Work Text:
“Em, it’s your birthday. Just have a piece,” Andy pleaded, nudging the cake across the counter, closer to her.
She glanced down at the cake, feeling awful. Just thinking about it made her sick. She hadn’t seen the calorie count, but Emily could only assume it was something outrageously high. There was no way in hell she would take a bite yet, let alone eat an entire slice. She made Andrea aware of the last part.
Andy looked up at her, those big doe eyes seeming to melt her resolve. It wasn’t fair how she got to just look at Emily and make her cave instantly. Emily had grown accustomed to being the most stubborn person she knew. She held her ground, always. Until Andy and her large eyes and warm smile came around and slowly thawed her composure. The brunette continued to look into her eyes until Emily had no choice but to give in—dramatically, of course.
As if she hadn’t already won, Andrea felt the need to add on to her prior statement. “Today’s supposed to be special and cake is tradition.”
Emily wanted to tell Andrea that she had stopped partaking in the cake tradition years ago but, when she opened her mouth to voice the thought, nothing came out.
She rolled her eyes but with a huff agreed, unable to further resist.
Andy insisted on cutting the piece, meaning Emily had absolutely no control over the situation. The slice of cake was far larger than she would have preferred (though, if she had it her way, Emily would be eating no cake at all).
To Andy, it was nothing, just another simple tradition. A few extra calories here and there for the sake of a celebration. For Emily, it was her world, carefully built on control and rigidly maintained, crumbling to pieces.
Andrea offered her a fork, which she begrudgingly accepted, using it to gingerly dissect her cake into the categories of cake, icing, and miscellaneous toppings. All of which she would try separately.
She expected Andy to yell at her or at least get annoyed by her unnatural and hyper-specific habits. Instead, she waited silently, making sure Emily wouldn’t fake a bite. She hated the feeling of being watched, especially while eating. Since high school, Emily had made it her mission not to eat in public and, even though they were at her home, Andy’s presence made it feel as if she were in public. Though she trusted Andrea far more than any stranger—more than anyone, really—she still felt ashamed.
Andrea’s gaze softened further in a way Emily didn’t even know was possible. She felt obligated to eat, unable to stand the sad look that Andy would get whenever Emily said something cruel. The era of her constantly bullying Andy had long since ended and the pair had grown to realize that teasing was simply Emily’s love language.
As the fork entered her mouth and she tasted the bite of the cake, her tastebuds were overwhelmed. The only sugar she ate, other than her binges, was from fruits. Cake had been a food she had refused to buy, and therefore something Emily had not eaten in ages. It was sweet, almost sickeningly so, and completely overpowering.
Andrea said nothing and for that Emily was grateful. Instead, Andy gave her a little smile and nodded to encourage her to eat some more. With enough coaxing, she was able to eat maybe half the slice of cake before feeling awful.
Emily pushed the plate away from her.
“I can’t eat any more of this,” she sniffed, praying Andrea wouldn’t notice the way her eyes glassed over.
To her annoyance, Andy caught on fast.
“It’s okay, Em. We can throw the rest away.”
She heard the paper plate hit the bottom of the trash bin with a soft thud. She was glad it was gone, but she felt like she had failed. Emily couldn’t tell if the guilt came from not eating the whole piece or from allowing herself to eat as much as she did.
Abruptly, she stood, shoving herself away from the table.
“I feel sick,” she announced before pivoting to run to the bathroom. She had to rid herself of the poison before she digested it. A hand caught her wrist—Andrea.
“I’m not going to let you relapse,” Andy was firm with that, commanding almost.
Andrea had robbed her of all control in her life by forcing her to eat and forbidding her from purging. Somehow, this felt even worse than when Miranda had caught on to her and sent Nigel to try and ‘fix’ her. Emily wasn’t stupid. She knew that an eating disorder was an illness—and a deadly one too. Despite that, she didn’t want to be ‘fixed.’ It wasn’t like she was going to drop dead at any moment, she would tell herself. She was careful and besides, she wasn’t sick enough to need recovery. On some days, Emily questioned whether she was truly disordered or just dieting and dramatic. Usually she settled for the latter.
“Andrea, you don’t understand.”
“Maybe I don’t, but I do understand that you’re putting yourself at risk and I can’t have my girlfriend relapsing on her birthday.”
There it was, that word “girlfriend”, the one Emily loved and loathed all at once. The only word strong enough to melt her entirely.
She huffed. “Fine.”
A beat.
“But I feel…disgusting,” she whined.
Andy’s grip shifted from Emily’s wrist to interlace with her fingers.
“Would you feel better if we went for a walk?”
Emily nodded.
As they exited the apartment and began to walk down the bustling streets of New York, some of the tension in Emily’s frame began to ease. The more they walked, the better she felt. Emily decided it would be best if she didn’t let Andrea know that exercise bulimia was a thing and instead opted for a peaceful walk. It wasn’t too late to fix her birthday even if the majority of it had veered as far away from the plan as humanly possible.