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"Jon."
The teenager froze mid chew and slowly devolved into a embarrassed mess. He spat out the half mush noodles into the kitchen sink and turned on the garbage disposal. If he didn't, he would dig his hand into the drain and eat what he could get. It was gross, but he had done it before. Ever since he returned from that living nightmare, he became obsessed with food. His grandmother's pies. Damian's vegan snacks. Clark's home cooking that was semi-influenced by the food he would eat in Metropolis. It was a mess of eating and eating until his alien body couldn't take anymore, and he was kneeling on the floor with the stink of vomit on his tongue.
It was a problem. An addiction that he hid the best he could. Pretty much everyone was out of the know and assumed he just had a higher metabolism due to his body going from that of a child to a damn near adult's. Everyone but Damian. His other half looked him in the eye and called him out for his strange behaviour before Jon could even think of an excuse to tell him. The evidence of his crimes was there. The bloodshot eyes. The bloated face. The negative bank account. His best friend saw it all, and instead of insulting Jon for being weak, he sat beside him and informed the older boy that he would be there for him to make sure he didn't go overboard.
"Sorry," The farm boy whimpered rather pathetically as he rinsed out his mouth and dry-heaved before continuing. "I just. I just felt it. The emptiness from him. From Ultraman, and I needed to use whatever I could to get rid of it."
He gagged, the image of those endless days bleeding into demented nights where no one could reach him or even realized he was in danger. "I had to feel full. Even if it hurts, being full is better than being back there with him."
He shuddered at the confession, panting as his stomach squeezed from the unnatural amount of food that had been added to it. "But. I'm fine. Damian, I swear I'm fine."
He tried to say that, at least. Because his vision became increasingly spotty, and before Damian could speak, the teenager vomited right into the sink. Snot and tears dripped down his face as he puked all the meat, pasta, junk food, and horrific combinations that even stoners would balk at out of his body. Instead of solving the emptiness that haunted him like a vengeful spirit, it made him feel torturous pain. If he wasn't half Kryptonian, he would have fallen to his knees and collapsed from the intense cramps he was experiencing. It made him want to curl up in the same fetal position he had all those years ago, in a trap he walked right into.
A hand grabbed his chin and slowly lifted it, a cool rag replacing it as Damian wiped his mouth. The other boy wasn't rough or scolding him for doing what they had just argued about the night before. He didn't scream at Jon for binge eating until his insides bled. Damian was silent but caring as he helped clean his face off and led him back to his bedroom despite Jon being absolutely filthy. Stains and vomit and grime covered his front, but the robin shrugged it all off as he tucked the superhuman back under his thick covers. He swapped out the dirty rag for a clean, warm one, putting it on Jon's bloated face as he finished ridding him of stomach acid and wet ground beef.
"It's okay," Damian reassured him even though they both knew that was a bald-faced lie like the earlier declaration Jon had made with a shaky voice. "You're fine."