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“Do you want the last piece of spicy chicken?”
“Nah, you can have it.”
Aaron shrugged and did exactly that, popping the orangey crispy piece of meat into his mouth and chewing on it. Alex, who was spread on the couch near him, his legs in Aaron's lap, was sucking in the last drops of his big coke through the straw. The serene satisfied-with-life expression on his cute tired face made Burr chuckle before making a big, audible gulp and sighing.
They finished their traditional Friday takeout dinner extravaganza. It didn't happen as frequently as it could have, but one or two Fridays in a month could promise them egregious meals from their favorite restaurants. Of course, Alex would order small things sometimes throughout the month, but these particular nights were like no other. The celebration of the end of the workweek, of their productivity; a way for them to chill and not be bothered about cooking or running errands on a Friday evening — this was a nice little tradition that came with living together.
“I'm not sure I can move now,” Alexander moaned. “I probably ate half of my body weight in just fries. Too damn good.”
Aaron smiled, picking up a tissue to clean his fingers and mouth, and rubbed Alex on the knee with his free hand. He knew what Alex meant by that — his body felt incredibly heavy, pinning him down to their couch that had gotten heavenly comfortable in just a nick of time. His stomach was full, full to the point that if he moved, it probably would hurt a bit. The breaths that made his chest and stomach heave were rather shallow but loud.
Before moving in with Alex, he hadn't eaten much fast food or takeout in his adult life. Preparing his meals at home was a normal thing for him. Alex would endearingly call him a fitness freak, because Aaron also counted calories and grams of protein in his food — he wouldn't call himself a freak about it as he didn't obsess with the numbers and didn't want to starve himself regularly as some pretend diet specialists could tell him to. It was just a nice way of knowing how much he consumed and how much he burned off. It made him feel more grounded, more in control.
And now, here he was, not being able to recall how much of everything he’d eaten — had a burger or two, fries, several slices of pizza, chicken tenders, maybe something else he didn’t notice?
Despite the distraction in the form of another season of The Crown playing on the TV, the thoughts started creeping into his head, making themselves known and demanding attention.
One was telling him how usually, evenings like these would have resulted in some snacks for tomorrow — Aaron didn't like frozen pizza or cold soggy fries, but Alex didn't mind them, so these were mainly for him. This time, the boxes and plates were clear, just the crumbly remains here and there. And as Aaron calculated now with his mind sobered up, this takeout was even bigger than their regular one.
The second little voice intercepted, reminding him of how many calories he consumed and how he hadn't even worked out properly in the morning. All the grease and oil suddenly became more strong and sticky — on his cleaned up hands and lips, in his throat, in his whole body. He couldn't ignore the bloating anymore, either, his belly protruding a bit, instead of being flat. Someone else wouldn't be even able to tell the difference, maybe, but Aaron was acutely aware of it. He felt huge.
He slipped. He lost control. He let himself forget about everything and indulge into this disgusting animal-like urge. He felt his insides start to burn, not the food, but from the deep, overwhelming sense he'd spent his life running from.
Shame. It was here, filling him up even more along with the food he should've refused. It was churning in his now blown-up gut, making sure Aaron didn't forget what he'd done.
“Babe, you're dozing off?” Alex's voice ripped him out of the thick slush of thoughts. He looked over to his boyfriend, noticing that he’d paused the show and was looking at him with his half-lidded heavy eyes and small smile on reddened shiny lips, before chuckling. “Food coma is hard, I know.”
Actually, Aaron knew what food coma was; maybe even better than Alex did. Before getting into his adult years, he hadn't been as good with meal preparation and balanced nutrition. The freedom from Edwards' home or the walls of boarding school had struck him light-headed. Being able to choose what and how much he was eating had been staggering, leading him into places he would've liked to erase from his memory.
Food meant freedom. Food meant comfort. Food meant stability. And he craved them, he craved a twenty-four hour access to these luxuries. He was certain he'd found a loophole in an unavoidable rule — he didn't need anyone to get them, he didn't depend on anyone else’s regard for him. He could get freedom and comfort and stability himself. On his own. It made him feel as powerful as he'd never felt. The amount of money he’d gotten as allowance permitted him to follow any calling from his gut.
It had taken him a lot of effort to actually take the control back and not just be a helpless leaf to the winds of instant cravings that ultimately led to him laying in bed in a fetal position, wanting to rip his stomach out; to feeling either empty or bursting; to hating his reflection in the mirror. He'd gotten over it, maybe, and this long way was painful and cruel at times, but it was worth it.
And now he could sense all the labor, all the progress he'd made wither away in just one evening. He squinted.
“Aaron?”
Alex grunted and sighed as he sat up and scooted closer to him. Strangely, he didn't feel the same way about Alex as he felt about himself. He didn't notice anything beastly, anything ugly in how he was at this moment. He always loved seeing his lover satisfied and full — especially after the meals Aaron himself cooked for him.
Alex's legs were still in Aaron's lap as Aaron beheld Alex's face, his big doe eyes lined with confusion and worry, the ghost of weakness gone from them. His eyebrows moved closer to each other in a furrow. He's so cute, Aaron couldn't help thinking, a single positive thought in the last twenty minutes.
“Is something wrong, baby?” Alex asked, his hand taking Aaron's. “Do you feel sick?”
“No, no, I'm fine. I'm fine,” Aaron said, as if the repetition would make him sound more convincing and confident. It probably didn't work, as Alex's lips formed a tight line. “I'm. I'm just tired, nothing more.”
The prickly heat engulfed his face with this weak lie. He looked away, needlessly trying to hide from his gaze, knowing that he wasn't buying it at all.
Alex studied his face for a couple moments.
“Are you sure?” he crooned. He rarely spoke like that to anyone else but Aaron. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”
Aaron knew. He almost accepted the prompt, Alex’s warmth — a pleasant, calming kind — seeping into his skin, words gathering into still chaotic unfinished sentences in his brain, before he finally took control and just let out a small sigh. Alex didn’t need to know about the shitshow happening up there.
“Let’s finish this episode.” He reached out for the remote (it took him all the strength there was to not wince with the movement) and clicked to unpause the show. Alex didn’t say anything as the music and voices with British accent filled the silence; he just kissed Aaron's temple and put his head on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, yet it'd dissolved some of the heaviness in Aaron's chest. Alex recognizing when Aaron didn't want to talk and not pressuring him into it was the best (and only, he was sure) outcome in this situation.
After that, they both were quiet. Unsettlingly quiet. Even in his “food coma”, Alex would make remarks about things he found interesting, or dumb, or inaccurate; he'd make a joke and stare at Aaron to ensure it amused him enough. Now, they both didn't say a word, which Aaron kind of appreciated, to be honest — he liked watching movies or shows in silence. It still was an rare case in their household, though, it felt strange. He ruined the mood for both of them.
He could hear and understand everything the characters said, follow the plot — his mind sharpened, hoping to fight off the poisonous thoughts, but they remained in the back of his head, still there, still running in circles, still gnawing at him. He was holding Alex by the waist, and with their bodies in such proximity, Aaron didn’t realize at first that they started breathing in unison. This moment of connection sparked a glimmer of hope for it to get put out at once.
Alex would leave him if he kept going like that. Alex would leave him if he recklessly kept tumbling back to his old pathetic self — no one in their right mind would be able to love that Aaron, even someone as stubborn as Alex. Then, another thought jabbed him into the side.
Would someone in their right mind love this Aaron, the one he currently was, if they’d known what was happening in his head? Alex was the only one, aside from Sarah, to be familiar with most of his issues, to be accepting of them and the insecurities that came along. An eating problem being another one on the list would be a step too far. How many challenges could one person bring with themselves before being deemed a burden by others? For how long was Alex ready to weather the storms to be by his side? Surely, there wasn’t anything else about Aaron that could be good enough to compensate for all the broken parts.
He didn’t see any other option rather than to get rid of this shame. To overcome it, to suppress it, to hide it — to do anything just not to let it slip out into the bright daylight. Alex deserved to stay unaware of this at the very least. Aaron could handle it himself, without a doubt. This momentary weakness was just a reminder of the cautionary tale that had been his youth.
As he listened to the soothing murmur of Alex’s breath against his shoulder, though, he couldn’t stop this irrational, overemotional side of him from wanting to spill over Alex, to get it off the chest, to share this whirlwind of shame and fear in a silly hope to have it halved. Of course, he knew that it wouldn’t work this way and only make it all double, bringing his loved one down with him. So the best option was to get away and try waiting out the storm alone. He glanced at Alex, his features soft in the blue-ish white glow of the television. His presence still gave Aaron a strange kind of solace, even though he had no idea about everything that had managed to happen.
“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” he murmured, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. The episode didn’t seem to be near the end, but at this point, he couldn’t care less about the drama among British royals.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Alex asked, his head losing its warm and soft support with Aaron shuffling to the side. The younger man was too exhausted to mask genuine concern in his voice; it even irked Aaron a bit.
“Yes, I told you. Just tired.” This came out sharper than he intended, so he continued with a smirk before Alex could say anything: “I hope you remember it’s your turn to clean everything up.”
Alex winced at the reminder but didn’t roll his eyes or look away to be appalled at how much work he would have to do; he still kept his gaze on Aaron’s face, as well as Aaron’s hand in his.
“Never forgot.” He rubbed the knuckles of Aaron’s fingers with his thumb before letting go. “Alright. I’ll join you later, then. Sleep well, babe.”
Aaron stood up, his body heavy and sluggish. He wondered if Alex could see how big Aaron’s stomach was from his point of view; he'd turn his head to look, but the possibility of seeing disgust or shock in Alex's eyes sent electricity down his spine and shot another pang through his chest. He'd rather stay oblivious and hope that Alex was too.
He avoided looking in the mirror as he was brushing his teeth and washing his face in the bathroom. He knew what the reflection would show him — puffed up cheeks, bloodshot eyes, weary features, every single flaw and deformity on display in a harsh light, maybe a second chin forming already? He kept himself steady with the notion that he'd most likely ignore all of that in the morning, so he was going through the motions of his nightly routine as quickly as he could.
As he entered the bedroom, he was tugging at the end of his tank top — something he usually wore at home (Alex was delighted at the sight even after all the time they'd spent together). It clung to his midsection, as if it was struggling to fit everything in; it made sure Aaron was aware of it, could feel the hot cloth against the skin. Taking it off or lifting the end wouldn't work either, leaving this abomination on display, letting the evidence of how spineless and gluttonous he was be seen, making him feel even bigger. He took a deep shaky breath. Leaving the tank top on was the lesser of two evils.
Aaron slipped into bed, facing the wall while lying on his side. There was a sense of relief, calm and nice to him for once. It wasn't enough to get rid of the turmoil, but it was just enough to tone it down.
Alex came into the bedroom; the sound of the steps getting closer made the unease roil through Aaron’s body again. The bed creaked under Alex as he sat and then moved to lie down, to scoot closer to his partner.
Aaron tensed up in the sudden silence and with the sense of Alex still observing him. Then, he felt Alex's hand on his waist. He didn't touch his stomach or even skin — the fingers were pressing against the fabric of their warm blanket, but it was there, tangible, as if trying to ground him, to remind him of something.
“I know you're asleep, but I just… wanted to say,” Alex spoke, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “that I'm always here for you. And I'm gonna be. And whatever you're worried about, we're gonna go through it together.”
Alex pressed his lips against Aaron's shoulder in a small, gentle kiss.
“And I probably don't say it enough, but I love you. Love you as you are. And this is never going to change.”
Aaron bit his lower lip as his heart squeezed at the raw edge in Alex's voice. It made everything even worse, stirring up bile in him. Hot tears burned his eyes, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. Alex didn't know how much Aaron had yearned to hear this; Alex didn't know how much he hated it now, either. Alex deserved someone else. Someone fitter, someone prettier, someone better. Someone appreciative of his affection and care — it clearly couldn’t be him.
He shifted slightly to lay on his stomach, making Alex's hand slide off his waist — he almost didn't care if Alex still thought he was asleep or not. He didn't feel another touch after that. Behind him, Alex seemed to freeze for a couple of moments, silent, even his breath almost inaudible. Then, the sheets rustled with some slight movement, before Alex mumbled:
“Good night, baby.”
Then, it was all quiet again.
Aaron stifled a sob bubbling in his throat; he gulped it down to all the other disgusting things he was ashamed of.
He fell asleep that night with an overwhelming desire to be left behind. It was the only thing he was truly good at. Being left behind.
God, Aaron thought before dozing off, if only he knew.