Chapter Text
Cornflakes would be the death of Bill, he decided.
Every morning, at his weakest and most vulnerable moments since he was still groggy from sleep, he was met with a bowl of cereal that he was expected to eat and finish . And it was really fucking tough.
Gustav, who was seated across from him at the table, glanced up from his laptop and down at Bill’s unfinished bowl. “C’mon, Bill. It’s just a few more bites.”
He leaned on one hand, the other lazily swirling the spoon around in the milk. “‘m fine. Full.” He couldn’t bother to be more articulate, he was already trying his best not to fall asleep and bang his head on the table.
“Bill,” Gustav warned, closing his laptop as he looked Bill in the eyes. “You know the deal. Finish it.”
Right. The deal.
If he didn’t finish every meal— well, except at restaurants where they gave insanely huge portions, even to the boys’ standards— they would tell David. And then David would probably make him see a shrink or put him in a looney bin. And there was no need for that, because Bill wasn’t that fucked up.
“Bill, I’m serious.” Of course Gustav was, the wanker.
Bill groaned, shoving a spoonful into his mouth before he could think about it further. His body felt bloated and gross, but he pushed the feelings away. He simplified his thoughts to bite, chew, swallow until the rest of the mushy, soggy mess was finished.
He exaggerated his last bite, speaking with his mouth full as he asked, “There. Happy?”
Gustav gave him a warm, genuine smile, ignoring Bill’s attempt to be snarky. “Very. Thanks a lot.”
Ugh, it was hard to be mad at Gustav when he made it a point not to be an asshole to Bill after he found out about his… eating issues. Bill was sure guilt would swallow him whole if he snapped at the boy, so he bit down on his tongue and gave Gustav a shaky smile in return.
Georg headed down the stairs, eyes half open and a hand on the wall to steady himself. Perfect timing for Bill to get the fuck out of here. “Ugh, Tom’s snoring woke me up.”
As the half-awake teen plopped down besides Gustav, Bill stood up. “I’m gonna piss.”
“Alright, have fun,” Gustav said, indifference seeping into his tone. He had already started a conversation with Georg, clearly excited that the other boy was up and he could talk to him.
Whatever. Bill didn’t care.
He really didn’t, because it meant that the two would be too busy chatting to realize that the sink was running for a very long time. So he could barf his brains out.
Bill had told himself a long time ago that he would try not to make himself vomit since he knew it was really bad for his teeth— and his voice — but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Dropping to his knees in the cramped tour-bus bathroom was always the easy part. Actually throwing up was the hard part, though. He never knew which time would be the one where he got caught.
He just prayed that this time wouldn’t be it.
Bill exited the bathroom, the taste of mint still in his mouth.
“You were in there a long time, man. You make love to your toothbrush or something?” Georg had migrated to the couch, draping his body across it as his perceptive eyes pierced through Bill.
He cleared his throat, shoving Georg’s legs off the couch so he could sit down. “Yeah, we had a real good time— but don’t worry, I used protection.”
Georg laughed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’m glad, I don’t think you’re quite ready to be a father.”
Bill rolled his eyes as Gustav joined in, “Of course he isn’t! He barely knows how to fold his own laundry.”
He whipped his head to the side to glare at Gustav, his mouth wide open in shock. “I do too! It doesn’t need to be perfect, you freak!”
Georg chuckled at their banter, but it was clear from the look in his eyes that Georg still wanted to know why Bill was actually in the bathroom for so long.
He decided to tell him before he could ask again. “I took a shit, then I brushed my teeth. That’s all, Georg.” Bill could not have them finding out about that, too. They couldn’t take everything from him.
Bill knew that Georg was still a little skeptical from the way he hesitantly nodded, and he made a mental note to himself to act like he actually liked the food he was eating in the future.
Shame festered in the back of his brain for lying so shamelessly to his friends— no, his family now— but he couldn’t help it. He had tried for a month. Just eating. No vomiting or restricting for days after. Soon enough, he ballooned up and had to go back to using the smallest hole in his belts, not the ones he had poked in there himself.
That’s when he decided that he had to fix his mistake.
Well, he also made his decision after finding the website.
Bill glanced at the clock, running a hand over his face.
One A.M.
He had been trying to go to sleep for an hour now, but with the restlessness running through his veins, he just decided to give up. It’s not like the band had any early morning interviews.
Sighing, he got up from his bunk to fetch his laptop. He didn’t want to turn the TV on, just in case the others woke up. The show last night had been intense, and he was sure his bandmates were bone-tired.
As he plopped back down onto his bunk, he made quick work of getting into a comfortable position, settling the laptop on his thighs as he leaned his back against the wall.
He opened his laptop up, mind going blank. What the fuck was he supposed to do?
Watching a movie or TV show sounded completely unappealing, and it’s not like any of his friends from back home would be up. He worried at his lip for a moment before deft fingers typed in the band name.
David had told them to never, under any circumstances, look themselves up. It seemed a little silly, but even without using the internet Bill knew how cruel people could be with the things they said about the band.
There was just an itch he had to scratch. He wanted to know what the fans thought. Were they satisfied with the music? Were there any places they should perform next?
Scrolling down past recent news articles, he stopped when he found a website. One ‘dedicated to all things Tokio Hotel’. Say no more.
He clicked on it and was immediately impressed with how organized the layout was. There were so many forums, all topics he wanted to know about. One fan had asked if anyone knew any tricks to getting tickets for their concerts cheap. Another wondered how she could get into Tom’s pants.
Bill chuckled at that discussion board before remembering it was late at night and he probably needed to shut the fuck up. He read some of the others’ replies, trying very hard to keep a straight face before deciding that he should read something else before he ends up peeing himself.
‘Bill is totally body goals. Let’s talk about it.’
He stopped scrolling, his mouse hovering over the icon to see more replies.
He shouldn’t. Really. The boys— especially Tom— would be pissed if they found out he had looked at something like that. He was trying to detach himself from those feelings, the ones that made him desperate for anyone's approval about his body.
But… just reading the comments wouldn’t hurt, right?
It could definitely hurt, just not in the way he thought it would.
A smile stretched across his face, and that light feeling he got when he had talked to the photographer all those weeks ago returned. People noticed.
‘Bill is totally body goals. Let’s talk about it.’
thread started by t0kiohotelsbodywash
‘billz0nlygirl: bill totes is! im honestly jealous of his legs… and his face is so dainty, like he has such a nice jawline and nose AND no double chin! he’s living my dream and he doesn’t even knwo it </3 ;(‘
‘georgandgustav4ever: i know bill is like the signer and all, but i never really noticed his body until u pointed it out and u are soo right… he doesnt know us girls would die to look like that’
‘tommylove: any other fans obsessed w bill’s look from their devilish era? there’s one pic i found where his collarbones were POPPING and i was so freaking jealous of how thin he was. i obviously love him now but i really miss that era and that look :/’
Bill frowned, swallowing roughly.
He tried to push the thought down, but it kept pushing, begging to be acknowledged.
There was no way he could ever return to that weight. He was twelve years old then, for fucks sake. But… he could still try to look like that. He could still try to look that thin again.
Back then it had been natural, his almost-teenage-boy metabolism making it almost impossible for him and Tom to gain any weight. They were growing vertically more than they were horizontally.
How he wished that was still the case.
He knew that he would have to find a new way to keep the weight off. The boys knew now.
As he stared at the comments longer, dread filled his stomach. He knew what he’d have to do. To make his fans happy, he told himself.
It was scary just how quickly he had slipped back into those same disturbing thoughts.