Thank you all so much for the reviews and support! Warning again for eating disorders, but besides that I hope you like it.
Note* cherystoneeli, which story was that? But I know what you mean, most of my other ones can be a bit intense - there is more angst in this chapter though, just so you know in case you don't like that stuff (still not as much as in my other stories though, at least I don't think so). I'm glad you liked it so far though, and thanks for the review! :)
When Barry got up the next morning he made himself a bowl of cereal. A large bowl of cereal. He packed a sandwich too. He had stopped going out to eat for lunch a long time ago, since everyone would see him coming and going with the food, so he brought his own to work.
The problem was, after a bowl of cereal, Barry really didn't feel like he could eat anymore. His stomach had shrunk, and he didn't get hungry like he used to. After the lightning, he had been hungry just about all the time, so switching from dealing to that to dealing with the hunger from skipping breakfast and lunch, wasn't really all that different. It didn't hurt – not like what he remembered of being starving as a kid, because his metabolism processed it differently – he still got hungry, but rarely accompanied by the intense pangs he used to get when skipping a meal.
So he stuck the calorie bars in his bag, and took off to work. He'd eat them later. He had stepped on the scale again earlier. Yep. 163. He had kind of thought maybe the Star labs one was broken. He wondered how the hell that happened. He hadn't even noticed, had just fastened his belt tighter and if his shirts were a little loose, well, they were probably just stretched or something.
Barry pulled out the calorie bar halfway through the morning. He was in his lab, not out at a crime scene, just handling paper work. He spun the bar in his hands. Five. He had been eating one, maybe two. He bit off a piece, chewed, swallowed. It was dry – a grainy taste that he wondered how Cisco managed to cook up since they were supposed to be super high in calories. He started to wonder just how many calories there really were in those things.
When he looked at the clock and it read one, and he still hadn't eaten lunch, he pulled out the sandwich. He looked at it for a couple minutes before picking up a piece. He took a bite, swallowed, then put it back down. He was feeling uncharacteristically full. His stomach felt inflated. He put the sandwich away. He'd eat it later.
He was halfway out the station at five o'clock when he realized he still had the uneaten sandwich in his bag. And that's about when the thought of five calorie bars came back to him, and he realized he'd only eaten one. Four more in what, four hours? He scrunched his nose. Caitlin had to be exaggerating. Three, he decided, he would eat three. I mean, he had been losing weight, but hey he was basically tripling his calorie intake by just eating three bars, so that should definitely be enough. Maybe even two. Maybe he only needed two. The things tasted gross anyway, and he wasn't fighting any meta humans right now, so what was the problem? He'd be fine.
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"Barry Allen, you lost five more pounds," Caitlin yelled.
Barry looked down at the scale. 158. Alright, that couldn't be right. There had to be some error, some mistake.
"Are you sure it's not broken?" Barry asked.
Cisco made an insulted noise. "None of the equipment in here is broken," he said.
"Are you eating the calorie bars?" Caitlin asked.
"Yeah," he said, swallowing. Maybe four bars. Maybe he needed four bars, not three.
"I want you to eat seven now," she said.
His stomach did a flip. "Caitlin," he said, "I can't eat that many."
"Why?" Caitlin asked.
"They're – it'll make me sick."
She gave him a funny look. "They shouldn't. There's nothing in them that should aggravate your stomach, and you burn through it fast enough."
He shook his head. "I can barely get them down now."
Caitlin's brow furrowed again. Wrong answer. Barry was just about to try and take it back when Caitlin's hand shot out, dragging him over to one of the medical beds.
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Two hours, several body scans, and a lot of pokey needles later, Barry was sitting on the same bed as Caitlin went over and over his results.
"You're perfectly normal," she said, "Well, for you. There's nothing wrong, besides your glucose levels. Your metabolism has started to slow down though – at least relatively from where you were before – it thinks you're starving. Slowing down, conserving energy – you keep this up and you're not going to be able to run as fast. You'll start healing slower too. But you shouldn't be getting sick – there's nothing here that I can find that could account for that."
Barry fiddled with his hands. OK, so maybe the bars really were necessary. Maybe he did need them. But seven?
"Do I really need to eat seven?" he asked.
"Yes," Caitlin said, "At least. Feel free to stop by an all you can eat buffet too."
"Oh, dude, you'd put them out of business," Cisco said, his eyes lighting up.
Barry just felt sick again. The idea of cramming that much food into him made him want to throw up, not to mention he could already see the stares, the whispers. He could just imagine a cartoon image of himself, blown up like a balloon, that other people must think he'll be some day. They'd say he might have a fast metabolism now, but in ten years he'd be sitting in an office with a stomach the size of a bean bag chair, crumbs smeared across his shirt. And it was already starting – his metabolism was already slowing down.
Caitlin sent him home with instructions and a box full of calorie bars.
He was back on the scale three days later. He had passed out while running. Caitlin was having a fit.
"You weigh 152 pounds," she said. She stared at him. "Barry," she said, "You should weigh at least 180. You know when I said you aren't technically underweight? Well you are getting very close to it."
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm trying to gain it back." He was. He wanted to. Well, mostly he didn't want his speed or his training to be affected, and Caitlin had said it would if he didn't get his weight up. He'd eaten four calorie bars a day. Well, he'd tried to. Sometimes he forgot. Sometimes he just couldn't get alone to eat them, and he didn't want his coworkers to see him constantly munching on what looked like breakfast bars. They'd think he was lazy – always taking a break.
"Well, you need to try harder," Caitlin said. She crossed her arms.
"Barry," Wells said, "How many of the calorie bars are you eating?"
"What Caitlin told me to," he said, looking away. He avoided the urge to look at his shoes.
"There is no way, you are eating the amount I'm telling you to, Barry," Caitlin said. "You lost six pounds in three days. How many are you eating?"
"Five, six," he said.
"Nice try, but even if you are constantly running, you would at least maintain at five."
"I lose track sometimes," he admitted.
"Lose track by how much?" Caitlin pressed.
Barry brought a hand back up against his head. "I don't know, one… maybe two… or three."
"Barry you cannot eat that little," Caitlin burst, "You're going to make yourself sick – you already are making yourself sick."
"I didn't mean to," he said.
"Barry," Wells said, "using your speed, helping people, getting the reverse flash – you need to take care of yourself in order to do any of those things."
"If you come back here and have lost any more weight, you are not doing any training," Caitlin said.
Barry spun on her. "Cait –"
"No training."
"But – Caitlin I have to."
"Yeah, well, you have to eat too, but you've apparently conveniently forgotten that part."
Barry turned to Doctor Wells instead. "Wells –"
"No, I agree with Caitlin on this one. You can't be training if you aren't healthy."
He let out an exasperated, frustrated noise. "Fine," he said, "I'll eat more. How much do I have to have?"
"Eight," she said.
Eight – Eight! The surprise must have shown on his face.
"Don't give me that look," Caitlin said. "You're going to give me a heart attack – 152 pounds, I should put you on a feeding tube." She started to walk away, then turned, pointing. "Don't think I won't."
Cisco gave him a look. "You are in deep shit."
Barry closed his eyes.
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Barry stared at the calorie bar.
Eat it, he thought. Eeeaaaattt it. Eat it. EEEEAATT IIIIITTTT.
But his hand didn't move.
"Ughhh!" he yelled, throwing back his head. This was stupid. It was food. He could do it. Eat the food. Eat it.
But he felt sick already and it was only his third one for the day. This was ridiculous. He was a twenty-five year old guy sitting in his lab starring at a glorified protein bar.
He pushed it to the side and resumed filling out paperwork. Yes, he had resorted to actually filling out paperwork instead of eating a damn breakfast bar. His stomach was revolting. He hadn't eaten breakfast, just the bar, then another for lunch, and here he was, almost time to leave work and he was only on the third one. And he couldn't even get that down. Caitlin was going to kill him.
There was a knock and the door opened. Eddie stepped inside. He looked down at the bar, sitting accursedly on top of a few sheets of paper. He pointed with the stack of files he was holding.
"What's up with the new whole grain diet?"
Barry looked at it. It did look like it was made of some sort of oat combination. He had no idea what the hell was really in it. His stomach twisted. Actually, he really didn't want to know.
He just shrugged as Eddie dropped the files on his desk.
"Protein?" Eddie asked. He raised his eyebrows. "You could use it. You're starting to look like a skeleton."
Barry groaned. Great. He'd gone from being a pig to a skeleton. Fucking fantastic.
He just wiped a hand down his face though. "Yeah, something like that," he said.
"Well, you should stick with it – help you gain some weight. You should make sure you're eating other things too though – you can't live on protein bars, I swear every time I see you, you've got one."
"Yeah, I'll keep it in mind," Barry said.
Eddie gave him a strange look. He kept getting those recently. "Seriously, grab a pizza, Allen," he said, a smile turning up on his lips as he walked out.
Barry turned back around. His eyes fell on the bar.
Barry let his head fall and smacked his forehead face down on the desk. He groaned.
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Caitlin had a look on her face like she just might strangle him. They were staring at each other. Caitlin kept opening her mouth, closing it, and opening it again. She finally seemed to settle on a sentence.
"Do you have a death wish?"
"Cait-"
"No," she said. She stuck a finger out, pointing. "Go home. Eat food. Come back when you're up to 160 at least."
Barry's stomach dropped. That was over ten pounds now. He couldn't just – he couldn't do that – couldn't wait that long to start training again.
"Caitlin I can't –"
"I don't want to hear it," she said, holding up her hand to stop him. Barry turned around, desperate for some support, but Cisco and Dr. Wells were already leaving, going back to whatever it was they were doing when he showed up. Barry walked quickly after Caitlin, going into the hallway after her.
"Caitlin, there's got to be something else wrong," he said, "Can't you – I don't know, do some more tests or something – there has to be something wrong I just – I can't eat eight bars in one day, I can't even eat it in two days."
Caitlin turned around, fully prepared to give him another lecture about his disregard for his health when she came face to face with two eyes staring back at her, distraught and miserable.
She closed her mouth, her teeth clamping shut. Her mouth moved slowly to a frown. She put her hands on her hips and leaned back.
"What's going on, Barry?"
He looked uncomfortable. "I just – I can't eat that many. I get sick – or – it's just too much to eat in a day."
"It's not too much for you," she said, "you were eating that much for months before you lost weight."
Had he really? It didn't seem like that – didn't seem like he could have ever possibly eaten that much.
"I take out the bar," he said, "and I sit at my desk – but I just – I can't eat it. I'm not just being reckless, or uncaring, or whatever, I physically can't eat it."
Caitlin's hands shifted. "You can eat it," she said, "this isn't physical. You were eating enough before, and you can now to. You're just not."
He gave her a helpless look.
"Barry," Caitlin said, an inkling making its way up to her brain. She swallowed. "You never… had any… eating problems, before, did you? When you were a kid? Before the lightning?"
Barry just stared at her. "Eating problems? No – I didn't have any – what are even eating problems?"
"Are you sure you didn't have any minor, even just really, really minor, say, anorexic, tendencies?"
And then Barry really stared at her. His eyes shot wide and a few seconds later red started to tinge up his neck and cheeks.
"I'm not anorexic, Caitlin."
"I didn't say you were, Barry," she said carefully, calmly.
"I've never starved myself."
"OK," she said, "But did you ever not eat, on purpose?"
Barry pushed a hand through his hair, looking at the ground. "Jesus, Caitlin, no – I didn't – I don't have a – an eating problem like that."
"Did you ever binge eat?"
Barry's head snapped up. "No. And if the next question is if I ever made myself puke it back up then the answer is no to that too."
"Barry," Caitlin said.
"No," he said, shaking his head and taking a step back, looking down and up again. His face was conflicted now – angry, hurt, confused – all flashing across his face in a second. "I don't – I'm not like that Caitlin – I know I'm not fat, I've never been fat – I'm not – not trying to be thin or anything, I'm trying to gain weight. God, I just – I'm not doing this on purpose, Caitlin."
"I didn't say that, Barry," Caitlin asked, "I'm just –"
"No," he said. He shook his head. "No, I just – I have to go." He walked quickly around Caitlin. She turned to keep talking, but then he was gone in another whoosh of air.
Should have the next one up fairly soon - already started writing it. Let me know what you think of this one! :)
