The Only Exception | W2S

THIRTEEN.

"You won't even tell me what your meal deal is," he replies, opening the eggs.

"It's a secret you will never find out. My meal deal is sacred, and special," I retort, sitting down on the sofa.

He sits the other side of the sofa, and rests his feet on the coffee table.

"Comfortable?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, and his feet jump off of the table.

"Sorry! Habit," he apologises, grinning at me.

I shake my head fondly. "It's fine. George and Arthur do it all the time, rest your feet all you want," I tell him, switching on the TV to serve as some background noise.

There's a slight awkwardness in the air, because we both know what's about to happen. I know it's going to be a difficult conversation, because this would be the most open and honest I'd been with someone other than George.

"Okay, I'm going to talk for a little bit, and then you can ask me questions, if you need to," I tell him, catching his attention. "If I cry in front of you...well, if I cry, it won't be the first time. So don't make it weird," I tell him, and he just listens, with what seems like such gentle understanding.

"That was the first time I'd been home since I'd left last year, to move to London. The whole reason I moved was because — I had to get away. Everything at home reminded me of Matt — Matthew, and I couldn't be there. I couldn't think about him, I couldn't think about anything. I was in such a bad place. He'd gone back to the states to see his mum for his birthday, and one day I woke up and he was kissing another fitness influencer. The relationship was over at that point already, but he never contacted me again. Didn't even try and fight for our relationship. I mean, it was never going to be salvaged, but after four years of what I thought was a loving relationship, I thought he'd at least try," I start, already feeling a funny feeling in my stomach, being so vulnerable about my life.

"Anyway, not really the point. Basically, the second I went home, everything just came flooding back. Memories of him, it took up every inch of the house. It would, after four years. Even being around my family, it just reminded me of him, and after something like that happens, you don't just get over it easily. I thought I could, because I thought I was different, but I'm not. I don't know when I will be. If I will be. Naturally, after everything came out, there were kids of nasty rumours online. Mostly trolls, and I know the best thing to do is to not read your comments, or search your name up. But after that happened, I became obsessed with it. I'd read these comments about me, my personality, my appearance, and internalise them. It's taken me a long time to realise that they're not true, although I still struggle with some of them to this day," I continue, speaking quickly in fear of not being able to finish what I want to say.

"Matthew went viral for a workout challenge he posted some time through our relationship. He was obsessed with the gym, obsessed with making healthy foods, so I followed his lead. If kind of became my personality. It made him happy when I joined him in the gym, and supported his lifestyle. So I did it, even if it wasn't what I wanted. So when I'd found out he'd cheated on me with another fitness guru, it kind of — just made me think that if I'd tried harder, it wouldn't have happened. I know — I know that's not the case, now," I say, watching his face scrunch up in disbelief at my words. "But I was in a dark place, and like I said, I was reading thousands of negative comments, or comments supporting him, and his new girlfriend. Whatever. But I developed this mindset, and in my darkest moments, I became obsessed with how I looked. And that caused me to have an issue with — food," I near hyperventilating after talking, because apart from George, I hadn't told anyone else about this. Not my family, not Talia — no one.

"I don't obsess over it as much anymore, but I have bad days. I think that's to be expected. But my attitude towards food depends on my mood. I've just come to accept that he's fucked with my mind in more ways than I realise, and that I've just got to keep working through it," I finally finish. "I'm sorry, that was a lot to take in," I apologise, looking down at my hands, and noticing that I'd been pinching at the skin. Bad habit.

"Holly? Permission to speak?" He asks, leaning forward, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Course," I reply, looking back up and meeting his eyes.

"Don't apologise for how you feel. You've...you've been through a lot in the last year and a bit, and I think any normal person would've crumbled underneath it all."

I laugh. "I quite literally did crumble."

He shakes his head. "No. You're here right now, and you're living. More importantly, you're doing it for yourself. It takes a lot to pick yourself up from rock bottom, and to climb to the top again, and you've done it."

"Not by myself," I say feebly, once again feeling small and insignificant.

He shrugs his shoulder. "Asking for help isn't a bad thing," he says gently, before pausing. "As for the food thing..." he hesitates, like he's trying to tread carefully, "be kind to yourself. Please, be kind to yourself. It sounds like you've been your own worst enemy for a while, and I think both your mind and your body deserve to find peace. You deserve it, Holly."

"You sound familiar?" I ask slowly, because usually people tend to get awkward when talking about it.

"My sister. Struggled with it throughout school, so naturally I did my own research. How to help, how to talk to them about it. Her relationship with food is a lot better now — now that she's left school. I don't want to force you to talk about it, but I do want you to know that I am here for you if you want to," he offers.

"Like I said, I don't struggle with it as much anymore, but I do appreciate it. I appreciate you being here and listening to me ramble. It's not the most exciting topic of conversation to have with a friend."

"And yet that is what friends are for," he reiterates kindly.

"Thank you," I say suddenly. "Thank you for allowing me feel comfortable enough to talk to you about this. And obviously — thank you for picking me up last week. It was a big ask."

He shakes his head. "Nah, thank you. I'm a Paramore fan now," he smiles, and sudden,y the conversation is light again.

"Told you! Do you see why they're my number one on Spotify every year now?"

He nods his head. "I do. I've been listening to them on the way to shoots this week. They might even sneak onto my Spotify wrapped this year," he grins.

And suddenly, it didn't feel like I'd just unravelled my entire history to the man in my living room. I didn't have a feeling of existential doom filling my body. I was just — existing. And for now, it was enough.