"Uchiha Sasuke?"

"Yes."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Tsunade."

A rustle of papers. "Your doctor has referred you to me for your eating disorder, is that correct?"

I nodded.

"Why don't you tell me a bit about that?"

"What's there to tell?"

More paper rustling occurred before the blonde woman found what she was looking for. "Ah. It says here that you've been through three psychologists and been hospitalized twice in the past year."

"What about it?"

She shrugged, unperturbed. "Sounds serious."

"I guess."

"Does it worry you? That your body isn't coping?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay," the sound of scribbling. "Was that your brother you were sitting with outside? Why don't you tell me about him."

I sighed. "Well…"

"You didn't have to come, you know," I sulked, fidgeting nervously while I waited for my name to be called. The small room was quiet, save for the small television blaring the local news and the tick tick of the wall clock. The brunette receptionist was overly cheery and the waiting room chairs were as stiff as a brick wall. My back was aching from being forced into an upright posture and I was almost regretting coming here. I was entirely uncomfortable.

"Don't be like that," he insisted, nudging my shoulder "Who else was going to make sure that you actually go in?"

I ignored him and flicked my eyes over to the wall clock. The therapist was five minutes late but that was nothing unusual of course. In most of my therapy experiences, after their last patient the psychologist or psychiatrist would spend an extra 5 or 10 minutes going over your case, your clinical notes, their notes. They forget things. The system was overcrowded.

"You nervous?"

"No." Yes.

"I can go in with you if you want…"

I looked at him incredulously and resisted the urge to shuffle to the next seat over. "No, really. Don't." I was nervous enough as it was without the idea of Itachi being able to hear every word I say. The last thing I wanted was for my brother to hold my hand throughout the whole thing. It was nerve-wracking enough just sitting in this room purely due to the fact that this visit was 100% voluntary.

I wasn't in the hospital system, no one was making me go, my accountability was my own responsibility. There was no nurse hassling me about going to sessions and threatening to take away my privileges if I didn't. I had called up and made the appointment myself. This time with a private therapist – not some overworked hospital shrink with too many patients to keep track of.

The clock ticked into 10 minutes late.

"Mhmm, yep. Okay. So does your brother do a good job of looking after you, do you think?"

"He does his best."

"What do you mean by that?"

"…I just mean that he's got a lot on his plate. He works full time, he pays the bills, he runs the house himself and then he has me. He does what he can."

"Ah, okay." More writing on the large notepad. "So, would you say you two get along well?"

"I don't know. I suppose. I mean we have our fights but we get over it."

"Good, that's good. What are your fights about, usually?"

I thought about that for a moment. "Sometimes it's just little stuff like who lost the remote or left the milk out, but I don't know. I guess it's more about me these days."

"About you?"

"What I eat. What I don't eat."

"Okay," she nodded in understanding. "Does that annoy you?"

I shrugged again. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"He seems to be very protective of you," she commented "has he always been like that?"

"I suppose. Probably more so after our parents died…yeah."

"Mhmm. So it looks like Itachi has taken role of both big brother and authoritarian. How does that make you feel, that sort of change?"

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, feeling naked in my candidness. "Like a child, like a bother. I don't know."

"Has he ever said to you that you were a bother?"

"No. He doesn't need to say it."

"So, why do you think you feel like that?"

"Because. He's the same as me, his parents died too. He was put into a worse position than me and you don't see him starving himself."

She cocked her head to the side, before she wrote some more notes. "You know, people deal with their grief in different ways. Whether it's their work, their hobbies, whatever."

"I know." Thank you Freud.

"That's good," she smiled. "If you're comfortable with it, I think we'll talk more about you and your brother at a later time. Why don't you tell me about your friends?"

"Like what?"

"Are they supportive?"

An unwritten rule of life is that first day back to school sucks. It always does, every time, without fail. New teachers, new fresh faced, terrified students, the reunion of friends and the ever-depressing prospect of one more year. What joy. My only remaining hope was that this year would fly by faster than the last without half the troubles. One can wish. Strolling down the halls, the sounds of hundreds of shoes tapping against the linoleum floor echoed in my ears and the smell of fresh paint filled my nose.

"I know your secret" Came a whisper to my side. "…Not that it was much of a secret anyway because you two are about as obvious as a big rainbow flag."

I turned and raised an eyebrow at Inuzuka Kiba who just grinned toothily at me in return. But I wasn't really fazed so I looked at him unworriedly. "You know you're the fourth person to tell me that today, right?"

It would seem that he wasn't fazed either, I noticed, as we stopped at my locker. "Yeah, well Shikamaru figured it out first, who told Neji who told Gaara who told Shino who told me. I just thought if they hadn't rubbed it in your face yet then I would."

"How sweet," I said indifferently, putting my combination into my lock, opening it. I dug around in my personal pigsty ignoring the other boy who had taken to staring at me - Where in the world had I lost my Biology textbook this time? My attempts at disregarding his existent were shattered when a jacket covered arm shot out, narrowly missing my nose as it slammed onto the locker next to mine. Oh here we go. I rolled my eyes at his macho tough-guy attitude and turned my body to face Kiba. He had on his Serious Face. How wonderful.

"Can I help you?" I asked, sarcasm dripping.

"You know that if you hurt Blondie we'll kick your ass, right?"

I snorted. I wanted to rub my forehead because oh god, the cliché was hurting, but I didn't.

I couldn't tell if he was serious or just trying to look cool – Either way I didn't hesitate to resume my ignoring and search for my textbook wanting him to take the hint. I wasn't to dignify the stupidity with an answer. Why were they picking on me anyway? From my memory I was the one with the clean record here.

He huffed impatiently, retracting his arm to fold it over his chest. "Did you hear what I said?"

I waved my hand in his general direction, frowning as I found what looked to be like a very old, smelly sock right in the corner. How did that get there? "Yeah, sure. Can't wait." I slammed my locker shut, giving up on the search for my Bio book (I'd just borrow Gaaras') and walking away in the direction of the science labs.

"Wait - "

"Bye," I yelled back cutting him off. His voice was irritating and grating on my nerves - he had that sort of effect on people. I squirmed through the flock of students, hoping to get to class early enough to get the back seats near the window. I'd nearly reached the room before something particularly dumb and blonde bumped into my right side and stood on my foot.

"Hey watch where you're -! Oh Sasuke, it's just you," came a familiar nasally voice. At the recognition Narutos face went from once of anger to surprise. So much for getting to class early. I frowned at him.

"You're on my foot."

"What?" He looked down, "Oh whoops. Sorry."

"I'm sure," I replied dryly.

"Anyway," he continued, "You'll never guess what happened earlier."

"Mhmm,"I appeased, sounding not at all interested, looking at my watch, making sure I could spare a minute. 10:45. He was lucky - this time.

"Well I was just sitting innocently in first period, doing my work - " Cough, hack. "When all of a sudden Gaara passes me back a note saying, now get this: 'If Uchiha gets hurt so do you.' I mean, what the hell?"

I feigned a cough and smirked behind my hand, silently marveling at the efficiency of our friends. "Really? How strange…"

"Well it sounds like you've got good friends."

"That's one word you could use. Obnoxious is another."

"Well, they've stuck around this long haven't they? I'd say these are keepers."

"Sure," I placated, not wanting to go further into this topic. I didn't care for analyzing my friendships – things were the way they were and I liked it like that.

"Alright, let's get an idea about your eating. How many calories would you say you limit yourself to daily?"

"It varies. Right now about 500."

"Why that number?"

"…I don't know…"

"That's okay. Do you have a goal weight?"

"Just until I'm satisfied."

Her pen was put down and she looked at me softly, smile fading. "I know you're a smart kid, Sasuke. But you and I both know you'll never be satisfied. It's always just one kilogram more, just one more, isn't it?"

That's what scares me.

"I know. That's why I'm here."

"I'm glad. That's a start, as long as you have a will recovery is always possible."

My chest hurt and I could hear my heart thudding loudly like a drum in my ears. I couldn't move my body.

Today was the third consecutive day I hadn't eaten and I'd felt my stomach eating itself, desperate for fuel.

I'd felt it clawing, screaming, twisting. I'd felt the blood drain from my face and the increasing heaviness of my limbs. But I hadn't stopped.

Despite my ever-growing weakness I'd stupidly pushed myself into running 3 kilometers this morning and set myself a goal of 150 crunches.

I'd gotten to 112 before I'd passed out cold on my bedroom floor.

When I'd come to every part of me was aching and I couldn't move. My limbs felt like lead, every part of me was shaking, my heart agonizing with each painful beat. I felt like someone was sitting on my chest and the idea that I was so weak that I could literally not pick myself up of my floor scared me. Oh god I can't breathe. What had I done to myself? What have I done to myself?

In my growing list of fears I'd hoped to god that Itachi wouldn't come in at this moment and find me looking like this. What's happening to me? What have I done?

Suddenly feeling afraid and overwhelmed, I turned my head, burying my face into the crook of my outstretched arm and tried to stop the flow of tears I knew were already starting to burn behind my eyes.

I took in a deep shuddering breath and I knew. I can't do this anymore.

"How did you fare at inpatient?"

"I had the time of my life."

"That bad, huh? The hospital system is completely useless, isn't it? They fatten up their patients, send them out and a month later they're back in."

"Mhmm…"

"Can you tell me a bit about why you were sent there?"

"The first time?"

"Yep."

"I passed out in front of my school. Someone obviously found me."

"And the second time?"

"I hadn't eaten for over a week. And because I'm a minor…" I trailed off.

"Itachi had you readmitted?"

"Yes."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Pissed off."

"Why did you feel pissed off, Sasuke?"

"He was ruining everything."

"What was he ruining?"

"The weight loss, the exercise, everything. It's none of his business."

"Why not? He's your brother."

"Because he's only doing this because something's wrong with me. He wouldn't give a shit otherwise."

"Ah'k, I see. Does it annoy you that the only time he gives you attention is when you're sick?"

"I don't need his attention."

"I didn't say you did. I'm just wondering how it makes you feel."

"I don't know."

"Alright, we'll leave it at that for now. But while we're on the subject of support, why don't you tell me how things are on the romantic front?"

"In terms of…?"

"Well you're obviously a very handsome young man. Any girlfriends…boyfriends?"

"Just Naruto."

"Just Naruto, okay. And is he supportive?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm jogging with you, duh."

"I can see that."

"Then don't ask stupid questions."

I spluttered and stopped my movements at his insinuation. Wiping my sweaty brow I stared at Naruto incredulously, thinking perhaps that it was far too early to put up with him. He stopped too, his face flushed with exertion.

"It's your day off. Go back to bed," I coaxed, deciding that it was in fact way too early to deal with anyone.

"Stop trying to get rid of me," he laughed, unzipping his jacket, warm from the unseasonably hot weather. I wasn't happy that he hadn't taken the (tempting) bait and so I crossed my arms over my chest. Here we go again. I roved my eyes over him and tried to gauge his intentions.

"What are you scheming now?"

The teen straightened his posture and pouted at the accusation and questioning of his innocence. I fanned myself with my shirt collar while waiting for him to get over his charade, distractedly wishing that it wasn't so hot today. It made it harder to think.

"I'm hurt, Bastard. Why can't I just want to spend time with you?"

I snorted. "Because it's six o'clock in the morning. On a Saturday."

He shrugged and dropped his façade, a mischievous smile spreading over his face. "Okay, you got me." Bored with our stationary position we began walking aimlessly, following wherever the footpath took us. I sniffed my shirt and realized how badly it needed a wash. When was the last time I did laundry?

"And?"

"And okay I know it sounds totally off and don't get mad when I tell you this, but…" He took a deep breath and spat out his next words quickly, "I was kind of hoping I could catch you off guard, trip you over and you could sprain your ankle or something."

I stared.

"Or twist it or whatever."

For the second time that morning I stopped moving and gaped at the pure idiocy before me, all thoughts of laundry long forgotten. "You what?"

"Uh, um yeah…" he trailed off, laughing nervously, ruffling his hair. "Anyhoo, now that that's out in the open, move your skinny ass and keep going."

I threw out my arm and grabbed his jacket, halting his movements. "Not so fast. Now why the fuck would you want to do that?"

"Because."

I smacked him upside the head, scowling deeply. What the hell?

"Because…?"

"Because you never stop fucking moving. You're running, you're jogging, you're power walking, you're cycling. Why can't you just sit down for once? Have a cup of tea, watch a movie, relax. It won't kill you."

I groaned, turning around and heading back in the direction of home, not caring if he was left behind. "I am not having this argument again. Seriously."

"But -"

"No."

"I'm trying to - "

"Not listening."

"I want - "

"Don't care."

"Let me finish asshole!"

I refused to slow down and have the same conversation over and over again. "So that you can tell me that I'm over exercising? That I look like a cancer patient? I got the memo, thanks, bye."

I was stopped when a sweaty hand with a firm grip tugged my shirtsleeve. The other looked into my face and scowled at my standoffish behaviour. I mirrored his expression. Irritated beyond belief at the mornings events I wanted to just go back home and go to bed.

I didn't know whether I was angrier that he wanted to interfere or because this is what our so-called relationship had degraded into. I wanted something more than this. Why was this taking over every aspect of my life?

"I'm sorry for giving a shit about you. It's just that I don't know what else to do anymore, you know? Put yourself in my shoes for a sec, will ya?" He rubbed his cheek harshly and shifted awkwardly. "Hospital hasn't done shit, therapy clearly isn't doing you any favours…what would you do if it were me?"

Exhaling and crossing my arms over my chest, I craned my neck to look up. Not a cloud in sight, just blue blue blue. "You are the dumbest person I've ever met," I replied, "Your version of therapy is breaking my leg?" I was torn between being flattered by his (retarded) thinking and embarrassed that this was the (retarded) guy I was dating.

"Well when you put it like that…" he said, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his chin and also turning his eyes skyward. "Oh well, I'll just have to think of something else." With that he threw an arm around my shoulder and grinned as we began walking again.

"Get off me."

"No, I'm quite comfortable thank you."

I stomped on his foot and elbowed him in the ribs. He let go, but not before pulling my hair and kicking my shin. All was well.

"He sounds caring."

"The correct term is clingy."

"But you're still with him?"

"…Yeah."

"Good. You're going to need all the support you can get. Recovery isn't easy."

"I know."

She smiled. "That's good. I'm happy with what we've discussed today, Sasuke. If you're comfortable with this pace, I'd like to talk a bit more about the things we talked about today next time. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Mhmm."

"Good, I'd like to see you next week at the same time if that suits you."

"That's fine."

We both stood up and walked toward the door. "Great, well it was very nice to meet you Sasuke. You have my personal number, you can call me anytime."

With shaking fingers I grasped the business card and dialed the number written on it. I was half hoping they wouldn't pick up, half desperate they would.

Ring ring…ring ring…

Three weeks after Naruto told me he wanted to break my leg I'd woken up one morning and thought I was having a heart attack. My entire body had seized up in pain and before I could stop I'd thrown up all over my floor, I thought I was going to die. Really, I'd always known that this was a certainty of what I was doing to myself. I couldn't keep this up forever and expect to live to old age.

It had scared me, the clear extent of the damage my body had suffered and the unchanging fact that I'd done it to myself. But the feeling and the pain passed and I'd ignored it, pushed it to the back of my mind. I went about my life, school, exercise, food food food, breathing.

Until it happened again this morning, except this time it was worse. It was so much worse.

This time I was found in a pool of my own bloody vomit and they thought I was going to die too. He had come to surprise me on Valentines morning but I guess I was the one who gave the surprise.

This time it was different, after seeing his face, after the thought of death became a cold reality it hit me.

I finally wanted something beyond this.

I don't want to die.

I'd previously contemplated approaching recovery with this fear as my driving force. After my second hospitalization, I'd tried to think of recovery as a means to an end, as something that would keep this from happening, dying that is. But that sort of thinking never got me anywhere except back where I started. Nothing had changed, frustratingly so. I didn't want this for myself.

It didn't hit me, really hit me until today, it wasn't clear, nor was it something that I had wanted until now.

It's not that I'm afraid of dying that I'm making this decision. It's because I think I want to live. I need to want to live. I want to live and be a whole person. Not be afraid of death and just exist. I want to be able to have some semblance of normalcy, to live to breathe to function without having every part of my life plagued with this. At the crosscraods I knew this was the right decision.

My conviction was weak, but it was there, small and wavering. But I had to hold onto it. Even just for this small moment I needed that small part of me to believe that this was the right decision. Because if I didn't then maybe I wont wake up the next morning.

"Hello, Konoha East Medical, this is Shizune speaking. How may I help you?"

"Yeah, hi... I'd like to make an appointment with Tsunade."

Just something a little bit different. And yes, it's totally rushed, I'm not happy with it but I wanted it out before my holiday.

Anyway. I'm off to Japan now, so don't expect another chapter for another 3 or 4 weeks. Thank you again lovelies.