˚₊‧꒰ა bea ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who finds out about your disorder in the worst way possible. Well, any other way would’ve been the worst one for her. She can’t really speak, instead those bottle green eyes stare at you like a paragraph she has to reread over and over until the meaning dawns on her, prickling at her heart.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who isn’t sure of how to approach the subject or if she should even mention it at all— she’s too scared of upsetting you if she confronts you.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who decides not to say anything, yet you know she knows.

You perceive how her gaze lingers on your food more, the way her brain seems to be working when it should be calm. Her distress is obvious.

You’re unaware of what gave you away, and at some point you decide to stop spiraling over it… The damage is done anyway.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who thinks she’s being slick— casually gifting you chocolate, bringing lunch for two, even taking you out for dinner twice a week with lame excuses. Apparently, a good grade is worth that much celebrating now.

As annoyed as you can momentarily be, the way Ellie interferes with your plans is just another way in which her infinite sweetness naturally comes to light. You love Ellie over your goals and regrets, so you force yourself to eat for her— it’s worth seeing the glint of accomplishment in her eyes and the small dimples that show themselves in her cheeks when she grins.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who learns to cook just for you, quickly mastering different ways to prepare your safe foods or encourage you to eat different ones. Yes, she hates healthy meals. And yes, she starts tolerating them and even cooks a few for you once in a while. Throwing away the food she prepares especially for you is out of the question.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who goes to the bathroom with you whenever she can, trying to ensure you won’t try purging food… Even if you haven’t eaten anything in the past hours. You don’t even try to lock the door anymore. You just let her in, watching her as she stands awkwardly in front of you— arms crossed, head turned to the side to give you the illusion of privacy.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who studies your behaviour exhaustively like that’s gonna help, reading every article and statistic out there. She even reads through your diary, finding nothing but an entry from a few days ago: “Ellie are you serious?”, was all it said, filling her with the shame of her actions— of knowing you were tired of being treated like a lab experiment rather than her best friend.

She gave up, assuming the best would be to try and take care of you instead of guessing what’s exactly going on in your head— she’s no doctor after all.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who, in the rare occasions you’re the one to ask her for food, will be joyous.

“You… want some?” She asks, amazed. “Of course, baby. Yeah.” She agrees right away, giving you whatever she has— or rushing to get it. She will even feed you personally if she’s too excited.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     whose touch gets more frequent as her acts of intimacy heighten. She’s always on you— arms around your waist, head on your shoulder, hand holding yours, lips against your skin. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers at least once a day. You understand what she’s trying to say.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who starts eating more than you. She chooses the bigger plates in restaurants, has a second helping when you’re eating the food Joel prepared, and makes sure she’s eating twice the snacks as you. She will bear as many stomach aches as needed if it means tricking you into eating normally.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who reassures you whenever you’re feeling too insecure. Now that she knows the reason you cancel most of your plans is your body, if she can’t get you to leave your house she won’t have trouble standing by your side to comfort you, staying the night without voiced permission.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who, if on one of those days notices you staring at a part of your body for too long, will not doubt to get closer and kiss the place.

More than a few times has she leaned down, pushed your legs apart and pecked all over your thighs. She does it softly, reverently, as gently as possible so as not to worsen your state further with any sudden movements.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who stops you when you’re binging.

She knows you will feel horrible mentally and physically after, and doesn’t want you to punish yourself over it. “Hey… Slow down, angel.” She coos, holding your face and forcing you to look directly into her eyes. The coldness of her hands grounds you, clearing your head in a way only she could. “It will hurt you so bad. How about we take a walk? Hm?” She suggests and places a warm smooch on your forehead, already walking you away from the scene to help you relax.

She will definitely be massaging you after, using your stomach ache as an excuse to peck all over your middle while muttering things along the lines of “It’s okay, sleep it away”, “You’re so warm”, “Just relax”, her warm hands applying a gentle pressure where your stomach is.

If she gets lost in it— which has happened on different occasions already— and one of her pecks turns into a wet kiss against your lower abdomen, receiving a raised eyebrow and a silent question in your amused eyes, she will scoff it away. “Haven’t you heard about suction therapy?” She protests as you pull your shirt back on.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who, one day, sees herself unable to find a subtle way to break your fast. You had vanished during lunch time the day before. When you meet at school, you tell her you have a big stomach ache, the news landing as a silent plea when she offers you half her protein bar in the morning. Not today, your eyes begged. You were nowhere to be seen during lunchtime.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who is walking you home later that day, arms linked, when you stumble on your own feet and lean on her for support. Your vision goes black long enough for her to pick up on it, and she decides she’s been tolerant enough. She carries you the two remaining blocks to her house and sits you down on the couch when you get there.

She kneels in front of you, her eyes are glassy. You had seen the talk coming for the past days— it’s just how you dreaded it would be, and you can’t bring yourself to attempt to divert her attention. It’s been months of her letting things slide, staying silent for your sake, acting like everything was okay when she was indeed everything but. Her insides withered with each second the poisoning impotency grew in the soil of her heart. She needs this, and you won’t take it away from her.

“I love you, more than anything. Can’t you see how beautiful you’ve always been? How did you even start this, who put this in your head? God, I’ve been trying to control you for so long and it doesn’t fucking work. You don’t deserve this, to destroy yourself. You need fuel, you need to be strong for me and for yourself and every person that loves you. Can’t you do this? For us? I…”

She goes on and on— fifteen minutes pass where she’s just laying out the extent of her adoration for you, baring the thoughts she’s been burying for years like that will cure your heart, her devotion and dire and brokenheartedness no longer secret. She only stops when her sobs grow louder than her pleas and her words are too broken to sound like anything other than mere wails.

You can’t promise anything to her, no matter how tragic she looks right now— Tear-rimmed, flushed, and full of pain through your most grievous fault. So you cry with her. You settle together on the couch and you hug her so tight you think you may squeeze more tears out of her. She hugs you back, not sure of who’s comforting who.

૮⳿ . ٜ . 𑁬ྀི｡ bsf!els     who knows she doesn’t have the ability to change your mind or cure your disorder, but she will stay by your side nonetheless, loving you for who you are and waiting for you to choose recovery. She knows you will. With her love, you will <3