"Ian, please eat food," I said.
Ian simply stared at me.
"I'm not hungry," He said.
"Eat," I said, "Just a little, okay?"
He stared at me again.
"Fine," He said.
He took a piece of pizza and munched it slowly. I got him some water to drink.
"Is that better?"
"I guess," He said.
"We'll get through this together," I said, "Okay?"
He nodded.
Two weeks later…
Ian's POV
I read all the comments, all the ones that I can, anyways. Why do I torture myself. Ian's ugly, Ian's fat, Ian kill yourself. Why do I believe it? Sure, many of them are trolls, and there are plenty of girls-and guys- who think I'm attractive.
I only eat when Anthony tells me to. Whatever I have to eat, I throw up later. I've lost at least thirty pounds in the last two months.
The next day…
Anthony's POV
I was hanging out with Ian.
"I gotta pee," Ian said.
"Okay," I said.
He went off to the bathroom. He was taking a really long time, so I decided to see if he was okay. I knocked on the door.
"Ian?"
He didn't answer, so I opened the door. I found Ian lying on the ground next to the toilet.
"Ian, what happened?"
I shook him awake and helped him up. He was pale, and smelled like vomit. I layed him down on the couch in the living room.
He finally sat up. I remembered what he'd said in the hospital: Look at me, Anthony. I'm shit. Ian's always been self-conscious, but this was much worse.
"Ian, what's wrong?" I asked.
"I got sick, Anthony," He said, "I'm fine."
"Are you…throwing up on purpose?"
He stared at me. I put my arm around his shoulders.
"Ian…you can tell me anything," I said, "I won't judge you."
He shook his head.
"You woudn't understand," He said.
"Ian…"
"I just want to be loved, Anthony," He darted.
"I love you, Ian," I said.
"Do you know…how many people hate me…"
"Those people don't matter," I said.
Ian got up from the couch and ran off. He went to his room.
Ian's POV
I heard a gasp as I removed my shirt and looked in my mirror. Anthony was standing in the doorway. I looked away, he said he wouldn't judge me.
"It…it's worse than I thought," Anthony said.
I put my shirt back on and sat on the bed.
"Ian…how much…"
"Ninety-five pounds," I said, "More or less."
"Seriously?"
"Not all of us can be perfect," I snapped.
I felt bad for snapping at Anthony, but I couldn't help it. He sat by me.
"Ian…I probably have more haters than you do," He said, "I know how self-conscious you are, but.."
"I love you, Anthony," I said, and hugged him.
He took out his phone and messed with it for a few minutes.
"Wanna take a picture," He asked.
I brushed my hair with my hands.
"I…sure," I said.
I smiled as he took a picture of us.
"Here," He said, showing me the picture.
"Don't post that," I said.
"Why not?" He asked, "You look great, Ian."
"Are you sure?"
"Would I lie to you?"
"Fine," I sighed.
He posted the picture on Instagram, with some tags.
Anthony's POV
After hanging out with Ian for a few hours, I went home and started editing our Smosh second channel video. I went on Twitter and tweeted something for Ian.
Ian's POV
I looked at the comments on Anthony's Insagram picture:
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Aw! So cute!
Ian, are you okay?
Ian, you look upset.
Ian looks different.
Different? What did that mean? Did they notice that I'd gotten skinnier? My phone rang, it was Anthony, so I answered it.
"Hey," I said.
"Ian, check your Twitter," He said.
"Why?"
"Just do it," He said.
"Okay."
I hung up and checked my Twitter. On it, I had a bunch of tweets saying:
We love you Ian3
You're so kawaii!3
You're the best, Ian!3
I saw Anthony's tweet, which said: Send Ian your 3, he's having a bad day.