10.
By the time filming starts again, his weight has dropped once again. Not drastically, but enough.
He finds it ridiculously easy to fall back into the habit of eating only one proper meal a day. Like before not many people notice his change in routine. This time, it is due to the tight time frame that people are constantly worrying about and there is much ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ about whether they will get their job done in time. Oliver throws himself into his job as he never has done before; always the first one on set, the last one off. His fellow cast mates have told him to relax, but Oliver can’t. He needs something to work for, something to distract himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to eat, but after so many months of irregular meal patterns and eating habits, the slightest thing can make him feel ill. His body isn’t sure of what he wants it to do and his stomach seems to have turned against him, leaving him with almost unbearable stomach pains if he happens to eat too much at a time. Because of this, Oliver deems it easier to just not eat; he uses the need to learn lines and claims to having eaten a large meal that morning as excuses. He rarely feels hungry anymore and becomes completely dependent on liquids. His lemonade becomes a life line and he needs a strong cup of tea in the morning before work. He has become a master at deceiving people when it comes to meals- he is present at dinner, the main meal of the day when it comes to filming and eats just enough to stop people from asking questions.
He isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not when he realises that he no longer feels sick and hungry like he did the first time he stopped eating; his body seems to have gotten used to it, he is used to little sleep and the only thing that changes are the measurements for his costumes as weight shreds off him like garments. It is almost the complete opposite of what has happened before, where his body craved food. Now, it is almost begging him not to eat- he still feels faint, but Becca has put it down to stress and dehydration and nobody has yet argued with her; simply agreed when she has ordered him to stay in bed in the weeks leading up to the next eight month stint. She has already had strict conversations with David and the rest of the ‘higher authorities’ when it comes to filming, and has strictly stated that Oliver is not to be overworked and while they’re at it, neither is James.
Filming continues and life goes on, until-
“Ollie! Come on man, what’s going on?!”
Oliver doesn’t even have to lift his head at the shout that echoes across the set to know who it is. He knows that there is only one person in the whole crew who would shout in such an obnoxious manner. Guy Hilton occasionally stands in for David when he is away at a different location and has taken a strong dislike to the majority of the cast right from his first day there; especially Oliver. Guy had been an aspiring actor but had been told, in less harsher words to, ‘just give up’ and it had turned him sour against all those who had made it in his dream profession. Oliver often wants to feel sorry for the man, but Guy only has to open his mouth and make one scathing remark and Oliver goes back to feeling mutual resentment towards him.
Now, Guy is forced to call the scene to a cut as Oliver trips once again, breathing heavily, wiping a slightly shaking had across his clammy brow.
“Look, Hilton,” comes a new voice and Oliver looks up in time to see James striding over to where they are standing, the long, burgundy coat of his costume breezing out behind him, making the blonde seem even more menacing. Despite the fact that Guy towers above James, he is also incredibly lanky, which only makes James’s bulky form appear to have the upper hand as he shoots the older man an icy glare.
“We have to get this scene finished!” Guy shouts, rounding on James, “David said-“
“I don’t particularly care what David said,” James spits back, “can’t you see he’s not well? Oliver Haydon is a bloody trooper for being here today, when a couple of weeks ago he was under strict bed rest at home! I’m sure our health matters more to David than whether we get this scene finished.” James stops abruptly to take a deep breath, before wrapping an arm around Oliver’s shoulders, letting the weaker man lean on him for support.
“I’m fine James,” he insists softly, “I can finish here.”
“Mhmm,” James nods sarcastically, “really fine. I can see that. Look at you Ol, you’re about to pass out on the spot!”
“It’s just one scene James,” Oliver says, desperate to stop the shouting that is making his head pound, “I can do it, I’ll be fine.”
James is shaking his head in protest.
“Becca said you had to take it easy! Amy said you had to take it easy! What the hell are you doing, deliberately being an idiot? You aren’t well, Oliver and they made me promise that I would look out for you, which I’m trying to do, but you’re such a stubborn bastard!”
Oliver smiles weakly.
“I know. Look. Let me just finish this. Then we’ll go back to the hotel and call home and then I’ll sleep for the rest of the evening.”
James backs off after that and leaves him to suffer the wrath of a scowling Guy Hilton and Oliver lets out a breath of relief.
He thinks he has gotten away with it, however, his weight loss doesn’t go unnoticed for much longer and he only notices how bad he has become when he is back at home for the weekend, lying in bed with Amy in only a battered old tracksuit. They have decided to have an early night- the clock has just struck ten. He is nearly asleep when he feels Amy’s hand come to a standstill in the centre of his stomach. He opens his eyes to see her staring down at his lean body with an unreadable expression on her face.
“If you’re trying to count my ribs, I can assure you that I’m not missing any,” he says lightly, trying to draw her attention away from his body. She looks up to look at him, snatching her hand away. She shakes her head slowly as if she has seen something horrific and then she proceeds to stumble from the bed, pulling on the discarded jumper that comes down to her knees which she always leaves at the foot of the bed.
“Where are you going?” Oliver asks, propping himself up on his elbows and staring after her as she flees from the room. He hears the front door click shut and he collapses onto his back, bringing his hands up to clutch at his hair. He can feel tears pricking at his eyes, but he fights them. The flat is almost completely silent and Oliver feels more alone than he has done in months.
-x-
“Not again Oliver.”
This is the first thing that James says to him upon opening the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?! We could have fought it and things could have gone on as usual.”
Oliver shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans and says absolutely nothing. James heaves a sigh of annoyance and says exasperatedly,
“Oh for godssakes, get out the hallway you look like a bloody stoner,” whilst gesturing to his old jeans, dark Jack Daniels hood and the beanie hat which is almost slipping down past his eyes. The jumper had been a Christmas present from Becca, which she had given him after he had managed to make a complete fool of himself after drinking only two shots of the stuff at an evening out. It all seems so long ago, he thinks as James drags Oliver inside the flat and pushes the door shut behind him. He ushers the dark haired man into the kitchen and flicks the switch on the kettle, which is already full with water. Leaning against the counter, he examines the other man who is hovering awkwardly in the doorway.
“She’s still asleep Oliver,” he says, “if that’s what you want to know.”
Oliver seems to relax when he hears this and slumps against the wall.
“You look rough mate,” James says, his tone kinder now, “did you sleep at all last night?”
Oliver shakes his head and rubs his hand over his face which feels rough with stubble.
“I tried,” he says, flushing as his voice breaks, “I really did try... but it’s so hard... I didn’t mean for it to go this far again...”
“Hey,” James says, and Oliver can’t help but internally curse him- James Thomas, with his muscular build and his blonde hair, the witty personality the appealing good looks, the complete polar opposite to Oliver’s lanky frame, dark hair and porcelain skin. He looks up now, as James continues. “It hasn’t got out of hand yet. You’re still standing, still eating. I know you are, I’ve seen you. It isn’t too late Oliver, you can still-”
“You don’t have any idea do you?” Oliver barks out, his voice coming out harsher than he intends, “none of you have any idea! It isn’t my fault I’m like this, I’ve tried so hard to get better and it doesn’t work... if I eat properly then I feel sick and if I don’t eat at all I feel sick, there is no in-between and the only person I’m hurting more than myself by doing this is my girlfriend who can’t stand the sight of me and hates my guts right now because she thinks I’m a selfish bastard! I don’t mean to be selfish, but it just happens and what with work and- ow! James!”
Oliver rubs his temple and stares at the orange that has just been thrown at him.
“She doesn’t think you’re selfish Oliver,” he bites out; “and as much as it pains me to say it... she loves you.” Oliver can recognise the look on his friends face and his stomach constricts with guilt. He knows how James feels about Amy and once again he has let his feelings get the better of him.
“James, I-” he starts, but James shakes his head, biting his lower lip as he does so.
“Don’t, Oliver,” he says, “just don’t. I’m going out. I’ll be back in a while, okay?”
Amy forgives Oliver only hours later, but that doesn’t stop the guilt that is eating away at him, the look on James’s face as he left the flat scratched into his memory.