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ralph stares at himself in his bathroom mirror, wiping off the steam from his hot shower. disgust oozes out of him through his sneering expression. he knows this looks bad. everybody knows. they tell him every chance they can get, but he just can’t help it. he knows there is always a few more pounds he can lose. always a few more times he can vomit.
he sighs in defeat, and locks the bathroom door. its become a routine for him now. he settles down on his knees, opens the toilet lid. he takes in a deep breath, steeling his nerves before he sticks two fingers down his throat. the burning sensation of vomit coming up fills his mouth, and he coughs. he coughs and coughs till he’s done.
he washes his hands, cleaning himself up. he wipes the tears that came from the gagging. no matter how many times he’s purged, he still ends up so afraid of throwing up. whatever, he thinks, at least it’s over.
he heads back to his room, carefully avoiding eye contact with his father who definitely knows what he just did. he continues getting ready for bed, deliberately trying not to think about the beginning of the new school year tomorrow.
he hasn’t seen most of his friends since the end of last year, before he really fell down the rabbithole of weed and eating disorders. when he was healthier. how could he face them, knowing how he looks?
he eyes the fabric covered box that’s carefully hidden between his bookshelf and his wall. his stash, if you will. he promised himself he wouldn’t touch it for the first semester of school, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
and so, he drags himself to the little box, cautiously opens the lid, and pulls out a precious weed pen. he brings it to his lips, shaking. he takes a drag slowly, savoring the smoke, before exhaling it softly. he stays like that for a while, taking slow breaths and kneeling before the box.
once he has his fill, he hastily puts the pen back into the box, and closes the lid. he messes with the fraying fabric on the sides for a few seconds, before eventually putting it back into the hiding spot. he takes himself back to his bed, climbs in, covers his body with blankets. he wipes the tears he did not know had fallen.
he scoffs, laughing at himself. well, i’ll figure out what to do tomorrow, thinks ralph, as he drifts off.
ralph is awoken by the sun pouring in through his windows, his sheer curtains doing nothing to stop it.
he takes his time getting out of bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes. he begrudgingly moves to the bathroom, and idly does everything a normal functioning human being should do: he brushes his teeth, washes his face, changes his clothes, and puts on deodorant.
with each passing moment, however, ralph can feel himself becoming more anxious to get to school. seriously, how will he be able to face his friends after blowing them off all summer to starve and wither away at home?
he hopes that nobody will ask him if he is okay. he hopes that nobody will stare at him for too long. and he really fucking hopes that that piece of shit jack doesn’t say anything.
before stepping out of the bathroom, he eyes the scale placed under the counter. he tugs at his lip, a desperate want to weigh himself pouring out of him. he shakes his head, ruffling his hair.
you can’t. i can’t. it won’t help you right now. he tries to convince himself, but the desire seems to have carved a place in his stomach, and it won’t go away.
“mmm…” he hums. “well… might as well… i haven’t weighed myself in a while anyways.” he caves.
he strips himself down quickly, noting that it’s almost time to leave. he steps down onto the scale, the cold glass pressing against his feet. the number flashes on the screen, and it’s the lowest number he’s seen in a while.
he sighs in relief. at least all those nights purging had paid off. he quickly dresses himself again, throwing on the baggiest pieces of clothing he owns. he gathers up his school supplies quickly, shoves them in his book bag, and slips into his shoes.
he runs downstairs, giving a quick goodbye to his father and mother, and slips out the door to catch the bus. thankfully, he catches it just in time.
when the bus inevitably arrives at the evil school building, nausea has already planted itself firmly into ralph’s stomach. he shakily steps off the bus, keeping his head down.
maybe if i don’t see anyone i know, they won’t see me either…
however, he is proven wrong shortly after.
a hand on his shoulder turns his attention to right next to him. fiery red hair and freckles fills his sight.
“jack?”