Don't You Wish You Were

(Friday Afternoon- Saturday Noon, July 26th- 27th)

When Mal enters the office, she walks over to the desk and sits, "I brought you a snack."

Ben eyes from the platter to her, "You don't need to worry about me."

Mal takes a raw meatball from it, "Why would I be worried?"

"Lonnie said you're worried about my eating," Ben informs. "You don't have to be." He watches her eat the hamburger. "In fact, I just ate yesterday."

"That was yesterday," Mal counters, before she offers him a piece of cheese. He shakes his head, and she eats it, "This is today."

"I just woke up, Mal," he reasons. "I have all night to eat."

"Will you?" she questions, and he's unable to respond. "Ben. You lost a lot of muscle."

"It will come back," he eyes down. "It always does, all that frickin' protein."

"But you want to be strong," Mal's face scrunches. "You wouldn't have that weights thing in your room if you didn't."

"I got that weights thing," Ben faces her, "because I wanted to be stronger than Father. But I'm not going to be." He looks down again, "And if I have to be as big as him to beat him… I don't think I want to be."

Mal frowns, "But you still need muscle. You might not be able to defend yourself from your father, but you're king. What if at tomorrow's event someone tries to attack you?"

His frown deepens, "Then my father will be there."

Mal takes a moment, "You can't rely on someone who hurts you to help you."

"It's not like he's going anywhere," Ben counters.

"You could turn him in," she suggests.

He shakes his head, "Turn him in for what?"

"Well," Mal half laughs, "I'm pretty sure child abuse is illegal here."

Ben awkwardly smiles, "Who said anything about child abuse?"

She narrows her eyes, "Come on, Ben. After everything we've seen—that you told us—you can't just turn back now."

He sighs, "You know, after everything… I don't even remember who I've told what to."

"Is that why you're not eating?" she inquires. "You think all the hurting will somehow stop if you hurt yourself?"

Ben meets her green eyes, "Is that why you cut? To trade one pain for another?"

Mal eyes over him, "I don't get it. If it's not about your parents or me or Chad, then why are you going this?"

"Not eating?" he unsurely replies. She stays silent, and he comments, "I told you. I just ate yesterday."

"Yeah?" her brows raise. "And what was that?"

Ben eyes down and scratches the back of his head, "When I was walking in the woods, there was this white wolf." He pauses, "It, uh… I ate with it."

"The wolf gave you food?" Mal's eyes widen.

"I know, it's weird," he acknowledges.

"Hell, Ben." She questions, "How sick are you?"

"Sick?" he repeats.

"You've never heard of the cat that tried feeding its sick owner a mouse?" Mal informs, "If a wolf fed you, it's because it saw its family dying."

"Mal," he sighs. "Yes, I'm sick. I've always been sick, but that doesn't have to do with me eating or not."

She whispers, "When I felt your arm yesterday, all I could feel were your clothes—just wrapped around this thin bone."

Ben rests his elbow on the desk, as he places his hand to his head, "You have to go."

"Why?" Mal cries. "Why can't we just talk about this?"

"Because," he widens his eyes at her. "You're making this sound way more bad than it is, and I don't want to hear it."

"Because you know it's true," she persists, and he eyes away. "I mean, unless you're like Evie and just think you're fat." Ben keeps quiet, and she slightly nods, "Do you? Do you think you're fat?"

"I know I'm not," he dismisses.

"That doesn't answer my question," she yells. "Tell me. Do you feel fat?"

Ben rubs his forehead, "Can we talk about this when you're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling just fine," she denies. "I just need to know."

"What do you want me to say?" Ben's pitch raises, "That I hate my body? That I hate my whole life?" before he points to the door. "Get out."

"Ben," she whispers.

"I said go," he roars.

She sees him cry, and she nods, "Okay."

After he hears the door close, Ben twirls the chair to the large, glass window. He stands and drops his jacket onto the chair, before sees his reflection cast over the tree's shade of the stormy afternoon. His face is the same as ever, and when he lifts his t-shirt, his torso is still that straight stick. He gathers the fat that hangs from his ribs, that excess skin that connects to his hips. No, he's not fat, but he's not that thin, not thin enough for Mal to react the way she did. No one else has said a thing. Sure, everyone's trying to get him to eat, but Mal's the only one that's talked about his weight. Clearly, this was just one of her hyperemotional states. She's afraid his odd eating is going to make him like Evie, that she's going to lose him. So, she's believed it's already happened. He lets his shirt fall. The problem is he's nothing like Evie. His every thought is invaded by food, and once he eats, he can never stop.

"How's it going?" Evie grins.

"Feels like I'm choking," Ben stresses, as he undoes the tie and loops it together again.

Evie pulls it from him, "Lose it."

Ben turns to her, "I can't just lose it, Evie." as he tiredly tries to snatch it back from her. "It's part of the uniform."

"The uniform," she giggles, before she wraps a transparent, blue fabric around his neck.

"Evie," he frowns. "What—"

"Hold on." She pulls the collar over it and makes a loose knot, "This is so you."

He sighs, "Evie. I can't just wear some sparkle scarf."

"Why not?" Evie counters, "The princesses do."

"But I'm not a princess," Ben's eyes widen.

"Don't you wish you were, though?" she tilts her head, and his jaw drops. He stares, as his expression slips. His heart pounds, and there's a knock on the door.

"Ben?" his mother calls. He pulls the scarf from his neck and bunches it behind his back, before the door opens and she half smiles, "Again, Ben?"

He shakes his head with a grin, "Again what?"

"You and Evie behind closed doors?" she insinuates.

"Oh. No way," Evie waves the idea off, as she steps towards her. "He's way too much of a girl for me." She puts out her hand, "My apple." and when Belle hands it to her, Evie takes a bite. Ben watches as she steps out of his mother's view, maneuvers a napkin from her pocket to her mouth, and then hides the food back where the napkin had originated.

"Well?" his mother prompts.

Ben lifts his hands, as he mouths, "I don't know." He notices the scarf in full view and then quickly hides it again.

Evie leaves the room, and his mother laughs, "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No, I don't want to talk about how Evie stole my tie and gave me a scarf," he spouts.

She walks up to him, "Here. Let me have it."

Ben keeps it close, "No."

"Honey," she sighs.

"I want to give it back," he insists.

"She just left." His mother reasons, "If you hand it to me, it will only take a moment."

"No." Ben nods, "I need a talk with her, and I can do it when I do that."

She nods in return, "Well, if you insist." Ben doesn't speak, and she starts out of the room. "Finish getting ready. We'll be leaving soon."

After his mother shuts the door, Ben walks over to his dresser and murmurs, "Evie. You're going to get me in so much trouble." He takes apart a pair of tube socks, stuffs the scarf inside one, and then folds it over with the other. He places it in the corner of the drawer, next to the unicorn hair clip, before he slams it shut. He takes a new tie from the hanging strip, before he strides back over to the mirror with the smile, "Time to strangle myself again."

When Ben makes it down the staircase, Mal comments, "You're not stressed at all."

"I don't want to talk about it," Ben bypasses, before he walks past everyone and opens the double doors. A bright light invades his vision, and he turns his head down for a moment. He glimpses his parents pass him in his oversaturated view, and when he follows them, he feels himself step on the corner of the stairs; however, when he starts to fall, Mal pulls him back.

She worries, "Ben. Are you okay?"

He stares down, "Mal. I can't see. It's too bright."

"Oh," she realizes.

"It's okay," Evie reassures from his other side. "We can take care of you."

Mal takes his arm, "Let's go." but his footing is off. "Wait."

"Hold his waist," Evie suggests.

"What?" Ben exasperates.

"Good idea," Mal agrees, before she wraps an arm around him and steadily guides him down the stairs.

- Posted: 12/14/2019

- For anyone who worries about whether the story will be updated, all of my Descendants fanfics are part of the same universe. So, if I update one of them, you can be almost guaranteed that I will update the others. I've also been trying to post on Mondays, because that was when it was most convenient for me to visit the protein shake place and use their internet; however, last Monday I couldn't post due to weather. I have my own internet now, so that shouldn't be a problem now. And you'll be happy to know that I have a large update for you tonight, because it's been so long. If you follow all three stories, you will have a total of eight chapters to read. I hope you enjoy.

- Megan I can promise you that for the rest of this fanfiction (the two or so remaining weeks of the summer) that no characters will die; however, I have plans that extend several fanfics from now, and loss is a part of life. If a character does die, it won't be meaningless. It either just means that it would have necessary impact on the other characters and/or plot or that it would be irresponsible for me to depict such unhealthy life situations without any consequences. If someone is using drugs, if someone has a medical condition, or if someone is being abused, there is always a chance of death, and I don't want to be one of those people who show it will work itself out and that help isn't needed. Not all of the characters in these situations will die, but eventually it becomes my responsibility as someone who chooses to bring light to these situations to acknowledge the real-life dangers of these struggles. If everyone in this story gets a happy ending, the people who see these things in their life will think everything is fine. It's just as important to show the results of not getting help just as much as it is to show the life someone can have if they do get help. Death is inevitable. What matters is the journey the characters take and the impact they have on others, the impact they have on you. That's my ultimate goal, is to give people things they can relate to, so they know they're not alone. I didn't start writing fanfiction because I saw a couple I wanted to be together. I started writing it, so I could put my problems onto others and make them a thousand times worse. That may sound selfish, but these characters' struggles allows me to think about why it is I do the things I do and why others react the way they do. Not all of the problems in my writing is something I deal with, but I want it to be able to help the people who do.

- Darthamster12 If you're rereading the stories, then maybe you can remind me which secrets Ben has told to who? I've completely lost track, and I'm a slow reader. So, it would take me months to reread what I've written. This has been such a long series already. If I do manage to translate this to a novel series, I'm seriously going to have to condense it some. If any other binge readers would like to remind me of any events that they think I might have forgotten, then feel free to do so. I hate having inconsistencies. I already have to deal with Chad graduating on time, despite going to Auradon Prep early. I think I'll excuse it as a third year of middle school, he wasn't allowed to take high school classes because of his age of something stupid like that. I mean, it happens. I had about four years of preschool because of my age and four years of middle school since the grades were changed from 5th and 6th grade to 7th and 8th. I think it threw me off, because right now it looks like Ben and Chad are two years apart in age; however, I plan on having Chad's birthday in November, so they're technically only a year and a few months apart. Let's just have Chad complain about that, when Ben mentions how Charming thinks Chad's too young for him. "As an adult, ten years may not matter. But in school, even one year can be a lot." That sounds good. I'll have Charming say that when Ben retells Chad's complaint.

- Thank you all for your continued support. It means a lot.