Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who added my story to the favorites and/or decided to follow it! And a special thanks to HetalianForever and Guest for the kind reviews! It's good to see you like this story :-)
I apologize for keeping you waiting, and I hope you'll like chapter 2 as well. You'll meet more characters and I used OCs for some of the staff members. Nothing to worry about, I guess.

Also, I'd like to thank my beta Cat for her great beta service!

{02. | DSM-IV 307.1}

The office was definitely too small for the current conversation. Alfred wished he was back in his room, listening to whatever crazy story Feliciano felt like sharing with him. Sadly, Alfred's present situation was quite different: He was forced to fake interest in the apparently endless lecture of a doctor. The man was in his late 40s and equipped with a pair of rimless glasses. Due to his age, white wisps of hair had long become native on his head, and his monotone voice was a perfect sleeping aid. A woman, probably in her 30s and dressed in a plain blouse, sat right next to him and seemed far more interested in the conversation than Alfred.

The blond patient just sat on his chair and smiled eagerly, while he ignored whatever the doctor told him about the treatment and the daily routine in the clinic. Frankly, Alfred could not care less. He was too busy playing a perfectly healthy 16-year old teenager, who had learned to smile away problems from a very young age on. His smile, though, no longer reached his eyes. The infinite despair reflected in them belonged to a person who was trapped in a cell and had come to realize that the key had been thrown away. Alfred's imprisonment was the result of his parents' overreaction. Neither his mom nor his dad believed he had the strength to handle the situation –or the problem, as they called it– on his own. That was ridiculous, though! Alfred was by far old enough to make his own decisions. It was not his parents' business what he did to maintain his inner balance. They probably cared less about his health than about the mere fact that he had a problem at all. Officially, problems did not even exist in his family and consequently were never discussed openly. To eliminate the problem his parents had simply deported Alfred from home. The equation read: no problem at home = no problem in the family.

At least Feliciano was an encouraging company. His story telling skills were as vivid as the chirpy Italian himself, and his favorite topic was his home country and its food. With the greatest devotion, Feliciano had introduced Alfred to the art of freshly prepared pasta and the wide range of pasta types: spaghetti, rigatoni, fusilli, farfalle, macaroni …
After that, Feli had continued with naming the ingredients for all kinds of tortellini fillings and sauces. Alfred was speechless. Never before had he met a person who knew so much about pasta! By now, Alfred surely had learned more about pasta than an average person would ever do in the course of his life. The only disadvantage of Feli's endless talking was Alfred's burgeoning hunger! Hence, he had tried to stop his roommate's flow of words at some point, but Feliciano had completely lost himself in family anecdotes involving cooking and eating. During the last few months, Alfred had always assumed that he was the person whose entire world was ruled by food. But, as it had turned out today, Feliciano was the undisputed number one in this field.

"..Alright then. Do you have any questions, Alfred?" the question harshly cut through Alfred's thoughts and led him back to the present. A quiet expectation lay on the doctor's face.

Alfred shock happily his head. His "Nope!" came quick as a shot.

Skeptically, the doctor lifted an eyebrow. It appeared that he wanted to add something, but eventually he solely nodded in an accepting manner.
The conversation was officially declared over.
Delighted, Alfred said goodbye and bunked out of the room, just to run into the smell of freshly cooked food on the floor. His voracious stomach promptly produced a loud greeting sound. Sniveling, Alfred remembered how little he had eaten today. After a skipped breakfast, he and his parents had stopped at a McDonald's. After all, his parents wanted Alfred to eat regularly... Just the memory of the delicious and fatty food made Alfred's mouth water. He suddenly felt so hungry that he was ready to sell his soul for another burger or for some of the treats he was hoarding in his bed drawer, well hidden from his parents behind the boxes of model airplanes.

Slowly, Alfred crossed the corridor and reached the big room which was absurdly divided into living room and dining room. The back of the room was decorated with two comfortable sofas, a wooden table, and a supporting table for the old-fashioned TV. A waist-high shelf offered books, magazines and tattered boxes with board games to the patients. The view reminded Alfred of a holiday home promising fun during the stay.
The front area, was a whole different story. The inventory of the dining room was limited to three naked table islands, each of them surrounded by chairs, and a depressing gray was the all dominating color. The naked windows missed curtains and some pictures would do no harm to the sterile walls.

The room was empty, except for a boy sitting on one of the sofas. Curiously, Alfred scanned the other patient who was delved into a book. An untouched cup of tea stood on the table right in front of him. His perfectly clean shirt, trousers and slipover were crease-free and fitted like a glove. With his prominent collar bones and his long delicate fingers this guy was at least as thin as Feliciano! At the drop of a hat, Alfred's fears and worries were reanimated by gruffly shame. He was the only person in this damn clinic who was overweight, was not he?
Again, his stomach roared like a hungry lion and Alfred felt caught red-handed. Taking a step back from the door, he uncomfortably crossed his arms in front of his stomach. The other patient did not show any reaction, though, and Alfred was just glad his greedy, food-addicted body would remain undiscovered a little longer.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred ordered his stomach to keep quiet and adjusted his façade. In no time, his smile and his courage were back in their usual place, and Alfred regained the nerve to face the world and meet a new person.
"Hey, dude! My name is–!"
"Let me guess. You're Mr 'I'm new here and I think we should be friends because we're in the same ward'?" The boy used his razor-sharp words like a sword. Alfred intuitively stopped on his way to the couch, scared to be cut into pieces.
"...um, yes! I'm Alfred and I share a room with Feliciano."
"Well, everything's just fine then." Turning his attention back to his book, the boy pressed a cynical laughter through his gritted teeth.

"Everything's just fine?"

Alfred's question was completed ignored. The other boy just kept on reading. The remains of his laughter still nested in the corners of his mouth and his aura was that of a person who used his words like bricks. Behind his self-constructed wall, he did as he liked and kept his knowledge to himself.

A few silent seconds passed, and Alfred could not help but feel banished from the other patient's world without a reason. He did not do anything wrong, did he? No, this guy probably just got up on the wrong side of bed today.
With a nonchalant "What was your name again?" Alfred flopped down on the sofa and noisily looked over the other boy's shoulder. Not thrilled at all, the boy immediately closed his book and moved to the other end of the couch. His annoyed grimace could be read like a street sign: Do not pass this safety distance!

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. And I don't do small talk about your or my or anyone's diagnosis. We all know why we're here. Well, God only knows why out of all patients they chose Feliciano as your roommate..." A mystifying amusement left its mark on Arthur's British accent. Slightly shaking his head, he put the book on the table. Since it was covered in a plain black book jacket, the author and title remained a secret for Alfred, who did not understand what was so funny. So he was more or less left with watching Arthur carefully taking his cup from the table. After he had inspected the tea, Arthur's lips met the edge of the white plastic. When he put the cup back on its saucer a few seconds later, he nearly burst with pride.

"Dude, I think you just forgot to drink", a confused Alfred mentioned.

"Surely not! And I think some more tea and a little less pig feed wouldn't harm you either!" Arthur's belligerent gaze bored into Alfred's round belly. Stabbing humiliation painted Alfred's face red like a tomato and forced him to pull in his stomach as much as possible.
"Guess what! I do drink tea! Iced tea and bubble tea, for example!" he proudly corrected the other patient whose face froze due to this superb 'defense'. An appalling horror had destroyed Arthur's shrewish nature entirely, and it took him a few seconds until he was able to finally shook his head and mutter something incomprehensible.

"Oh, you guys are early! You must be hungry then", said the jovial nurse who was just about to enter the dining room with a metallic trolley that carried various food trays. A little tag with a name and a room number was attached to each tray, and the plates were all capped. The sight remembered Alfred more than ever that he was in a clinic. Nevertheless, his body began to relax for there was food that would gag his growling stomach and numb his hidden anxiety.

"No, thank you. I still have my tea." Indicating that he had already been attended, Arthur took another sip from his cup. This time Alfred actually saw him swallow.

"Now come on, honey. You know very well that your tea is no replacement for a proper meal." The nurse's well-meaning voice and Arthur's morose facial expression indicated that such dialogues were part of the daily routine.

"Yeah, she's right." Emboldening, Alfred stood up and looked at the other patient who rolled his eyes in return and made no effort to move over to the dining room.

"Dude, come on! It's just food." Driven by his hunger, Alfred was about to add an imprudent 'It won't kill ya!', as Arthur scornfully snorted.
"Of course it's just food, you bloody idiot!" With his cup still in his hand, Arthur brusquely got up to sit at the table next to the window. Satisfied, the nurse put a tray on the table in front of him. Alfred could not estimate her age. Her features were young and unbiased, yet she radiated an authority usually born by long-term experience.

Wondering if a fixed seating plan existed, Alfred trotted into the dining room where the nurse was currently filling a huge plastic cup with orange juice. When Alfred stopped next to the metallic trolley, a short smile played around her lips. Nancy stood on the name plate stuck to her white top.
"You must be our new patient. Alfred, right?"

"Yep!"

With some quick steps she made her way to Arthur's table and enriched his lunch with the orange juice. After that, she took two of the food trails and placed them on the table next to the door.
"You can sit with Arthur if you like. He sets a good example", she suggested as she returned to the trolley.

If pretending to drink tea was setting a good example, Alfred did not want to know what setting a bad example looked like. Nevertheless, he did as he was told and a short moment later he found himself in the seat directly opposite Arthur's.

Arthur's meal had not been touched yet. It consisted of a small bowl of salad bathing in an orange-colored cocktail sauce, and on the plate in the middle of his food tray lay a buttery hill of mashed potatoes, a thick slice of meat covered with dark sauce and some peas. Furthermore, there was another tiny bowl with chocolate pudding. A spot of whipped cream topped the dark dessert.
Alfred could not believe his eyes! This looked so much better than the food they sold at his school! If losing weight and getting healthy was actually that easy, Alfred would get used to it in no time!

The bubble of Alfred's joyful anticipation popped the moment his food tray was put under his nose. The salad was identical to Arthur's, except for the fact that Alfred's dressing was only a mixture of herbs, vinegar and oil. The potatoes on his plate were simply cooked, chopped and salted, and the slice of meat was replaced by a sauce-less turkey steak. No peas, just some unidentifiable white vegetable sticks. The nectarine did not deserve the name dessert, and Alfred's plastic cup was filled with mineral water.
This was a joke, was not it? Alfred believed that there must have been a misunderstanding. Overwhelmed by shock, he did not even see the other patients and nurses trooping into the room. Like ants, each of them knew exactly where to sit and what to do. The queen ant, a white clock, hung on the wall and ticked faintly commands.

"Hi, you're the new patient, aren't you?" greeted a male nurse while he was sitting on one of the free chairs next to Alfred. "I'm Josh. And if I were you I'd start eating before it gets cold."
"No way, man!"
"Pardon?"
"I can't eat this! I don't even have sauce. Why does Arthur have sauce and peas and chocolate pudding? It's not fair!" Alfred complained furiously.

"You know what? You can have all my peas and the pudding, too!"

"No!" declined Josh Arthur's generous offer on Alfred's behalf before the latter even had the chance to speak his own mind. "You eat what's on your plate, Alfred. This rule applies to all patients."

Alfred used his fork to comb through the odd white sticks which emitted a very severe smell. Wrinkling his nose, he finally dared to taste one of them. His teeth sunk into the soft boiled texture of the vegetable, but as soon as his sugar-spoiled taste buds detected the unfamiliar flavor, Alfred shook with disgust.
"Whoa! This is fucking gross!"

"Eat it, Alfred. You're not going to leave this dining room until you ate up", Josh stated matter-of-factly.

"But I can't eat this! I don't even know what it is!"

"That's kohlrabi, you cretin!" Pretending to love peas more than anything else on this planet, Arthur shoved half a spoon full of them into his mouth.

"I bet you hate kohlrabi, too, you lucky bastard!"

"Guys, stop it! No more complaints, insults or food deals at this table" Josh exhorted both boys. Then he devoted his full attention to Alfred. "Sorry, Alfred. You've got to eat what's on your plate, whether you like it or not. That's one of the rules here. You'll see, our rules will help you recover. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

"No, I'm fine! I don't need recovery!"

Arthur burst into laughter, the masticated green peas still in his mouth. Josh's smile was kind but imperturbably.

Frustrated, Alfred wished he could plunk down his fork and walk the whole way back to the McDonald's where his family had stopped earlier. This clinic was no help whatsoever! Today he was forced to eat inedible kohlrabi. Heaven only knew what awaited him tomorrow!

Groaning, Alfred tried his green salad. Since he was used to eat salad on burgers and sandwiches, he had always assumed to like it. However, the sobering realization that salad without grilled meat and cheese tasted nothing like Alfred expected it to taste slowly set it...
While unenthusiastically chewing the green leaves, Alfred took a gander at the other people in the room. By now, almost all chairs were taken, either by nurses or patients. In fact, there was only one food tray still waiting for its owner. Nancy who stood next to the table that still missed a patient, checked the clock and sighed:
"Same procedure as every day... I'll go and get Feliciano."

A male nurse sitting at the table in the center of the room nodded without commenting on the matter.

"Why's Feliciano not here?" Alfred wondered while he was observing the other patients who reservedly poked in their food.

"He never shows up voluntarily. This boy is such a fool." Bitterness was suddenly the only emotion left in Arthur's voice. No more sarcasm, no more disdain. Eyes narrowed, he abruptly took his knife and cut a large piece from his slice of meat.

Josh as well as the other people in the room kept quiet. Obviously, talking during meal times was not very popular in this clinic. For Alfred was used to eat alone in front of the TV or computer, the silence did not really bother him. Lulled by youtube videos or cartoons, Alfred never realized how eating turned into an automatic process. His sorrows simply disappeared then in a fog of flavors, while more and more food entered his body. The more he ate, the denser the fog.
Now, without any distraction, Alfred had to acknowledge the tastes of all the foods on his tray. There was no rescue. Neither the internet nor the TV was here to help him. Alfred did not even have a coke to wash away the disgusting taste of the kohlrabi sticks.

"...but I'm not hungry! Really, I swear!" Whining, a distressed Feliciano entered the dining room. The nurse's strict gaze in his back like a gun, he reluctantly put one feet in front of the other and shied away from his tray like a horse from a ditch too wide to jump.

"Here we go again..." mumbled Arthur. With the speed of a guillotine, his fork shot down into his salad and cocktail sauce splattered on the tray.

In the meantime, Feliciano had unwillingly taken his seat. His brown eyes, almost cracking with terror, stared at the food right in front of him. He shared the small table for four with another patient: A tiny and fragile girl. Every two minutes she was able to conquer her disgust and took a bite from her meal. A pretty pink ribbon shimmered in her thin blonde hair. Apart from this bright accessory, the girl was deathly pale. Terrified, Alfred noticed how much Feliciano resembled her! Lucent and lifeless, the Italian boy hid his hands in the long sleeves of his loose sweater and constantly jiggled his feet. The merry Feliciano Alfred had met earlier seemed to have switched places with some kind of sick twin...

Concerned, Alfred averted his gaze from his roommate and studied the people occupying the table in the center of the room. Most patients there seemed to have a normal eating tempo. A corpulent blonde girl stuck out, though, because she went great lengths to follow the tempo of the patients surrounding her. Alfred's first thought was that she must be very hungry and, just like him, she was probably used to eat much bigger meals in less time.

Bravely, she exterminated one kohlrabi stick after another and chewed each of them longer than Alfred thought a kohlrabi stick could possibly be chewed. Then she noticed being watched and made a small pause to return Alfred's look. Her round face hosted a pair of penetrating eyes and her red mouth conjured up a tender smile. For some unknown reason, Alfred thought her to be an uncomplicated person. Maybe the two of them would get along like he and Feliciano did. Alfred really liked the caring charm diffusing from her kind features. Yet he had difficulties deciding whether he found her attractive or not. She appeared to hide something under her wide dress and the long light hair. Something Alfred could not put a name to. It was just there, not even giving the information if it had ever bothered to ask the girl if its company was okay for her.

Feliciano still stared at his food as if it was poisoned.

About seven minutes later Alfred had finished his meal. His portion had been much too small and the food much too dry. To his surprise, the nectarine had actually been the most enjoyable part.
Still hungry, Alfred could not keep his eyes from Arthur's pudding. Arthur was currently dealing with the rest of his mashed potatoes. According to his frustrated face, the yellow hill made him feel sick.

The first few patients stood up and left the dining room. Most of the patients stayed seated, though, and killed the time with running their hands through their hair or picking up lint from their lint-free clothes.
Arthur won the battle against his potatoes and destroyed the rest of his orange juice at one draft. The moment he put his cup down was the moment he got up from his chair and walked out of the room. With more and more patients leaving, Alfred did not see the need to stay either. But when he wanted to put his thought into practice, Josh hold him back by laying a hand on Alfred's forearm.
"Your 30 minutes aren't up yet."

"30 minutes?"

Josh nodded, "Yes, I'm counting the time for you. Patients with a history of throwing up after eating have to wait for 30 minutes before they're allowed to leave the dining room. The waiting time eases the urge, you'll see."

"But...!" Disbelief tied up Alfred's trachea and an uncomfortable heat scorched over his cheeks. What kind of stupid rule was that? Alfred never threw up! In his own mind, his puking behavior was as good as nonexistent and hence nothing to speak of! Most of the calories he consumed on a daily basis stayed exactly where they belonged: inside his body! His weight proved it, now did not it?!
"I only did that a couple of times and I don't do it anymore!"

"Well, even a couple of times is a couple of times too often. And, like I said before, our rules will help you recover."

"But I don't need recovery!" Alfred's ensuring protest went unheard. His ears were burning with fiery anger and abysmally embarrassment. It was not fair that this stupid male nurse forced him to stay seated! The big girl was long gone. No-one suspected her of throwing up her food, so why did they keep Alfred in the dining room? He could understand that some of the patients at the table in the center were still here. They were all skinny and certainly used to puke their guts out on a daily basis. But Alfred? He was not like them. He was different. He was fat. He had never put enough effort into losing weight. If only he had puked more often...

Pissed, Alfred played with his fork and burned a hole in the table with his gaze. He could not describe how much he heated this place...!

Eventually, Josh said, "Your time is up." And without saying good-bye, Alfred stomped out of the room. The situation at the table next to the door had not changed. The tiny girl still struggled through her meal, while Feliciano had not even begun eating yet.

Alfred wondered how long it would take until Feliciano would returned to their room...