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Pure Vanilla sat. The thick furs he wore attempted to shield him from the Dark Cacaoian frost. He shivered into them, hugging his body.
His all-seeing staff lay against a nearby wall as he studied the murals along the strong wooden doors. Pure Vanilla’s sight avoided looking downwards, but his curious nose couldn’t stop letting the wonderfully colorful smell of the bibimbap below him go unnoticed.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, loudly.
The radiating heat from the warm bowl on the soban caused flavorful smoke to rise into the air. In front of him was Dark Cacao’s dish—the same china with the same, luxurious looking food. While the Dark Cacao Kingdom was known for their particularly bitter food choices, no one spoke about how fantastically flavorful and aesthetically appealing their non-bitter cuisine was.
A rich, savory smell graced Dark Cacao’s study. The earthiness of the various, sautéed vegetables mixed delightfully with the nuttiness of the sesame oil. The precisely cooked meat and spicy gochujang paired amazingly with the delectable aroma; it smelt like some of the best food Pure Vanilla had put in front of him in years.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, ravenously.
He waited anxiously in his lover’s study. Dark Cacao had given him strict orders that dinner would be served precisely at sundown. Arriving at the study at sundown, Pure Vanilla was told to wait for the king.
The healer had no issues with waiting. The soldiers guarding the study informed him that Dark Cacao would arrive as soon as he completed his extremely urgent task. Pure Vanilla smiled and stopped their apologies, simply walking in.
He was overwhelmed with the painfully enticing smell of their would-be shared meal. He nearly doubled-over, nausea making him dizzy.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, painfully.
He had held onto his staff—that glared at him accusingly—for balance, stumbling from his fatigue. Pure Vanilla gripped his stomach tightly, the hungry noises didn’t stop. His mouth watered, but he swallowed back the saliva into his dry throat.
Now, sitting in front of the food, his appetite was nonexistent.
His always-closed-eyes had darkened eyebags underneath. Pure Vanilla was silently losing weight, silently getting weaker over the past week. Doing simple tasks was taking extremely large tolls on his body, and finding the motivation to do anything was difficult.
While waiting for Dark Cacao to “eat”, his pale eyes were open. He looked dazed.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, agonizingly.
Starvation wasn’t his go-to for punishing himself. It was an act that he never took pride in; something Pure Vanilla suffered through quietly. Evidently, it always happened. Skipping one meal, whether he was too busy, or doing so on purpose, always led to him skipping the next.
Then the next one, and the one after, until he was trapped in a painful cycle of not eating.
Once the meals became less frequent, his want to eat was low. His stomach sent angry reminders to do so, but Pure Vanilla ignored them. He could barely concentrate, staring blankly at his food.
The bibimbap was still freshly hot, but his body was freezing. Without the nutrients of food, his body couldn’t regulate itself. Pure Vanilla left himself with a weak immune system, his body breaking down his fat for energy.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, it was unbearable.
He knew the science behind what happens within the body when malnourished. Soon, after his body made use of his glycogen—he was sure it had by now—it would then move to ketosis. His body would find carbohydrates from non-carbohydrate sources for energy. And, with lack thereof—this was only in extreme cases—the body would begin to break down muscles and tissues.
Next, would be organ failure.
Fortunately, Pure Vanilla had never reached that phase. Even more fortunate, ketosis lasted for a decent amount of time. Something always clicked within his mind to fix himself up after a few days, or, at most, a week. The struggle of reintroducing foods after eating nothing and only drinking water made him terribly sick every time.
Never once did he seek a doctor.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard Pure Vanilla tried to break the potentially fatal habit—even though he cannot die—he always found himself spiraling back to skipping meals.
It felt like an addiction. Hanging onto the feeling of feeling so deathly ill. Letting his mind disassociate, his depression taking over his thoughts. Pure Vanilla knew that if he was in a rational state of mind, he would never let himself go this way.
The only rational explanation he could deduct was that, subconsciously, maybe he wanted to feel this way.
Health was important to him; he was a healer.
Pure Vanilla never let himself get sick. When he did, he used all the correct remedies and processes to nurse himself back to health. If he was upset, he analyzed his problems and feelings, picking them apart.
He would fix it rationally and educatedly, like the ways he assisted his friends, or his people. Pure Vanilla’s lengthy knowledge of the body and emotions were especially helpful. He was always more than happy to share his teachings, to extend a hand, to put himself in between dangerous and flying emotions.
Who did that for him?
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled.
He had enough.
Who was there for him?
Pure Vanilla felt his eye twitch. His mind was clouded and agitated—he was easily angered during his periods of starvation. Sure, he had very close friends who understood him, but Pure Vanilla understood them on such a deeper level. No one was ever able to give that back—not that he expected it in return.
When anything happened, Pure Vanilla was always the one. When he sought comfort, it sometimes left him with more to say. He felt himself hold back his feelings; Pure Vanilla was supposed to be happy. The burdens that he carried would destroy his friends, his loved ones, his people. Not that they didn’t hold any similar feelings.
Pure Vanilla had to hold everyone together.
Who held Pure Vanilla?
Like a vase that holds the prettiest flowers. When the vase breaks, no one mourns the broken glass.
But when the petals fall off a flower, drifting slowly onto the floor to be stepped on?
Everyone cries.
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, but the sliding of the door made him clutch his stomach tight. Shaking off his haze, he tried to compose himself as Dark Cacao finally walked in. He swallowed hard, shivering and gripping the edge of the wooden soban tightly.
“I apologize, Pure Vanilla.” Dark Cacao placed his sword down to the side, then walked over to where Pure Vanilla was sitting. His boots thumped loudly on the floor, with no sight, he was able to hear Dark Cacao as he approached. Dark Cacao kissed his forehead tenderly, but Pure Vanilla kept his mouth shut; his breath smelt. “I got wrapped in activities…I promised you sundown…”
“Do not fret, my love…” Pure Vanilla did his best to sound normal and look normal, closing his tired eyes to see through his—very judgmental—staff, and keeping his voice from quivering. He was successful, enough.
Dark Cacao sat at the other side of the soban. He eyed the food quickly, then pinned his focus to his lover in front of him. Blinking, then narrowing his eyes, Dark Cacao studied Pure Vanilla.
He looked absolutely awful. His eyes were sunken, and his face looked pale. He noticed Pure Vanilla shivering, even with the heated floor and the protective furs. Dark Cacao picked up his own chopsticks while still eyeing Pure Vanilla, he mixed his bibimbap together.
“You look ill, dear.”
No kidding. “Ah…”
“Horribly ill.” Dark Cacao lifted the chopsticks to his mouth, eating a piece of meat with bits of rice and vegetables.
“Hm.”
Dark Cacao’s brows furrowed. “Not talkative?”
“...Not today…I am very exhausted…” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Ah, I thought you were cross with me for being late.”
“Never, dear…It happens, I know you would never miss this…” Pure Vanilla watched the food leave Dark Cacao’s chopsticks and enter his mouth. He bit his lip.
“Have you visited the medics?”
“...No.”
“That is… unlike you.”
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, and his eyes went wide as he held his stomach. He gritted his teeth to quiet the wince that escaped his mouth. The growling made him double over, he felt the piercing gaze of Dark Cacao, and his staff. Dark Cacao took a sip of his glass of water, letting his shoulders drop with suspicion.
He looked between his lover and the aidful staff. The one-eyed flower looked at Dark Cacao, and back at Pure Vanilla. Dark Cacao was able to somehow understand the flower without words; it seemed sarcastic and annoyed.
“If you are hungry, eat. You could have started without me…”
Pure Vanilla collected himself, mumbling curses. He sat straight and shakily lifted his chopsticks. “...I…I wished to wait for you…”
“Hm.”
Dark Cacao watched Pure Vanilla mix his bibimbap together like he was dreading the meal. It was odd—not that the situation itself wasn’t already odd—Pure Vanilla loved the bibimbap. It was his favorite Dark Cacaoian dish.
“You look pale.” Dark Cacao put down his chopsticks. Something was obviously wrong, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
Pure Vanilla felt his facade crumbling under Dark Cacao’s blunt pressure. His grip was tight on the chopsticks, his heart worked overtime to try and control his stress. “...Do I?”
“I know you are aware of such.” Dark Cacao rose from the floor, bluntly speaking but his voice full of concern.
“You look awful, Pure Vanilla—”
“I am fine, my love, I—”
“Do not attempt to lie to my face.” Dark Cacao reached down to pull up Pure Vanilla from the floor. When doing so, he realized his lover was much lighter than normal. Lifting him now felt like lifting him without the weight of his furs; far too light, far too fragile.
It clicked with Dark Cacao, and it clicked with Pure Vanilla that Dark Cacao had figured him out.
Defeated, Pure Vanilla swayed standing, hugging his body protectively. He was at a disadvantage; he struggled to see, stand straight, his head was spinning, his stomach growled, and, even worse, he felt guilty.
Dark Cacao sighed, he held the nauseated Pure Vanilla straight. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”
“...”
“And ate a proper meal. Not a berry from a bush, or a single nut.”
Pure Vanilla tried to think. “...I—I do not recall…”
“...Okay…” Dark Cacao rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Maybe—maybe a week? I’m…I am not…” Pure Vanilla trailed off, mumbling. He rubbed his own face, he was absolutely drained.
“You’ve been starving yourself?”
“...”
“Yes, you have been.”
“...”
Pure Vanilla’s stomach rumbled, he turned away from Dark Cacao, shame making him upset and angry.
“Why did you not tell me?” Dark Cacao stepped closer, but Pure Vanilla stepped away. “This is not healthy.”
Pure Vanilla laughed bitterly, opening his eyes with tears welling in them.
“I—I hoped for you not to view me differently…”
“I— You of all people should be knowledgeable about how harmful this is.”
“...I do know.”
“And you do this, still? ‘Tis hurting you!”
“Hypocrite.” Pure Vanilla spat. The tone surprised Dark Cacao, but then he exhaled with understanding. “You always do things that hurt you as well.”
“‘Tis different.”
“How? You harm yourself all the time, Dark Cacao.”
Dark Cacao cringed, understanding the principal, but unsure of how to help Pure Vanilla without angering him more. He wanted to comfort him, not rile him up.
“This is much more of a concern…‘tis dangerous. Ah— I —You know, dear—”
“Exactly.” Pure Vanilla snapped. “‘Tis always me. I always know.”
“...”
“What if I do not wish to know anymore?”
Dark Cacao tried to console the healer. “Pure Vanilla—”
“Why does Pure Vanilla always know?” His voice was strained, cracking from his dry throat.
“...”
“Why is Pure Vanilla always the glue, always the answer? I always put everyone before me. But, when I have a problem, I should know better?!” Tears streamed down his face, his lip trembled as he squinted his eyes to see a blurry Dark Cacao.
Pure Vanilla felt so angry, so hungry, his stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling.
He wanted to push and shove and scream and cry; he wanted to show everyone that he was more than just a healer.
More than someone who listened, and fixed problems, but a man who had problems of his own.
Dark Cacao kicked himself internally watching his lover break down in front of him. He knew to give distance, but he wanted to hold him close, free him of his pain.
“Pure—”
“No. Why— why, when I am torn in two—why must I hold myself together?” He backed himself into the wall where he could hold himself up. The anger he felt was doing no good for his fatigue and nausea. He sobbed, coughing mid-sentence as bile burned his throat.
Dark Cacao rushed over. Gently, he swooped Pure Vanilla off his feet, and sat himself on the ground, Pure Vanilla in his lap. There, he held the crying man.
He gave Pure Vanilla a few moments to sob. Dark Cacao wished he didn’t have to rush his lover, but starvation for a week's length needed medical treatment and supervision immediately.
“We need to get you to the doctor, dear.” Dark Cacao spoke in a rare, gentle tone. He stroked Pure Vanilla’s cheek. “Malnutrition for a week requires medical attention…”
Pure Vanilla laid his head on Dark Cacao’s shoulder. He hiccupped and coughed as he clutched his rumbling stomach. He was in pain and way too exhausted to argue—he was never one to argue. A rare, stubborn fire fueled Pure Vanilla to deny.
Pure Vanilla weakly held onto Dark Cacao. “No…”
“You must, my dear.”
“No…”
Dark Cacao shook his head. “I wish I did not have to force you, but you must be examined. They must reintroduce you to solid foods, and make sure you have the proper vitamins. If you rush this, you will fall ill.”
Dark Cacao didn’t know as much about human body systems as Pure Vanilla did, but being around Pure Vanilla, and raising a son of his own, he knew enough to know that he was helpless in this situation. He loathed that feeling; it made his hands itch, made him feel worthless.
Having no choice, Dark Cacao stood up, lifting the slightly lighter Pure Vanilla. Despite his barely audible protests, Pure Vanilla wearily watched Dark Cacao grab his staff—who stared at Pure Vanilla full of attitude—and walk towards the exit of the study. He looked back, eyeing his favorite dish, still smoking, and still wafting a beautifully rich smell into the air, being left on the soban. Vaguely, Pure Vanilla heard Dark Cacao speak to the guards, who went inside the study as the two of them exited. Turning his head to weakly gaze over Dark Cacao’s shoulder, he watched the guards leave the room with the two fresh plates in hand.
Pure Vanilla mumbled something unheard, catching Dark Cacao’s attention. He readjusted Pure Vanilla’s position, while walking, to hear the fatigued voice better.
“What is it, my love?”
“The bibimbap…” Pure Vanilla mumbled louder, the sadness in his voice made Dark Cacao smile bittersweetly.
“You cannot eat the bibimbap, it will make you fall more ill…”
Dark Cacao received no answer, just shaky breathing from Pure Vanilla. He planted a kiss to the bridge of Pure Vanilla’s nose, watching those soft, pale eyes flutter.
“The medics will care for you, dear, and I will not leave your side…They will feed you broths and steamed vegetables within the next few days, and they will surely attach you to an IV…” Dark Cacao recited the treatment plan he had heard so many times, many of his soldiers faced eating disorders, and he, himself sometimes had to be treated.
“...But…but the bibimbap…” Pure Vanilla weakly begged for the familiar flavor of the dish, burying his head into Dark Cacao’s shoulder. He hoped his affection would earn him the dish,
“They will not give you bibimbap for no less than a week, maybe more…”
“...”
Dark Cacao stared at Pure Vanilla, trying to think of a way to help his lover. “I will promise you this, my dear, are you listening?”
“...Hm?”
“If you let the doctors care for you, I will make sure that the first meal you eat is bibimbap. How does that please you?”
Pure Vanilla felt a shine in his eyes he hadn’t felt for almost a week. “...Really?”
“Of course. As soon as the doctor allows, my ray of sunshine will have a warm bibimbap in front of him. The best ingredients of the kingdom, and cooked to perfection, just for you.” Dark Cacao swore. He looked down at Pure Vanilla, feeling what felt like a smile pressed against his shoulder.
After taking an uneven breath, Pure Vanilla felt his smile grow. “I’d like that…”
“Whatever pleases you, my dear, but please allow the medics to do what they must.”
“...I will…I apologize.” He chuckled. “I let myself get out of hand…It…it—it just hurt…”
Dark Cacao moved to kiss Pure Vanilla on the lips, to which he turned away.
Pure Vanilla covered his mouth, sighing. “Oh no, dear…My breath smells…”
“Ah.” Dark Cacao kissed his forehead instead, smiling. “I was very hurt for a moment…”
Pure Vanilla chuckled again.
“But, do not be angry with yourself…I want you to know you can lean on me, always, Pure Vanilla. I may not be the most empathic, but I will do my best. For you.”
“...”
“I love you, my dear. I will always be at your side, so long as the world goes round”
Pure Vanilla sniffled, letting a lone tear slip down his cheek.
“Thank you…”