have to force it back up. Alfred could already imagine Arthur telling him off for wasting perfectly good food but nothing bad was staying in his body, no exceptions.

But if he didn't need to keep something down intentionally, and he really felt like a greasy burger or a shitton of salty loaded fries... he ate. He ate as much as he wanted without guilt. A whole block of chocolate? His! A whole tub of custard? Why not! If he felt like something, it was already in his mouth. It tasted so good he couldn't stop and why the fuck should he?

He understood that he only wanted to eat it to taste it, not to actually do the whole process of eating it and digesting it and putting on weight. So with that understanding, the catch was it wouldn't stay in his stomach.

It was genius, right?! He could eat whatever he wanted without gaining weight! How great was it?!

At first, it was a little awkward. He had to be responsible about the time he chose to throw it up. He couldn't do it when Arthur and Matthew were home because that would gross them out and make them comment and he just really didn't want the attention. Didn't that just sound like an oxymoron? Usually, Alfred liked attention... just now about this.

Doing it late at night was a possibility, but it put pressure on him to keep quiet. How embarrassing would it be if he got caught? It would be easy enough to talk out of the first few times by saying some dumb but believable and hard to disprove lies since he did have natural charisma. But he knew that he'd know what he was doing and have to carry the shame. He was confident he could talk his way out of anything but he really didn't want to get into that situation to begin with.

Alfred supposed if he didn't want to purge in the house he could always leave the house and go for a walk somewhere before sticking his fingers down his throat, but that idea was very unappealing. He liked the modern convenience of being about to wash out his mouth afterwards. Maybe he was just lazy for not bringing water with him, but he figured he could just do that as a last resort.

Whatever, that's irrelevant. Alfred decided that the best time to commit to his purging ritual was when nobody else was at home. Coincidentally, that's what he preferred for his binging too. He didn't want anyone to see how much he was eating and then suddenly be disappointed at how he was 'going back on his progress', despite Alfred knew he had a plan and he wasn't that fucking stupid to go back. The idea of eating anything 'bad' in front of someone suddenly became mortifying... Somehow knowing that people had noticed and liked how he lost weight really motivated him to keep going. This wasn't just about him anymore. 

So whenever he ate too much food that he really didn't want in his body, he'd lock himself in the bathroom and kneel by the porcelain throne and purge.

He didn't abuse it. As it stood he'd only do it 3 - 4 times a week. It was summer break after all and he wanted to eat junk. He told himself that once school came back he wouldn't indulge his gross habits so often and hold back on the over-consumption of yummy food. Plus it wasn't exactly fun for him, clinging to the toilet with weak trembling limbs as pressure built up in his head and his stomach quivered. But he was more than willing to do it if it meant he could enjoy food without feeling so damn guilty. Purging was merely a tool. It wasn't like he was going to get addicted to it or anything. He didn't want to chance that anyone found out what he was doing.

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It wasn't without close calls though.

Alfred was sitting on the couch, controller in hand and eyes focused on his screen. The living room curtains were drawn and the only light came from the video game he had been playing for the past couple of hours, though in Alfred's gaming opinion, it didn't feel like it had been that long. 

Also, there was junk strewn all over the coffee table in front of him. Or rather - junk rubbish. Wrappers and empty boxes were illuminated by the low light, forgotten by the sole inhabitant of the room.

Alfred had only left the couch once to gather that feast about half an hour ago, and it was all gone now. Alfred was contentedly chewing on the last pieces of candy he had left as he spread out on the couch and sunk in.

But that aura of comfort evaporated once the front door opened. Alfred jolted up as a feeling of guilt rocked him and his heartbeat picked up. Shit.

The front door was only a short hallway away and Alfred paused the game as he tried to figure out who it was. Arthur was supposed to be at work and Matthew was supposed to be... somewhere that wasn't here. Alfred didn't want either of them here when he realised the massive mess he left behind.

Shit.

No one was supposed to be home for a couple more hours! That's why Alfred chose to feast now and now how was he supposed to throw it up without being caught!

The candy was too chewy in his mouth and sticking his teeth together. He worked his tongue to get it off before forcibly swallowing it only for it to feel like a lump stuck in his throat. He refrained from coughing to try and adjust it because the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself! Whoever was here would walk in here and see what he was doing and be disgusted-

"Ow," came a soft voice after something hit the hallway wall. "Alfred? Are you home?"

It was Matthew. Alfred jumped up and ran to the living room entrance to try and block his brother's view of the room.

"Yep! What's up, Mattie?" Alfred stood with one arm leaning on each side of the door.

"It's so dark in here I can't see."

Alfred could see Matthew perfectly fine and his brother was blinking his eyes a lot, trying to adjust.

"Arthur would want you to open the curtains, you know."

"Yeah yeah, I'll do it in a sec," Alfred said as he pursed his lips and tried to think of either more conversation or a way to make Matthew disappear.

"Okay, good. I'm going to go make dinner now..."

"Now?" Alfred questioned, also questioning his own time perception. "Isn't it early to be making dinner?"

Alfred didn't know why he always spoke without thinking. Matthew had just given himself an out and Alfred didn't let him take it.

"Figured I'd just do it now for later, eh?" Matthew shrugged. "Did you want me to double what I'm making or did you have plans already?"

Matthew only ever asked the 'or' part to be polite. That question was one with an answer that never changed. Alfred was supposed to say 'hell yeah' because he was lazy and loved food. But now he just felt so guilty for it that his tongue actually hesitated.

"Of course, I'll eat whatever you cook! Your cooking's awesome dude," Alfred said, but the moment he said it he was suddenly hyperaware of the food in his own stomach and the void he was used to down there suddenly felt too heavy for comfort. 

Fuck. Alfred forgot about the timer. He needed to throw up soon before all the shit he ate started to digest and it was too late.

But he still couldn't help himself and his big mouth.

"It's gonna be healthy though, right?"

What? He needed to know!

Matthew's expression changed minutely and Alfred just knew what he was thinking. 'Why does it matter to you?'

"Cus Arthur wants me to be eating healthy for some reason and I figured it'll keep him happy, y'know?" Alfred mentally thanked Arthur for being such a good excuse. 

"Yeah, it'll be healthy," Matthew said, sounding a little off. "But why don't you just eat in your room so he doesn't see, eh?"

The timer was ticking and it was all he could think about. Alfred could feel his mouth start to water with the taste of needing to throw up. It had crept up on him just like the urge of needed to pee. He needed to throw up soon and he could chat with Matthew all he wanted after but right now he needed to get this crap out of his stomach!

"Yeah, maybe I should do that, sounds good," Alfred said cheerfully. "I'm gonna go for a walk now and touch some grass so I'll be back later, okay?"

He didn't leave any room for Matthew to say anything back as Alfred darted to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. There was no doing what he needed to while Matthew was home, far too risky when the kitchen was just down the hall from the bathroom and there would be questions of 'you okay?' that Alfred just felt uncomfortably warm thinking about.

Alfred turned to go back but Matthew was already in the kitchen doorway, making Alfred awkwardly sidestep him as he continued running down the hallway and outside. It was hot and bright and Alfred had to shield his eyes because now it was his turn to adjust. The minute it didn't burn to squint he started jogging, upping his pace to a sprint as his impatient mouth was watering with an urging sign of vomit. A couple of blocks from his mouth he couldn't take it. 

It was like he had trained himself to feel sick but he had yet to achieve that last step of doing it on command. Alfred knew he wanted to throw up, his mind and body knew it, but he still had to make it happen. So he dropped to his knees behind a tree on a shortcut footpath hidden between fences offering him some privacy as he stuck his fingers far into his throat, wincing as his nails dragged against the soft skin. The effect was immediate. 

Alfred heaved once the reflex was triggered, heaving with only a few seconds of reprieve to catch his breath before his body was heaving some more. His neck was bent far forward as he curled up into himself involuntarily and dug a hand into the ground for stability. He didn't even bother wiping his mouth until long after the last heave and he was just trying to spit out all that remained.

It was a bad purge. Alfred had learnt early on that sometimes throwing up was good, okay, and sometimes it was bad. This was bad. Fucking great.

Still better than getting fat though and he really did enjoy eating all of that shit food.

A good purge was just bending over, heaving once or twice and it all came out clean. The throat didn't hurt and the airway and mouth were clear, allowing Alfred to just go about his day without lingering tastes or feelings. But throwing up like that was never predictable and kinda rare.

An okay purge was just your average throwing up. Alfred's throat would hurt after but it wasn't anything some water could fix. He might spend a couple of moments spluttering to clean his mouth but eventually, he'd get it all out. Then he'd wash is mouth out and forget about how sore his throat was after an hour. He only rolled an okay purge maybe a quarter of the time.

Then there was bad purging... one that happened the most often and was always awful. Alfred still reasoned it was worth it though. Even with little rocks digging into his knees as he knelt, he was still trying to catch his breath without lurching and hurling again from the taste or chunks he hadn't removed from his mouth. He had to remind himself he was mentally strong enough to ignore the chunks and their taste and texture-

Then he was dry hurling. His stomach had been emptied but with each reflex he felt more and more of what was left in his mouth, triggering the reflex again. All he could do was try to spit everything out and regain control of himself.

Even with nothing left to hurl and his mouth finally clear of the disgusting texture, Alfred was still hunched over with his mouth hanging over because now everything was too clogged up to breathe from and he was seriously regretting not at least thinking of bringing a tissue. Usually when he had a bad purge the toilet paper was hanging right there for him to utilise but without it...

"Oh fuck this," Alfred whimpered as he tried to uncap the water bottle with twitching fingers. His voice was raspy but he didn't have the guts to clear it when his throat felt so slimy. If he cleared it and more bad texture came up... he shuddered.

After rinsing his mouth out with water and gargling a few times he finally risked drinking some and he cringed as it went down. He gasped for breath after and wiped at his mouth with his arm as he stood up. Maybe he stood up a little fast because he felt a slight spin, but he just swallowed more water as he staggered backwards to start walking home.

His stomach had finally just settled and his throat was starting to feel tolerable as he stepped back inside the house. Immediately he had to blink because Matthew was right, it was dark in here. If Alfred didn't have to feel his way back into the living room he wouldn't totally forgot about opening the curtains like he promised. 

But once the curtains were opened, he realised what else he had forgotten. He'd been forgetting a lot of things lately,

"Fuck," he muttered as his stomach dropped, then cleared his throat again. It still felt weird, but maybe after he ate something it would go away. Good thing Matthew was cooking but Alfred couldn't help the paranoia that it was a bad thing Matthew was home.

Because, what if he had seen the evidence that Alfred had forgotten to clean off the coffee table? It was a huge pile too and Alfred could feel a warm wave flush through his and burn his face. He needed a plan and step one was getting rid of that shit.

As quickly as he could he gathered it all and ran outside with it. He glanced around, saw the outside bin and all he could think was perfect. He dumped it all in there where no one would find it... unless someone else took out trash, then one of his brothers would definitely see it and think it was weird. That made Alfred pause with a sigh. But then he had a better idea. 

He gathered the trash again and this time, he dumped it into a neighbor's bin and dusted off his hands with pride once it was done.

"Am I a genius or what? Not I just gotta figure out what Mattie knows."

Alfred really hoped that Matthew had just stuck to doing what he said he was going to do and even if Matthew was literally his twin brother therefore hypothetically the closest person who'll ever get to him, Alfred somehow didn't want Matthew to think bad of him. The cogs were turning in Alfred's mind as he thought about how he could pry into figuring out what Matthew knew as he walked back to the house... just in time for a car to pull up.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked gruffly when Arthur stepped out of the car.

"Returning home after work, is that alright?" Arthur cocked his head. "I need to go shopping sometime, do you think this fridge just fills itself?"

"Geez, sorry." Alfred crossed his arms before rethinking the situation. "Did you want me to help carry it in?" 

Alfred felt just a little bit bad about questioning his brother, especially when his brother snapped back like that in a tone of exasperation. At least if he did a small thing for Arthur then he can't be that bad and Arthur can't complain.

Plus it would mean that Alfred would get to the kitchen first and talk to Matthew without Arthur figuring out that something was up.

"I haven't gone shopping yet," Arthur sighed. "But thank you. Now, what were you doing? Why are your pants all dirty?"

"I was just going for a walk," Alfred replied. "And now I'm done so I'm just gonna go in..."

"Alright, I know it's summer break and it's fine when you're inside but if you're going to go out you should at least take some pride in your appearance," Arthur said lightly, kind of matter-of-factly in his usual superior tone of wannabe authority he thought he had as an older brother. It just made Alfred sigh and roll his eyes.

"Aren't you just glad I went on a walk at all, instead of being lazy like you always think I am? Also, for my pants to get dirty like this, I'd have to go outside I'm not getting dirty inside!"

"You know what I mean," Arthur waved a hand dismissively and turned his focus to the small garden at the front of the house. "But yes, I'm proud. At least you got some sun today, I suppose. You could use it or you risk becoming as pale as you say I am."

Alfred went to reply, but when he noticed how consumed his brother was in inspecting the flowers... he was struck with the thought that he needed to act. This was his window to interrogate Matthew.

"Okay, yep," Alfred said with finality then he walked inside and went straight to the kitchen.

"Hey, Mattie, how's it going?"

"Fine," Matthew replied, almost questioningly with a glance away from what he was working on. "What are you doing?"

The question was just asked to reciprocate and so Alfred ignored it.

"Have you been in here this whole time?"

"Yeah?" Matthew just looked apprehensive, like he could tell this was being asked for a reason but couldn't comprehend Alfred's motive at all.

"So since I left you've just stayed in here, cooking?" Alfred pressed.

"You left?"

"I just went on a walk," Alfred could feel his annoyance building because did he really have to explain himself to everyone? Couldn't Matthew just answer his question? "So you haven't left the kitchen since?"

"Okay..." Matthew turned away from his brother and put his focus back on making his dinner, giving Alfred the impression that Matthew was trying to tolerate him. "Are you trying to ask me if I touched your game?"

Oh, he could've gone that route.

"Yeah, you didn't go in there, did you?"

"No I didn't," Matthew said, his tone a little hard. "I didn't go in there. I didn't touch your game. If you thought that, why didn't you just ask that to begin with?"

Alfred internally fistpumped but couldn't hide the smile that broke out. Good thing Matthew wasn't looking his way, but from his movements, Alfred could tell his brother was annoyed. With Alfred.

"Why don't you go ask Arthur?" Matthew sighed as he dumped some of his cooking dishes unnecessarily hard in the sink.

The relief that Alfred felt about Matthew not seeing his shame faded when he thought about how Alfred kinda bit the hand that fed him and now he felt bad that he was going to accept food that Matthew made after he annoyed him. The smile completely fell off of his face when he thought about how all he did was take, huh?

"Alright, cool," Alfred stepped back and lingered in the doorway. "Thanks."

Arthur right slipped by him, giving Alfred a mini-heart attack. 

"Matthew, I'm going shopping soon, are you going to join me?"

"Yeah, just let me finish with this." Matthew's tone was completely devoid, a telltale sign of annoyance but trying to restrain it.

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed and he sat his hands on his hips.

"Everything alright, Matthew? It seems like you're bottling something up."

"It's really nothing, I'm just trying to finish this."

Arthur pursed his lips, but instead of pressing, he turned to Alfred with an accusative look. Alfred just glanced away. It wasn't like he did anything but he knew it was his fault anyway.

"When I'm done with this I'll come," Matthew looked over his shoulder when the silence dragged on. "Give me five minutes."

"Okay," Arthur, always uptight, noted the watch on his wrist. "Five exactly."

Knowing Matthew's estimate would've been accurate, Arthur turned to leave and Alfred found his mouth moving.

"Wait, aren't you gonna as if I wanna come too?"

"You've never wanted to help shop before," Arthur stopped, eyebrow raised. "But I suppose I can ask if it'll make you feel included. But don't just say yes just so you can talk me into buying more snacks. I'm on a tight budget, you know."

"You'll find it boring and complain the entire time," Matthew stated. "Why don't you get back to your game?"

Alfred knew it wasn't a jab and from his brother's tone it was like Matthew thought he was doing him a favour by saying it how it was... but Alfred still couldn't help the icky feeling inside him. Maybe he really annoyed Matthew and his brother didn't want him to crash their shopping trip where he'd have to put up with Alfred there too.

"You have my full permission to just go back to playing your game- yes I noticed you had it set up," Arthur frowned. "Do I want to know how long you've been playing that today?"

"All day," Matthew reported very matter-of-factly. Now Alfred really was starting to get annoyed at the whole exchange then felt worse for getting annoyed. He wasn't even annoyed! The feeling inside him was just all-consuming and made him want to either punch a wall or punch himself. He just wanted to just punch because there was something inside him that needed to do something.

But he couldn't because Matthew wasn't in the wrong. He wasn't snitching on Alfred and even if he was, Alfred shouldn't be on his fatass all day like some kind of basement dweller that had no place in society. He did not want his family to think he was a loser.

"Once summer break ends, I'll be taking all the batteries in the house so you can't play," Arthur added. Alfred couldn't help his tone.

"Geez, control freak much. I wasn't playing that long anyway and I went outside!"

"As you should!" Arthur's tone became more brash to match Alfred's. "It's summer. You used to love summer as a child."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not a child anymore." Alfred didn't even feel like talking to them another so he just walked out to hole himself up in his room. 

"I'll take that as you're not coming then," Arthur said from the other side of the door.

"No, you guys have fun without me," Alfred said bitterly. The door didn't have a lock so he put a chair under the handle before crossing his arms with a scowl.

Arthur made a noise of exasperation and Alfred could picture his brother throwing his hands up.

"Alright, suit yourself," Arthur muttered before Alfred heard footsteps leaving. Good.

But he didn't feel so smug anymore. He ran a hand through his hair before ripping his jacket off and ditching it on the bed. There was only one thing he could do to try and make himself feel better.

Alfred started working out and he didn't stop once he heard his brother's leave. Alfred figured that with them gone, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to exercise as much as he could until he was out of breath and then kept on going.

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It was only when he heard a car pull up in the driveway did Alfred let himself stop. His legs ached and he was heaving for breath as he used his shirt to wipe at his face. He was sweating and it felt satisfying. Sweat meant losing weight, right? That he was burning it off and it was working.

The room was spinning and Alfred's knee buckled as he crashed onto the floor by his bed and grappled at the covers. He felt like Cinderella when she was crying on that bench except he wasn't crying and despite the extreme lightheadedness, he was satisfied. The exhaustion had to mean something and it felt like progress.

Once the dizziness had calmed down enough for Alfred to pull himself properly on his bed and tolerate staring at a screen, Alfred was back to doom scrolling when someone knocked on his door. Suddenly Alfred realised exactly what it looked like - that he had been on his phone the whole time! He quickly sat up and shoved his phone in his pocket, or tried to. When he forced himself upright there was a brief moment of an overwhelming disconnected feeling, like a drop on a roller coaster that made his body sway. He dropped his phone on the ground as his head lurched forward, only just catching himself with his hands digging into his knees.

"-your half's in the fridge."

Oh, it was Matthew. Alfred's hearing must've temporarily gone too because he didn't hear him come in. His brother was holding a plate and picking off it with a fork and Alfred pieced the rest together.

"Thanks, bro, you're the best."

It was all lip service. Not the part about his brother being the best, because no, Alfred meant that. But that made him feel all the more guilty about not meaning the other part. Matthew had cooked for him and Alfred wasn't even thankful. If anything, it felt like an obligation now.

Usually, he was thankful, genuinely thankful. This arrangement happened more often than not but not so much recently... Alfred hadn't been seeking out the spoils of his brother's talents so often.

"You dropped your phone," Matthew pointed with his fork as his mouth twitched with amusement. "Did I scare you, eh?"

Matthew was chatty now and Alfred knew that his twin felt bad for being a bit moody before. Matthew was always like that, even if he had a valid reason to be moody. Alfred was valid reason enough.

"No," Alfred said as he picked it up. "Hey, sorry for the whole thing about the game. I don't know why I cared so much..."

"It's fine," Matthew said, earnestly. "I was just annoyed that you assumed I'd do something like that. And it was annoying how you were trying to be indirect with asking. I wish people just communicated what they wanted without mind games..."

"Oh, so you weren't really annoyed that I was being annoying and distracting you?"

"You are annoying, but you could've been more distracting," Matthew remarked. "Besides, I've made this before, eh? It's not that hard... but it wasn't really working out like the last time I made it so maybe that annoyed me too."

"Oh," Alfred didn't have a lot to say. To be honest the smell of the food was starting to make him feel weird in his stomach. Like worry.

"Yeah, sorry about before, I was just tired," Matthew added. "I don't want you and Arthur to think I'm bottling anything up."

Considering Arthur and Matthew shared an introverted and reserved nature, Arthur was always on Matthew's ass about not shutting down if he got angsty. But when Alfred got angsty and upset, he was a problem for everyone...

Maybe his brothers would prefer if he bottled things up. Alfred knew that he could get loud and abrasive when something was bothering him so it would probably be less for Arthur to deal with that way and his older brother wouldn't complain about him that often if he was more considerate.

"Okay, that's good then- well, not the tired part, but y'know."

Matthew nodded and the conversation lulled.

"Okay, I'm going to go watch hockey now," Matthew said as he went to leave. "You're doing the dishes."

Yeah, that was fair and not unexpected. Matthew cooked and Alfred cleaned. He found satisfaction in it so it wasn't too much of a chore... unless Arthur demanded it of him.

"Gotcha bro," Alfred confirmed as Matthew shut his door.

Now with Matthew gone, all that was left was for Alfred to stand up, walk to the fridge, and get his dinner. Yet it was all too easy to keep sitting there as a wave of intimidation settled. He had to get it and put it in his mouth, chew, and swallow. There was no claiming that he wasn't hungry and he sure as fuck wasn't going to throw it up when Matthew cooked it. But Matthew said it was healthy, so hopefully Alfred wouldn't feel too bad about digesting it.

Still, when he left his bedroom he found himself heading for the bathroom instead. Habit took over as he shut and locked the door before standing on the scales. His eyes bored into the reading as he memorised it and it was burnt into his retinas.

It was better than last week, but still not good enough. Alfred should stop weighing himself but he just couldn't. Every time he did an exercise that took his breath away and made his shirt uncomfortably soggy with sweat, he couldn't ignore the compulsion to weigh himself and see just how much he had lost. It was never much, but he still did it religiously.

Now there was nothing standing between him and his obligation to eat. Alfred went to the fridge and pulled out the plate of some recipe he didn't recognise beyond some echo of gratitude that it wasn't Arthur's cooking. Alfred just hoped that if he had to eat it, it wouldn't taste weird. Matthew liked trying a lot of new recipes and a few of them were French. Luckily Alfred hadn't seen his brother cook up snails yet- Actually, unluckily because that would be the perfect excuse for a permanent lack of appetite.

As Alfred shut the fridge, he weighed the plate in his hand. It was as heavy as it looked and Alfred could feel his face pulling tight as he stared down and the heap covering the plate.

Great. It was a lot. More than he'd serve himself. Alfred had to question just how much Matthew thought he ate to have served that up for him. That made Alfred's mouth turn down as he put the plate on the kitchen table.

"He did say half," Alfred muttered with a sigh as he played devil's advocate. Maybe Matthew just gave him the bigger half..? Because he was bigger...

But that was never how Matthew was generous. His brother was generous and that was evident in sharing the food. There was no bigger half. 

"What the fuck? Mattie, does that mean you eat this much regularly? The fuck?"

And somehow he was less chunky than Alfred. It wasn't fair.

Another compulsion came to him. Alfred had to know how much Matthew weighed. Needed to know because if Matthew was his ideal self then Alfred needed a baseline to compare himself to and whatever Matthew weighed was hypothetically achievable for Alfred. Now he just needed to think of a way to ask or somehow find out how much Matthew weighed without being weird about it. Fuck.

Thoughts were flying around and Alfred was just trying to make sense of it and rationalize it because if Matthew ate this much for dinner every night then surely he just metabolized better somehow! Matthew was always eating whatever he cooked and somehow he wasn't gross like Alfred!

It wasn't fair. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek as he dug his fingers into his thigh. Why did Alfred have to get stuck with a sucky body and Matthew got the better one.

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Alfred ate dinner, all alone in his room. He did think about disposing of some of it so Matthew wouldn't find out it wasn't eaten, but Alfred felt too bad about that, especially when he already bothered Matthew so much today. So he sat there, miserable as every bite after bite took forever to get down and all he could think about was that scale number going up.

When the plate was clean he left it in the kitchen and locked himself in the bathroom. The number had gone up and there was nothing Alfred could do about it. Well, besides work out some more and cut a meal tomorrow. But even with those optimistic easy solutions, he wasn't in the mood for it. 

Instead, he stumbled until he was sitting on the toilet with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair as he lamented being stuck in this body. Why, out of all the people he could be, did he have to be him? Why couldn't he just be normal? Why did he have to have this fat body that loved food way too much?

Chapter Text

His techniques were really working and he wanted to slap himself for not thinking of it sooner. He'd lost 12 pounds (~5.4kg) since he started! It wasn't an insane number by any means, but it was a start and he was proud because it was the most he had lost in one go. It didn't stop him thinking he could always be doing more... but at least he knew he could do it.

No matter how difficult or uncomfortable. He could do it and it would work.

But that wasn't the only thing on his mind. Alfred also needed a solution to a new problem, one that once he noticed, he couldn't UN-notice.

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The house was empty, which was ideal considering his current compromising position. Alfred was leaning heavily on the sink with shaking arms as he breathed deeply and the only thought he could formulate was "thank fuck the house is empty". It could be paranoia, but with every gasp for air, he imagined the sound ringing through the house and it made his skin crawl with fear of being discovered in such a state. Especially when he had absolutely no explanation and he didn't want to fucking give one.

He couldn't...

Well, he had excuses. Plenty of them.

Alfred had just finished washing his mouth out from throwing up and in his haste, he had poured a decent amount of water down his shirt. It stuck to his skin and despite the warm summer weather, it still felt uncomfortable. He couldn't bring himself to do anything about it because he was lazy and continued to just stand there rigidly with his hands gripping the sink. Instead of doing anything useful, he caught his reflection and started having a staring contest with himself in the mirror. But he couldn't even look himself in the eye, tearing away with a sneer because seriously, out of all the people he got stuck being, he just had to be him!

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair.

But Alfred figured that at least if he was Alfred, then no one else had to be Alfred. What a bitter pill to swallow. It didn't make him feel too much better, but it helped him push that train of thought away with a little acceptance.

He wasn't ready to move from the sink so his eyes wandered all over his reflection. The bathroom lights were turned on bright, allowing him to see every imperfection of not just his figure, but also his face.

An area he didn't realise was a severe problem. He almost wished he didn't notice... but now that he had he couldn't go back and he hated he didn't realise sooner.

Was the bit under his chin supposed to be so... loose and floppy? It reminded him of a chicken and he cringed. At least it wasn't wrinkly like a chicken's weird face ballsack thing. Not knowing the name made him more annoyed. He tapped it with his fingers and pinched it, but it stayed the same. God, he hoped that wasn't visible to everyone else but Alfred figured if he kept his head tilted down then it'd probably be fine. 

But even as he tilted his head and stared himself down... he couldn't ignore it. Not when he could feel it, hanging off him and sitting on his face, making him look like a fatass with a fat chin.

Then his eyes couldn't stop roaming.

Once he saw it, it couldn't be unseen. His face was disgusting. How the fuck didn't he notice?! He figured it was because he was so occupied with his weight and overall body that somehow, his greasy face just slipped his notice. He didn't know how. How couldn't he notice the millions of tiny craters in his slimy skin, the ridges and bumps of pimples and blackheads that reminded him of popcorn ceiling? That was his skin, the first thing everyone saw when they looked at him.

How could anyone look at him?

Alfred could feel his eyes watering. How the fuck did he have friends?! Seriously? How did they look at him and not react? Everyone's faces that he'd ever known flashed in front of his eyes but it seemed like no competition at all for who looked the ugliest. Alfred was the only one that stood out and if it was obvious to him then it was obvious to everyone.

He had to bite down more incoming bile, while his stomach was completely empty it was still sensitive from recent activity. Alfred had a strong and harrowing feeling that he could never repay his friends for their graciousness in not pointing it out or making it obvious to him. He couldn't help but feel like he owed them big time and it really didn't sit right with him. He really didn't deserve his friends and he felt so selfish for making them put up with him like some sort of charity case.

But Alfred was an optimist and this was only a moment of weakness. There was almost two more weeks before school yet and there might be a way to fix this - permanently, beyond just fussing over the mirror and popping everything he could one by one. 

Not that he wasn't going to try that route. It was something he could do right now so of course he was going to do it. He couldn't resist the urge. It was time to finally put in the work and get himself together like he should've done ages ago.

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After at least half an hour later, Alfred's face was bright red and raw from squeezing and his nails had left countless dents splotched all over. It was hard to tell if there was any improvement just yet, but it felt like he had made some progress! It was actually very therapeutic and he felt much calmer than before. When he looked in the mirror, he had a sense of satisfaction. The pain meant progress, surely.

Not that it was really painful, exactly. It wasn't nice but to call it pain would be exaggerating or attention seeking. Not that he wanted attention for this, but since so many people thought Alfred just wanted attention every time he opened his mouth...

Which was true some of the time but so what? It wasn't true all of the time!

Having done all he could in the bathroom and ripping his eyes away from his botchy relfection, Alfred locked himself in his room and flopped on his bed as he went to the best research tool there was - the internet. He ignored all the texts from his friends, swiping them away with a twitch of his lips. Most of them would just be sending him memes anyway, but a few of them have been pestering him to catch up before school came back.

Alfred just kept telling them he was busy. It made him feel like shit, having to turn them down. Plus he had to deal with the anxiety that he was missing out but he just kept telling himself that he would see them when he went back to school. Hopefully by then he would've got himself into a manageable state.

Swiping the notifications away meant that once they were out of sight, they were out of mind. Alfred locked in as he opened Google to get searching, but it didn't take long before he realised this was going to be harder than he thought.

As soon as he searched, it became evident that everywhere he looked, someone was just trying to sell him something. Anything and everything. That wouldn't be too bad in theory, if he just found the right magic product that fixed everything and made his skin as flawless as it should be. Something that would make him look like some kind of Hollywood star who was just born for fame and perfect in every conceivable way. But not only would it be too hard to do and too good to be true, it wasn't an option. Not for someone like him.

Everywhere he looked suggested a complicated skincare routine and that just wasn't going to work out long term. Well, not with ease. If his brothers saw him putting all sorts of random shit on his face then he'd never hear the end of it and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to his face while it was still gross. There would be comments left, right and centre, and then Alfred would have to play off those comments and make himself into a joke like it doesn't even bother him. Because if he didn't laugh it off they'd know he was doing it for real! Then he'd have to come up with a reason to justify why he was doing it in the first place... what a hassle.

Or worse, they wouldn't say anything but he'd know they'd be thinking something. Like relief along with the thought, 'fucking finally?' because they had all been too polite to point it out? Felt too awkward to suggest the idea?

It didn't matter. He didn't even know shit about skincare, so looking at all these products just gave him a headache as really long scientific words went over his head and he'd rather not try to research. Did girls just grow up knowing this stuff or something? Alfred wasn't exactly known for being observant but even he knew of the expectation for girls to always look good. He had an internet connection, he knew of the discussions that took place. He just didn't really pay attention because... well... he didn't need to know?

Did that make him ignorant? Was he sexist? Was there any way of asking his female friends about this shit without coming off as suspicious? Could he watch what they do, somehow? Without looking like a creep. Maybe ask some questions and do it in a way that wasn't suspicious or make them assume he was actually interested?

Alfred really wondered how skincare could be so popular for girls and women when there was no entry-level at all. Either you knew all about it, or had no fucking clue about this world of beauty that Alfred had never stepped into before. It was too overwhelming and he tried not to feel discouraged.

So, Alfred, in all of his genius just modified his search a little and added 'DIY' to the search bar before trying again.

"Oh fuck yeah, I'm so freakin' smart," he muttered as he got some actually good results, before pausing when he heard the front door close. 

Someone was home and Alfred didn't know who. But he figured it didn't matter when he didn't hear any other noises and hoped whoever it was would keep to themselves.

He opened his notes app in the background as he started scheming.

Apparently, there was the good old 'wash with soapy water' that would help combat both the pimples and grease. He immediately noted that down as the easiest idea. He noted that sweat was bad for his skin and Alfred cringed as he thought about how often he made himself sweat by working out. Sometimes he'd sweat a lot when he wore his jacket with the exact intent to sweat, figuring more sweat = more weight gone. He wasn't going to compromise his weight and drop his workouts, so clearly the solution was just to clean himself after and it should be all good. Hopefully.

Apparently, moisturiser was a good idea, but he had no idea if that was a specific moisturiser or if anything he found would help. Alfred grit his teeth as he considered it and figured that a generic moisturiser would have to do since it wouldn't be weird to have. Having something specific would be telling about him and his intentions and if he looked like he cared too much about his appearance then he'd just look pretentious.

So moisturiser went on the list. Some generic kind.

One article said not to wear sunscreen because it would create grease, but another said to wear it to keep skin healthy. Alfred knew where he stood on that and that was pro no sunscreen. He liked being tan and if he wasn't he'd be pale which would only look gross on him. Plus Arthur was pale and Alfred was obliged to make fun of him.

But maybe he should start sunbathing. Alfred stayed inside too often and he probably looked like a ghoul by now. Plus he'd be more attractive if he were golden, like all the actors he saw on TV. He put that on his growing to-do list with a sense of eagerness and hope that there was something he could do to actually get better. He would look so cool once he got his shit together.

Even with a few options on his list now, Alfred couldn't stop scrolling for ideas. It was the only thing he wanted to think about and he had to be sure that he solved this problem thoroughly, especially before school started. Which really wasn't long now... but he didn't want to think about that. Stacking techniques would be a certain way to guarantee he succeeded in such a short time frame.

Even if some of the ideas were a little weird, Alfred figured 'why not' and added them to the list. The more the merrier, right?

Apparently, crushed-up aspirin did something for pimples, so Alfred put it on the list. Rosewater too, which he added if only because he knew where to find roses - conveniently in the front garden. He'd just wait until Arthur pissed him off and then Alfred would take great joy in cutting down his brother's quaint little garden.

Wow, that made him sound like a bully... Alfred just forcibly ended that train of thought and kept researching.

Lemon juice was another thing that made it to the list because it would be easy to make and not weird to have-

"What are you up to?"

Alfred jumped and cursed. His head whipped around to see his twin loitering by the door with a dumb and pleased look on his face for no fucking reason. His face that looked completely fine.

And now Alfred's intrusive thoughts wouldn't shut the fuck up about Matthew not looking ugly like him. How was that fair? Did Matthew just hoard all of the good genes in the womb or something?

"What the fuck Mattie? Have you ever heard of knocking?!" Alfred growled and slammed his phone face down so his brother couldn't see what he was doing. He really hoped that Matthew didn't know what he was looking at and while he figured Matthew couldn't have seen it from where he was standing. Alfred's mind was running in circles of paranoia wondering if Matthew knew anything and what he was thinking... if he was thinking about Alfred.

"Sorry," Matthew said quickly, picking up on Alfred's tone and making him feel guilty. "I just figured... that you wouldn't be changing or something. Not that it would matter, eh?"

Alfred didn't laugh at Matthew's forced joke. It was just a strange thing to say so he had to assume it was a joke. But how was that funny? Just what was his brother trying to say?

"What do you want?" Alfred said as nicely as he could, but it still came out a little forced.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing," Matthew stated. "Because I wanted to do something together. Summer break is almost over and we haven't really done anything together... Did you want to go swimming again?"

Hell. Fucking. No. Alfred was not getting in water ever again. Well, except to shower because the last thing he needs to be is fat, ugly and stinky, but he wouldn't be getting in public water for fun when so many people could see him. Just thinking about it made his mouth go dry.

Alfred couldn't explain his sudden ire towards Matthew. He knew logically his brother didn't deserve it and if anything, Alfred should be apologising and sucking up to Matthew as much as he could because he was right. Usually, they hung out a lot more but ever since that fateful incident at the mall, Alfred had only one thing on his mind. Anything that got in the way pissed him off. There was too much on his mind and the only thing he wanted to do was fix his face so until he did that, he didn't feel like he could focus on hanging out with anyone until he didn't feel like a gremlin.

But that wasn't the only thought flying through his mind. Behind the underwhelming annoyance, there was too much to keep track of and articulate and understand.

Alfred wondered if Matthew really wanted to hang out with him or if he was just bored. That was why all his friends talked to him, right? Because he was right there and available and even if he was disgusting it was better than nothing, right? He really hoped that wasn't true because Alfred loved his friends but now, he had no fucking idea if they loved him. He just couldn't comprehend how they would even like him...

The only thing worse than boredom was obligation. Matthew said that they usually hang out more and was probably uncomfortable by the change in rhythm which prompted him to ask.

And all his other friends... were they just talking to him because there was no alternative? They couldn't avoid him without having to face consequences for making it obvious?

Alfred didn't want to comprehend that either.

But at the same time, he was angry that Matthew was talking to him at all. Matthew had their friends too so why the hell didn't he go hit them up! Alfred didn't owe Matthew anything!

"Nah. Maybe someone else will go swimming with you," Alfred said. He didn't want to be mean to Matthew and tell him no. At least by doing this, it was a soft no.

"It doesn't have to be swimming," Matthew stepped forward. "We could play some games or something? Video games?"

Alfred didn't feel like gaming! He needed to put something from this list into action asap so he could start fixing his fucking face and if he got distracted then he'd be wasting valuable time!

"Ugh, I don't feel like doing anything, okay?" Alfred declared. "Sorry."

He was withholding a 'now get out of my room' because really, Matthew was just trying to be nice and here Alfred was, being an asshole. But he didn't want to hang out with Matthew right now! Fuck him if that made him an asshole!

"Are you feeling alright?" Matthew asked, his tone suddenly cautious. "I mean, I can tell you're upset but is it because you're sick? Your face is all red. You haven't been crying... have you?"

"Maybe I just look that way," Alfred's tone was bitter. Could Matthew just leave and not bring that up? So what if his face looked a little different than usual! Fucking hell, why couldn't he get a pass? Like ever? Why did his brother have to say anything? It wasn't fair. 

As far as he was aware, Matthew didn't do anything and his face was perfect! Alfred didn't want to be seen side by side with Matthew, not when their differences were so stark.

"So you're not sick?" Matthew asked with an observant look.

"No, dude. I'm fine."

"Okay," Matthew sighed in exasperation and Alfred could see his brother's mood wasn't the same as a few moments ago. "Go punch a pillow or something Al."

Matthew left and gently shut the door. Suddenly Alfred just wanted him to come back into the room so he could redo the whole interaction and not be left with the guilt squeezing his sensitive stomach.

Alfred balled his fists, letting his nails dig in as hard as he could. The whole interaction was just annoying but at least he could get back to what he was doing. He waited a moment to make sure Matthew had left before darting from his room and locking himself in the bathroom. It would be really awkward if he ran into Matthew after that. But he pushed that aside in favour of trying the easiest face-cleaning technique - hot soapy water.

Alfred filled the sink with water hotter than he could tolerate. He bit his tongue as he burned his fingers trying to mix in and froth up the soap. Each second in the water was too long and he had to fight the urge to yank his hand out, but hotter water meant it worked better, right? Alfred carefully placed his glasses on the side of the sink and squinted at his distorted reflection with distaste. He thought he looked better when he looked like a smudge. 

He took a piece of cloth and soaked it before taking a deep breath and bringing it to his face. It was hot, unbearably so but he was too determined to back down. Flinching was for the weak and he needed to do this. So Alfred scrubbed and scrubbed, not stopping until his shirt was drenched again from the water in the sink sloshing as he violently dipped the cloth back in over and over. When he finally couldn't take it anymore, he tossed the cloth to the side and took in his face.

It was as red as it felt raw and he hesitantly pressed his fingers to it, wincing at the feeling. Perfect. That had to mean it did something.

He dried his face on a towel and slid his glasses back on, but then he noticed some more blackheads he could squeeze and he couldn't resist. If he got everything out of his face and then cleaned it, surely it meant he'd be cleaning it properly and it would help. Then it would stay clean. At least that's what he figured.

Once Alfred was done he couldn't resist weighing himself, the number being not too different from that morning but Alfred figured he didn't need to eat dinner tonight. Sometimes he weighed himself multiple times a day but the number that made it to the graph was the lowest. What could he say? He was an optimist.

Hours later Arthur had something to say, rather yell about the state of the bathroom being saturated. Alfred just didn't say anything and stayed in his room as Arthur ranted and raved. Alfred was too annoyed and now actually upset to care. That feeling got worse when he realised that Arthur would 100% know it was him, because as fucking if perfect Matthew would get blamed for anything.

But then there was a strange feeling of discomfort that came from hearing Arthur's non-stop noises of displeasure and Alfred couldn't help but feel sorry for Arthur. He knew his brother worked a lot and he knew he should be grateful because he benefited from it... Arthur didn't expect him or Matthew to get a job to help cover the costs yet. But there was no way Arthur could be happy about how many hours he had to work and then after a long day at work he came home to discover a mess like that. 

Arthur was still aggravated even hours after and Alfred stayed hidden in his room.

Alfred was just a burden, wasn't he?

But it was okay, next time he tried something he'd just clean up after and he wouldn't feel so strangely guilty like this, right?

Chapter Text

Alfred couldn't stop thinking about how he did Matthew dirty and figured that when he found the time, he really should make it up to his brother. The more that time dragged on, the more he felt like an asshole and the more he had a sinking feeling that bis brother only saw him as an asshole. So after a couple of days, Alfred approached Matthew after breakfast with the same question his brother had asked with the same intent of brotherly bonding... only to be shot down.

"Sorry, I'm busy."

"Busy? Why, what are you up to?" Alfred was trying to figure out just what Matthew was doing. "Can't I join in?"

Matthew glanced away. Alfred couldn't tell if it was because he was considering it or if he was annoyed because Alfred was imposing himself.

"Fine, I don't have to join in!" Alfred stepped back and threw his hands up. "It's not like we're the kind of twins that do everything together! I'll just hang out with you another time."

"No, I just didn't think you'd want to cus I'm going out to play hockey and I really don't think it's your thing," Matthew said, sounding a little annoyed. Which only made Alfred more annoyed that he was annoyed. Because seriously, all Alfred was doing was asking! "And why did you say that? We don't do everything together. We never really have."

"Yeah, that's why I said that, cus it's not like we do everything together," Alfred said like it was obvious. That was the point? They were two separate people! That was becoming increasingly obvious to Alfred when he looked in the mirror and could only see one big flaw.

"Did you want to do everything together?" Matthew sounded a little confused and a little exasperated.

Alfred didn't like how this conversation derailed. Worse, he hated that it was his fault. Seriously, just how did he get here? He had nothing but good intentions and now-

"Would you twits stop bloody fighting all the time?" Arthur demanded as he came into the room, half-dressed for work. "Alfred, leave your brother alone."

Alfred's face twisted into annoyance and any pity he had for Arthur was gone. Fuck it, fuck Arthur. He'd try the rose water hack today after all. Because why the hell did Arthur just waltz in here with no context and assume that Alfred was the problem! That it was always him. Alfred was just trying to be nice and smooth things over with his bro! God forbid he tried to make up for treating Matthew like shit the other day.

"It's fine, we're not fighting," Matthew said pleasantly before turning to Alfred. "You could come if you'd like, I just didn't think you'd like to play hockey. You've always said running around a field wasn't your thing and that baseball was 'superior.'"

Little did he know, in recent times running around had become Alfred's thing. And he heard the unspoken comparison in Matthew's words, implying that Alfred's preference was a stupid excuse because there was still plenty of running involved in baseball.

"Personally, I don't see how hockey's any different to baseball. They're both sports with a stick and ball," Arthur rolled his eyes with a slight smirk as he left.

"Hey! Baseball's completely different!" Alfred shouted after Arthur but didn't get a response. Fucking asshole, just saying shit like that to stir them up. Alfred knew he was falling for rage bait and that only made him more annoyed.

"So what does he think cricket is?" Even Matthew pulled a face at their older brother for that.

"A bug?" 

Matthew smirked with amusement and Alfred didn't get it, making him more annoyed that he was being poked fun at... somehow.

"So did you want to play hockey with me?" Matthew asked, this time completely genuinely and Alfred couldn't ignore the hope his twin had. "I love someone to practise with."

Fuck, Alfred can do the rosewater thing later. At least if he played hockey, he would be losing weight so it wasn't a complete waste of time.

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The worst part was that he couldn't wear his signature, super cool jacket. He had not been happy to part with it at all. It was big and hid his form and most of all, cool!

Cool as in awesome, not cold and not appropriate for summer. After about five minutes of direct sunlight, Alfred came to the unfortunate and daunting conclusion that he was going to have to part with it. Which really, said something about his intelligence and foresight that he didn't want to linger on. Luckily, the shirt he was wearing underneath was loose and hung off him without accentuating his disgusting fat rolls and chubby figure. So Matthew wouldn't be getting a free ego boost today.

But still, had he kept his dumb mouth shut he'd be able to wear his jacket, so that was two instances where Alfred failed to use foresight.

Matthew mentioned that initially he was going to practice ice hockey, alone, but after one off handed comment from Alfred about how he hadn't been on the ice in years and probably sucked at it (which had been his attempt at a disclaimer so Matthew couldn't point out how shit he was), Matthew decided they'd go to a field instead. 

To begin with Alfred thought it was a blessing that they weren't going to be on the ice because he didn't want to make it obvious to Matthew that he was fucking shit when it came to agility and whatever skill it was called to actually move well on the ice. But without being on an ice rink, all he was left with was the hot summer sun bearing down on him.

All so Alfred wouldn't have to relearn how to ice skate while Matthew skated circles around him and hogged the puck. Wasn't he lazy and stupid?

Alfred tried not to feel worse about it. Matthew had been able to dig through his closet of supplies to find the equipment suitable for a field. But Alfred knew his brother had a preference and even though Matthew kept repeating how playing on a field was just fine, Alfred couldn't help but question if his brother was just being polite?

Because seriously, how could his brother say 'yeah actually the field sucks and it'll never compare to the ice fuck you for not being able to keep up fatass' in a way that wouldn't annoy Alfred and risk Matthew losing the second person to practice with? Because Matthew had gotten excited about having a second person to practice with that wasn't one of his usual go-to friends. His explanation was something about having to adapt to someone unpredictable, but that wasn't what Alfred was caught on.

"So?" Alfred huffed, trying to keep his panting to a minimum as he ran down the field, "Who do you usually practice with?"

Hiding his puffing was getting hard, but his determination only got stronger as he noticed Matthew was hardly affected.

"Uh, I think I've played with everyone at least once," Matthew's speech was slightly laboured by his breathing and it brought Alfred a small sense of relief. See? His brother wasn't perfect. "Some people are easier to rope in than others, eh?"

"So who?" Alfred held the stick tight as he awkwardly maneuvered the puck, feeling his self-esteem sink as Matthew stole it and made his maneuvering like child's play. "Fuck, can't you go easy on me?"

Matthew paused and gave Alfred a look that said that had come out harsher than he intended. That he had snapped. Ugghhh.

"Wow, uh," Alfred 'naturally' brought his hand to his face to discreetly hide that he was breathing through his mouth. Like a dumbass mouthbreather all because he was a panting pig. "I didn't mean for that to come out like that, I guess I'm just getting too into it."

He had definitely been thinking it with that same intensity, he had just been trying to be careful not to let it come out and make him look like an asshole. 

"That's okay," Matthew nodded understandingly. "I know you haven't been doing much sport recently so it's not exactly a fair match, eh?"

"Yeah, definitely not." Alfred dropped his hand and disguised his desperate exhale as a sigh. "Hardly fair..."

If Matthew knew it wasn't going to be a fair match, why did he have to play so hard? Was it just to rub it in? Alfred schooled his face tightly so he wouldn't accidentally glare at his brother and let his feelings show.

"I can't help it, I just get into the zone and-" Matthew gestured aggressively with the stick. 

"Yeah, you're just so good," Alfred was very careful to say that positively, playing it off with a laugh despite the bitterness swirling inside him. He fucking hated hockey. None of this shit was fun, especially when it was just a losing game.

"I practice to be, because I love hockey," Matthew replied, picking up the puck and walking to where they dropped their equipment for a drink. 

Alfred did the same, dropping to his knees and biting back a sigh of relief. God he needed this. The water was cool and a welcomed treat, one he hoped would stifle a problem that had made itself very apparent shortly after Alfred had taken to the field.

His stomach would not stop growling.

So far Matthew hadn't seemed to notice. It wasn't like they were side by side for the majority of the hangout, so Alfred was in the clear. But he could hear it, and it was making him paranoid. Obviously, he was the only one who knew he had skipped breakfast... and he had to keep it that way.

But on the other hand, just what would Matthew think if he thought Alfred was hungry 'again'? Probably not much, his brother might just roll his eyes and think 'of fucking course, he's hungry again what's new?' and Alfred really didn't want to give him that impression! Just how was he supposed to escape this box that everyone had put him in??

That he had put himself in...

Why did everyone just indulge him when Alfred would make jokes at his expense? Because all of this had turned out to be a joke and it wasn't even funny? How did everyone just go along with Alfred saying there was nothing he couldn't eat and he loved food? How did everyone just laugh along, knowing what he knew now?

Maybe he could just say that all this running made him hungry again and he burnt it all off...

"Alfred?"

Alfred twitched like his grave had been stepped on and glanced towards his brother, a little on edge from the almost timid voice his twin used.

"What?" Alfred lowered his water bottle. Matthew wasn't looking at him, instead playing with the lid of his own water.

Uh oh, this did not bode well. Was Matthew finally going to confront him about his issues? Tell him he's a fatass and needs to hit the field with twice the energy? Fix himself before like concrete, it hardened and the mould was his permanent figure?

"Why haven't you hung out with anyone all summer?"

Oh. That... at least it wasn't about what was wrong with him. But Alfred found himself stumped all the same. Shit, not only did he not expect the question, but he didn't even realise that he'd been blowing off his friends to the degree that someone would notice!

"Um, I've just been really into gaming. Kinda lost track of time." Alfred shrugged and hoped that would pass. Because fuck, if he knew his brother was going to ask something like that he could've found a reason in advance! "Also everyone else is busy too y'know, every time I've tried to hit someone up they've had plans so it's just a coincidence, nothin' to it."

Hopefully that sounded believable. It must've because Matthew didn't call him out on it and pulled a face of consideration.

"Still, I guess I'm just..." Matthew sighed and stashed his water bottle, but didn't move to stand. "Everyone keeps asking me about you and I have to keep convincing them you're not blowing them off."

Now Alfred felt bad because did his friends think he was being an asshole? Fuck.

Now that was going to be another thing weighing on him!

"Shit, really?"

"Don't worry, they're not mad at you! But still, they're telling me about it," Matthew sighed and tilted his head. "I think they're worried."

"But why?" He could picture them mad that he was dogging them, but worried? "What are they worried about?"

"That your video gaming addiction's consumed you?" Matthew raised an eyebrow with a slight grin. "Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating by saying worried, eh? But still, it's strange. Usually you're all for catching up with friends... but maybe the best word to use is curious?"

Okay, curiosity made sense. Because seriously, worried? There was nothing wrong with him! Or at least nothing worth worrying about!

"Well, first of all, I don't have an addiction, Arthur. And second, we're gonna see everyone a lot once we go back to school so maybe I'm just having some me time?"

"For months straight?" Matthew frowned.

"Well who am I meant to see?" Alfred felt like throwing his hands up. The conversation had just been going in a silly direction but Matthew wasn't letting this go. "They can entertain themselves anyways and I always send them shit! Like, a dozen brainrot and reels and tiktoks each a day so it's not like I've gone M.I.A!"

"It's not just them," Matthew shifted his weight. "You haven't even hung with your family-"

"Well, you're always doing your own thing and you don't love games as much as I do anymore!" Alfred quickly explained. "Arthur's busy and definitely doesn't like the things I like and before you say that's a big deal and we could just talk, we always end up arguing because he wants to talk about stupid shit so shouldn't you be glad we're not arguing?!"

Matthew had better be glad because Matthew just got along with everyone and then always told Alfred off when he got into disagreements with others like it's his fault!

"Well, yeah, but you've been kinda reclusive lately so we just think you're doing your own thing too-" Matthew was still arguing and Alfred thought about pointing that out once he had finished making his point.

"Plus Francis is in France until school comes back," Alfred continued, just talking over Matthew because he asked. "And he's closer with you anyways so come on, it's not really that easy! We don't have any more family so that's why I'm not hangin' with family, alright? Just because I haven't been annoying anyone doesn't mean that it's a big deal, okay?"

"Fine Al..." Matthew sounded like he was about to sigh but holding back. "I don't want to argue."

Alfred's jaw tightened. Was he serious?!

"I'm not arguing!"

"Okay..." Matthew shuffled back and that agreement just made Alfred feel like shit because, clearly Matthew thought he was arguing and just didn't want to participate!

There was a moment of silence and Alfred actually wished he was out on the field playing hockey because at least then he wouldn't be here as the awkwardness stretched on.

He couldn't take it.

"I guess I'm just one of those guys that only hangs out on an impulse. Not everyone makes plans y'know?" Alfred shrugged and plucked at some of the grass. "So I'll make up for it when school comes back, alright? You'll never even see me at home cus I'll be busy enjoying our last year as carefree teens! So yeah, I'm really looking forward to school coming back!"

Hell no. It was daunting. But there was some truth to it because he did miss his friends even if the idea of seeing them again was... nerve-racking. 

"Did you want to hang out more? When school comes back?"

"Uh... you want me to practice hockey with you more?" Alfred would have to weasle his way out of it if that was the case. No way was he going to play more hockey if he was just going to fail as badly as he was today.

"No, just thought we could hang," Matthew shrugged. "Who knows, we might not see much of each other after we graduate and I want to make the most of this year too."

Alfred nodded along, because that's what the conversation called for. Agreement and understanding. But on the inside he suddenly had a burst of paranoia and jealousy from Matthew's words that left him spiralling.

He wasn't stupid, he knew that once school came back, it would be the last year of what had made up the entirety of his life before everything changed forever. But at the same time, it just didn't fucking register. And the more he thought about it the more intimidating it became. The more urgent. 

Because he didn't have an answer to what his life should look like but from Matthew's phrasing... did he? Was Matthew going to do something super cool after school and leave Alfred in the dust? Was Alfred just never going to see his twin ever again?! Would he just be left wondering... Holy shit, that would be way worse because who knows what Matthew would be up to while Alfred was still here, just trying to pull himself together. Not seeing his brother and not knowing what he was doing... Alfred would be forced to imagine how much better Matthew's life was while he-

While he r͍̩͌ͩͦ͒ͬo̔̀ͦt̢̹̺̞̱̂̅͂̿̇̔ͯ͡t̢̗̹̰͙̻̠̥͎̂ͣͬͭ͞e̢̠̓͛ͨd̷̡̨͚̲͓͎̣̫͊ͬͧ͐̇͌̉͂ away.

"Yeah, of course we can hang out dude!" Alfred really wished he didn't offer to hang with Matthew today. At all.

"We don't even have to wait for school to go back, eh?" Matthew suggested hopefully. "Ddid you want to watch some hockey with me?" 

Oh great. Alfred gave him an inch and now he's worried his twin will make him walk a mile while holding a hockey stick.

"Watch?" Alfred repeated.

"Yeah, on the TV?" Matthew continued, prompting Alfred to remember all the times he had been kicked off the couch so Matthew could watch hockey... "We could make a night out of it and get lots of snacks and stuff?"

Oh no. All those times Matthew had kicked him off had been around and after dinner... He could eat dinner if it was really healthy... but in front of someone? Sitting there and actually eating, chewing scoop after scoop? Especially in front of Matthew?! Fuck no! And snacks? He was trying to stop snacking! He didn't mind going all out every now and then but he'd have to eat them in front of Matthew who would get an impression! Not only would it reinforce the stupid fucking idea that Alfred was a fat pig and would snack until he was sick, but it might even prompt Matthew to finally speak up and comment on it! 

Oh God, just thinking about how the other shoe was just waiting to drop... if it was hanging on by a thread, it made Alfred wonder just how thick that thread was. If it was thick enough to hold on and just look unstable... or if it really was too thin and ready to snap-

And even if he did eat the snacks because he has no fucking self control, then he'd just have to throw them up later!

No, he couldn't watch hockey. Not when he had gotten into the routine of exercising at that time of night and with Matthew distracted by the hockey, Alfred couldn't pass up such a secure time!

"NO." Alfred winced and quickly backtracked when he realised just how shitty his tone of voice was. "I mean, sorry dude but it's just not my thing, y'know? I'd bring the mood down."

Hopefully, by phrasing his excuse as consideration for Matthew's convenience... Alfred wouldn't come off as such a big asshole.

"Okay... but if you feel like it you're definitely welcome to join me," Matthew's face was flat and a little sad, but even then, he was still trying to extend an olive branch.

Alfred just didn't know why. He had given Matthew a way out and he was still trying to get Alfred to join! Seriously, he knew his brother was nice but he didn't have to be that nice!

When the conversation had inevitably fizzled out to the point of stifling awkwardness, Alfred ushered them back to playing hockey. As much as he hated it, he felt like he owed his brother that much. Plus he knew he needed the exercise all too well...

Even if just the thought of more exercise made him want to collapse on the field. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine sleeping on this grass. It was soft and warm from being in the sun... plus he needed to start on that tan... Fuck, he had so much shit he needed to do. Just thinking about it made him angsty for not actively working on it every moment of the day!

The moment he stood to his full height and stretched, Alfred felt the water he had just drunk slosh inside him... great. Fucking great. He hid his wince and gripped his hockey stick hard. What was one more challenge? Nothing ever came easy and he might not be able to keep up, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He wasn't about to let Matthew know just how big the divide between their skill level was.

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At least when he couldn't keep up with Matthew, Alfred could blame it on having never played the sport before. Which he did, reminding his brother at every opportunity with increasing insistence. At least Matthew wouldn't ask him to play again. But Alfred still couldn't ignore the feeling that overwhelmed him when his twin was so much better than him. In every conceivable way.

Fitter, better skin, weighed less, politer, sociable, cuter, overall more fucking likeable. Alfred found himself hitting the puck with more force than necessary and keeping his words short whenever Matthew tried to talk to him. The way he saw it, he was just doing his brother a favour by letting him opt out of trying to connect with Alfred out of obligation.

Because seriously, Alfred had seen his brother with friends and family and acquaintances. He let himself be completely walked all over and so how did Alfred know that wasn't the case here!

Alfred kept up the act of having fun but he had already decided that he wouldn't be playing anything sporty with Matthew ever again. Not when they were worlds apart and Alfred had no hope of catching up. But still, he'd be damned if he didn't try his hardest to claw his way to the top. So with that in mind, he decided he'll add push-ups to his nightly routine. Along with any miscellaneous exercise he could do quietly in his room instead of sleeping.

He didn't have a set number in mind, only as many as he could do before he collapsed. And if that number didn't get bigger night after night... well, he'd be thoroughly disappointed in himself. 

But in theory that wouldn't happen. 

The second they got home Alfred shook his brother off by saying he was going to shower and locked himself in the bathroom. Matthew just groaned about how he needed to shower too and that Alfred would take too long, but Alfred promised otherwise.

In reality, he only had a few short goals in mind and one of them was to get the sweat off of his body for the sake of his skin, which could be done with a quick rinse. But... he wouldn't have showered otherwise. Alfred realised that he was a slob. A fucking, stinky slob.

He stood in front of the mirror and cringed. First of all, there was his face. There was the flab under his chin and even when he tore his eyes away, he could still see the shape of it in his peripheral vision. Then there was the bumpiness of his skin and as he leaned closer, he saw that there were still some imperfections that had to be dealt with. His eyes darted between every blackhead and pimple staining his face and his fingers could hardly keep up. Eventually, he forced himself to step back because he promised Matthew he wouldn't be too long.

But there was a voice echoing inside him that said 'who cares? Fuck him, he was an asshole by humiliating you with hockey'. He ignored it for now. 

But what he couldn't ignore were the sweat marks in all the usual places, stained dark and unmistakable. But Alfred couldn't help but think... he would've just tossed the shirt and grabbed a new one. Which he was starting to see was slob behaviour.

He was only starting to notice it now... but who knows when everyone else had noticed it! Probably immediately, and they just never told him because they were trying to be nice. Which wasn't nice. Because did they think he knew, and was just choosing to be gross? Did people talk about him and theorise? He'd seen it happen to others... he knew people talked about other people and wondered why they acted the way they did. Not only did he see it happen, but he participated in it too!

Fuck. He continued to stare at his shirt and think about how he just would've swapped it and thought that was good enough.

There was just something deeply wrong with him, right down to the core. Why the hell was he like this?

Did anyone else think he was stinky? Did anyone else notice an odour in the room when he walked in? Alfred grit his teeth as he ripped the shirt off and tossed it into the communal washing basket while resolving to fix his disgusting habits...

With a sigh, Alfred knew what came next wasn't going to be appealing in any way. With the door securely locked, he turned on the shower. As the water rained down on the tiles and filled the room with sound, Alfred knelt before the toilet and sharpened his resolve. The entire time he had played hockey, the water inside him never ceased sloshing and Alfred just wanted it out. 

His body recoiled and tensed as he shoved his fingers to the back of his mouth. His nails scratched the sensitive flesh in his haste, but a few minutes later, the relief was worth it when his stomach had finally settled and was free of unwanted passengers.

At least washing in the shower was fairly simple. After rinsing his mouth out with the running water and ignoring his burning, swollen throat, Alfred made sure to lather on the soap everywhere he could reach. He heard somewhere that it took 30 days to form a habit, so in theory, if he took the same kind of shower for a month, he would have thoroughly programmed it into his muscle memory and not be a stinky slob. Hopefully everyone would notice the difference... but at the same time he really wished they didn't.

Because what if they said something? What if they praised him? Despite the warm water, a shiver still ran through him as he imagined-

The moment he stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, Alfred realized he had another problem because he was just a fucking dumbass. He didn't have the foresight to bring clothes with him to the bathroom... shit. Why was he so stupid? Was something in his brain wired wrong that just prevented him from thinking ahead?! It was hard not to get annoyed at himself and mentally curse himself out. Today just wasn't his day. When would he finally have his day?

Probably when he finally fixed himself.

So with the towel tight around his midsection, he poked his head out of the door and when he didn't see anyone loitering around to see his vile body, he darted to his bedroom. Uncaring whether he was sufficiently dry or not, he dropped the towel and hurriedly found clean clothes. The sooner he hid his imperfections, the sooner he didn't have to worry about someone barging in.

The sooner he wouldn't have to worry about throwing up again should he accidentally glance at the mirror...

Exercising was really an inconvenience but Alfred couldn't help but look forward to it. So long as it was in the privacy of his room and not hockey with Matthew.

But exercise wasn't the only thing on his mind. Alfred cracked his knuckles as he sat as his desk and prepared a new graph. His secret exercise was just one more thing that he could measure his improvement with.

Chapter Text

Alfred wanted to slap himself when he realised he didn't go through with the rosewater thing. But he couldn't slap himself because his arms were fucking exhausted from chasing a puck and lifting them just to hold his phone at face level hurt. Which annoyed him because that was yesterday and his body was still hurting! Did that make him weak? He was pretty sure that Matthew wasn't aching...

But that was okay. Because the more he ached, the more refined his muscles would become. Surely.

And if he kept doing push ups every single night until he could literally do no more, then he'd develop manly muscles in no time! Alfred had an advantage because he was willing to put in real hard work. Once his arms were sorted out and no longer flabby and embarrassing, he wouldn't have to depend on his jacket to be cool! He'd have some cool beefy muscles to show off! Ideally, they'd be bigger than Matthew's and all their friends would be impressed because he was the stronger twin. Maybe even stronger than all of them too!

But that was a work in progress, and he had a long way to go. Too bad going until he actually collapsed was a challenge he struggled to have discipline for. The closest he got to 'collapsing' was just lying on his hard, cold floor, feeling like he really couldn't be bothered to do even just one more.

That really said something about his willpower. It was probably a case of mind over matter. Alfred could push himself further. He should. He definitely had the motivation for it every time he looked in the mirror and was brutally reminded that he was the fat twin. The overweight and annoying friend. Fixing that was priority number one and until he did that, how could he expect to build any muscle? 

His weakness probably stemmed from being a sloth for too long and now he just had to build a tolerance. Maybe at the very end, he could outshine everyone and be the top dog because he worked so hard! But until then he could only dream, he had a long way to go before he was starring in any blockbuster action movie.

But back on track, today was a new day and he could try the rosewater method. If Alfred added that to his soapy water routine, then surely by the time school came back he'd be looking fine. Or at least, not so greasy and gross. Not like the ugly twin and charity friend.

A knock on his door startled him from his thoughts.

"Yeah?" He called out, hastily throwing on his jacket and stepping away from the mirror. Matthew opened his door and stepped in, carrying his hockey gear and holding it up with an eager smile.

"Did you want to play hockey with me again?"

"Sorry, I can't," Alfred didn't want to say he didn't want to and searched for an excuse so Matthew couldn't blame him. "My leg's still sore from the other day."

"Oh, sorry," Matthew pulled a face of sympathy. "But that's okay, I'll just find someone else to play with."

Alfred couldn't ignore the ache in his chest as he realised that he felt rejected. He bit his lip and shoved the feeling down because he knew it wasn't rejection! Matthew was just saying that to try and make him not feel guilty even though it was doing the opposite. Even if it hurt and he was being replaced, he didn't want to play hockey anyway so why did he feel shitty for saying no?!

Why did he just always feel bad? He could never fucking win.

"Okay. Good. Have fun," Alfred remarked and turned back to glance at the mirror, head spinning slightly. Fortunately, his jacket hid most of what was wrong with him. His hands pulled to wrap it around tight, constricting him and bringing him a feeling of comfort.

"Yeah. I will," Matthew said a little coldly and Alfred glared at the door once it was shut. 

What was his brother's problem? Shouldn't he be happy Alfred wasn't going to hold him back and complain the entire time?!

Alfred figured it didn't fucking matter. At least Matthew wasn't delighted that Alfred didn't want to spend time with him. That would've been just insulting and completely condemning. But now that he was home alone, he could finally make that stupid rosewater. 

He waited until he heard Matthew leave the house before going to the kitchen and rummaging for a pair of scissors. Good thing no one was home to see this. Alfred would just pretend he knew absolutely nothing about it and if he had to, he could point fingers of blame at some neighbourhood kids. After all, why would he be involved? What use would he have for Arthur's stupid roses?

He'd just have to destroy the evidence.

Stepping outside into the mid-morning sun and relishing in the heat on his skin, Alfred took great joy in beheading the roses in the front yard. His jacket protected him from the majority of the thorns, but when some scratched his hand and made him bleed, he felt like such a wimpy loser for wincing at the pain. He grabbed the flowers with more force than necessary and ignored how the heat was starting to make him sweat.

The tension in his chest was too much and he couldn't ignore the urge to do something any longer. While the roses soaked in warm water, Alfred figured it was time for a binge. Food always made him feel better and boy, was he starving.

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Arthur didn't notice the roses missing... yet - and it was probably for the best. His older brother didn't have a lot of free time so if it was spent on maintaining the garden, it was probably important to him. Alfred had to question why he cared about Arthur's feelings so much now anyway. Probably because he knew if he was too much of a burden, then Arthur would have no motive to be nice and wouldn't hold back his criticisms. If Alfred kept him happy, there would be nothing to criticise. At least, not without feeling guilty because why be mean to someone who's nice?

And also because Alfred had been feeling kind of wimpy since his earlier purge. Throwing up hadn't been fun and he felt weak since. Both physically and emotionally... 

Fuck, he needed some better self-control. He wasn't even sure if the yummy food was worth it...

Arthur didn't notice any mess in the bathroom, because this time Alfred cleaned it up. It gave him some time to think about his next move, but the only thing he could think of was lying down somewhere soft and warm afterwards. But he pushed through the labour and reminded himself it was better him than Arthur, who would just rant the whole time and bring the vibe of the house down. More guilt wasn't ideal right about now.

Maybe Alfred should cut his brother some slack, but he had no idea where these thoughts of giving Arthur the benefit of the doubt came from. He had never sympathised with his brother to such an extreme before. Oh well, as long as Arthur didn't find out, it didn't matter. Otherwise, he'd be insufferable.

He did have an inkling of an idea of why now, and it was because Alfred was finally waking up to just how fucking insufferable he really was. How he was on really fucking thin ice and he didn't even know it because he was a big fucking idiot. He had been taking people's good nature for granted and for too long he expected them to put up with him. 

Late at night, he lay in bed, tossing and turning in cold sweat as he thought about what everyone really thought of him. What they were all holding back saying because they were nice... or because they weren't allowed to say it. Not yet, anyway.

But Alfred was still an optimist, so he knew he could change and make things up to everyone and make everything alright.

Hopefully...

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Alfred didn't know what he was doing, but the theory was simple. Self-explanatory and straightforward, he doubted tanning was really that complicated.

All he had to do was lie there and roast, right?

Once again, he was home alone. Arthur was at work and Matthew was... somewhere. Probably playing hockey because his brother was a one-note loser. Alfred didn't care where, as long as he wasn't here.

Or that's what he told himself he should feel. He could think it, but his feelings weren't exactly aligned. Because where the hell did Matthew have to be? Just what cool things could his brother be getting up to while Alfred just rotted at home? The fear of missing out was bugging him and making him even more annoyed at his brother.

Alfred huffed as he made his way into the backyard and dumped his stuff on the ground. He had a mission and he was going to see it through. 

It was the middle of the day and that was a little disorienting considering he had only got out of bed an hour ago. Seeing the sun so high in the sky left him with an ache that whispered he was just wasting his life away, but he couldn't help it. Not when his bed had become more and more comfortable with each passing day. When every morning brought the challenge of dragging himself out of his soft tomb of blankets... 

He was a little worried about how he'd survive when school came back, but he figured he'd deal with it when the time came. For now, he needed to roast. Alfred laid the towel over the grass, already feeling the sun soaking into his skin as he roughly flattened it in only his boxers.

Thank fuck their backyard had a tall fence. Alfred would hate for someone to glance over and see his beached whale of a body lying in an ugly blob shape on the ground. That would be humiliating. Just the thought made him glance around with paranoia and shiver despite the heat.

But he was determined and the likelihood of anyone spying on him was low... 

His phone was placed on the ground, right beside the towel and within arm's reach. Alfred figured he wouldn't be able to use it while lying on his back. The sun would be too bright and his arm would cast a shadow over him, causing an uneven tan. That wasn't exactly ideal, now matter how much he craved to doomscroll. But he could use it when he rolled onto his stomach or just have music playing to entertain himself. Anything to make this ordeal more comfortable.

With the towel spread out and the sun bearing down overhead, Alfred didn't want to waste any time. He pressed play on his phone to start a playlist, before turning on the timer. Finally, he snatched his glasses from his face and folded them to sit beside his phone. With everything in place, he lay on his back and closed his eyes-

With a wince, he squeezed his eyes shut hard-

It felt like he was being interrogated by a detective with one of those lamps being shone into his face and it hurt.

Fuck. The sun was too bright. Alfred tried to endure it for a moment, shifting on the spot as he started to writhe, but he couldn't do it. He sat up with a growl of frustration and blinked his eyes forcefully, unable to get rid of the while glow of the sun burned into his retinas.

"What the fuck man..." Alfred grumbled as he put his head in his hands. "Ugh..."

He glanced around as an idea came to him. Now he knew why ladies always had cucumbers in their eyes when they had spa days and shit... it was because they needed something to cover their eyes or they'd go fucking blind.

With a grunt, Alfred picked himself off the ground, staggering as the burning white overlay brightened and spun. But he didn't let it stop him from going inside and rummaging around the house. He really wished he had taken his glasses with him because the light and dark dancing behind his eyes was really distracting but he managed to push through. Mind over matter.

When he lay back down on the towel only a few minutes later, he had Arthur's eye mask in hand. Luckily, it did the trick. His eyes were fucked enough just from his regular prescription, the last thing he needed was his eyeballs to combust in a ball of flames. He'd be even fucking uglier with really thick glasses and would probably get bullied for it.

And now... he was bored. With only music to entertain him, Alfred tried not to give in to restlessness as he just... lay there. 

The only thing he could do was think.

Alfred hoped it wouldn't take long for him to get tan. He hoped that he'd be more tan than Matthew, at least then he'd have something going for him.

After a few minutes of ruminating, Alfred realised he was getting really hot... almost unbearably so. It made him squirm as he pictured his skin going pink, but didn't that mean it was working? That optimism fell short in the moment because as the rays pierced his skin, the only thing he could think about was ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ.

Enduring was painfully overwhelming. With every second the feeling of his skin burning increased in intensity. He grit his teeth until his jaw ached and he couldn't take it anymore-

He ripped the eye mask off and rolled over, reaching for his phone with a groan. Due to the dazzling brightness of the outernet, it was almost impossible to see his phone - even at full brightness! After a moment of squinting, he could see that he had been roasting for a grand total of ... not even 10 minutes! Alfred let out a pathetic whine as he slumped his head. That wasn't enough time! Yet it was too much! And now he had to even it out by letting his back roast for the same amount of time...

Now he was really beginning to understand the saying 'beauty is pain'... and he still had a long way to go. But he was determined. Mind over matter, right? He reset the timer and endured.