AN: I've been out of the fanfiction game for quite awhile, but FFXV finally brought me back. Written for a prompt on the FFXV Kink Meme. Prompt below for reference.

"Some of the fics I read about Prompto have tags for "slight eating disorder mention" and stuff like that and the rest is fluff or smut. I want to see one where it's not slight or only mentioned. Tell me about how he's starving himself into the body he wants, obsessively counting calories before anything goes in his mouth. Or how guilty he feels about wasting food and money by forcing himself to puke it all up. I want him to look in the mirror and still see fat when no one else does. If you wanna make it shippy, I'd love some Promptis. But more than shipping, I'd like to see concerned bros not sure what to do when their friend is slowly killing himself."

Breaking this up into two or three chapters. Haven't decided yet.

—

Nightmare Dystrophy

—

I: repetition breeds diligence

—

I guess you can say I was a neglected child. My parents were never around as I was growing up. To be honest, I feel like they kind of just dumped me at home from the moment I was born and then left. They were always off on their business trips or working long hours just to keep a roof over our head. From a young age I always remember coming home to a dark and empty house. I'm home. Never a response. Always alone.

My parents provided for me materially, which I'm grateful for. But there's more that I needed from them... and as a child I learned to go without those needs. There had to be something wrong with me that prompted them to ignore me as such. There had to be some reason besides work that caused them to leave me alone like they did.

It's not like school was much better either. I had no friends. I mostly faded into the background, never bothering anyone. Never asking for anything. I was always on the outskirts, an outcast on the fringes of society. What was it about me that people never liked? Why was I always ignored? I guess I was quiet. I never really reached out to other people and tried to establish some sort of connection. I guess I was comfortable just fading into the background. A wallflower, that's what I was.

I think ... I started eating as a way of comfort as we all do. The taste of something sweet, or savory and delectable. Continually filling the space in my stomach with food that brought warmth and joy. I grew drunk on the feeling that food gave me. Food was there when my parents weren't. Food was my friend when all the kids at school would ignore me. Food didn't care about how much weight I put on, it told me: eat me, consume me, I'll always be here.

But that was the problem. There was always too much food. Too much consumption. Too much of pushing my feelings away. I was existing in a form of excess. I probably would have continued on the same path had I not found Luna's dog. Had she not sent that letter of thanks to me and told me to look after Noctis, I probably would have eaten myself right into my grave. Death didn't seem so bad. I was lonely anyway. Is a child supposed to have these morbid thoughts?

When I found Luna's dog wounded outside of my house one evening, my heart went soaring straight into the golden dusk. I'd always loved animals, couldn't stop taking pictures of them since I got my camera. But a pet of my own? I'd finally have something that depended on me, something that I could love. Rationally, I knew that I couldn't keep this dog if it belonged to someone—but I could dream. When Pryna disappeared a few days later and was replaced with Luna's letter, I realized an even better opportunity had come my way. It was strange to have someone reach out to me in not only a formal manner, but with faith that I could do as they had asked.

At Luna's behest and with shaky resolve I would befriend Noctis. He was always so distant, so removed from all of us that I saw him as untouchable. All the attention that he received, I always wondered what that was like? To be adored and loved by everyone that he came in contact with. He was the crown prince, of course people would be interested in him—but would he care to know me? Who was I? The silent fat kid that sat in the back of his class and didn't socialize with others. We were the same weren't we? His rejection of attention, my yearning for it. What were we missing? What did we really need?

My first time engaging Noct was a god damn disaster and I wondered how I could be so stupid to think this would actually work. The sound of Noct's laughter when I fell and offered up my camera when he asked if I was okay was like a special gift I was only privy too. Yet, when he called me heavy, I knew I had a problem. I was already wracked with nerves at the prospect of our first meeting, but I had no idea it was supposed to be like this. I was so excited to fulfill Luna's wishes. She was worried about him, she cared about him. She had tasked me with trying to look after him and the first thing that he had called me was heavy. Heavy in what ways? Was I too much? Too fat, too much weight to bear? How had I allowed things to get this bad? How had I allowed myself to get in so deep? It was hard. Food tasted so good, it made me feel so good. But here it was, posing an obstacle between me and the prince. The crown prince would want nothing to do with an overweight loser, how could I face him in this current form?

Change is hard and it's necessary. At least, for me it was. It was necessary to change myself so that I would be worthy of standing before our future king. How could Luna possibly have enough faith in me to support Noctis when I couldn't even look after myself?

Someone knocks into my desk and for a minute I am aware of the space I'm taking up. I look up at these kids, my classmates. They all probably come from homes with parents that tell them things about the world, teach them things about life. They probably lecture them, scold them, nurture them ... love them. Maybe that's been my problem all along. Maybe I'm unlovable. How do I get people to love me? I look up from my camera and ask them for advice on exercise. They should know, shouldn't they? They're ... thin. They're tiny. They're in control of who they are.

Control? Control. Is that what I'm lacking? I need to control who I am. I need to control how I interact with people. I need to put myself out there, show everyone that I'm not a loner. Not the weird fat kid whose obsessed with sitting by himself during lunch time and taking pictures of weird things. I need to change. I need to be in control.

I step on the scale at home, 185.6lbs.

I took the first picture of my naked body the other day and I am disgusted.

—

Puberty starts to do strange things to the body and I don't like it. I feel like a foreigner in my own body. I feel like I'm losing control. I've lost some weight, but nothing sits as it should on my body. I guess I'm average size, but nothing about me feels average. I still feel inadequate, undeserving.

Noctis disappears from my radar for a couple of years. We go to different middle schools and I continue to work on myself on the off chance that I'll see him again. I have a promise to keep to Luna and I'll be damned if I break it. When I run low on inspiration, I open my desk drawer and sniff the letter Lunafreya sent me so long ago.

—

When my parents come home they take notice of my change and the snide comments flow freely. My father: Finally decided to eat like a human being, huh? My mother pulls back from her hug and grabs at my stomach. She pinches hard. You could stand to lose a little bit more right here. What will all the girls at school think about you if you're not the most handsome boy in the class? I pull my stretched out shirt down and wish that they would go away. I'm trying.

They sit in the living room that night and talk to each other in hushed voices. I sit in my room, brushing away my tears and sniffle my way through my math homework. The emotions give way and I can barely see my homework through the water that won't stop falling from my eyes and onto the paper. I'm not anymore fat. I'm not. I'm trying. I'm trying.

I cry myself to sleep that night and forget to inhale the sweet scent of Luna's letter for encouragement. In the morning, I open my bedroom door and find that my parents are gone. They've left a wad of cash on the table and a quick note: Be good, keep it up! You have more to lose! Don't stop now!

I find a lighter in the utility drawer, set fire to the note, and let it fizzle out in the kitchen sink.

Watching the embers fade into black, I close my eyes and will the tears to stop already.

I hate them.

—

For the next few years, twelve hundred calories and a ten mile jog become my daily mantra. Weight loss is hard and it's time consuming. I grow tired of salads and my body acclimates to the distances that I run and my weight plateaus. I stop relying solely on cardio to take me through this transformation and I start look into the importance of nutrients and strength training. Do I want to become ...cut? Muscle weighs more than fat. I don't want to weigh more than I need to. I just want to be normal. I just ... I just don't want anyone to think I'm fat anymore. Regardless, people take notice. I'm no longer the fat kid anymore... or so I hope.

—

I've learned the horror (beauty) of throwing up my food. The first time I experience a binge and purge episode is two weeks before high school begins. I'm lying around in bed with this building anxiety that I can't seem to crush. What am I going to do when I see Noctis tomorrow? Pretend that we've never met? Bother him like everyone else is probably clamoring to do? What could I even say to Noctis that would make him want to talk to me? What do I have to offer to anyone at this point?

It's like there's a beast in my head and its roaring and won't stop. The never-ending struggle of what I should and shouldn't put in my body. I'm not worth the food the I should be eating, not until Noctis finds me satisfactory. I wonder if he still considers me to be heavy. Heavy. Heavy. Heavy. How do I know that I will be adequate in this current body? Am I still heavy? Still fat? Still unworthy? I've cut my calories to a thousand a day. I've increased my runs by another five miles, but is that still enough? I'm so hungry some days, but I can't stop now when I've come this far.

My worries become my breaking point and I find myself heading to the nearest convenience store where I'm purchasing every bit of fast food I can get my hands on. Chocolates, donuts, cookies, bags of chips, ice cream, instant noodles, oden, rice balls, soda, flavored bread—everything that I have refused myself to lose the weight I so carelessly gained as a child. I run home with my spoils and throw the bags on the table in an anxious fit. Why have I done this? What will buying all this food solve? Why am I even going to do with this? The anxiety... it reminds me of when I was a kid. Lonely, yes. But also anxious. Anxious to please, anxious to know what was going on.

I chew my way through some of the donuts. Too sweet, my palette can't handle them as well as they used to. I pop open my first soda and inhale the chemical concoction as I start ripping up pieces of bread to stuff into my mouth. Next, a handful of chips. The whistle of the kettle boiling in the background is mirroring the screaming in my mind. I dip a piece of bread into artificially sweetened ice cream and stick it into my mouth. My hands are coated in saliva and I can't stop drooling—it all tastes so good.

When my stomach is distended and I'm bloated beyond belief, I stare down at the rainbow display of packaging and half eaten food. What have I done? Why did I do this? My stomach lurches painfully and I wince at a cramp that flashes through my side. This hurts... why did this use to bring me comfort when I was a kid?

I've fucked it up, how am I supposed to fix it? My stomach has the answer for me because bile is currently pushing against my throat and I'm rushing to the bathroom before I puke all over the dining room table. My stomach is violently gurgling and protesting at the sheer magnitude of food that I've shoved down my throat in such a short time. Fuck. Fuck, this hurts.

I lay in bed that night with a raw throat and a throbbing head. My abdomen is bloated and I feel terrible. But I feel... I feel empty. Blank. This is new. My mind drifts and I'm wondering... what if I do something like that again? Being able to eat everything you want and then puking it up before you digest any of it? ...Would it work?

The scale? 156.7lbs.

—

No, I hate throwing up. It's disgusting, I'm wasting money, but it's... an experiment of sorts. How do I continue to eat and not gain weight? I cut my knuckles on my teeth and my throat feels like its going to swell shut. The taste of bile and undigested food is always in the back of my throat.

It takes me a minute to learn how to purge. Most times I'm on the verge of tears before anything comes up. And even when it does, it's just saliva and small amounts of liquid. I feel like I'm always going to choke on my food and die somehow... even though I already feeling like I'm dead. Dying... whatever.

The night before high school begins, I'm hovering over the toilet and finally ... finally it works. The first wave hits me and my stomach hurts more than it ever did. I can't look at the toilet, the sound is disgusting enough. I resolve to wear headphones, the sound of regurgitated food hitting the water is enough for me to continue to throw up. When I feel like enough is enough, I stop. The tips of my hair are tinged with vomit and I can see my fingers glistening with bits of food and saliva. In the darkness of the cold bathroom, I push myself into a sitting position next to the toilet. I can barely catch my breath and everything tastes like vomit. Is this worth it?

If it keeps me from going back to being that little shy and quiet fat kid from elementary school, then I guess it is.

—

Noctis is beautiful. The thought crosses my mind when I catch him walking with hunched shoulders toward the entrance gate of our high school. There's a sort of melancholic beauty to his features. Delicate, refined, princely. Prim and proper. Everything that I have never been trained to be.

He's alone, just as I always remembered him to be. Murmurs having been floating around since early that morning—the crowned prince is at our school. I feel my stomach lurch at a distant memory of Noctis from elementary school. The gawking, the fawning, the completely overwhelming experience of having people always wanting to talk to you... touching you ... they see you. I hesitate for a minute, convinced that I don't want to be like the other people that won't stop crowding around him.

My anxiety creeps into my throat and I have to shut my eyes to will my stupid thoughts back down where they belong. I must have done four body checks this morning and taken thirty pictures of myself before I even felt remotely ready to leave the damn house. My mind drifts back to the binge from a couple of days ago and I groan at the thought of what I've done. But, no. I can't think about that right now. Not with Noct so close, not when I've come this far over this many years. I've been waiting for this moment for forever and I'm not going to fuck things up.

At the end of the day, I run up to Noctis and smack him on the back of the shoulder. He turns around, bewildered. I introduce myself and he looks me up and down. Am I still heavy? His eyes soften in recognition and he smiles at me: don't I know you? I don't know, Noctis. Do you?

—

My relationship with Noctis is awkward at first. He doesn't have many friends... any friends? Why does he talk to me? Why does he seek me out? Now that I'm here... I don't know what to do. What do we talk about? What do we do? Is it okay for a plebeian such as myself to be around god damn royalty? Am I good enough for him yet? I talk to him without all the nuances of what someone of his stature would come to expect from someone of a lower class like me. But he never complains. He just smiles that small smile of his. Awkward, unsure, afraid. But... warm?

I sit around at lunchtime with Noctis and he eats his rich and intricately prepared food by a guy named ... Ignis? His butler? Advisor? I don't remember exactly. I try to remember everything that Noctis talks about. Getting him to talk is like pulling teeth, he's so quiet. Quiet and awkward. But, I guess it works out because I'm just as awkward. I nibble on an apple and laugh off the fact that I forgot my lunch. I forget my lunch pretty often... perhaps I'll need to think around this now that I'm spending my lunch periods with Noctis.

Noctis offers me part of his lunch and I decline. I had a big breakfast—the most stereotypical excuse in the book. I can't believe I just used that. He shrugs and puts the lid back on his bento and tucks it into his bag. I bite into my apple and relish in the way the fruit crunches under the force of my bite. It's sweet... too sweet.

Noctis begins talking again and I'm only half listening. We should go check out that new game at the arcade. What do you think? My attention snaps back to the present at the mention of games. Is he really asking for my opinion on something? This is ... this is one of first times anyone has ever really cared about what I thought, what I wanted to do. I feel a smile pull at my lips and I poise the apple in front of my face to hide my glee: Sounds great, Noct.

I nearly miss the smile on his own face.

Noct, huh?

—

What does it take to be the best friend of the crown prince of Lucis? What is expected of me? What are my duties? Should I look a certain way? Act a certain way? Be ... a certain way? It's Friday night and I can't get to sleep. In the morning I'm going to have brunch with Ignis and Gladiolus. Two names that I have heard so much about and barely matched faces to. Noct referred to them as his friends—but they are obliged to him as well. Ignis, his advisor and confidant. Gladiolus, his shield. (Prompto… his … what am I to Noct?) Noct likes to complain about how the two of them are always nagging—(perhaps, a gentle reminder)—him about his royal duties, even though they're barely older than he is. I guess... its important stuff though. Not that I would have any clue as to what his world entailed. I slowly breathe in and out as I become aware of how removed from Noct's world I truly am. Why is he wasting his time on me?

I wake up at 5:12AM the following morning and run for the next two hours. I don't want to think about Noct's friends. How they'll judge me, how they'll talk about me after all is said and done tomorrow. I don't want to think about the looks they'll give me—how dare Luna plant the idea in my mind that I would be good enough for the prince. Good enough to befriend our future king. She must be insane. I must be insane. Why did Noct think this was such a good idea? I want to throw up at the thought of going out with all three of them. I don't want to eat in front of them. I can barely bring myself to do so in front of Noct. These are people that he trusts and respects the opinion of. Of course they're going to judge me… and I won't be able to measure up. I know I won't. I binge and purge once before I'm supposed to meet up with Noct. Do I have puke breath? I brush my teeth three times and nearly down half a bottle of mouthwash as I try to rid the taste of vomit from my mouth.

I eventually arrive at the café and mentally chastise myself for my lack of punctuality; Noct is already huddled into a booth tucked in the back of the café. I notice the two men he's with. One is impeccably dressed and the other is large … he takes up so much space. I plaster my face with the false smile of happiness that most have come to known from me and waltz over to the table with more false confidence. I can see the relief in Noct's face as I approach the booth and I can hear my blood rushing in my ears as my anxiety reaches a fever pitch. Immediately, I feel like an outsider and I am aware of how much space I occupy in this tiny booth.

Gladio—(No one really calls him Gladiolus?)—is standoffish and Ignis is astute. Noct shrivels underneath their gaze and Ignis warmly gestures for me to sit. Gladio smirks and I see Noct turn away, as if what's outside the window is more important than the current situation before him. My eyes survey the drinks that are on the table. Black coffee for Ignis and some type of amber colored liquid in a glass cup for Gladio. Noctis is drinking something frothy, chocolaty and messy. How many calories are in— …the waitress comes and asks me what I would like to drink. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. An iced Americano? I don't drink coffee. I don't drink tea. I don't… want to drink what Noctis has. What the hell do I do to impress these two intimidating figures sitting across from me?

My mind shuts down. I push forward with the perky, adventurous persona I've cultivated over the past few years and I sink back into my mind. I'm on autopilot without even realizing it. Noctis seems to relax as the time goes on and I get smile out of Ignis and a chuckle out of Gladio at some point. I realize that I can fake this, keep up the façade. I'll make them like me. Not the real me. The same guy that Noctis sees and likes. I order something light. Two pieces of avocado toast, cherry tomatoes and two sunny side up eggs. I leave half of it uneaten; push it around on my plate so that I looks like I had something more in my stomach than the two Americano's I pushed myself to consume. Coffee has zero calories, right?

We finish things up at the café and I think I can see the beginning of approval when I catch Ignis looking at Noctis for a brief moment. Gladio isn't as intimidating as he looks… and Ignis is strangely warm despite all his formality. They leave us at the café and Noct asks me if I want to come over to his place to play video games. For once, it all feels normal. Everything feels normal. Perhaps this is what its like to have friends and be normal…

…Yeah, right.

—

I don't eat for three days. Just to see what its like.

How do I get over the irrational fear that I'll gain back a crazy amount of weight if I eat? If I eat one thing, won't I gain five pounds in return? My mind is becoming crazier by the day and this whole losing weight thing is getting out of control. The overwhelming need to harm myself becomes so prevalent that I don't know what to do most of the time. Does starving even work? Won't I just gain all the weight that I've fought so hard to lose if I don't eat at all? Even with binging and purging, I know that my body is holding onto some caloric intake even after I throw up all of that junk. …I have to stop doing that.

I only eat when I can't concentrate and I literally break down and gorge myself on whatever it is that I have in the fridge. Some days I barely make it through eating more than one meal. I usually just snack on stuff. Rice cakes or apples… drink tons of liquids to stave off hunger. I've taken to drinking instant coffee in the morning before I take off on my morning run. Caffeine fills in for the lack of sleep that I get on a daily basis. Everyday is planned …what I can eat … what I can't eat. I want to eat… but I just can't.

I … can't.

(The scale beeps. 149.7lbs)

—

Noct asks me to sleepover and my heart pulls painfully in my chest. Sleepovers. That's what good friends do, don't they? They sit around in each other's company and do stupid stuff, right? Read comic books, play video games, watch movies? Talk to each other late at night and share stuff they could never tell the other in the light of day. Is that what Noct has in mind? I immediately jump up and tell him, yes. Yes. I'll be over at his place later that night.

I get there just as Ignis is leaving. He nods curtly in acknowledgement as I walk through the threshold of Noct's apartment. Noctis has a frown on his face as Ignis leaves, but it's instantly replaced by that same goofy half smile he always has when we're alone. Noct turns around and gestures toward the island, Ignis made us food. Food. Lots and lots of food. I feel queasy at the thought. I haven't eaten since … I don't know when the last time I ate was. I made coffee this morning… and I think Noct offered me some of his food at lunch, but I declined. I'm tired of coming up with excuses, but I just don't want to eat. I mean, I do. I want to eat so badly. I want my head to stop hurting. I want to stop breathing so hard every time I go for a run or overexert myself. I get cold so easily… I'm so tired all the time. I just. I'm tired of every part of my day revolving around the one thing that seems to stop me from getting closer to Noct. Why is it always there? Why does it have to be a part of every interaction I have with him? Why can't this goddamn food just go away?

Noct instructs for me to sit and make myself comfortable while he starts bringing some of the food over. Peppery daggerquill rice, breaded cutlet with tomato, grilled wild barramundi—and for fucking dessert—fluffy chiffon cake. I feel my eyes mist over and quickly blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. This is great. This is all too fucking great. I can't waste this food when Noct—Ignis—went through the trouble of cooking it. Noct, perhaps, registers that I'm feeling a little uncomfortable and he says something about Ignis' being a Mom and fussing over his diet. But my diet is fine. I don't have to eat everything. I should only eat what I want. Ignis made too much. Ignis always makes too much. I force a smile at Noct and insist that it's fine. I'll… be fine. Somehow, this will be fine.

—

Of course, it's not fine. It's nearly five in the morning when I open my eyes. In my first moments of consciousness, all I can feel is that my stomach is distended. With one shaky inhale, I shift in the sheets and try to bury the feeling of nausea before it takes over and ruins the entire day. I should be happy. Should feel safe; feel content, I … should …be happy. I'm finally Noctis' friend. But, I'm lying to myself, again. The arrival of the sun in the early morning is blood red truth trying to creep in through the blinds of Noct's room. The sheets steadily rise and fall at my side as I notice that Noctis is still asleep. Of course he is. I throw the sheets over my head and shut my eyes again.

The familiar pangs of hunger are gone, obscured by my ravenous appetite from yesterday. The rich and delicious food that Ignis had cooked is still working its way through my body and my organs are screaming out in relief from sustenance. But my brain, my brain won't stop screaming. I couldn't stop eating. Why couldn't I stop eating? I turn to look at Noctis and feel my eyebrows furrow. I've done all of this just to be close to him. I've changed who I am just so I'd have the chance to be friends with the prince… someone who's just as lonely as I am. But … I'm still not enough. Who I am isn't enough and I know its not. He's letting me into his world, but I know that I still have to change. I have to keep getting smaller. I can't let him say those words to me again: heavy.

I roll over onto my back and close my eyes. It's pointless for me to even try and throw up right now. I'll just take the next two or three days and go without. I'll tell Noct that I have to head out early, there's something that I have to do. I have to get out there and run all of this off. How could I allow myself to get this bad?

If he's going to allow me to be this close, I refuse to let myself to stop working for it.