So am I the only loving the Roscoes? Course I'm not, they're fab. This is my first Hollyoaks fanfiction, but the idea just jumped out to me as soon as the family arrived.

This story is going to get dark and eating disorders, depression and sucicide will all be included, so if anyone feels like they may be triggered, please don't read! I can't stress that enough.

Anyway, happy reading and I hope everyone enjoys the ride!

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He'd always been quite small. Scrawny even. Especially compared to his brothers, they were all taller or broader than him, it was probably why everyone saw him as the vulnerable one, the weakest out of his brothers.

They said it was because he was the youngest, but that wasn't even true. Robbie was the youngest in the family, only by ten minutes but still. Then again, if anyone tried to baby Robbie, he'd probably snap their heads off. His twin wasn't the most approachable person in the world.

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It had been better when he was younger, the pair of them had been practically inseparable as children, right until they started secondary school. They were both in different classes, only sharing a games lesson every Wednesday afternoon. It made it difficult to hang out, and they'd quickly fallen into different social groups.

Within time Robbie was out drinking every week and getting into trouble. Robbing shops for example. It still baffled him why he had done that, but Jason had stopped questioning his brother a long time ago. He was just glad that his mum had finally forgiven him and had let him move back in for the the start of the new school year.

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Robbie was on his best behaviour, he hadn't dared to get in to trouble again, but he was still going out every so often with Callum or Finn, sneaking into the club or hanging out in the folley, a few drinks at hand.

Whilst Robbie was out, Jason chose to spend his nights at home. As he hadn't started school yet, he didn't really know anyone his age, his diabetes had made it hard too. Unlike his brothers he couldn't go out drinking when he felt like it, couldn't eat what he want when he wanted. Truth be told, he hated his illness.

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Ever since he was 11, it had controlled him. Everything he did had to be centred around it, and it always would be. His brothers were all so carefree, not having to control what went into their bodies. He was probably lucky that they all cared about their appearance so much.

They all ate somewhat healthily and usually didn't drink too much, which did make it easier on him. After all he wasn't surrounded by temptations that could land him in the hospital.

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He'd even start filling out a bit in the last year or so. Both Freddy and Ziggy practically lived at the gym and more often than not, one of them would drag him along too. And that's when he had started boxing.

Ziggy had dragged him along to a few classes at their old gym just over a year ago, a usual occurance. At least once a month, Ziggy would discover a new sport that would make him 'look even better' and start taking handful of classes before growing bored and finding some new to grab his attention, more often then not, dragging along Jason. (Jason's personal favourite had been zumba. He had refused to even step foot in the dance room, choosing instead to record Ziggy with his camera).

It turned out he was actually half decent at boxing though (better than he was with pilates anyway) and when Ziggy had gotten bored and moved on, Jason had stuck to it, liking the results that had slowly appeared.

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His mum hadn't gotten him gloves for Christmas, his favourite gift of that year by far. Even though he had boxed regularly, he could still be considered the runt of the litter, and had made himself the promise to keep at it, until he vaguely resembled the rest of the family. To be a real Roscoe.

It was why had been so upset when he was told they were moving, realising he would have to quit his favourite sport. However the realisation that there would be a gym right on the doorstep (hopefully with boxing space and equipment) and the promise of Joe installing a boxing bag in the garage had kept him quiet and somewhat docile about the move (unlike Robbie who had pitched a fit and had gotten himself expelled within a day).

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"Are you ever gonna finish back there Jase?" Joe called, from where he was working on a small car in the front of the garage, exchanging a smile with Freddie as he continued boxing lightly. "I know you like your new toy, but you're going to have to get some work done soon."

"Can't expect to get paid if you're just gonna skive," Robbie yelled, interrupting before Jason could reply.

"Says the one who's spent the majority of his time on his arse." he replied, panting heavily between each word, keeping his movements up and the punches regular.

"Oi, less of the cheek," Robbie retorted. "I think you'll find I'm answering the phone,"

"Yes, because the phone's been ringing non-stop hasn't- ahhh!" Jason was cut off, as he felt a sharp pain erupt from his hand when he punched the bag. Within seconds all four of his brothers had gathered round him, their concern apparent as he tried to bite back even more cries of pain.

"Jase, what is it? What's wrong?"

"My hand," He grimaced, bringing it up and wincing at the swelling. "I hit the bag funny,"

"Ziggy go get the icepack from the fridge" Joe ordered, taking Jason's hand and looking at it closely. "We'll have to get you to A&E. No need to roll your eyes, it may be nothing but we both know that mum would kills us if we didn't get it checked out at least."

"Fine," Jason finally gasped, taking the pack Ziggy had provided and gently wrapping it around his swollen hand.

"I'll take you," Joe said, grabbing his coat from the side. "You three should stay here, but call mum for us would you?"

Robbie looked ready to protest, but simply nodded at the warning looks he received from both Freddy and Ziggy.

As Joe and Jason drove off, Robbie took his mobile out of his overalls and dialled Sandy's number. She picked up after three rings. "What is it sweetie? I'm a bit busy."

"You're not going to like this mum,"

"You okay J?" Joe asked, as Jason made another small grimace. The pair of them had been waiting for just over five minutes, waiting for a doctor to become free. Luckily, the waiting room was practically empty, meaning they wouldn't have to wait for much longer. Probably a good thing too, Joe noted. Although Jason wasn't making a fuss, it was apparent he was in pain.

"Jason Roscoe?" A young nurse called from the front desk. Jason stood up, cradling his injured hand and turned to Joe, who had gone to stand up too.

"I can go on my own, I'm a big boy now." his brother sat back, hands up in mock surrender. Jason turned back, walking over to the nurse where she then directed him to a small doctor's office. A small balding man was sat behind a large desk, looking over the form that Jason had filled in when he'd arrived.

"Hello Jason, I'm Doctor Redfield,"

He nodded in acknowledgement, before sitting on the small uncomfortable chair that the doctor had motioned him to take a seat on.

"So what can I do for you?"

Jason then went onto explain what had happened in the garage. "I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing, I hit the bag funny."

The doctor examined his hand, not seeming fazed by the impressive swelling that had occurred in the past half hour. "Can you move your fingers?" Jason complied, flinching as he did so.

"It's seems like you have a boxers fracture. It's quite common really, but you need an x-ray to be sure. I'll get it organised for you now,"

"Cheers doc," Jason smiled, as Redfield started dialling.

"You're in luck, one of our rooms are free. It won't take a moment to do," He said, placing the phone back into it's cradle. The pair left the small office, making their way to the x-ray department in a stilted silence.

"I need you to remove any clothing or jewellery that may be covering your hand and wrist." The doctor informed Jason, talking the technician in low tones as Jason gently removed his hoodie, trying not to knock his hand any more than necessary.

He placed his hand on the small screen when motioned to do so. The technician fiddled with the settings of the machine, calibrating it in no time.

Overall the x-ray took less than two minutes to complete, and once done both the technician and the doctor re-entered the room. "Thank you Jason. The results should be through within the next fifteen minutes. Feel free to get back to the waiting room if you want to be with your family."

"Cheers doc," Jason nodded, making his way back to the waiting room. When he arrived, he noticed Joe looking back and up and down from the clock on the wall, the worry become more and more obvious on his face. Smiling slightly as his brother overprotective nature, Jason made his way back over.

"Everything all right?" Joe asked, before he could even sit back down.

"Dunno yet, they reckon it's a boxers fracture, but they need the x-ray to come through first,"

"All right. You want some more ice for your hand?" Joe asked, getting ready to stand up and go ask for some from the canteen.

"Nah you're all right. I think the swelling's going down anyway," that was a complete lie. If anything it was getting worse, he was getting some nice bruising to go with it too.

"Right okay then, you know-" before Joe could continue, Sandy Roscoe swooped into the waiting room, hugging Jason tightly when she sat down.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be here earlier baby," she said, letting him go. "Robbie explained what happened but he wasn't very clear."

Joe then went onto explain what had happened and just as he was telling Sandy what the doctors thought it was, the same nurse from before called Jason over. Once he was seated in the small doctor's office, Redfield gave him the x-ray photos to look over.

"Just as I thought I'm afraid, luckily the bone is still aligned which means you won't need any surgery and the recovery time is much shorter. You're going to need a cast though, and it'll take around eight weeks to heal, of course during that time you won't be able to do any exercise as it could agitate your injury even further."

Jason nodded, still looking at the x-ray of his hand, before making his way to another small room to have his cast applied. As he was waiting for the cast to dry, the doctor further explained about his injury, although he was only half listening.

These next few weeks would be gruelling he could just tell. The college had just let out for summer and normally he would spend most of his time working in the garage or boxing, although that was now impossible.

Another thing that was concerned him was the most worrying. It was stupid he knew, but the thought kept going round and round as the doctor rambled next to him. With no exercise for the next couple of months, what would happen to his body? When he had been first diagnosed with diabetes, he had quickly gained a noticeable amount of weight in a relatively short time due to the insulin. He'd started running regularly and then had started boxing, which to his delight got rid of the weight and had kept it off.

Without that, would it all come piling back? He felt like a girl for worrying about such a stupid and shallow thing, but his brothers teasing still rung loud in his ears, even if it was over 6 years ago. Before he could think up a solution, the doctor lightly tapped him on the shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Well I've finished up here. I'll make another appointment for you and get someone to call you, though like I said earlier, it probably won't be for eight weeks at least. If you have any problems feel free to call though, and we'll get everything looked at."

"Right, cheers doc," Jason nodded, frowning at the slight numbness in his hand that the cast had already started causing. He thanked Doctor Redfield once more before leaving to get back to the waiting room.

As Jason had predicated, Sandy spent the rest of the afternoon fretting around him, giving him cup after cup of tea whilst not letting him leave the sofa. Joe had gone back to the garage once they left the hospital and as he and his three brothers stampeded through the door, all rushing to the kitchen for some food and a look at the take-away menu, Jason managed to slip away to his room.

Another take-away. Great he thought to himself. Although Lindsey could cook, both her and Joe were going on a romantic meal that night, meaning everyone else was left with Sandy's cooking or a Chinese. The choice was obvious.

Another thing that was obvious was why Jason had gained so much weight the last time. His insulin with the crappy diet he was surrounded with constantly, well he was surprised that he wasn't the size of a house.

"You want the usual Jase?" Freddie called from downstairs.

"Yeah sure," he called automatically, already hating himself at the thought of all that fatty food that would soon be in him. It made him feel sick at the thought of it. He could just picture it though, the cast would have just come off by the time school started up again, and he knew that he would be relentlessly teased if he didn't do anything to help the current situation.

He would be a new kid too, and being Robbie Roscoe's twin meant he had a lot to live up to, after all everyone knew the two were related and all eyes would be on him to see if there were any similarities. He knew this, because it always happened. Kids were cruel too, and from what he had already heard, the kids here were no better, maybe even worse.

If he had gained an extra twenty pounds minimum, his case really wouldn't be helped.

But how could he help himself? After all, the weight would probably still pile on if he ate next to nothing (he'd already tried that before he started exercising religiously) but there had to be something.

Sighing, he lay on his bed, aimlessly looking around his room for any form of inspiration. That was when it caught his eye. His insulin case was lying on the desk and an idea began forming in his mind.

He gained weight because of the insulin, so surely, if he didn't take the insulin he wouldn't be gain anything over the next few weeks and maybe even lose some. He knew the idea was stupid as soon as he thought it, but it was tempting. After all, he only fell into that coma the other week because he didn't take any insulin, but surely if he restricted his intake to one or two shots a day out of the six needed he'd be fine?

And anyway, he'd start taking it regularly when the cast was off and he could go back to normal, it was only a temporary thing, so no harm could be caused in just eight weeks. Right? Decision made, Jason ignored his case as he made his way back downstairs for dinner. What was the worst that could happen?

I'm afraid it's only going to get worse for poor Jason. As some of you may have realised, this story is going to be mainly focusing on diabulimia (an eating disorder when someone with type 1 diabetes stops/restricts taking their insulin)

Now I don't have diabetes so all the information I have got is from what I've found when researching for this story (which there has been a lot of) but I'm not perfect and I may have gotten something wrong or missed something out. If this happens, feel free to review or message me with what you believe I need to include or need to change and I'll do it straight away.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, they'll be more coming soon.