Work Text:
Some days were harder than others and today was looking like that. Tom wasn’t sure what to expect when he was called by the hospital. This was not the first time and Tom doubted it would be the last. He wasn’t anxious this time, he just had a sick feeling that it was only going to get worse until it couldn’t get more worse.
It was a crisp autumn morning at 11am when Tom’s assistant told him the news. The weather was not too cold or warm which was his Harry’s favorite weather. Tom was rather formal at work, his employees and colleagues referred to him as ‘cold’ but he viewed it was disciplined. He was not one to joke around or make polite small talk, Tom was here to make money and climb up the corporate ladder. His smiles and warmth were reserved for his husband, Harry.
His assistant, Mae, knew Harry was Tom’s everything. Her boss didn’t talk about him outwardly but it was evident in the way his eyes lit up when his husband called him at work or came to visit him in the office. So Mae knew that ‘Harry’ was more important than even the most significant mergers.
Tom took the phone from Mae and all his thoughts about the upcoming merger vanished. His precious soul was in the hospital. His husband was in the hospital and it was all Tom’s fault. It’s not like he hadn’t seen the signs. The smell of bile in the bathroom, the bones sticking out, the food in the dustbin and most of all the exhausted look in Harry’s eyes. At first, Tom was beyond furious at himself for not noticing earlier and took his husband to the best specialists in the city. Tom monitored all of Harry’s meals and personally wrote his meal plans and stuck it everyday on their refrigerator. But it wasn’t enough. It never would be.
The lights in the room were dim casting a gloomy undertone in the room. The bed was small but his husband’s skeletal frame barely covered it. Tom felt as if he were going to vomit, it was all his fault. He couldn’t protect his husband from his mind and now Harry was sick and gaunt.
“It isn’t your fault.” A voice called out.
Tom turned to see a young woman with disheveled hair and a tired smile. He felt anger rise up his spine, whatever was happening with his Harry was none of her business. Tom opened his mouth to retort something cold before she continued,” You can’t protect someone from the voices in their mind, it’s not possible.”
He turned his attention to her fully. “It’s none of my business but eating disorders aren’t easy. They cannot be fixed as if they’re a problem to be solved.”
“You do not understand, lady,” Tom spat out, “Get out of this room before I call security.”
Instead of rushing out the lady sat down on one of the armchairs in the room. “My sister was first diagnosed with bulimia when she was fourteen. None of us could understand why and my parents blamed themselves. On paper she seemed perfect, she had friends and she was excelling at school and for years I tried to understand why she liked the feeling of vomiting her guts out after every meal.”
The lady stared at Tom before continuing,” You seem like a loving partner, but you must understand it’s something deeper than wanting to look a certain way. Instead of making recovery clinical, try and understand his perspective before it’s too late. And even if you stick to the meal plans and watching his every bite, recovery isn’t linear.”
Before Tom could even comprehend her words she shut the door gently and walked out. He sat on the armchair until the sky was splattered with shades of deep purple. He stared at Harry’s thin form as he slept with his feeding tube in his nose.
“Tom,” Harry whispered, “I am so sorry, I didn’t even notice it got so bad.”
“It was never your fault, my soul, I should have intervened sooner,” Tom murmured his fingers stroking his husband’s messy locks, “This time I simply want to understand the voices even if they are dark and cruel, tell me all about them.”
Harry’s eyes welled up with tears before he begged, “Can you tell the doctors to remove this, please Tom.”
“I’m afraid I cannot allow them to remove the feeding tubes, my love.”
“No, Tom, you have to understand,” His husband begged, “Please.”
“Maybe, but only if you tell me why you won’t eat and what about not eating appeals to you.” Tom negotiated using the same tone he used in work meetings.
A nurse came in the room and adjusted Harry’s feeding tubes before checking his vitals. During this time, Tom stared into his husband’s forest green eyes. The exhaustion was evident in his face, his cheekbones jutting out and lips cracked with blood. Tom felt irritated, at work he solved everything but here he could not. Harry didn’t answer him regarding his question on why he didn’t eat but Tom gave him time. He had to be patient even though everything in him wanted to understand Harry’s thoughts and try and reverse the disordered voices.
It was past midnight, but the city was awake. Tall buildings towering over the streets filled with cars could be seen from his study. It had been an awfully long day, Harry had been discharged from the hospital with a nutrition plan and a few group support sessions lined up. According to Tom, it would not be enough. He wanted his Harry to be happy. He could not understand why Harry starved himself or counted calories obsessively. They had the happiest marriage, and Harry owned a bookshop which he loved dearly. So why?
Tom had spent the last two hours reading articles on ‘Anorexia Nervosa’ and various other eating disorders. He was trying to understand why his husband was hurting himself. But the more he read, the more it all terrified him. And Tom could not remember the last time he was scared.
“You should be asleep,” Harry’s raspy voice startled Tom before he his laptop hoping the clear the evidence of his research.
“And you, my soul, should be in bed,” Tom said as he wrapped his arms around his husband’s frame, “The doctors told you to rest and you must listen to what they say.”
Tom pressed a brief kiss on Harry’s nose as he brought Harry closer to him. His husband leaned into the embrace and rested his head on Tom’s shoulders. It was a peaceful moment, the chaos and uncertainty of the day before blurred away as he embraced his husband.
“I don’t like talking about it because my mind is a mess right now but for me it’s about control.” Harry whispered, his voice a little shaky and unsure.
“At first, I thought losing a little weight might be healthy and it was good for me, but I liked counting the calories and restricting the food. I felt like it was the one aspect of my life that was controllable. My jeans started hanging off my waist and my hoodies barely fit but every time I see myself in the mirror I feel this sort of pride,” Harry stopped for a moment his voice shaky, “There’s this sick part of my brain that feels happy every time I skip a meal and a part of me knows it isn’t healthy but I can’t stop Tom.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Tom stared at his husband, he eyed his gaunt frame and the way his collarbones jutted out. He was going to tell his Harry that he didn’t care and that he was beautiful just the way he was but then he remembered the words of the young lady in the hospital. Tom took a deep breath and forced out, “I understand my love, not completely but I want you tell me every time these voices speak to you. The voices are lying to you and I know you don’t want me repeating the same bullshit over and over again about you being ‘perfect’ as you are,” Tom paused and took Harry’s cold palms in his before continuing, “But whenever you hear a voice in your head telling you to skip a meal or not eat, I don’t care where I am or if it is in the middle of the night, but you have to tell me.”
“You have to tell me, my love, because I don’t want you to go through this alone. And I know I will never fully understand but the one thing I do get is that this sickness is making you miserable and I despise seeing you like this. You should never have to feel like this, my soul.” Tom said as he rubbed circles on his husband’s palms.
The doctors at the hospital told him that Harry might be upset in the beginning so he expected his husband to walk off or ignore him but instead Harry pressed his face to Tom’s chest and buried his nose in the crook of his shoulder, “Thank you, Tom, for understanding.”
The couple didn’t say anything for a while. Tom took his husband to the sofa in his study and let him rest his head on his thighs. He knew it wouldn’t be easy as he stared at Harry’s sleeping form but he would always be there for his Harry. Forever, no matter the voices and demons.