TW: Eating disorder/weight/depression/suicide

Sometimes it truly does feel like the world is shitting all over you.

At least, that's what I told Ambrose when he found me in the same coffee shop we had met, stirring a metal spoon in black coffee and yawning. 

After asking if he could, he sat down at my table and before he could say anything else, I told him, "I think the world enjoys shitting all over me." I continued to stir the coffee without drinking it, was craving a milky cappuccino. 

"Something happen?" He asked. "How come no milk?"

"Three pounds," I said flatly. "Two days." Shrugging like it wasn't a big deal, I pushed the mug away. "So...that's the end of three meals a day, isn't it?"

For the past week, I had been spending every evening except for the previous one with Ambrose, eating dinner with him and having breakfast and lunch alone. The hunger never seemed to end, though I suppose I should have expected it to continue once I started eating because you can't starve your body for years and expect six days of three meals to magically fix it. 

The afternoon before, I'd been told in a photoshoot to drop three pounds, and had spent the evening helplessly sobbing. The morning hadn't been much better. 

"I mean, I should've...I should've expected it, but it still feels like I've been fucking kicked in the head. Of course as soon as I try to-to eat properly, they have to tell me I'm not fucking thin enough. How fucking thin do they want me to be? Is it not enough already? I can't fucking do anything anymore without getting dizzy or passing out. I'm so fucking sick of it all. I'd rather just be dead than continue fucking doing this."

"I'm so sorry, Andy, fuck."

"Like, what the hell am I supposed to do? Am I - am I really too big? I'm fucking...God, I feel like fucking shit." I dropped my head onto the table. "I'm so fucking hungry, I can't think straight. I'm literally - fuck, I have to shut up before I cry again."

"Let me get you a coffee with milk," Ambrose offered. 

I said nothing but had been hoping he would say that; there was little chance of me getting anything on my own, but for some reason, it didn't seem so bad when he got it for me. I didn't move until he sat back down and put two mugs on the table.

"You have to put yourself first," he said firmly. "No one has any right to tell you that you need to lose weight. Doesn't matter what their job is, it's fucking disgusting to think they can police your body." 

Lifting my head, I pulled the cappuccino towards me and picked up the teaspoon from the saucer.

"At the end of the day, Andy, you're the only one who has to live in your body." 

"How did you do it?" 

"Do what?" 

"Just...stop doing what wasn't helping you? With the gym and that? How did you do it?" 

"Andy, I can't tell you how to do it. I don't know enough about eating disorders to give you advice like that." 

"I'm so fucking tired." 

"I know." 

"I just want to be normal, Ambrose. I just want to go into a café and order food and not stress about it." 

"I know, hon." 

"Have you had lunch yet?" 

"No. That's what I'm here for. And to hide from my sister again. Do you wanna eat with me?" 

"I don't know." 

The was a lie. I did want to eat with him, I just didn't know if I could cope with the shame afterwards. 

I spooned froth from the cappuccino into my mouth. "I don't know. "

"You know you don't ever need to lose any weight, right? Regardless of what you currently weigh. You know they have no right to tell you that you do?" 

"I know, I...I thought that, but then I was like - " I pinched the side of my wrist - "This could go." 

"Andy," he began. "Look here." 

I did. 

He rolled up his hoodie sleeves. "See this?" Poking gently at his forearms, he said, "Do you think I need to eat less? To get rid of this?" 

"What? No. Of course not. No." 

"Right. So why should you?" 

Recalling how my my dad had said, 'if you think you're fat, you must think I'm massive.' 

"Your weight isn't the problem, Andy," Ambrose said. "They are." 

"No, I...it's not...If - if I wasn't so - if I wasn't so - so big, they wouldn't...they wouldn't say it." 

"Hon, no. They're always going to say it." 

"No, you don't know that." But I knew he was right. I had known before he said it that it was the case, that they kept telling me to lose weight because they enjoyed the power it gave them over me, and because it was easy. For them, it was easy.

Because the more I lost, the less power I had against them. 

The spoon dropping into the mug, I dropped my head into my hands. I mumbled, "I'd rather just be fucking dead right now." Tears started up again. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've wasted so much of your time lately." 

"No, you haven't. Don't be sorry. You're allowed to need support." 

"Ambrose?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I think you're a fucking angel, you know that?" 

"Oh. Thank you. That's the most lovely thing anyone's said to me. Can I give you a hug or something?" 

I nodded, glad he had asked. "Yes. Thank you." 

Standing, he walked around the table, waited for me to get up, caught me when I closed my eyes through a dizzy spell. "You still with me?" He murmured. "Need to sit back down?" 

I wrapped my arms around him. My eyes were burning with tears and I stumbled against him, mumbled, "I'm gonna pass out." The fuzziness had become so familiar over the past few weeks that it had begun to feel almost normal, though I knew it wasn't. 

"You're okay," Ambrose soothed. "I've got you. Let it happen." 

I did, vaguely aware of his arms tightening around me as I slipped from consciousness. When I came round, I was still against his chest, stumbled again. "Thanks," I whispered. 

"No worries. You okay?" 

"I feel so sick." 

"Okay. Here, sit down. I'm gonna get you something to eat, okay?" He guided me into the chair. "Be right back." 

I rested my head in my hands again and waited, dizziness washing over me in lurching waves that made me nauseous, barely registering Ambrose's return until he put a hand between my shoulder blades and said quietly, "We're gonna meet for lunch every day, okay? Even if you only eat when I'm with you, it's better than this. I'm worried you're gonna pass out and hurt yourself." He rubbed circles into my back. "I won't tell you to go to a doctor or anything because I know that's so overwhelming on the best of days, but I can't let you suffer like this every day." 

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay." 

"How're you feeling now? Do you want some water?" 

I nodded, lifted my head. It was such a strange thing to have someone care more about what the weight loss was doing to me that how it looked in photographs. I wanted him to hug me forever. 

Ambrose knelt beside me and held the glass of water to my mouth because my hands were shaking. 

I should keep a tally for every time my hands shake. 

"Tell me if I overstep," he said. "A boundary, I mean." 

The water was just the right amount of cold as I swallowed.

I felt like I wasn't really there, like the cafe and everything in it existed in a parallel universe.

It didn't matter anymore that I'd not even know him for a month. None of that mattered; I just knew I needed him.