Prompt from PTX_Pentaholic99:It was just a comment. Fatty.
Setting: IRL Same Personalities
Words: 1794
(I'm sorry this posted so many times... Wattpad was acting up)
•••••
Scott entered the locker rooms once again. It was Personal Fit; a class designed to improve your wellbeing while simultaneously dropping your grade. A class also designed to publicly humiliate almost every boy over 130.
Scott turned into the shower area, headed for the stalls.
He didn't realise until he had walked up to his regular that it was already taken.
Taking a deep breath, he tried not to freak out, looking around for an empty stall.
All locked.
They had approximately 5 minutes to get changed, and Scott knew he couldn't spend them staring at a stall.
So, he walked out.
He found his locker, took his clothes out of his bookbag, and stared at them.
They mocked him.
Swallowing hard, he tuned into the heated conversation about prom and quickly took his pants off, pulling the gym shorts up as quickly as he could. He then reached for the hem of his shirt-
And, paused. Stop it, Scott. No one is even paying attention to you. It's fine.
With a nervous breath, he slid the shirt up and over his head. He was a skinny boy, yes, but his body was so awkwardly formed that he had grown a tummy right above his nonexistent v-line.
He started to feel a bit better. The worst part was over, and the boys were still talking. He reached for his gym shirt.
"Hey, Scott?"
His heart dropped, and he suddenly felt nauseous. Scott turned around to see all 5 boys staring; the one he had already pegged as a troublemaker was smirking.
"Y-yeah?"
"What was it that we had to finish for Mr. Brennan's class?" The only boy he knew, Jordyn, asked.
"Um, some worksheet. I don't know." Scott turned away, finally pulling on his shirt.
"Oh, okay." Jordyn replied.
"That's what you get for asking the awkward kid." One of them mumbled, his steps sounding farther away.
"Fatty."
The word stung, and seemed to brand themselves on Scott's cheek. He turned his head the other way.
As everyone began to leave, Scott kneeled down to tie his shoes, tears stinging at his eyes.
He finished quickly, and left the locker room for the gym, entering just as the instructor explained their activities.
"So, dodgeball or jogging? Today's an easy day."
"How about we play dodgeball? Maybe we can get one to bounce!" One of the boys laughed, eyes directly on Scott.
Scott cowered into himself as the instructor told him to settle down.
•••
It was just a comment.
Y does one look anorexic and the other look like he had too many beers haha #beerbelly
Scott Hoying looks like a Alaskan bull worm wtf how is he attractive
It was stupid and horribly typed, but it created a sickness in Scott's chest that he scarily recognised.
Shame.
And without Mitch's constant words of reassurance, the ones that make him love every inch and crevice of his body, it was hard to ignore.
It's not the first time these comments have come up. Coupled with the doctor's visit and Mitch's constant ranting about watching his already slim figure, Scott didn't think there was a way to be more insecure about his own figure. So much to the point that he convinced himself that he was healthy to avoid driving himself into that deep, dark, hole of self pity. That hole that he was stuck in from junior year to his sophomore year of college.
Until now, when Mitch and Austin are sitting two feet away from him.
Until now, where he decides he doesn't want a second slice of pizza.
Until now, where he vows to stop drinking every night and begin working out every morning.
•~•
"C'mon Scott! This is always the other way around. Why don't you want to party with me?" Mitch teases, sliding his hands down Scott's biceps and hugging him from over the couch. Scott leans forward, out of Mitch's embrace.
"I just don't want to go. I'm gonna stay and watch a movie or something."
"Gosh, what's gotten into you? These conversations took a Freaky Friday turn," Mitch stands up and walks to the door, heels clicking, "but, alright, if you insist. Set the alarm after I leave! I'll text you when I get there, as always."
"Okay," Scott replies, watching as Mitch slams the door shut,
"Stay safe."
•~•
"Why do you want your own dressing room? We have small space as it is." Nicole questions. Scott shrugs his shoulders.
"I need room to stretch."
"You can stretch with Mitch. I'm sorry babe; you have to share. We just don't have the space. Plus, you've never had a problem on previous tours, what's up now?"
"I just-" Scott huffs, "nevermind."
He storms off to his shared dressing room, leaving Nicole confused and a bit concerned.
•~•
"We should do a Superfruit video on something food related." Mitch ponders, swinging a few more things from the shelf into the basket.
Scott scoffs. "Maybe you can."
"And, why can't you? I can't just eat everything I touch. Well, I could probably eat my weight in guacamole." Mitch jokes, walking further down the isle.
"Eating your weight in anything wouldn't be that much food to consume in the first place." Scott grunts, and finally catches Mitch's attention.
"What?" He turns to Scott, puzzled by his reply.
"Nothing. It's whatever." He bumps Mitch's shoulder to pass it off as joking, then slips something else into the cart, hoping Mitch didn't see.
"You ass." Mitch smirks.
"Hey, I'll go check out. You said you needed to make a call?" Scott asks, discretely taking the cart away from Mitch and pushing it towards the cashier.
"Ooh, I did. Thanks babe. I'll meet you outside."
•~•
"Scott! Slow down, will you?"
Scott ignores him, continuing to push his tired body one more mile. He had gained a pound this week alone– tour's a bitch– and there is no way he's working backwards now.
He continues to increase his pace, when suddenly, everything seems to slow down...
"Scott!"
He feels a hand on his back. His throat is dry and the world is moving too fast and he can't breathe and he needs to be under 160 he needs to be under 160 he needs to be under 160 he needs
•~•
"Scott?"
Scott freezes in his bunk. He had told Kevin not to let Mitch know where he was. He really didn't have the patience to deal with anyone at the moment.
"Scott." The curtain pulls back to reveal a shadow of Mitch. Mitch reaches up to grab Scott's hand, their hands holding tightly, but not quite intertwined.
"Hey... You okay?"
"Yeah." His voice is raspy from sleep, which was understandable given it was all he ever did these days.
"No," he squeezes Scott's hand once more, "no, you're not. The least you could do is tell me why."
Scott looks down with no answer.
"The band is worried about you," He brushes back a stray hair from Scott's forehead, "Nicole told me you want a separate hotel room now. Kevin said you asked him if you could join him in his training..."
Scott begins to scoot out of the bunk, causing Mitch to back up. His feet land on the floor and their hands were long ago seperated, and Mitch still stares at the side of Scott's worn face.
Fatty.
"He's been training for years, Scott. It's harder than regular workouts. If you push yourself, you might get hurt."
"You don't think I can handle it?" He deadpans, eyes to the floor.
You're fluffy. That's a good thing!
"That's not what I said-"
"Do you- do you think I'm not fit enough? Or- or toned enough? Or-"
A little overweight for your age.
"Scott." Mitch places a hand on Scott's arm, only for him to flinch away.
"You lied."
Mitch's face contorts. "What?"
Scott's knees wobble as he takes another step towards the door. Anything to escape this conversation.
"You said it would stop. You said-"
Scott knees give way, and he collapses to the floor.
"Oh my gosh!" Mitch quickly gets down on his knees, touching Scott in every place possible, hoping that he wasn't broken on the outside like he was within.
Scott sobs, and Mitch is in shock. He had thought he was simply exhausted, but this is something worse. Way worse.
"Why can't I be normal, Mitch? Why am I not good enough?"
"Scott, honey, where is this coming from?"
"You tried to hide it from me. I know you did but I found it, Mitch. I looked and found what they say about me. Even you and Kirstie and my mom, everyone knows, Mitchy,"
"Everyone knows I'm f-fat."
Mitch feels as if he's gonna be sick, and he leans his head to the side to make eye contact with the blurry blues.
"What did you just say?"
"I said I was f-"
"NO!" Mitch yells.
Scott cries even more.
"Don't you ever say that word again, especially about yourself, you hear me?" Scott nods, and Mitch hugs him desperately.
"And to call me a liar. Ha! Look who's the liar now. Scott Hoying, you truly are an idiot," this doesn't seem to be encouraging until he finishes, "because you can't see just how beautiful of a person you really are."
Scott still babbles words of apology, but Mitch's shushes him in such a soothing way that his cries seem to slow and his muscles loosen.
"You are a wonder, Scott Hoying. Because, beauty comes from within. You can't- you can't tell me that all of this was over some stupid internet comment."
"The doctor said-"
"Fuck the doctor, Scott Hoying, you are beautiful."
Scott smiles through his endless tears, imagining the innuendo that would have been stated if they were in a different situation.
"It's not that easy, I know. But coming from me? A person who struggled and resisted loving myself for so long, until a blonde quirky boy who was full of life showed me how."
Mitch lifts Scott's head, leaning them both against the bunks.
"Is that boy still in there? Or, is this working from a clean slate?"
Scott swallows hard, shifting to get comfortable in Mitch's embrace.
"Okay... How long have I been a horrible friend?"
"You're not a horrible friend." Scott mumbles.
"Well apparently I am if I let you reach this point!" Mitch laughs dryly, pulling Scott closer.
"Yeah, it's gonna take a while, I know. I'm sorry. I love you."
"Love you too. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. We'll find a way." Mitch sighs.
"We'll find a way."
•••••
beautiful message thought by a beautiful person