Basorexia - J.MAGUIRE

[2.29] eyeliner

The group had taken quite a liking to the new English teacher. Ciara still didn't particularly like her but she loved her method of teaching - which required little book work and mostly great discussions that would go on for ages and often take unexpected routes. One of these routes was the day where she marched the entire class out onto the field and they each in turn hit a thrown ball with a baseball bat, screaming their frustrations out. There were multitudes of them, ranging from Erin's hatred of injustice to Michelle's hatred of Mass. Her favourite though, was James'.

"The fact that people here use the word wee to describe things that aren't even that small!"

"That's a wee bit dramatic James," Ciara scoffed jokingly once he joined her on the side, watching all the other people's turns at batting. She shrugged as she continued, "Maybe even a wee bit too presumptuous."

The look on James's face was absolutely something she would commit to memory forever.

-

DeBrún had in Michelle's words, 'wicked eyeliner' that they all were desperate to copy. Given that Ciara was already well versed in the application of eyeliner and all its difficulties, she was rather happy to provide the girls with the advice and the makeup to go with it. Once they had perfected the wings, the girls all left on various missions leaving Ciara and James in her secret bathroom. Not so much a secret anymore but the rest of them had promised not to use it in return for the eyeliner.

After she had watched James time and time again mess up the black lines on his eyes, Ciara could not watch any longer - his eyes were even starting to appear redened from the repeated use of makeup remover. So she hopped off the window sill, having finished her cigarette minutes ago, and offered to help. To make it easier for the both of them, Chip sat on the bathroom counter with both her legs to one side. If she stretched upwards just a little she was just about the perfect height, without James having to crick his neck so she could reach. She silently and carefully traced the lines on his face, only talking to instruct him when to open and close his eyes. It was a rather difficult feat, given that he just would not stop moving.

He looked into her focused eyes and forgot all about the sharp object near his left eye, needing to get it all out into the open. Her hands shook, her body looked weakened and he could see the darkness of her under eyes even through all the makeup she out on to cover it all up since they were so close. "Chip..."

"Christ sakes James will you stay still?" she sighed, taking his chin with one of her hands to stop the movement entirely. There was the briefest of moments between the two of them when Ciara halted in the application of the eyeliner, just looking into his eyes to check if the wings were even. But she wasn't really doing much checking. The green of his eyes looked quite perfect in the orangey light from the bathroom window.

James cleared his throat, averting his gaze from hers and looking over her shoulder instead. "I've noticed something," he replied, shaking away the potent tension that had filled every nook and cranny of the room.

"Oh aye?" Chip half muttered back, far too distracted by evening out the right wing so it looked as similar to the other as possible. She fought to keep her shaking hand steady, not wanting to mess up something that was clearly very important to him.

"You don't eat," he stated, feeling the pencil lift completely off his eye as she froze. Panic crept up her spine, pooling in her feet that so wanted to just run away from the situation.

Instead she laughed, adding a little more darkness to the corner of his eyes even though it was not necessary. She just needed something to do. "I do." It wasn't technically a lie, she did eat.

"Just not as much as you should," he countered, catching her gaze as she froze once again. The utter panic in her eyes caused an instant wave of guilt to wrack through his senses, knocking at his ribs and making his heart beat just a little quicker. Ciara's heart however beat furiously, blind terror making her throat feel as if it was going to close. She swallowed deeply and set the pencil down on the side, not once looking away from his gaze. His eyes told her all she needed to know, there was no way that she would be getting out of this. He wouldn't believe a single excuse and would not let denial fly.

"How long have you known?" she whispered, letting her back unstraighten into her usual slightly hunched posture as it had started to ache desperately.

He slowly took a step back, wanting to give her the space she needed, as he softly replied, "Since that party at Jenny's, when you got completely gone and I took you home. I didn't mean to but I saw your book."

She picked up her head, brow furrowed in confusion. "My book?"

"The one with all the numbers," he responded, voice gentle and soothing.

She nodded, guilt and embarrassment turning her cheeks red, "Oh... that one. "

"Are you okay? Honestly?" It was a stupid question to ask, he knew that, but he wanted to give her the opportunity to answer the question. He hoped that if she was ready to discuss it, she would and if not, then he hoped she would come to him when ready. He just wanted, no he needed, her to know that he was there to support her through it all.

"No," she whispered, the silence that followed became so deafening that she wanted nothing more than the bell to ring. She could avoid the situation and get rid of the awkwardness in the air, a win-win situation. But that did not come, instead James patiently waited for her to continue without the slightest glimpse of boredom or frustration. "I'm uh...I struggle with uh...Um...I can't say it," she stammered, resting her elbows on her thighs as she placed her head in her hands.

"That's okay," he whispered back, slowly walking across the room in a bid to comfort her.

Suddenly she picked up her head, a different type of panic calling her mind home. James stilled instantly, not knowing what was about to face him. "It's not about being skinny enough, please don't think that it is," she rambled quickly, her voice remaining quiet despite the desperation hidden in it. She paused and took a breath, sighing softly. "It's so much more than that."

"I don't think that it is Chip," he whispered back, so close now that he could hug her if need be. "You focus on this and everything else goes away, right?"

She blinked once, then twice. Her face screwed up, tears bubbling in her glazed over eyes as she slowly nodded her head. "You're the first person who's ever understood that," she whispered, tears rapidly falling from her eyes.

"I'll be honest, I did some research," he shrugged, smiling softly in an attempt to comfort her without having to invade her space.

She quickly wiped her eyes with her jacket sleeve, not caring for the smudged makeup as it could be easily fixed. "Shit. I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling awful that she had caused him to have to do that. The eating disorder rabbit hole was not a kind one and could be rather dangerous to the mind. She hated that she had to put him in such a position.

James rested his hand on her shoulder, bringing her head back up to look at him again. "You have nothing to be sorry for Chip."

"Ciara." It came rushing out of her like a wind, without a thought. Like most of her confessions were nowadays. Maybe some distant part of her brain was so full of lies and hidden information that there was just no room any longer.

"Sorry?"

"Ciara, that's my name. I think you've earned the trust now," she laughed softly, watching as a grin spread on his lips.

"I have, have I?" he teased, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

"Wanker," she muttered, jokingly punching his shoulder before she hopped off the counter with a new found lightness in her legs.

I think it's funny how friends, people that you're never truly destined to meet, often understand things more than parents. They're not quick to judge and often offer solutions to keep you comfortable, instead of making you feel stupid for whatever is going on in your head that is not considered 'normal.'