Larry sick fics

Louis eating disorder

Just do it. You know you can, you've done it plenty of times before.

No. No I'm not gonna do it, I'm better.

You're going to do it. You might as well just do it now.

I beat this, it's over.

It's never over

Vomit streamed into the porcelain bowl.

---

It had started innocently. As innocently as it could have anyway, a suggestion from a high school friend during 8th grade. They'd enjoyed a long night playing xbox and stuffing their faces with pizza and snack foods they picked up at the store around the corner. They laid next to each other while Michael rolled around on the carpet and moaned in discomfort, beating himself up for eating that much crap when he had a weigh in for football the next day. He wasn't all that invested in the sport but he wasn't going to deal with the red faced fury of his coach for a third time.

"You could always...you know," Oli gestured with two fingers to his open mouth, making an obscene choking noise and Louis scoffed, slapping his shoulder weakly.

"Nah man that's gross."

Nonetheless he stayed awake for hours that night, unable to sleep for the gnawing in his stomach, Oli's comment playing over and over in his mind like a song stuck on repeat. It took 3 hours from the moment he lay his head down on the pillow for him to throw himself out of bed, stalk down the hall quietly and then suddenly he was stood in front of the toilet bowl, the seat raised up.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and shook his head, turning back to the door.

"Fucking stupid." He sighed and was about to turn the door handle to return back to his room when the voice returned, louder and firmer and accompanied by a recollected playback of the last time he had over indulged just before a weigh in. The gruff sharp tone of his coach when the man got right up in his face and made him know how much of a dumb fucking brat he was.

He huffed with a shaky drop of his shoulders and paced the room three times before returning to the toilet. Once there he breathed deep and raised two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and pushing them to the back of his throat. He pressed down lightly and felt the first push of his gag reflex choke him, startling him enough to pull back. With a determined huff he licked his lips and tried again, this time pushing them just that little bit further so the rest of his hand was right on his lips, he pressed a little harder and that was it. He pulled his hand back quickly, not quite avoiding the splash back as vomit forced it's way up his throat and it gushed into the toilet, splattering the sides of the bowl and it was all Michael could do to hold onto the seat as it just kept coming.

He collapsed to his knees when it was over, not much caring if his face was smeared with vomit as he rested it against the seat. His Mom rapped quickly on the door, asking him hastily if he was alright. He replied affirmatively commenting that he should definitely not have had all that pizza. His mom responded with a brief 'I told you so' and left him alone in his misery.

It wasn't exactly misery though; as he laid there on the tiled floor he couldn't help but feel a wash of calm over him, a brief flicker of accomplishment at how empty his stomach felt. He was completely clean for his weigh in and he would be perfectly fine.

He came to love that empty feeling, crave it even. Sometimes, when he felt just a little too stressed or something upset him so much he couldn't think straight he would find himself in a bathroom stall, fingers down his throat until he could once again gain back that feeling of emptiness, complete control.