warnings: eating disorder, mentions of vomit, body image issues
age: 15
-
NATASHA's POV
I'm not sure what's been going on with Y/N lately but she is not okay and that's become very apparent. She doesn't join the team at mealtimes, I even tried it with just having me and her eating together but she merely picks at her food or only eats the 'healthy' stuff. She's also been increasing her training time, so much that sometimes I think she's gonna pass out. It's too much training for a fifteen year old. In fact, it's too much training for anyone, I wouldn't even be able to handle the amount she's doing.
I've wanted to bring it up for so long but I don't want to be making assumptions in case it causes her to push me away.
"Nat?"
I'm snapped out of my thoughts by Wanda, who's currently sat next to me on the couch.
"I asked if you thought Y/N was okay?"
How the hell do I answer that question?
"Uh... y-yeah, she's-"
"Natasha. Talk to me," I'm instructed. That's something I love about Wanda - she always knows when people aren't okay and when they need to talk, even when they can't admit it.
I don't even realize that I'm crying until she starts to wipe my tears with the pads of her thumbs and tells me to take a deep breath.
"Now, what's going on, my love? What do you need to get off your chest?" she asks and takes in hold my shaking hands.
"Oh, Wanda," I start with a sob. "Something's wrong with Y/N. I think she has a struggle with eating but I don't wanna be presumptuous because that's not fair but I'm worried about her and you've probably seen how much weight she's lost and I-"
"Tasha, slow down. Just take a sec, okay?"
For the next minute or so, I'm being held in a warm embrace and sobbing into my best friend's shoulder. The guilt that consumes me only makes me cry harder, this is about my daughter, not me.
"There we go. You're okay, honey. I know you're overwhelmed and I know you also wanna talk to Y/N about this, so just take a minute for yourself... and when you're ready, bring some lunch up to her and see how she is. If you think something's going on then don't hesitate to ask her. I'm here to help and support both of you should you need it, alright?"
I shoot Wanda an appreciative smile before replying, "Thanks, Wands. I can see why you're Y/N's favorite aunt."
"Well, I suppose I am pretty cool," she adds on with a smirk.
After taking a few moments to gather myself, I start to work on making Y/N some lunch. I just go for peanut butter sandwiches since it's simple and it's both of our favorite, she gets it from me.
When everything is plated up and I've briefly thought over the conversation we would have, I begin my way to her room.
"Y/N, baby? Can I come in?" I ask as I reach her door.
"Yeah," a quiet voice answers me.
"Hey, my little love," I say as I open the door. "I made us some lunch. Thought we could eat it up here together."
The fall in her expression doesn't go unnoticed by me at all but I decide on not bringing it up just yet. Instead, I can't help but take a minute to observe how much her appearance has changed. The dark bags under her eyes, the bones of her cheeks significantly more prominent than ever before, the exact same baggy joggers and hoodie she's been wearing for weeks.
"Here you go, hon," I tell her as I pass her the sandwich and sit down next to her, picking up my own. "So... how are you doing? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" she asks with a slightly annoyed tone.
"I was just asking, baby," I tell her, making sure to keep my voice soft. I don't want her to think I'm mad at her.
A little while of the tense quietness goes by when I realize she hasn't taken a single bite of her sandwich, and I'm only a few away from finishing mine.
"Are you gonna eat that, honey?" I ask with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Y-yeah. Um, can you go and get me some water, though?"
"Of course. Be back in a second."
Per Y/N's request, I go down to the kitchen to get her a glass of water and unsurprisingly, Wanda's in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something.
"Hey!" she greets, "How's it going with Y/N?"
I let out a sigh at her question because the truth is, I don't know. She won't let me in.
"I don't know yet," I answer truthfully. "I'm just getting her some water, she's thirsty."
"You left her alone whilst she's supposed to be eating?"
"... Yeah? What's the big deal?"
"Natasha..."
The realization then sets in. Y/N asked me to leave just as she was meant to eat her sandwich.
"Shit!" I shout and drop the glass without thinking. Someone can clean that up later but right now, I need to get to my daughter. This is probably the fastest I've ever ran in my whole life, Wanda following close behind.
"Y/N!" I yell as I push open her door. It wasn't a yell of anger, but rather one of panic. That's my baby and I need to help her.
Just as I suspected, she isn't in her bed. But her bathroom door is open a crack and I can already hear what I was dreading. She's making herself throw up.
I waste no more time in walking up to her and kneeling down beside her and prying her fingers out of her throat.
"Detka, no. You don't have to do that," I explain in the softest voice I can.
"Mama, stop!" she tells me in a sob and tries to yank her hand out of my tight hold.
"Baby, I can't let you do that. It's not safe."
"But I need to!"
She's crying hysterically at this point and I'm honestly at a loss on what to do. I look up at Wanda hopelessly and she provides a soft smile. I can tell she's just as clueless as I am, we've never had to deal with this before.
It takes me a moment before I settle on pulling my crying daughter onto my lap and holding her close, never wanting to let go.
"Mommy," she wails into my chest. My heart shatters at the name. She only ever calls me 'mommy' when she's super distressed.
"Mommy's here, sweetheart. You're okay," I reassure as I rub calming circles on her back.
All three of us stay there for what feels like hours, Wanda moving from her place in the doorframe and coming to sit down with me and Y/N.
"I threw the sandwich in the bin," she whispers to me, to which I nod.
After a little while longer of my baby's sobs being the only sound filling the room, she suddenly starts gagging again and leans herself back over the toilet.
"Love, stop," I tell her firmly but still gentle.
"I can't! I can't help it. It won't stop!"
"Wands, can you go grab her some anti-nausea meds from Bruce please? I think her diaphragm's gone into spasm."
"Yeah of course," she replies after handing me a wet washcloth for Y/N.
When it's just me and my daughter alone, I pull her back onto me and start rocking her gently, but not so much that it would make her feel more nauseous. I press the washcloth against her forehead to help cool her down and hopefully soothe her a little too.
"I'm sorry, mama, I'm so sorry."
"Hey. You have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me? Nothing. It is not your fault at all, my love. You're sick. This is an illness that you cannot control. Sweetie, you need help. And I don't mean that in a rude way, but I want to support you and I will do quite literally whatever it takes to get you to where you need to be. But I am fully aware that this is not gonna work unless you want it to. So... are you willing to make this work? Will you try?"
She doesn't respond straight away. It looks as if there's a million answers rushing through her head and she doesn't know which one to voice.
"I am. I will," she finally responds and I can't help but let the singular tear fall that I've been holding back.
I can't seem to find the words to react with so I simply keep her close and cuddle her, feeling every ounce of tension leaving her body with every exhale she takes. I think she's secretly relieved I found out. She doesn't have to hide anymore. She doesn't have to be alone.