TW: Eating disorder/anxiety/depression/

It was apparent from the expression on Ambrose's face when Amber announced herself to him that he was not expecting her at all. He turned from the oven, looked at her for a moment without speaking, then said, "Amber. What're you...what're you doing here?" 

She pulled out a dining chair and sat down. "Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd come by." 

"Right..." He glanced at me and I mouthed 'sorry' for letting her in. "I'm baking potatoes, do you want one?" 

"Oh, better not. I ate with mum and dad. Listen, they're still willing to pay for it, you know." I tried not to focus on the reason for her denying food, tried to remind myself that it was okay to eat even if someone else wasn't. And besides, Ambrose would be eating with me. It would be fine. 

Ambrose sighed heavily. "How many times do I need to tell them I don't want it?" 

"They're just looking out for you." 

"I'm thirty, I don't need them to tell me to remove a tattoo that I like. Anyway, what's their problem if I cover it when I'm around them?" 

"It's just not a good look for you," she insisted. I could have laughed but didn't want to ruin any chances of her not disliking me. Ambrose saw her a lot, so her opinions on me would matter. 

"I like it," he said definitively. "Anyone for tea? Coffee?" 

"Oh, tea, thanks," I replied, perched on the arm of the couch. 

"Yeah, me too." Turning towards me, Amber asked, "So, Andy? You're a tattoo freak, huh." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Never heard that term before. But yes, I like tattoos." 

"What do you think of his face tattoo? I mean, you don't have face tattoos, and you're covered." 

"I think it's sick," I said. "And I'm not against getting one myself at some point." 

"This is why they always worry about you, Ambrose!" She said, exasperated. "You always hang about with people who encourage you!" 

"If they wanna worry about anyone, it should be you, the one without a fucking job. I make three figures a year, I think I can risk a bit of ink on my face. And don't assume anyone with tattoos is a bad influence. That's just stereotyping and it's rude." 

"Hey, I have a job!" 

"Reading palms at festivals is not a job." 

"It's not just festivals." 

Ambrose shook his head, poured boiled water into three mugs. "Look, all I'm saying is, why do you and mum and dad keep getting at me for one small tattoo when I have a good job, a nice house, and you have a rented apartment with a girl who grows weed and you still get cheques from dad?" 

"I do not!" 

"Fuck off." He handed me my tea first, then Amber, before sitting on the couch I was perched on and saying, "Look, I don't care what you do with your life and I'm glad you're happy with what you do, but why do you all have to make me feel like shit for my choices?" 

"We're just looking out for you." 

"Okay, well, stop. Besides, you're being rude in front of Andy. He's a guest." 

"And I'm not?" 

"You're my sister." 

These two are a bomb waiting to explode, I thought.

Amber rolled her eyes. "Andy, what do you do?" She asked. 

God, I fucking hate that questions. "I'm a model." 

"That makes complete sense." Here we go. "You look like one." 

"Thanks?" 

"You must be, what, one hundred pounds?" Well, didn't we all see that one coming? Seriously, should be used to hearing shit like that by now.

"Amber!" Ambrose snapped. 

"It's a compliment. I wish I was that thin." 

"It's not a compliment to mention weight, Amber, shut up." 

"My god, ever since you quit the gym and went all body positive you've become really dull, you know that? He's a model, the way he looks is literally his career. If I was a model and someone asked if I was a hundred pounds, I'd be flattered." 

"Well, he's not you, and it's rude. Besides, there's more to modelling than just looks." 

"How is it rude?" 

I swallowed. 

Ambrose shook his head, glanced at me. "Just - there's no need to mention it, okay?" 

"Alright, fine. But I'm sure Andy can talk for himself. Actually, it's quite funny, because there was a guy in our year at school, remember? Called Andy? And he was so fat-"  I thought, they're twins. They were in the same year at school.

"Amber, fucking stop it!" That was the first time I'd heard him raise his voice and swear like that. Clearly, his sister had been grinding his gears for a long time. 

"Jesus, chill out. I was just saying, it's funny. Because that Andy was so huge and this Andy - " gesturing at me as though I was an exhibit in a gallery "- is the complete opposite. You must have the strictest diet, seriously, I wish I could be more self-controlled-" 

"I'm anorexic," I cut in sharply. Gave her a sarcastic smile. Thought, I'm not letting you feel good about this conversation. 

Her face fell. She looked at her brother; he was looking at me. 

I said, "So, thank you for that." 

 Suddenly wanted to cry. Was it because I had spoken up or because she had said what she'd said? Took a sip of the tea, blinked. 

Amber was quiet. Mortified.

Ambrose stood to check the oven. 

Me and Amber seemed to be having a staring contest until I said, "Maybe if you had 'more self-control', you'd know when to keep your mouth shut, cunt," and left the room. 

"Fucking hell, Amber!" I heard Ambrose scold, then he was chasing after me. 

I turned around in the doorway of his conservatory, angry with my own brain for getting so upset about something that was talked about so often. It was practically small talk now. Weight and diets. Why was I still to fucking sensitive to it? 

He took my shoulders. I can't explain it but something about this action made me feel incredibly safe. "I'm so sorry. I should have mentioned she says shit like that, I just didn't expect her to show up like this-" 

"It's fine, it's not your fault." 

"No, but - look, I'm just really sorry. She shouldn't say that to anyone. I'll make her leave and yell at her another time. Are you okay?" 

I shook my head and he took me in his arms. I was careful not to spill the tea still in my hand. I was so tired of being this fragile.

"She's been bitter since I quit the gym, I don't know why. Like it effects her. I'm sorry. I should have told you before you met her, I just-" 

"Ambrose, stop it. You're not her. I'm not mad at you. She was as rude to you as she was to me." 

"I know, but she's my sister, I'm used to it." 

"Do you think that makes it okay?" 

"Well, no, but kind of. You're shaking." 

"I know. I'm - I'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Probably not. Look, just - let's not talk about it right now, okay? I feel like shit and I'm so fucking hungry. Can we talk about it tomorrow or something?" 

"Yeah, sure. Of course. Let me go kick her out."

"Sorry I called her a cunt." 

"No, I think she deserved it." 

I hummed. Ambrose kissed me on the mouth before returning to the living room. I waited for the front door to slam before venturing back in. Thankfully, he was alone, grating cheese into a bowl.

I sat back on the arm of the couch and exhaled. "Is she always like that?" 

"A rude cow? Yes." 

"How lovely." 

"Mhm. Are you alright with beans and cheese?" 

"Yeah. Should be. Listen, thanks for trying to protect me. I really appreciate it. Most people just stay quiet through comments like that. Anyway, I said I didn't wanna talk about it, why am I talking about it?" 

"I was wondering the same thing." 

So, now I knew why he complained about his sister so much.