Frank Hardy was emotionally and physically exhausted. Joe had disappeared as soon as they'd arrived home, and Frank had found him sleeping, wrapped in all his covers.
He'd confessed to his mother the awful scene that had occurred in the hallway, and his trip to the guidance counselor. Laura had instantly gotten on the phone and vocally dismembered the man for his ignorance to male eating issues and his failed attempt to help her son. Frank had eaten little for lunch and gone to sit in Joe's room for awhile, watching the rise and fall of the blankets and finding a strange sort of comfort in it. At least Joe was here, he was with him, and now Frank was beginning to understand some of the issues that plagued his younger brother: the loss of confidence, the insistence that no one cared for him, that he was alone.
Frank sighed and rolled over to check the clock. 5:30. They'd be called for dinner soon, and the elder Hardy wanted to talk to Joe before then. Forcing himself up, he briefly combed his hair, straightened his shirt, and crossed the bathroom to his brother's room.
Joe was awake, his hair slightly tousled, sitting on the edge of the bed rocking himself ever so slightly.
"Joe?"
The younger Hardy looked up, his eyes slightly pink.
"You all right?"
He shook his head. Frank came slowly in and sat beside him.
"Are you thinking about earlier?"
Joe's eyes filled. Frank touched his shoulder.
"I can see all my ribs," he murmured.
Frank swallowed, hard.
"And I like it."
Frank shut his eyes, but he felt Joe turn to look at him.
"And now I'm really scared."
The elder Hardy drew a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm for his brother's sake.
"Frank."
He opened his eyes and met Joe's terror filled blue ones.
"I'm really sick, aren't I?"
No crap! Frank was tempted to scream. But he just nodded.
Joe turned away and stared at himself in the mirror. "Then why am I still so…big?"
Frank threw his arms around his brother and held him tightly as Joe burst into tears.