You can always look better. Be thiner.
Armin x fem! Reader, angst, comfort, modern au.
This contains discussion of an eating disorder. I describe the inner thoughts of the narrator. Don't follow them, don't take them as an example of how YOU should think. If this can trigger you, I BEG YOU to not read.
To readers who are in recovery, I wish you all the best. I wish you to enjoy food again and get rid of all those horrible intrusive thoughts. To be in peace with your body. This is not a war with food, this is the life you should enjoy ᰔ
Note: I’m dealing with an 3d myself in this moments, and I’m relapsing, so I wanted to be honest and share that I’m writing this out of my current situation, and I know a lot of other people are dealing with this too and could, maybe, relate and feel seen and comforted by this. So, here it is.
English is not my first language, sorry if there’s any misspelling.
———————————————————————
It was getting worse. This feeling of guilt everytime I ate. The way I feared whenever someone offered me food. It was exhausting.
I was exhausted.
But even though, physically, I felt horrible, my mind wouldn’t stop insulting me If I did ate, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself everytime I made it through the day by only drinking water. My will was strong enough, that was good, right?
I have to admit that, in a way, I did this for Armin, my boyfriend. It didn't started that way, but it got stronger. Armin had a pretty slim anatomy, so I just felt weird. Whenever I looked at pictures of us, I couldn't help but compare how much space his body took with how much mine did. And even though he never showed any rejection to my body, even though he had told me so many times how pretty I was, I just couldn't understand why he would think that. I couldn't see what he did.
It was lunch time. I wanted to go outside, walk. But Armin insisted me to stay with him, in our desks. Everyone else went outside.
By laugh and laugh, he got his lunch out and started eating, I did the same, but I was just cutting stuff, to dissimulate.
He stared as I did.
— I think that’s enough cutting. — He tried to fade the serious tone he used by letting out a giggle.
I tried to laugh, but only sounded awkward.
He didn't say anything more, he just looked at me every few seconds. He stared at my plate, trying to figure out something. I was nervous.
— Why aren't you eating? — He wasn't looking at me anymore, he's eyes were locked in an unknown point of the classroom, like he couldn't dare to look at me. Like he feared my answer.
— Excuse me? — I understood exactly what he meant and I knew the exact answer, but magicians don't just tell they're secrets. I mean, losing weight like this, from the outside, looks like magic. Or that's what I tell myself.
I kept quiet. Couldn't bring myself to tell him. I didn't even know if I wanted to tell him. That implied a lot of things; that implied stopping.
That implied eating.
He didn't say anything either. I could see how scared he was, but I could see his concern too. He has always had an expressive face.
— Why aren’t you eating? —
We were at my house. He asked again. My mom was out. The house was alone.
He asked again.
I just kept still. Didn’t move a finger while my eyes stared at the stairs in front of me. I just wanted to go up to my room and leave this topic alone. Why did he had to care…?
— Please answer me, __. — He was looking at me. Actually seeing me. I could feel his gaze trying to find my low face. I turned to him. He’s expression was anxious. — Please, just tell me what’s happening and we’ll find a way to make it better. I promise I won’t judge you. —
— I am eating. — That lame lie was my last resource.
— Sweetheart. — He called me with a soft, reassuring, but almost pleading tone. He’s hand met my cheek with such love. I almost fell upon the floor and broke.
— Why are you asking me this? — And tears started to run down my face in frustration. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell him the real answer. That I felt ugly. Gross, even. Like I wasn’t worthy of he’s affection for how much space I would take.
As I cried, he just held me, firm but lovingly. My arms were pressed on my chest and my head rested between he’s shoulder and neck. My eyes were closed, I just hided my body inside he’s arms. “Oh wow, he’s arms fit around you? I would’ve sworn that wasn’t possible with how fat you are” my brain said. My thoughts were unbearable. I sobbed more. After I calmed down a little; he, without putting he’s arms away, asked me again. — What is happening? —
— I-I, — I couldn’t hold my breath still. He caressed my back up and down, breathing with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
— Better? — He asked me.
I just nodded. I felt childish crying like this in front of him, yet it felt so good. It felt like something stopped squeezing my heart.
— I just… — I didn’t even know how to explain it. — I feel gross when I eat. I guess I’m not actually fat, but I can’t stop feeling like I am every time I swallow something. — Another tear ran down my cheek, just one last.
He looked at me with concern, and something else, almost like pity; It was not, but it resembled it. He held me close again, and this time I hugged him back really tight, a desperate strength, reaching for security. As he felt that, he passed his fingers through my hair in a soothing manner, trying to calm me down.
— I know there’s nothing I can say to make u feel different, and you don’t know how much I wish I could tell you magic words to make all this feelings disappear. — He pulled away and bring both his hands to cup my face with such delicacy. — I just want you to know; really know, that you are beautiful. Not only to me, but for so many people we know. It’s not even because I’m your boyfriend. You’re actually beautiful, __. —
