An hour and a half later, I had a sheet of paper and two pill bottles in my hand. The paper stated that I was anorexic, and I would need to be seeing a dietitian. The pills were for pain and something to do with keeping my nutrient levels up, though I wasn't listening when the nurse instructed me on their use. Phil had come in to check on me, but said he'd be waiting outside when I was done. He had still seemed so broken, his cheeks permanently red and his eyes unforgiving.
With black skinny jeans and Phil's green hoodie on, I checked myself out with the friendly nurse and made my way outside. I pushed open the heavy glass doors, having them push back on me as I tried to exit. I was immediately greeted with a frosty gust of wind, cold enough to made my nose twitch and toes curl with it's bitter temperature. I blew my warm breath into my hands before shoving them into the pocket of the hoodie, attempting to keep them warm. I could feel my cheeks blushing and nose resembling rudolph as the cold engulfed me in it's icicle kisses and snowflake hugs.
My head snapped as I heard a honk, my eyes soon meeting a pair of ocean eyes, no longer crying ocean tears but glazing over with cloudy ice. I smiled and found my feet trampling the cold concrete beneath them to bring me to Phil faster. Before I knew it, me rosy cheeks were warmed with Phil's warm arms around my neck, my own snaking around his waist.
"Hey, Dan?" he mumbled into my hair, which was curling from my lack of showering.
"Yes?" I responded, pulling away a bit to look at him. His eyes hid his remaining pain behind the clouded ice, but I could see it poking through his painted excitement, though not entirely fake.
"Let's go," was all he said before pulling me into his car. I hated his car, as it required me to grab the handle hanging from the ceiling and hoist myself up. Once inside, I felt the snowflake hugs melt away and get replaced with fiery whisps that wrapped me up and took me further down.
"I'm going to stop to get something to eat, okay?" Phil said as we pulled out of the parking lot. I was tempted to lie and say that I wasn't hungry, but I was in a coma for so long and... well, yeah, I was hungry. I nodded, unsure if Phil could see me, and let myself get lost in silence for a moment.
"What was it like to be in a coma?" Phil said, hands on the wheel and eyes still focused straight ahead. I couldn't tell if he was trying to make small talk to rid us of awkward silence, or if he was trying to find out if I could hear him while I was out.
"Um, interesting, I guess. It was tiring," I said, deciding to add, "I could hear everything around me. It was like I was awake, I just couldn't see or move." I turned back to see him nodding slowly, possibly processing that I had heard everything he said.
Moments later he was pulling into yet another restaurant I wasn't familiar with. I hesitantly stepped out of the vehicle, being closely watched by Phil, and let him hold the door open for me. As I stared at the menu, my mind and body contradicted each other. Too many calories, you don't need anything. But he's going to make me eat, and I'm so hungry. Get the smallest and healthiest thing you can, and throw it up right after. God, I hate myself.
"Does anything sound good? Or do I have to order for you?" He said it in a way that would have been joking if I wasn't anorexic, or, whatever.
"Um, I don't know. Just whatever, I guess," I said, fiddling with the sleeves of my hoodie. Well, Phil's hoodie. He must have sensed my nerves and uneasiness, because soon he was holding me close, placing small kisses to my forehead.
"It's okay," he said softly. "I've got you. It will be okay, I want you to be okay." I nodded and allowed him to order while I found us a small table to sit at in the back of the establishment. Looking around I noticed only two other parties of people, one being an older couple, probably late fifties, and the other being who I guessed was a mother and daughter, the mother seemingly young and single, and the daughter, though only looking around five, the spitting image of her mother.
The restaurant was covered in a red and white checkered pattern, the booths sporting red seats with a horizontal white stripe. I watched Phil order, hand the cashier the money, and step to the side to allow others to order. He pulled out his phone, smiling a bit at what was on the screen. And then, yet again, his ocean eyes met mine, and I was washed away by the smile he sent me.
A couple quiet minutes later, Phil slid into the seat across from me, setting a tray of food down on the table. There were two drinks, two orders of fries, a burger, and a salad. I watched as he placed the burger, an order of fries and one of the drinks in front of himself. He then placed the salad, other drink, and remaining fries over to me.
"Okay, salad, water, and fries, because who doesn't love fries, right?" His words were a bit rushed, almost worried, as he looked at me and said them. He seemed to be trying to lighten the mood, and I smiled weakly and said "thank you" before watching him unwrap his food. He was almost halfway done with his burger before stopping to look at me. He stared at me as I sat on my hands, looking at the food still in front of me. I had only taken two drinks of water, not touching anything else.
"Dan," Phil said. It was soft and gentle and I couldn't help but look up at him through my thick eyelashes.
"I-I'm sorry, Phil," I muttered. "I ju- I just can't. It's too much." I looked back down before I felt him scoot into the seat next, laying a hand on my shoulder.
"Dan," he said again, a bit firmer, though still not losing it's gentle incentive. I looked up slowly. "Do you trust me?" He asked, his eyes a vast ocean, almost begging.
"I-I don't- yes." He nodded and took my hand, pulling me toward the restroom. He pulled me in, turning and locking the door with a metal click.
"What are we doing here?" I asked, wrapping my arms around myself.
"Come here," he said, avoiding my question. I walked over to where he was in front of the uncared-for mirror, staring at him through it. "What do you hate most about yourself?"
"What?" I asked, looking back at him. What is he doing?
"What do you hate most about your body?" I thought for a minute. My pudgy stomach, and the way it always seemed to hang over my trousers? My fat thighs, and the way they always sway when I walk and rub against each other? My fatty arms and biceps, and the way they seemed to stretch the sleeves of any shirt?
"I-I don't know. My stomach, I guess."
"Why?" he pressed, placing his hands delicately on my waist. I wasn't sure if it made me more uncomfortable or eased me, but I let his hands stay there. What is he getting at?
"Um, I- because it's just... fat. It always hangs over my pants, and doesn't look right in any shirt." I said quietly. He moved his hands down until they reached the hem of his hoodie.
"Can I?" I knew what he was asking, and nodded slowly. His hands were soon slowly moving the hoodie up my stomach before it was over my head and on the floor.
"Dan," he said. I wasn't sure if he was disgusted by how fat I was, or by the cuts that lined my stomach and hips.
"I know, it's disgusting," I said, wrapping my arms around myself and hanging my head.
"No, Dan," he said, turning me to face him. "Why would you do this to yourself?" His voice wasn't heavy and angry, but gentle and almost hurt.
"I- I just," I said, unable to finish before my voice cracked, tears pricking in my eyes.
"Ssh, it's okay," he said as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I hate myself so much, Phil. I don't want to be like this."
"I know, Dan. I'm going to help you. But you have to let me." I nodded.
"I know, I- it's just-"
"Ssh, I know. I'll make it okay." I nodded again, letting him pull me into a comforting hug, my sobs getting lost in his shoulder.
OoOOooHh things are happening and this is almost over! To whoever tf is reading this because I don't know if anyone is (rambles on about loneliness) how do you feel about that? What do you think is going to happen? ............
...... Yeah so that's it... Idk man I'm drawing a blank, what's interesting to talk about? like MOOSE, wtf do I say? Anyway, I'm so sorry, I'm a mess. But I hope you have an outrageously amazing day, for all of the hard work you've done to keep yourself alive and running. Even if you've done a poor job, try to turn it around. Do whatever it is that will help you to achieve the happiness you deserve. I love you <3 So Thank you and goodbye! ^-^