a/n: felt this story was up for an update. There is a lot in this story that I need to edit in the future if I get around to it. like adding more /running/ and races. This story does focus heavily on restrictive EDs. Im sorry. This story triggers me to feel feelings from my ED? like some circumstances are from experience lol.

I hope everyone is ok. : /

Tw; you know, eating disorders. purging. restriction. being tired.


ch9

I was too deep. Viktor knew. He knew about the weight and the lies.

All of it was lies.

It was ok though, I had my eating disorder take over everything as I blindly waved though the hazy fog.

I was standing in the kitchen, nibbling on a cucumber, my second one. Now this was just pitiful.

We didn't talk about the doctor's appointment since then.

Nowadays I kept it from him, everything having to do with food or nutrition I kept it to myself. I managed to keep myself from fainting by drinking electrolytes most of the time and keeping a piece of candy in my pocket. Those were for emergencies but I have been drinking the electrolytes about everyday and sucking on a piece of candy in the mid-afternoon now became my norm.

Nothing else was important. Not running, training, and sometimes not even his partner.

Everything seemed to spin in my vision and only closing my eyes relieved it barely.

I wasn't ready; I was not ready for any of it. Every moment of the day I felt like my body was getting worse, slower. I wanted to stop time and not do any more training or anymore races.

I felt like I would give way any moment, my knees buckling under me and my surroundings turning grey to black.

But somehow in the midst of all my pitiful begging my times got faster as I got foggier. It sucked. Vicktor gave me a pamphlet to read about weight disorders but I just stared at it not reading a single thing. I didn't know what to do.

The words didn't come to me and my surroundings didn't feel real. Nothing felt real anymore.

For the past week I actually had been following the schedule with no extra workouts because I was just too tired. I slept two more hours in the night, dragging Viktor with me to bed early and took naps often. I was just tired but Viktor didn't say much, probably because he didn't want to bring it up or because my times had gotten a bit faster.

I was functioning, barely and getting faster through pain.

It all was too much though.

I couldn't get enough sleep. I needed more. I felt like I needed to sleep all the time.

So I finished the cucumber and walked, slowly, to the bedroom.

To sleep for running; to sleep for the next race.

.

My throat was sore.

From cleaning up my own vomit.

I grimaced at the smell and the contents on the floor that splashed up and the stained bowl told enough of the story.

After cleaning up I could not fathom doing that again, I cleared my throat; it hurt still. I wandered back into the kitchen, drained and exhausted, I sat back at the table where a thought appeared.

I was so upset that I stooped that low. That was the first time making myself vomit. I thought it was the first time was it?

I couldn't remember things straight these days. It was all a goopy mess that made me confused at the slightest details now. All the times I purged exercising and now...vomiting I can do now. After all those attempts with spit months ago.

I put my head in my hands and took a big breath, sitting at the empty table late into the night.

My legs hurt, my body was sore.

I exhaled and my throat caught, hitched this time. For a third time I breathed in with my nose and started to silently cry. All these people I cared about, and I haven't been caring for myself. There was a stark contrast of how I much I liked myself vs others.

It hurt.

I was ok until I heard a sound from behind me in the kitchen.

.

"Yuuri…" Viktor's sleepy voice made me jump, "What are you doing up? You need your sleep. You did so good at that race today, top ten."

I wiped my face, trying to make it seem like it was less than it really was; like I wasn't crying. He was approaching behind me, his soft steps making soft noises. I straightened up.

"I never went to bed." I said meekly, my voice betraying me.

Because of cleaning up my own vomit earlier.

And eating all that food after being good for so so long.

There was a soft whimpering sound that came from somewhere, my body slumped against the table.

"Honey?" He paused, "Are you okay?"

Oh- That was me whimpering.

"I just don't feel very good. I've been better. Anxiety Depression...the usual."

and an eating disorder.

I didn't mention the last thing. But deep down inside I knew that Viktor knew.

"Oh…Yuuri."He cooed.

He came up behind me and leaned his body onto mine.

"I'm sorry." I put my face in my hands.

"Yuuri….Oh no." He hugged me tighter, "What's wrong?"

"I just don't feel good." That was the full truth.

But it didn't tell him everything. It was so true, he didn't know how deep the ache and hurt spanned.

I started sobbing as Viktor wrapped his arms around me tightly.

I didn't feel good.

.

Everything was so upsetting lately. I didn't know what it overcame me, I just began to feel too much all the time.

The emotions that I numbed with food and vomiting came back and it was too heavy.

When I ran too much it felt like there was an energy mixed in with the tiredness that made it bearable. The pain only came from me telling myself it wasn't enough or that I needed to do more.

This emotional pain came from a deeper place, something that made me not only hate myself but loathe what I have done. I messed up my body, ran too much, and used food as a coping mechanism. This coping mechanism meant life but it also put me an inch closer to death and what more suffering was to come.

I knew that food could help and hurt but I used it to hurt.

.

I walked into our shared bedroom and sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath in.

"Viktor, I have something important to tell you." I said in one breath.

I had to.

"Yeah?" He was behind me and I heard something closing then he was next to me.

I didn't feel real, like my body was floating. My heart was beating so fast, so erratic.

I don't know when I decided to tell him. I knew I was going to keep it from him the moment Viktor told me to tell him everything and more. But things were getting worse. They were so much worse. And I didn't even really care about Viktor's wellbeing or his state. I just wanted to be less tired. It made it seem like I was a large asshole but I was just trying to survive.

I wanted to want other things in life than a tasty lunch that I thought about for two days or thinking of how I should burn off the extra calories. Or the sleep that I always needed and oddly enough-dreamed about getting more sleep. It was so hard to get out of bed now and the progression of everything else, was starting to get sickening.

It was all too much.

It all weighed too heavily on my shoulders.

And it hurt so much.

"Viktor I have a lot of problems...mostly relating to food." I just went out with it.

And cutting to the chase.

"What of? I know of some but..." Viktor trailed off.

"Love." I turned and looked him in the eyes, both of my hands on his knees, "I have been not eating."

A pause, "What?"

"And throwing up." I continued.

This time silence. Stunned silence.

"And binging on it in the middle of the night." I finished.

His face looked comical, it was frozen mid expression, between surprise and confusion.

"I'm sorry." I said again.

Then the guilty tears came.