He hadn't seen me watching him for a good two or three minutes now, and I wondered if he was ignoring my lingering presence. I watched him, my eyes burning into his golden skin that almost shone with every dazzling fibre of his being. He stood in front of the mirror, an object of danger, of warped madness - but to him a confirmation of all his worst fears.
He inhaled and turned on his side, sucking in his stomach, allowing his ribs to almost pierce out of the skin. I'd seen him do this a few times before, on his own, or thinking he was on his own at least. He ran his fingers over his stomach, it was flat, but I doubt he believed that. He tucked his thumb into the waistband of his jeans and pulled it forward. He had lost weight, that was obvious and it was all our fault.
Growing up, Tom had been the biggest out of all of us, a mixture of puppy fat and takeaways, and he lost it quicker than he had put it on. It wasn't an issue at first, but we teased him, like boys do, and then Gi left him and it was the only thing he had left to cling onto - so he made himself lose that too.
He lost it, he lost the weight that kept him grounded and he lost his mind along with it. He went too far and now he couldn't stop, none of us could reassure him that he was damaging himself. Harry caught him making himself throw up once and hit him across the face, I don't think he ever did it again. The trouble with Tom is, words don't work anymore, there is nothing we could say to make him stop. Actions are all we have.
He spots me lingering in the doorway and for a moment I think he's going to shout at me, hit me, whatever - because really I shouldn't be there.
Before he gets a chance to say anything, to try and make up some excuse again, I stride over towards him and pull him close, pressing my lips down harshly on his and kissing him passionately. I feel him relax instantly, as though I've erased every tension in his body - he feels more human to me than ever before.