AN: So, I know I have to finish "When Darkness Calls" and I've already got the next chapter for that sort of written. My writing brain was cooperating with me for a while, but it's crunch time with school work now and I think I've hit a wall, lol. I have four essays due before next month, but what do I spend most of my free time on? Writing BTR fanfiction. And you know what? That's totally okay, lol. So, here's another story! This should only be about 3-4 chapters max. I'm actually almost done with it, but I thought I'd go ahead and post the first chapter and see what you guys think. It's going to have sort of a sequel/continuation, but that's nowhere near done. I wrote this story because the subject matter is something that is very close to my heart.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter isn't so bad, but all the chapters in this story will be referring to an eating disorder, as well as calorie counting and purging. Please don't read if this could upset you in any way. If you struggle with any of these things, I'll keep you in my prayers. If anyone ever needs to talk, please don't hesitate to message me.

"Carlos, would you please focus and keep walking?!"

The plea fell on deaf ears, and Logan rolled his eyes as he struggled to drag his luggage towards the door. He couldn't remember packing all of this stuff last month…

"Carlos!" he called ahead of him.

A few feet in front of him, Carlos stumbled as he moved out of the way of the lobby doors, missing being clobbered by the heavy glass by only a few inches. He turned to glare at Logan.

"I am trying to kill a minotaur here, Logan!" he snapped, gesturing to the Nintendo DS in his hand.

"Well, we are trying to get upstairs," Logan hissed. "So if you don't mind, will you please GET THE DOOR!"

Carlos scrambled to pull the door open, though he let it go as he entered the lobby and returned his attention to his game. Behind him, James barely caught it with his foot, stumbling as he struggled to kick the door open without a free hand.

"Would someone please explain to me," he panted, shuffling through the door and pausing to hold it for Logan with his foot, "why I'm the one who has to carry his stuff plus mine?!"

Logan caught the door, nearly falling as the combined weight with his bags pushed him forwards. "Because you have the longest arms," he answered, trying to hold the door for Kendall, who was behind him.

"Okay, well I'm sweating, and 'The Face' can't sweat!"

"Everyone perspires, James," Logan sighed, setting a bag down and straightening his back out painfully.

James stared at him blankly.

"Sweats, James! Everyone sweats!"

"I knew that!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Okay!" Kendall shouted above them, dropping his own bags and pushing them apart. "Logan, good job, you knew another word for sweat! James, we all sweat so please just deal with it. Now, I don't know about the two of you, but I was just on a three-hour plane ride, with a toddler behind me who thought my seat was a piñata. I'm tired, and cranky, and hungry, so can we please just get upstairs?!"

Logan and James glared at each other but relented. "Fine," they muttered in unison, turning away. Logan reached to grab his bag again and James headed for the elevator, not even seeing the oncoming luggage cart being pushed in his direction. He tried to step away quickly, managing to take a pace backward before the corner of the cart caught onto the end of one of Carlos' bags and James was knocked completely off balance. He stumbled back, shuffling quickly to try to catch himself before he and the bags met the floor. He nearly fell, barely catching himself low to the ground and still clutching the bags with sure hands. He chuckled and started to rise slowly when—

Riiiiiiiiiiiiip.

That . . . that did not just happen. James was pretty sure he turned about three shades paler than normal as he froze, nearly dropping the bags when he felt a sudden breeze where he shouldn't have.

"James," Kendall stammered, irritability forgotten as he began to laugh uncontrollably.

James turned slowly around to face his friends, trying his best to keep his eyes on Logan and not Kendall, who was currently beet red as he pressed a hand over his mouth to keep silent.

"Please tell me that did not just happen," James begged quietly, eyes wide as he focused on Logan.

Logan was biting his lip, clearly trying to keep a straight face and doing a much better job than Kendall. He nodded, unable to resist cracking a contained smile. "It did."

James was certain all the blood in his entire body rose to his cheeks at that moment, as he stood shakily in the middle of the lobby. He glanced around frantically, his gaze flickering between the faces of his thoroughly entertained friends and . . . at least a dozen people in the room who'd seen the whole thing.

He was mortified.

In fact, he was sure he'd never been so humiliated in his life, except for when Gustavo told him he had no talent. That had been truly awful, but this?

He wanted to shrivel up into a ball right then and there and never emerge again.

Logan seemed to realize that James wasn't nearly as amused as the rest of them were, and he hurried to stand directly behind him. "James, come on," he encouraged, motioning him to follow Kendall and Carlos towards the elevator. James was frozen for a moment, before he forced his feet to move in a near dash for the lift. Logan hurried to keep up and block the scene from passerby, but really . . . they were in the middle of the lobby.

The ride to the next floor was so silent it made everyone uncomfortable. Kendall stood in the far-left corner, literally biting his lip to keep from laughing. Logan leaned against the wall quietly to his right, eyeing the operation buttons as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. James was still, head hung so that his hair covered his eyes, and Carlos, still absorbed in his game, stood beside him.

James couldn't seem to will the furious blush off of his face. He took a shaky breath, raising his eyes to look at the small screen above the door as they ascended. No one said a word, and James dared to hope that maybe he could count on the three others being good friends and completely letting the unfortunate incident go.

Until Kendall literally couldn't contain himself and snorted loudly. He doubled over in laughter, even as Logan elbowed him in the side.

"It's not funny," James snapped, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh yeah, it is!"

Beside him, Carlos smirked a bit before beginning to giggle himself. Logan rolled his eyes, and if he found the situation as amusing as the others, he didn't let it show.

The elevator announced their arrival on the second floor with a ding, and the boys quickly filed out, Kendall in the lead as he hurried to remove the key from his pocket. He jammed it into the lock and fiddled with it a bit before raising his eyes to meet James'.

"James," he started, a bit more serious now as he took in the humiliated look on his friend's face.

James didn't answer, instead keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

"James-"

"Shut up."

Kendall scoffed, still smiling. "James, relax man." He pushed the door open gently, taking a quick step back as the taller boy pushed through. "James, I'm sorry," he said, following him inside as the others followed suit.

James refused to heed their calls, instead hurrying up the stairs to the room he shared with Carlos. He promptly dumped their bags on the floor, then turned to shut the door. Locking it was unnecessary. Carlos may have been a ball of energy, but he wasn't thoughtless. The closed door was all James needed to indicate he wanted to be left alone.

He quickly kicked off his shoes, then hurried to undo his jeans, wincing as the waistline cut into his stomach. He slid them off, spinning them around in a flash and peering at the rear seam.

There it was, for all the world to see. A huge tear right down the center.

James was horrified.

He'd. . . he'd actually ripped his pants in the middle of the lobby. In front of at least a dozen people, maybe more. And there was no doubt in his mind that those people would tell others. He was positive the entire building would know of his mishap by the end of the day.

His gaze traveled from the now ruined jeans to his waistline. He could see the deep red imprint from where the pants had cut into his skin, and he rubbed it, wincing. He didn't remember them being that tight, but he shrugged. They were an older pair anyway. That was it.

He chucked them off to the side, making a mental note to dispose of them later, then quickly headed for his dresser, opening a lower drawer to grab a new, unadulterated pair of jeans. He slipped them on, frowning when he felt the waistband cut into his skin in a similar fashion.

What the heck?

He quickly turned to eye himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door. He didn't. . . he didn't look any different, not that he could see, anyway. A little tired, considering they'd just gotten off of a three-hour flight, but that was it. But his jeans had certainly never hurt his stomach the way they did now. A bit uneasily, he hurried into the bathroom connected to the bedroom, pulling the scale from its place beside the sink counter and stepping onto it gingerly.

172.

Okay, that was definitely a bit more than he usually weighed. He tended to fluctuate between the 150s and 60s maximum, considering his muscle. But Gustavo had actually been a pretty decent human being and had allowed them to return home to Minnesota for the entire month of August after concluding their May-August tour. It was truly awesome. Rare were the times they got to see their families now, and even rarer that they got to be home for the summer. He'd spent two weeks with his mother and another two with his father and his. . . new family. It was awkward, but it was the most he'd seen of any of them in ages and he knew it was likely the last he'd see of them for a while. It was a dream come true, since it was summer, and they had no make-up work to worry about. They literally spent a full month doing nothing but skating, playing hockey, and goofing off, and it was wonderful.

James tended more towards healthy food in general; he had no qualms about their weekly movie pig-out sessions, but he generally tried to put as little grease and sugar in his body as possible. Their month off had been a special occasion though, full of mass amounts of "cheat" foods and special treats and one midnight pizza baking session with his sister and half-brother (he was sure his stepmother still hadn't forgiven them for what they'd done to her kitchen, but he didn't live with her, so it wasn't his problem), and he'd admittedly eaten a bit poorer than he usually did. But James had always had a fast metabolism; it was rare for him to gain weight at all, and he almost always lost it immediately. One hundred and seventy-two pounds was more than ten pounds above his normal weight. Had he really eaten that much?

With a cringe, he returned the scale to its previous position and headed back out into his bedroom, eyeing himself once more in the mirror.

He really didn't look different in his opinion. He was fit and toned and he liked it. He just. . . didn't like that number. At all.

He'd never really gone on a fitness plan before. He hadn't needed to, with his metabolism and how active he was. One hundred and seventy-two was unacceptable, though. Maybe just this once he'd have to make an exception. Just. . . healthier food and a bit more exercise. It would work, right?

AN: So, what did you guys think? Please review! Thank you for reading and God bless you!

-downtonabbey15