It's the afternoon and I'm laying in bed. No reason in getting up, right? Well, I did get up to weigh myself this morning. It feels so good to be home, able to weigh myself whenever I want. When I got up I felt really dizzy, so I had a few bites of toast to try and help with that, which it did a little. I felt really guilty about eating though, so I worked out in my room. Usually I wouldn't risk doing that, since the floorboards creak from my room upstairs, but everyone's out at work.

I didn't work out too long because I felt like I was going to pass out, but I should have burned off the toast with what I did.

I hear my phone vibrate from my dresser. Mom must have come in last night and got my dirty clothes, putting my phone up there. I missed her a lot, and not just because she does my laundry.

As I answer, I notice it's nearly two. "Hello?"

"Hey, how are you? None of us have heard from you since yesterday," Michael's voice rings through the phone.

"I'm... alive," I tell him, not even trying to mask how crappy I feel to him. Why bother? He knows my biggest secret, why hide anything now?

"Would you be anything but alive?" he asks me, concern leaking into his tone.

"No, I just meant, feel like shit but here we are," I try to clarify, shocking myself at how honest I'm being with him.

"Oh, okay then. Maybe you want to hang out? Get your mind off of things?"

"I'm actually really tired, I think I'll stay home. Sorry Michael," I apologise.

"All good, just give Ash a call. He wants to talk to you."

"Will do, talk to you later man," I say, hanging up before hearing his reply and sigh. The last thing I want to do is hang out. My body is cold and tired. I'm exhausted. Before I was barely sleeping but now all I seem to do is sleep. This morning I woke up at eight, having gone to bed by at least half past five last night. I don't know what's changed but I think I prefer sleeping over being awake.

Today is a bad mental day. My body looks bigger than usual, I hate myself more, and I couldn't feel any more down. It's also a really bad physical day. I feel as if I'll pass out constantly when I move, my joints hurt when I walk, and I have a splitting headache. I should drink water.

Should. But maybe I'll just stay in bed.

~

I'm broken out of slumber by a pounding door somewhere in the house. Then it stops. I try to close my eyes again, but the pounding begins again, softer this time. Must be the front door.

I grab my comforter off the bed and wrap it around me before standing. The room immediately starts to fade and I have to take a second to regain myself, before slowly making my way down the stairs to the front door.

The knocking doesn't stop. "I'm coming!" I yell halfway down the stairs. This finally makes the knocking cease.

When I open the door, Ashton's standing in front of me. "Hey," he says to me casually, walking into the house. I grunt. What happened to being alone?

"Hi," I respond flatly.

"Something wrong?" he asks me cautiously.

I sigh, "I was sleeping, sorry."

He nods his head. "Where is everyone?"

"Mom and Dad are at work, and Ben is probably out with his friends or at work as well."

He nods his head again, the room silent as night.

"Did you need something?" I inquire.

He shifts where he stands. "I came over to talk about your eating disorder."

I grunt aloud and trudge over to the couch, comforter wrapped tightly around me. "It sucks. Thanks for asking but I'm not interested in talking about it."

"You have to talk about it, have you told your parents?"

"I can't tell them."

"Why?" he asks me.

"They'll never look at me the same again. They'll always worry. They'll always try to make me eat. I'll just be their fuck up son," I try to explain, my thoughts scattered.

"They're not going to think you're a fuck up Luke, they're going to want to help you. They only want what's best for you. Plus, it's a parents job to worry about their child. And... there was one more thing you said but I forgot what it was," he laughs.

"I said they'd make me eat," I tell him flatly, unamused by this conversation.

"Right, well, would that necessarily be a bad thing?"

"Yes? It would? I don't want to become even more fat."

He stares at me in disbelief. "Luke, you're a lot of things. You're blond, and tall. But you aren't fat. Far from it. When's the last time you looked in a mirror?"

"Recently, thanks."

"You need to tell your parents," he announces, "you can't keep living like this. It'll kill you eventually."

With how my mind is today, I wouldn't say that's such a bad thing.

"Yeah, well, what happens when I tell them? They'll force me to eat, and that's not what I want."

"What do you want then?"

"I want to be skinny. I want to be happy," I tell him.

"Are you happy the way you're living right now?" He asks me

"No..."

"Then maybe you should give eating a try again."

"But I can't get fat," I say, tugging at my hair.

"You're talking in circles," he says gently.

"I know, I'm sorry."

We sit in silence for a long time while i contemplate things. Maybe I should tell my parents. Do I really want to die? Sure, it seems easy. But what about my career, what about my friends and family? I'd never see them again.

I wouldn't be alive. I wouldn't be able to think, or do anything. It would be the end of everything.

"I think I'm going to tell my parents."

"Tell your parents what?" Mum asks, closing the front door behind her.

Ashton looks at me and I look at him, most likely with fear written all over my face.

It's okay, he mouths to me, you'll be fine.

"Uh..."

"Should I go?" Ashton asks me.

I don't want Ashton to see my mum cry, and I have to do this alone. I need to.

"I think so, yeah," I lead Ashton to the door, "thank you for everything."

"Not a problem, it's what I'm here for. Always here for you Lukey," he says shoving me lightly which, ouch, shouldn't have hurt. He then leaves.

I sigh before turning around, "I need to talk to you. Can we sit?" I motion to the couch.

She nods and makes her way over to the couch, looking concerned but doing her best to hide it. "What is it, sweetie?" she asks me.

I sigh, again. All I seem to do lately is sigh. How do I tell her this? I can't just come out and say I can't eat. Or maybe I can? I don't want to tell her but Ashton is right, this needs to stop before it gets any worse.

"I can't eat," I tell her directly.

"What do you mean, is your stomach still upset?" she asks me.

"No, I mean," I give an exhausted ugh, finding it hard to explain, "I just... I can't eat normally."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say Luke. What do you mean?" She's genuinely confused so I shouldn't be upset at her for not understanding, but I am. I'm upset because I don't know how to describe this myself, so how in the world do I describe it to someone else?

Think back to what you said to Ashton, I think to myself. You started at the beginning, maybe that will help.

I close my eyes and collect my thoughts. It's easier not to look at her when I say this. I start by reminding her how I was eating healthier, and how that spiraled into something worse than I could ever imagine. I explain to her how I slowly went from a normal amount of calories to barely any at all, to now none. Trying to cover everything, I tell her I'm not comfortable in my own skin, how I think I'm too big and how I weigh too much, that I'm miserable. I try to explain to her that I can't help it, but this only further upsets her, seeing as she's already crying. She shakes her head when I try to apologise. I pull her close into an embrace and she holds me tightly, weeping into my shoulder. My own eyes start to water.

"I should have known something was wrong. I saw how thin you've gotten. I thought it was the stress of the tour. Then when you told me about your stomach bug, do you even have a stomach bug?" I shake my head, "I should have known something was wrong. How long has this been going on for?"

A year. "Too long," I tell her instead, not wanting her to blame herself any more than she already is. This isn't her fault, it's mine. I did this to myself, it's all my fault. No one to blame but me.

"Baby, I'm so sorry I didn't see this," she wipes her eyes, pulling away from me, "but we're going to fix this. Everything is going to be okay."

I hope so, I don't know how much longer I can continue like this.