The Thundermans. I can't even explain why I like this show so much.
Well, maybe I can. From the very beginning. I fell in love with Phoebe and Max's relationship. I mean, it's what keeps the show so interesting, at least in my opinion.
And I just love toying with sibling relationships and daydreaming about that kind of thing. Sorry not sorry.
Okay, I'm gonna shut up now.
"Maybe you should watch the calories a little, babe."
A pinch at her stomach, a kiss to her head.
A fake smile, real tears late at night into the darkness of her pillow.
Phoebe sighed. She looked in the at her ash-colored face and sagging bags underneath her eyes and grimaced. Her wet hair laid limply on her shoulders, droplets of her water splashing her pale arms and shoulders.
He would be there in two hours for another dreadful date.
Phoebe glared at her reflection framed by the gradually ceasing steam of her shower. What kind of hero couldn't save herself?
The snide comments; the rough, edging violent outbursts that she supposedly caused; the spiteful attitude toward her general being.
Cole was no trophy to flaunt.
She resisted the urge to laugh humorlessly out loud. Of course he wasn't, he was his parents' child after all.
With one last glare at herself, Phoebe dragged herself to her room to sulk in her closet. She never knew what to do with him anymore - what to say, what to wear, how to act. Whatever she did or said or wore, it was wrong.
"Phoebe! Breakfast!"
The mention of food made her stomach growl but head scream. Maybe she should skip breakfast. Drink some water, chew her way through a piece of gum or snack on a couple mints.
She quickly climbed into a pair of dark jeans and purple top and navy blazer. Her limbs looked too unappealing to be on display today.
Her family grew quiet when they hear her plod down the stairs. Her mom and dad exchanges weary looks, her siblings shoveled food into their mouths quicker, syrup dripping from their lips and down their chin.
But what bothered her most was the way her twin eyed her so openly. Max kept his face neutral as he took a slow bite from the apple in his hand and took her in slowly, agonizingly slowly.
"Quite the outfit, sis," he said finally, and Phoebe ducked her head, playing with the sleeves of her blazer. "It's supposed to be seventies today."
"I'll be fine." Her tone tumbled out clipped and razor-sharp. She wanted to dull her words and soften their edge, but she can't help it. Her fear and angry and sadness shot from her core like a rocket, aimed at the ones who didn't deserve it.
Max continued to stare; he didn't believe her.
Phoebe resisted the urge to curl her lip in disgust. What did he care anyway?
She grabbed a glass helped herself to a glass of water, grabbing her purse from where it was slung over the back of a stool.
"Are you sure that's all you want, sweets?" Her mom tried, eying each sip her daughter took. "You hardly touched your dinner last night."
Of course she didn't; Cole warned her it might be a bad idea that day at lunch.
Phoebe busied herself with digging through her purse. She had five pieces left, where did that damn pack of gum go?
"I'll be fine," she mumbled once she found it, tossing aside the green foil and popping the gum in her mouth. She began chewing it so hard her jaw hurt.
There was still an hour to kill until Cole arrived. He hadn't said anything about where they were going to spend the day, which made Phoebe nervous. She never knew what to expect, how to act, what to do on his surprise dates, which she suspected he liked because it gave him all the more reason to scold her.
(Which, Phoebe was seeing, he really liked doing.)
Phoebe took her glass of water to her room, closed her door, and waited. Her stomach growled. She hadn't fed it in the last two days, choosing to tease it with quickly staling gum instead.
How long could the human body go without food? At the most, two weeks, as long as it was kept well hydrated. And, she wasn't completely starving herself; gum did have calories after all. But not even ten. And the appropriate amount for a growing teenage body was a 2,000-2,500 calories a day.
Phoebe let out a moan and sat on her bed. All the numbers bouncing around in her head was making her brain hurt.
Besides, Cole was probably right anyway. What was the harm in cutting back a little? She wasn't starving, she was improving.
"Something's going on with you."
Phoebe shrieked at the sound of her twin's voice in her doorway.
"Go away, Max," she moaned, but made no move to get up and shoo him away.
Max stepped in, ignoring her words completely. "I may be a villain, but that doesn't make me heartless." He held out his hand, where a green apple sat. "I want to see you eat this."
Phoebe took it, but made no move to eat it. "And why," she asked, staring down the apple, "are you suddenly such a caring twin brother?"
"Since the only thing I saw you eat in three days was a piece of gum," he retorted in a heartbeat, something dark fanning over his features. "And like I said, I'm not heartless. And the last thing I need is a dead sister. So whatever it is, I want it to end."
He gave her a pointed look, and Phoebe rolled her eyes, taking a bite of the apple, returning her brother's look. If he thought she was going to crumple over a stupid green apple, he was sadly mistaken.
chompchompchomp
Swallow.
Apples were a fruit; fruit were good calories - fat-burning calories.
She took another bite.
chompchompchomp
Swallow.
Max nodded, looking satisfied to a certain degree.
Once he spun off her doorway and she was positive he was down the steps, Phoebe chucked the apple into her wiry pink trashcan, hearing it swish into the plastic bag.
She fell back on her bed with a sigh.
The bits of apple burned in her stomach.
/
"See you tomorrow babe!"
She stood, waving and smiling at his bobbing blond head, not stumbling inside until she heard the rumble of his car pulling out of the driveway and out of the neighborhood.
Phoebe pressed a fist to her stomach and groaned, falling inside the house.
Mini golfing. The thought of him being around her scared her enough without the addition of clubs and crowds to embarrass her in. But, (swinghitland) Phoebe ended up with a bruised stomach.
"Good girls know how to watch out." His sneers were ugly, even through her tears of pain.
She wondered how no one caught on to his fake sympathy as he led her to the bench.
Phoebe gently lowered herself onto the couch. She would heal soon - no more than a day or two.
Maybe it really was an accident. She pondered this possibility as she rubbed her hurting stomach and nearly flew off the couch as a wave of pain hit, tears collecting in her eyes as she grabbed the edge of the couch.
Phoebe didn't recall hearing anyone enter the room, but firm hands steady her swaying form and settle her against the couch.
"What was that?" Max demanded.
"Just. . .a little tired." Phoebe managed to get out. She grimaced at the slur of her words.
Max raised his eyebrows at this. "Oh, really? If you're just tired, then let me see your stomach."
Phoebe wrapped a protective arm around her stomach, tiredly glaring at him. "My stomach is my business!" she snapped, and stood swaying from the couch.
Just as she was about to make a quick escape, something rough and warm got a vice grip on her wrist, pulling her back. Another hand pulled her shirt up.
Max eyed her abdomen with equal parts interest and anger. "Who did this to you?" he hissed, freeing her arm to point accusingly at the dark fist-shaped ring on her stomach.
"Nothing, it was an accident," Phoebe whispered, glancing at the stairs. "I ran into something at school, no big deal."
Max let her go this time, watching her stumble to the stairs in a hurry, but she could still hear his words: "No big deal my ass."
/
"You should've listened to me, you fat bitch!"
This blow, his rough, calloused fist knocking her sideways to the floor, was full of purpose and hate. It collected an audience of maybe a dozen or two, all watching with wide, astonished eyes as Phoebe curled up in a ball, taking the verbal and physical blows like an old pro, in a sadistic sense.
The school's tiled floor was a cool comfort under her head. With heavy pants, she focused in on the coolness on her head and the clamminess of her palms, wishing for Cole and his words and fists to just disappear.
But him going away wouldn't make the hundreds of eyes on her flee as well.
whisperwhisperwhisper
GASP!
(Hit)
Her shoulders began to ache just as a pair of thudding footsteps interrupted the crowd's mantra. (Watchgaspwatchgaspwatch)
Cole's roar was cut off by another gruff voice. She could recognize it, yet her brain was too focused on all the parts of her body that rang out with pain to place it.
Suddenly the chaos dissipated. Large, warm arms scooped her up from the floor, and she didn't whimper in fear because these arms felt okay. They didn't lash or strike against her pale, fragile body, but carried and coddled her with enough warm to make her feel quite babyish.
She enjoyed it so much that her stomach began to burn again. Her burning and pain mixed and swirled as spots danced across her eyes.
/
Phoebe woke up to her warm bed and the comforting sight of her colorful bedroom. She sat up, feeling unfortunately familiar aches across her abdomen and limbs, which made her wince.
"How long was it?"
Phoebe squealed in surprise, pulling her comforter up to her chin to block herself.
Max leaned against her window sill, arms crossed as he glared daggers at her shaggy purple carpet.
"Answer me, dammit," he growled, tightening his grip on his arms.
Phoebe held on to her comforter until her knuckles were a ghostly white and shook
"Not long," she muttered into the softness of her quilt. "A month, I guess."
Max stomped over, standing next to her bed. His sister was slumped over, her shoulder blades slightly sticking out on either side of her bumpy spine. He ran his fingers over the delicate bones that protruded from her back.
"A month of him making you do this?" he managed in a mere hiss. "Phoebe what the hell made you stay?"
He sat down, their hips against each other, but his attention still on the noticeable bones that bumped out on his sister's body. Never in his life did he ever see a sight like that.
Phoebe shifted, uncomfortable underneath her twin's stern gaze. "Fear," she mumbled, barely pushing the words past her chaps lips.
She winced at the thought of what she must look like. Skin, bones, and bruises. What a sight she would make.
"Please, just," Max sighed between his words, grinding his bottom lip between his teeth, "just promise that this" - he once again ran his hand over her shoulder blades and spine, unknowingly brushing bruises as well -"will never happen again. Okay?"
Phoebe dropped her head onto her brother's shoulder in defeat, giving a tired nod. "Okay." She let out a shuddering breath. "Okay."
They laid in bed the rest of the day, her safely tucked under the covers while he laid on top, giving her the space she silently asked for. He asked whispered questions and she gave muted answers, stories about her sore chewing habits and how colorful her body had been decorated.
Never in the past months had her chest felt so light.
Okay, worst ending ever, but I'm sick and tired, so yeah, please be gently.
Hopefully this sparks some ideas for more stories on the Thundermans. Yeah, I guess that's it.
Reviews are cool. Leave one?