"How do you feel?" Brad's mum questions, taking her son's bookbag from his hands and holding it for him instead.
The curly-haired boy runs a hand through his messy curls. "Better," he honestly replies.
"Looks like you need another haircut," his dad mentions.
"True." Brad's curls were cut six weeks ago, and it somehow crazily grew back once again. He doesn't really care about his hair at the moment, anyway. He can deal with it later.
"Ready?" his mum asks, like the nurse questioned the first time he was released from the medical center. But this time is different than before, because after a stressful six weeks, Brad's more than prepared to leave back to his friends and family, and it's fortunately noon instead of morning unlike last time.
The brown-eyed boy easily nods and pockets his hands. "I'm ready."
Brad never knew one day he'd actually appreciate the medical center. The first week, he was just depressed. Treatment was more difficult after becoming self-aware about his eating disorder. He'd look around at all the sick girls hospitalised with him, and his stomach would clench at the fact he's exactly like them. The first seven days, all he could do was cry. But once the eighth day hit, Brad was determined to get better. He was eager to eat his partials and eager to engage in group therapy and eager to just get better altogether.
It's not easy. Sometimes Brad was nervous he wouldn't be able to get any better. With each bite, there was still that little doubtful voice in his head, listing all the many reasons why he shouldn't want to do this, telling him that the medical center is brainwashing him. But Miss Lillian informed the teenager, during the third week, it's not going to be easy making it go away; although, it's defeatable. It's tempting to give up on eating altogether, especially when you're constantly reminded that with each bite you're going to be fat and repulsive, but Brad's trying his best not to let anything discourage him.
The sixteen-year-old will always have a strange relationship with food. He realises he doesn't hate food; he's not disgusted with it. He's obsessed with food, and he loves food, but he's terrified of food. He's afraid of food controlling him and he's afraid of what food can do to him. Doctor Hans, Natalie, and all her anorexia nervosa books were correct.
When Tristan returned to the hospital a day after Brad woke up from his unconscious state, the blond came inside the hospital room with an armful of the anorexia nervosa books his older sister bought him and all his bracelets. Brad finished nearly all of the books before morning, and brought the rest he didn't finish with him to the medical center. He wanted to be more informed of his eating disorder, and what type of mindset he should have when on the road to recovery.
Even though Brad feels great and he can eat without fear coursing throughout his body, he still doesn't think he's entirely better. He knows it'll be a long process. He knows there are still going to be emotional nights where he can't stop eating, and then he wants to purge; he knows there are going to be days where anorexia nervosa will slaughter him, making his recovery seems almost impossible and encouraging him to just give up and never eat again; he knows there are going to be days where he feels fat and ugly and like no one will ever love him, but he has prepared himself for it, and he's no longer going to let himself deal with his eating disorder alone. He has Tristan and James, and whenever he feels insecure, he thinks of Connor. He wants to get better for his friend, because he didn't have the chance to get better himself.
It's challenging. It's so challenging. But that's okay. Brad likes challenges.
The car ride to the house is chatty, his parents wanting to hear all about his stay, even though there's not much to tell. Somehow his hospitalisation is exciting enough to fill the whole forty-five minute drive to the house, and then they're slowly pulling into the driveway. The brown-eyed boy sucks in a breath and happily exhales at the sight of his house. Excitement flutters in his stomach. Finally, Brad thinks. He already knows the first thing he's going to do once he steps into his home: ring Tristan.
Swinging his bookbag over his shoulder, the younger boy scurries out of the car and excitedly rushes towards the front door. His parents come behind him, laughing at their son's excitement.
"I just really missed home," Brad explains. He grips the straps of his bookbag and sheepishly smiles, impatiently waiting for his parents to unlock the door so he can get to his phone.
"Right," his dad replies. Brad can tell he already knows that he's just eager to talk to Tristan. But you can't really blame him. The curly-haired boy hasn't seen his boyfriend's beautiful face in a month and two weeks. It's killing him. He wants to be able to hug him again and hear him speak and just sit with him. It doesn't really matter what they do together, Brad would be happy just being with him.
His dad unlocks the door and pushes it open to the dark living room. Brad wonders why the blinds are closed, but he doesn't question it, and he feels around in the darkness until his hand comes in contact with the light switch on the wall. He quickly flicks the switch up, illuminating the decorated living room, his wide eyes instantly landing on the huge banner reading: WELCOME HOME, BRAD.
"Aw -" Brad's cooing is instantly cut off by a sudden group of people unexpectedly jumping out from behind the plenty of furniture in the living room and shouting 'surprise!' at him. The curly-haired boy jumps backwards before he's smiling so hard his jaws ache. Mostly everyone is from his neighbourhood, but then there's James, of course, some of the friends he used to hang around in the skate park, and Natalie alongside their nan. Brad searches the room for Tristan, but the tall blond is unfortunately nowhere in sight.
Instantly, the curly-haired boy's unsurprisingly engulfed in a tight hug by his sister. He lets out a laugh and hugs her back before pulling away to wrap his arms around his nan.
"You have to stop doing this to us!" Natalie exclaims.
"Never again," Brad reassures her, pulling away from his father's mum and turning to face Natalie again. "I'm here to say."
His older sister tightly hugs him once more before rushing off to talk to their parents. The curly-haired boy helps his nan over to the couch as James joins his side, wrapping an arm around the shorter boy's shoulder. Brad hasn't seen him since they ate together after Connor's funeral. He looks different - a good different, with a tan and everything.
"You're an idiot," James casually tells him. "Like, I'm actually kind of angry with you."
"Sorry," Brad sincerely apologises, "I really didn't know what I was doing."
"I'm sorry, too." The older boy pulls him into a hug, rubbing his back with one hand. "I didn't think you'd take those diet pills. I should've never told you about them."
"Don't put that on yourself." Brad pulls away and places two hands on the blue-eyed boy's shoulders. "Let's just agree to not talk about six weeks ago anymore, yeah?"
James nods before a smile grows on his face. "You know what we should talk about, though?"
"What?"
"That orange ice-cream over there."
"Mango gelato," the brown-eyed boy corrects, heading over towards the table. His skate friends are already happily digging into all the food. Brad's a little nervous to talk to them again - he doesn't know what they think of him anymore. He randomly dropped them without an explanation and basically insulted their hobby to their face so long ago. He doesn't expect them to like him, like everyone else who decided Brad's not good enough anymore.
"Brad!" The seven teenagers excitedly greet when he reluctantly joins the food table. The curly-haired boy smiles widely at the enthusiastic greeting before plopping down into a chair and instantly jumping into a conversation, like he never left, as James scoops mango gelato out of a container and into two ice-cream bowls.
"Thanks," Brad says to his friend, reaching his hands out to take the bowl from his hands.
James quickly turns away from him. "Oh, this isn't for you," he says causing the younger boy to playfully roll his eyes.
Brad introduces his friends to James, and then everyone's just talking, like they've been best mates for years. The curly-haired boy likes this new feeling: not worrying about his weight, not worrying about what people think about him, not feeling like his eating disorder all the time. Brad thinks he has finally stepped out from behind anorexia nervosa and trying to figure out himself now. Even though he's forgotten his old self and everything that the old him liked, at least he's finding out whoever he is and wants to be now. He's not sure what he likes anymore besides cooking, and he doesn't even know if he wants to be a dietitan like he dreamed of before. There are many gaps in Brad's life and who he is, but he'll figure it out sooner or later. It's never too late.
The party lasts for at least two hours before the mood dies down and the guest begin leaving to return home. Brad doesn't want to say goodbye to his friends and his nan, but at the same time, he's exhausted. He could barely sleep last night knowing he was going to come back home to his lovely bed and his precious phone. After literally having to shove James out of the door, he drags himself up the staircase to his bedroom. He thinks he's eaten enough baked chicken and drunk enough tropical fruit punch to feed the population of a small country, but he feels somewhere near okay. Being full doesn't bother him as much as it used to, but he still feels a little sick.
"My laptop!" Brad exclaims, diving onto the bed and hugging his laptop to his chest. He pulls himself into a sitting position and powers it on before extending his arm over to his nightstand and picking up his phone. With one hand he types in his password and rings Tristan with the other (it's a talent of some sort,) pressing his phone to his ear and doing a little happy dance as his laptop successfully logs in to his desktop.
"Brad," Tristan happily greets.
The brown-eyed boy smiles to himself. "It is I."
"I've missed you so much, baby," the blond tells him. "I haven't seen you in forever, I swear."
"You should've came to my welcome home party," Brad says, pouting, "or whatever it's called. I really wanted you to be there."
"Sorry," he apologises, "I really wanted to be there, too, but I couldn't make it."
"Well, that sucks."
"Maybe you should walk outside, though."
Brad's face lights up. He jumps off his bed and sprints down the staircase before reaching the front door and yanking it open to his smiling boyfriend, waiting for him behind it. Instantly, he pulls the taller boy into a tight hug, pushing himself onto his tippy-toes and snaking his arms around his neck.
"You look great," Tristan says, kissing him.
Brad chuckles and hangs up his phone, sliding it into his pocket. "I look the same."
"But you're happy," he notes, gripping his chin with his thumb and pointer finger and bringing their lips together again. "Happy looks amazing on you."
Brad steps back and motions towards the house. "Want to come inside?"
"Or we could take a ride," Tristan says, nodding towards an unfamiliar vehicle parked in the driveway.
"You have your own car now?"
The older boy proudly nods in response with a smug smile on his face. "And I have a job at the mall."
"Oh my, God, how long have I been gone?" Brad questions causing Tristan to playfully roll his eyes.
"Just ask your parents if you can come or not."
Brad chuckles at the playful angered expression on his face before dragging the seventeen-year-old into the living room. "Mum! Dad! Tris is here!" he shouts throughout the house before realising they're only sitting in the kitchen.
"Oh," Brad's mum says, happily smiling at her son's boyfriend along with her husband, "hello, Tris."
"I've been dropping by while you were away," Tristan tells the younger boy. "I hope that doesn't bother you."
"Fine by me - unless you're more in love with my parents than me."
The blond chuckles and kisses his cheek. "I will never love anyone more than I love you."
Brad blushes as his mum coos at the two boys. "I just wanted to ask if I could go out with Tris for a bit, if that's okay with you guys?"
"Sure," his dad says as he roughly pats Tristan on the shoulder. The seventeen-year-old winces, still not used to Brad's father's way of showing he likes someone. "Just make sure you come back in time for dinner."
"I will," Brad replies before taking his boyfriend by the hand and walking with him to his new car.
The sixteen-year-old literally squeals once he climbs inside his vehicle. Everything looks so new, and the seats are leather, which will probably suck in extreme weather, but Brad still likes it. "I'm screaming," the younger boy says. A beautiful gust of cold air blows from the vents as Tristan starts the car. Brad places his face in front of it, allowing the air to run through his curls. "This is just wonderful, Tris."
"Aw, stop," the older boy replies. He flips one strand of blond hair hanging over his forehead causing Brad to burst out into laughter. Tristan smiles at him and slips his fingers into the smaller boy's palm. "I really love you, yano?"
"Yeah"-Brad smiles so widely he thinks his face is going to break-"I know."
. . .
The two boys find themselves scanning various ice-cream flavours at an ice-cream shop, although Brad's already had a bowl of gelato at the party. But you can never really have too much ice-cream in your system.
"Which flavour do you want, love?" the blond asks, resting his chin on top of his headful of curls.
"Just a small cup of strawberry is fine," he replies. As Tristan scans the many choices, they approach the counter. A worker is looking down at the cash register, his uniform hat covering his face.
"How may I help you?" the person questions. The sixteen-year-old freezes when he locks eyes with the boy behind the counter. This is definitely not what he needs today. Not when he's finally happy for once.
Just by how Tristan protectively pulls the shorter boy into his side, he can tell the seventeen-year-old remembers Jack perfectly. "I'd like a small cup of strawberry ice-cream and a vanilla cone," he tells him with angry, furrowed brows.
Jack slowly nods, kind of like he's intimidated, before grabbing a small, colourful cup and scooping up a ball of pink ice-cream. "Brad, how have you been doing?" he casually questions, like he hasn't made the boy hate himself and help him develop an eating disorder he's going to have to fight for the rest of his life.
The sixteen-year-old wonders if he knows about his overdose. Sadly, the woman in his neighbourhood, who called an ambulance for him, had to be the parent of a child that goes to his school. He's sure the word is out mostly everywhere, and he's sure no one is surprised.
"I'm okay," he replies, even though it's not entirely true. Brad doesn't know if he's okay, but he knows he will be, and he knows it's okay if he's not right now.
"That's good," the dark-haired boy tells him, awkwardly nodding his head. Tristan holds the smaller boy tighter as Jack places the cup on the counter along with a tiny spoon and grabs a cone, wrapped in a napkin, for the blond.
"How have you been doing?" Brad asks, fiddling with his fingers.
"I've been okay." He scoops a ball of white ice-cream onto the cone and extends his arm over to the other side of the counter. Tristan watches him with angry eyes before snatching it out of his hand, causing the younger boy to shoot him a warning look.
"That's good," Brad replies as the seventeen-year-old pays for the dessert.
"Well," Jack awkwardly says, nervously darting his eyes around the shop, "see you around?"
The curly-haired boy forces a smile and nods, picking up his cup of strawberry ice-cream and slipping his free hand into Tristan's. He doesn't mention that his parents already decided he's transferring schools due to the bullying.
"I don't understand how you can even be around that asshole without pouncing on him," Tristan angrily mutters.
They both slide into a booth across from each other. "Oh, please, Tris," he says, glancing at Jack longingly staring at the two boys' booth, "he's not worth it."
Jack quickly looks away as the blue-eyed boy shoots him a glare. "You keep it together better than me," Tristan claims as he turns back around towards his boyfriend.
But when Brad excuses himself to the toilets, his hands can't stop shaking. He looks into the mirror, at his panicking reflection, and takes deep breaths. It's okay, he reassures himself as tears threaten to fall from his eyes. You're fine. You're fine. You're going to be fine.
When the teenager slides back into the booth, Tristan just looks at him, knowingly, before asking: "Want to go back home?"
Brad easily nods in response, picking up his half-eaten cup of ice-cream and taking a few more bites before throwing it out and heading out of the ice-cream shop. Tristan knows him better than anyone.
The curly-haired boy wishes he could understand. He knows he hurt his ex-boyfriend, and he knows he's angry, but despite everything Brad's said and done to the people he liked, he could never imagine himself putting someone through everything Jack has to him. Especially someone that he supposedly loves. But Brad's perspective has changed about so many things after six weeks. Whenever he thinks about how badly his peers treat him, it angers him. instead of making him depressed like before. Initially, they had no reason to dislike him, and it angers him how they instantly hated him without having a reason to.
And now, he honestly feels bad for his ex-boyfriend. There obviously must've been a lot wrong with him to go through so much to make the curly-haired boy unhappy. He hopes one day the dark-haired boy figures his life out, and finds someone constant. But he just wants to put Jack behind him, put that whole night behind him, and look forward from now on. There's too much in store for him in the future to stay hung up on his past.
. . .
Tristan eats dinner with Brad's family again, but including his nan and sister this time, and it's great: they talk with Tristan, like he's a part of the family, everyone is comfortable, and for the first time in the sixteen years of Brad's life, he bites into something he cooked. It's simply just baked spaghetti, but he feels like he just passed another step in his recovery. And it was the best baked spaghetti he's ever tasted (despite how cocky that sounds) so everybody wins.
After dinner, the blond and Brad go up to the curly-haired boy's bedroom. Suddenly, the younger boy has an urge to raid through his drawer. He shoves everything around, searching, until he finds exactly what he's looking for: a torn photo and a little frame. Bringing the two separated parts together, he recrafts it, bringing back the life of the photo before placing it in the frame. As he looks harder at it, he realises he likes this picture. It's probably the only photo he'll ever like of himself. He just looks so happy, and after losing it for so long, he appreciates the little moments of true happiness in his life.
"Should I feel jealous?" the blond asks, snaking his arms around the smaller boy's waist as he stares at the photo.
Brad chuckles, eyeing his former best mate's smiling face beside his own. "Maybe."
Tristan laughs along with him and nuzzles his face in his neck like usual. "Why aren't we cuddling yet?" he questions, pressing a kiss to his jawline.
The brown-eyed boy playfully rolls his eyes, dragging his boyfriend to his bed, but cuddling is honestly Brad's favourite thing about their relationship. He loves just lying his head on Tristan's chest with his arm wrapped around him as they just talk and absorb the love and happiness swarming around them and filling the room. The sixteen-year-old loves honestly everything about Tristan and his relationship. It's not perfect and sometimes it's messy, but the curly-haired boy enjoys it. If there wasn't imperfection and messes in their relationship, there'd be nothing to love.
Brad doesn't know what comes over him, but when he sits the blond down he just vents: "I've always been so insecure about my body. I thought being a certain size would make people like me. I wanted to be buff and muscular with abs, but I think I'm kind of okay with how I am now.
"I don't think people ever disliked me because of my size, Tris. I had a lot of learning to do. I have a lot of learning to do, and I think there must've ben something about me I'm unaware of. But that's fine if people don't like me, because I have so many people in my life that do.
"Appearance isn't everything, and I realise that. As cliché as it is, what's inside matters the most, and my insides were so ugly that it made me ugly. And I don't think I'm perfect now, but I think I've cleaned my heart out, and when I look at myself, I just feel better about me, the best I've ever felt in my whole life."
Tristan smiles.
"So," Brad adds, getting to the point, "I want to do something."
"Okay," the seventeen-year-old slowly replies.
The curly-haired boy sucks in a breath, and he imagines himself physically destroying that unrealistic image of how he "should" look. He needs to let go of that desire, he needs to let go of that longing to be wanted and liked. Let go, he reminds himself as he pulls his tee shirt over his head and drops it to the floor.
It feels strange being shirtless in front of someone. He's assiduously tried hiding his body as much as he could, embarrassed about his weight and scared it'll stop people from liking him. Yet here he is, showing the most sensitive part of himself to the one person he fears losing the most.
"Well," Brad says, "this is me, basically."
Tristan stands up and pulls him into an embrace Brad never wants to leave from. The smaller boy buries his face in his boyfriend's shirt, smiling happily to himself for actually being able to do something like this.
"You're perfect," the blond tells him. And as he kisses him, Brad finally feels himself letting go and breathing all the way.
. . .
so TGB is officially over maaaaaaaaaaannn :(
i wrote an author's note to end this, but it turned out waaaay longer than i'd expected, because i accidentally started ranting, so i just decided to make the author's note another chapter, if anyone bothers to read it lmao
but yeah :( i'm really going to miss this story