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Summary
“it’s not about getting thin, you know,” tyler mumbles, breath barely above a gentle hum as he grazes his free hand underneath the uniform shirt to grip at his too-visible ribs. josh wishes he could speak, could prod tyler with the thousands of questions tumbling through his already deafening mind; instead, he curls his knees up to his chest, tilting his head and meeting tyler’s gaze with a look in his light eyes that asks, why do you puke?
tyler looks up, and, for a fleeting moment, his bloody lips seem upturned in a smile. “it’s about getting clean,” he sighs, and turns around to face the window before josh can even blink.