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          It's been around six months after Taylor was screamed at by people telling him he was an ugly fat gay kid who deserved to stop breathing. Right after that, he skipped a few meals, saying he felt sick. Which, at the time was true. He couldn't stand eating because those words kept repeating through his head, making him feel like he'd puke at any moment. after three days of no food, he just grew used to the feeling. Maybe feeling so terrible could mean he wouldn't be so fat anymore? He would eat little bits of food now and then, but directly afterward he'd be so mad with himself he'd vomit it up instantly. 
          I'm so hungry... Taylor thought to himself, waking up on yet another seemingly dull morning where everything felt pointless. He stared down at his arms, looking like they had no muscle. just skin and bone. old scars covered his tiny arms, and Taylor thought deeply about how badly he wished to feel that sort of feeling again. He didn't feel anything but hungry anymore, and a different form of pain, some form of release, relief. It made him feel wonderful. 
          Taylor put off the thought for now. Maybe he'll plan a time he can cut where he'll be able to go deep and clean up without anyone knowing. That's how he normally did things, planning them out so it was a quick easy clean up. From making himself puke up every meal to cutting deep enough to hit veins, it was all planned.
          The small boy slowly crawled out of his bed, grabbing some loose clothing from his closet. If he looks fat, it'll give him more encouragement to get himself skinnier. He needs to be skinnier. He always felt so heavy and weighed down, that means hes fat, right? Its the only explanation Taylor could really think of, so that had to be the answer. The boy shook his head again, realizing he was getting off track. Taylor felt so groggy, tired, and hungry that every time he'd start thinking about anything his mind would get off track and he'd sit there staring at nothing, thinking for hours. There wasn't any time for that right now, he's already late. 

          Stupid. he said to himself, punching his arm as hard as possible to try and wake him up a little more. He grabbed all his school supplies, and began to run off towards the door. He shouted he didn't have time for breakfast today to his parents, and went running off to school. Even though his school was over two miles away, Taylor demanded on running there each and every day. He needed to lose some weight, plus if anybody tried to beat him up at least he knows he can run far, and fast. That's a plus, right? even if running makes his chest feel like its going to give in at any moment, and makes his head feel like its melting, at least he can fix being fat.          He hadn't even got half way to school before he started feeling sick to his stomach from running, and his eyes began to water. He knows he cant stop, but he knows he cant keep running either. This is going to kill him someday. Taylor knew his body was weak, fragile and falling apart from what he was doing to it, but he honestly just did not care. At least i'll die handsome, he said to himself, ignoring his fast and painful breathing, picking up the speed.
          In a short fifteen minutes, he had finally reached his school. Instead of going to the office and apologizing for being late, asking for a pass, he instantly ran to the bathroom and busted into a stall, hunching over a toilet. He hadn't even anything in about forty eight hours, so all he vomited was bile. It stung his throat, making his eyes water up, and he couldn't breathe. He tried catching his breath, but he only puked again and started hyperventilating. A student overheard, and went to go tell a teacher. The man that came in had a calming voice, rubbing Taylor's back.
          "you alright kid?" Taylor nodded, and got up, trying his best to avoid socializing. He didn't want to go home. If they sent him home, he'd go to the doctor, and they'd figure out he hadn't been eating. 
          "I-I uh. i worked out too much. my first hour is gym." the teacher made an 'ahh' sound, and left the bathroom, leaving Taylor by himself. The boy stuck a finger down his throat, letting himself vomit one more time. It made him feel like he had a little weight off his shoulders, even if at this point he wasn't vomiting anything from his stomach. It still relieved him. 
          The small boy let out a long sigh, stood up and stared at himself in the mirror. He pulled up his shirt a bit, and he could see the outline of his ribs. His mind ignored it, making him see himself as some four hundred pound man, with sweat and food stains. he let his shirt down, and he stared closer to the mirror, looking deep into his eyes. they were bloodshot from puking so much, and crying from how bad puking had hurt. His face looked sunk in, unhealthy. He wiped his chin and waited in the bathroom until his face wasn't as red and puffy, then deciding to walk to the library. Taylor didn't feel like being around too many people today, so spending the few hours in the library would be better. 
          He made his way towards the back of the school, where the library was, opening the doors and searching for a book. His stomach made a rumbling noise, and he grabbed his shirt with clenched fists. Maybe puking so much that his body was shaking very violently wasn't that great of an idea. But there's no going back anyway. He grabbed a book, something like a ghost story. he didn't pay much attention to it, because he probably wasn't going to actually read anyway. He sat in a small corner of the room, staring at a book with his phone in it. He messaged his boyfriend, letting him know where he'd be during the day, including lunch.

*  *  *

          About two hours had passed when he finally got a text back from Marcus, saying he'd bring Taylor something to eat for lunch. The thought made Taylor's stomach twist. He was so hungry, in so much pain. And he didn't want to just reject food from somebody he loved, especially when Marc knew that he had self esteem issues. He'd suppose something was wrong, he's going to have to eat in front of Marc. His body began to tremble even more. What if he ends up puking right there by him? He would understand what was going on if his body rejected food. He already felt sick. And lunch was coming up very soon. Taylor tried to actually read and distract himself from thinking, but it wasn't working too well. He felt anxiety rising in his chest, making it clench up. He began to scratch at his arms, just enough so that he took a bit of skin off. Pain calmed him down, at least for a few minutes. That's all he needed right now.
          One of the library aides was giving him strange looks, but he brushed that off and kept scratching until he saw a drop of blood. Taylor lost track of what time it was while he was digging his nails into his skin, and he felt a hitch in his chest when somebody grabbed his wrists with a firm grip. he looked up, his breath making him feel dizzy again. 
          "Taylor, stop that now." Marcus said, looking into the other boys eyes with a stern gaze. Taylor tensed up, tears starting to fill his eyes.
          "i'm sorry im so- i.. i dont know what i was doing i'm-" Marc took his jacket off and handed it to Taylor, and he sat next to the boy, holding him close. 
          "please don't cry i'm not mad, i'm just... i'm worried okay? I don't want you falling back into that habit." Taylor was quiet, resting his head on Marc's shoulder. "you haven't started hurting yourself again, right?" Marc's voice was filled with worry, scared from how quiet Taylor was being. Taylor shook his head, which was a bit of a lie. Sure he hadn't been taking blades to his skin anymore, he'd just thought about it heavily, but not eating and vomiting up anything he actually did eat was hurting him and tearing him down more than any razor ever had. "I love you Tay." the skinny boy smiled, hugging Marc closer to him.
          "I love you too." he mumbled. Marcus grabbed his book bag, digging through it to find a bag of chips, a pb&j and a granola bar. 
          "here you go, love. Did you eat breakfast? I grabbed more just in case." 
           "yeah, my mom made us waffles and scrambled eggs." he muttered out, looking down hoping Marc wouldn't catch his lie. Marc left a small kiss on the top of Taylor's head, setting the food on the others lap. Taylor picked up the granola bar, which was quite small and began to eat it slowly.  "I don't feel that great. I'll probably eat it later." Taylor said, setting the food aside by his bag. Marc nodded, and lifted Taylor's head up to look into his eyes.
          "are you sick? you look like you've lost way too much weight." Taylor felt panic rising in his chest again.
          "I'm fine babe, its probably just a fast metabolism."
          "You don't look like you just have a fast metabolism. I've known you for years Taylor you've never been this skinny. Your cheeks look sunken in, and so do your eyes. Whats going on."
          Fuck, fuck, fuck, Taylor thought to himself, starting to shake. "I'm fine Marc, please leave it alone. I probably just haven't watched what I've been eating." Marcus let out a sigh, holding on to Taylor's hands and squeezing. 
          "promise me you'll eat all that later." His tone had dropped, he sounded serious and almost angry. 
          "yeah, okay. I promise." The boy sounded sad, he knew he wasn't going to be able to eat it. and even if he did, it wouldn't stay down for too long. He felt bad for doing this to Marc. It hurt him so bad to look into Marc's eyes and see the disappointment and concern that he was causing, it was all his fault. And he couldn't stop himself from doing it either. 
          You're a fuck up, a total fuck up. Why are you still alive? the small voice in Taylor's head asked, and it made tears come back into his eyes. Marc held the other close to his chest until he calmed down, then looking at his watch. Marc had to go back to class, but he didn't just want to leave Taylor in this condition.
          "I can miss my fourth hour. I'm staying here with you, alright?" 
          "alright." Taylor whispered, unable to get his voice any louder than that. He traced along Marc's side with his finger, closing his eyes and passing out. He couldn't help it, he felt so weak and so tired. As soon as he had closed his eyes, it was almost like he'd fainted.
          Marc laid Taylor's head in his lap, playing with his hair while he drifted into deeper sleep, mumbling things as he dreamed. 
          "I love you so much..." Marc whispered, twirling a curl in Taylor's hair around his pinkie. "I wish you would take care of yourself..."

// Hey there, i'm really sorry if this is sucky, i'm writing this at almost four am and I've barely slept recently. Pls forgive me if this looks like a 5  yr old's writing :^)
Also, if you're struggling with any issues like this please please please get some help!! People care about you!!! thank you <3 

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