Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin.
Warnings: Angst
A/N: Thanks to all for following/reviewing etc.! I hope you're enjoying it.
~III~
"He's been paying his dues to gravity
in dud coin once a week
checking in on the doctor's scales
which wobble to a judgement: holding steady
though he's less and less able to hoist
what mass he still has, and he sways,
the rush of faintness in his ears like sea,
hissing in over mud and in and in
as he steadies himself and walks towards it
with stones in his pockets, adding one a week."
Merlin settles into a routine. He sets his alarm for 6 every morning and does his exercises. Fifty sit ups, thirty press ups, fifty jumping jacks, thirty lunge jumps. He has to stop the running on the spot because it makes too much noise. Hunith has switched back to the day shift but she doesn't get up until seven so he has one hour without scrutiny, as long as he's quiet enough.
He hadn't felt like the exercises were necessary before, but his new food regime has changed everything. Hunith made him see a nutritionist at the hospital and sat in the appointment with him while the guy had talked about food groups and balance and fatty acids. He was a slightly uninterested looking man with a straggly red beard and chewed up fingernails. When he took Merlin's blood to test for anaemia, his hands were unpleasantly clammy. He clucked his tongue dramatically when Merlin stepped up on his scales and there followed a prolonged lecture about healthy BMIs and muscle weight and bone density. Merlin was only half-listening but Hunith seemed to have memorised every word. A copy of his new diet plan is sellotaped to the fridge (like some kind of fucking beacon of reprimand, calling him out on his weakness every time he walks through the kitchen) and Hunith refers to it as though it's scripture. She sits with him for breakfast – porridge with banana on top, or cereal and yoghurt, or grapefruit and toast, or any other combination that the nutritionist recommended.
Lunch she can't control, of course, and he makes no pretence at trying now that his pact with Arthur is gone. Arthur might tell Hunith but Merlin senses he won't risk driving the wedge between the two of them even deeper.
Dinner is another matter. He can just about force down the breakfasts; the porridge at least slips easily down his throat and it sits less heavily on his stomach than he thought it might. The fruit, too, is usually light enough to ignore. But dinner is near impossible. Hunith takes quite literally the nutritionist's suggestion that dinner should ideally be one third vegetables, one third protein, and one third carbohydrates – she practically divides Merlin's plate to ensure precision. And it's all the food he hates the most – rice and potatoes and pasta and eggs and cheese – things that sit weighty inside him.
He has to get clever. He can hide some small amounts away in his napkin, and he makes sure to wear hoodies to dinner so he can shove food into his pockets. Hunith watches him like a hawk the first few days but she relaxes after a while. He's won her trust through the path of least resistance; by never putting up a fuss after that first night they talked it through, his mother thinks he's come around to her way of thinking. He accepts the nutritionist's planned fortnightly standing appointment without objection, and he allows her to make arrangements for him to see a therapist specialising in eating problems at the local retreat centre. So she gives him leeway and he takes full advantage, hiding what food he can, making a great show of chewing the rest.
But sometimes it's still not enough and he has to slip to his bedroom when the meal is over and Hunith's washing up to throw up into a plastic bag. It's disgusting and he hates it but the bathroom is right next to the kitchen and he can't get away with doing it there. His bedroom is the furthest room from the kitchen and it's too far away for Hunith to hear him. He hides the plastic bags and sneaks them out of the house to the bin round the corner when he gets the chance. It's shaming and it makes his gut clench but he tells himself it's only for a few months more; then he'll be at uni and he can eat what he wants for dinner, even if what he wants is nothing.
The exercises help him panic less; make him feel more prepared to take on breakfast in the morning. And when his first fortnightly weigh-in comes in, he tries the oldest trick in the book and is amazed to see it work. He drinks nearly a gallon of water and loads his back pockets with small measuring weights he steals from the science lab. Hunith can't get the time off work to come to his second appointment and as he suspects, the nutritionist isn't anywhere as observant when his mother isn't present. He asks if Merlin's been following the diet plan, checks the food diary he asked Merlin to keep, and then talks a bit more in general about healthy choices – but it's all conducted in a rather distant way, like his mind's elsewhere. When he finally tells Merlin to get on the scales, he hums in approval.
"You've gained four pounds, good job! Keep it up and we'll have you body building in no time."
Merlin forces a smile and rushes through his goodbyes, mindful of the pain in his bladder. Luckily there's a bathroom two doors down from the office and he slips inside. He feels almost giddy as he washes his hands – it worked, he's doing it!
~III~
He's so buoyed by his success in this area that he feels fairly confident about meeting the therapist. The hard part is the physical side – an hour a week spent talking seems easy in comparison.
But the therapist is not quite what he expected. She's about fifty, dressed in non-descript clothes with her long hair pulled back in a messy bun. She smiles and introduces herself as Karen and invites him to sit. It's ridiculous but it suddenly occurs to him that he expected some kind of long couch, like in the movies. There isn't one, just a perfectly normal chair which he sits in, and she sits in the chair opposite, no desk between them.
"So why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, Merlin? You're doing your A-Levels now, is that right?"
"Yeah."
"Are you enjoying it?"
"No," he says instinctively and then wonders if that sounds hostile. "I mean, yes. Kind of. It's a lot of work."
She smiles.
"Don't remind me. I still have nightmares about my French A-Level. Which is your favourite subject?"
"I… I like English Lit."
"Oh yes?"
"Yeah, we um… we did Othello last term and now we're doing war poetry and it's… I like it."
"Have you always liked English?"
"Uh, yeah… I guess. I read a lot and I – it's usually the subject I do best in."
"Ah, so you're a big reader?"
"Yeah, I… aren't you going to ask me about the eating thing?" Merlin blurts out and instantly blushes. He just doesn't really understand where Karen's going with this whole English thing. Is she trying to find out if his studies are affected? Or does she think reading too much has made him ill? But that makes no sense-
"Do you want to talk about eating?" she says evenly, as though Merlin hasn't just randomly interrupted their conversation.
"Well, no, but I thought… I mean, that's why my mum wanted me to come, isn't it?"
"Your mother contacted me because she was concerned about your eating habits, yes. But she's not here now Merlin, and I'm happy to talk about what you want to talk about."
"I just…" Merlin feels foolish. "Why are you asking about English?"
Karen smiles again.
"I was genuinely just trying to get to know you a little better. I'm not here to trap you, there wasn't an ulterior motive."
"Oh."
"Do you have anything you want to talk about?"
"I…" Merlin thinks back to his original plan. "Er, I mean, I think I know why I haven't been eating that well lately. If you want to know."
Karen nods pleasantly.
Merlin launches into his pre-prepared story about how hard it is being the only gay guy at his school, and how he recently fell for a boy in his class who kissed him and then rejected him. He explains that he felt so bad he wanted to lose a bit of weight to show the boy how badly he'd hurt Merlin.
"I guess I had some fantasy if I got a bit skinny and gaunt, he'd realise what kind of effect he'd had on me." Merlin tries to inject the right note of hope into his voice. "And it might be just enough for him to take me back."
He sighs gently.
"It was stupid. And when Mum confronted me I just felt so bad because I hadn't even realised what I'd been doing to myself. It was a real shock when I was weighed at the nutritionists and saw how much I'd lost. I guess you could call it a wake-up call."
He wonders if that last sentence is a bit too much. He sneaks a look at Karen but her face is impassive.
"Anyway, I realised the guy at school wasn't worth my time. So now I just want to concentrate on putting some weight on and getting back to normal."
He finishes with a sort of hopeful smile, trying to project the image of someone who'd learnt his lesson.
Karen nods, but to his surprise she doesn't ask him any questions about his story. Instead she says:
"What kind of things did you do to lose weight?"
He tells the truth mostly, just skipping meals and making excuses, but he leaves out all the parts about Arthur. It doesn't seem to matter though because after he's finished, her next question brings him directly into the frame:
"Your mum said you collapsed in school and a friend had to bring you to the nurse's office. She says it was this same friend that came to her and told her you'd been having problems eating."
"Well, clearly my mum told you quite a lot," Merlin snaps before he can stop himself.
Karen doesn't look in the least bit offended.
"She told me what she thinks. I'd like to know what you think."
Merlin shrugs.
"So is this a close friend of yours?"
"Sort of. I mean, I've known him a long time. But we've sort of drifted apart."
"Do you know what it was that lead him to approach your mum about you?"
"It was an overreaction. Arthur-" the name seems to slip out unbidden, "-noticed I was losing weight and he was worried. I should have just told him about the guy and everything but I didn't want to because… because I don't know how cool he is about me being gay."
Merlin does feel guilty about that lie because Arthur's never been anything less than supportive but the whole 'struggling with sexuality' angle is the tack he's chosen so he may as well stick to it.
"So yeah, I froze him out instead and I guess he got so concerned that he came to my mum."
"How did you feel when he did that?"
"Oh, well, I mean I was annoyed I suppose, but like I said earlier, I needed the wake-up call so I guess it was a good thing after all."
That sounds like such a load of bullshit that he's sure Karen will call him on it, but she merely makes a quick note and then asks him about other causes of stress in his life.
When the hour is up, Merlin gets to his feet quickly, trying to look like a person relieved of a heavy burden.
"Thanks so much," he says. "It was great to get everything out, I feel better now."
"I'm pleased to hear it," Karen says warmly. "From what I've heard today, I think you would benefit from some more sessions with me to talk out some more of those concerns."
Merlin pauses in the act of picking up his bag.
"More sessions?"
"Yes. I think that, if you'll let me help, we can resolve some of the issues that are making life difficult for you."
"Oh, I… I'm not really…"
"You can talk to Dave outside, he's the receptionist, and he'll set you up with another appointment for next week."
Karen smiles and opens the door to her office.
Defeated, Merlin leaves. There's clearly more to Karen than he initially thought.
~III~
School is both more and less difficult. Less because exams are fast approaching and most people are spending their breaks and free periods buried in books and notes and so he has a valid excuse to take up residence in the library. The useful ban on talking means none of his friends can force him into a discussion there. More because... well, Arthur.
He was sure that Arthur would have been driven away now after three weeks of the silent treatment but his friend is awfully persistent. Since that first Monday when he caved enough to help save Arthur from the wrath of Mrs Loughton, he hasn't communicated with him again. The same could not be said from the other side. Arthur texted semi-constantly. After Monday's serious text about 'not going anywhere', they were all newsy, trivial texts, as though him and Merlin were still perfectly good friends.
'Have you seen Val's new haircut? It looks like a drunk monkey did it.'
'You missed Mr Kinnear chasing Gwaine across the sports field because he was convinced Gwaine had stolen his dry erase pens. Lucky Gwaine had already stashed them in Lance's locker…'
'Uther just gave me a forty minute lecture on the importance of picking the right socks to go with a business suit. I shit you not.'
Merlin still tries his hardest not to even look in Arthur's direction, but Arthur has taken to acting as though Merlin's somehow gone mute and he's just filling in both sides of the conversation. He sits next to him in Politics and chats away as normal; sometimes he pitches up in the library and whispers questions about revision under the librarian's watchful eye. He never seems perturbed by the lack of an answer.
He sometimes slips chocolate bars and apples into Merlin's bag too. Merlin makes a point of dropping them in the bin in front of Arthur if he can but Arthur never reacts.
Sometimes he feels incredibly resentful of Arthur's presence because it's hard enough to concentrate on his revision anyway with his head aching and his vision blurring when he stares too long at one page. The familiar dull ache in his stomach only intensifies when Arthur sits down next to him, like Arthur somehow makes him more aware of his hunger.
Other times he feels so tired and worn down and miserable that he wants nothing more than to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder and feel the warmth of his friend seep into his skin.
He's always cold nowadays.
One morning he's halfway through his exercise routine when the room starts to spin around him and he crashes to the floor as everything goes black. He wakes not too long after with a throbbing in his head and the sharp taste of bile in his mouth.
He decides to give up on the routine for that day but guilt sees him spend his lunchtime running laps in the school gym; heart pounding in his ears as he goes round and round.