Hi lovelies, the idea for this fic comes from Azryla on Ao3. Go check out their profile.

English is not my first language, so please feel free to point out mistakes.

I'm shit at counting calories, never done it, couldn't really figure out how it works, but I think it would fit Lens personality quite well. So maybe I won't always get it right…

Trigger warning for Eating Disorders and self-harm and child abuse throughout the whole story. Please be safe!

This story updates a lot faster on Ao3, if you like come and visit me there!

Love Amrais

He woke up with a start.

Cold sweat was pooling on the small of his back, making his T-Shirt uncomfortably damp. He lifted the blanked and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Taking one deep breath, he tried to shake the memory of the nightmare he just had.
The room was cold and he shivered slightly in the breeze that came through the cracked window. He got up to close it.
Staring out over the black rooftops, shining slick with rain, his mind traveled back to his dream.
The dream had started with the feeling of hunger. Hunger and exhaustion so deeply, it made his head spin and his knees wobble. He had felt his fathers big hand on his nape, forcing him gently to concentrate on the huge construction plan. He blinked to moister his burning eyes. He was now awake for 22 hours and just so tiered.

"Just one more time, son. I just need you to focus on these last details and then we can go and have some Pizza. I don't know about you, but I bet your sister would love some pizza, don't you think so Len?" his father said cheerfully.

Leonard gritted his teeth and nodded. Nobody, absolutely nobody but him, would have heard the threat behind these kind words.
His father had learned a long time ago, that nothing made his son more obedient than threatening his sister. He knew that Len would die to protect Lisa, and he also knew how to use that to his advantage. Not that he was above some ordinary beating, sometimes it did the trick as well, but he never could break Leonard like this. He could starve him, beat him and still there was this quiet defiance left, this annoying proudness that he couldn't kill, no matter how hard he tried. But when he mentioned, that he would have to punish Lisa for her brothers shortcomings, Leonard would become clay in his hands. He liked the pleading look in his sons eyes, liked that he begged him, something he couldn't get out of Leonard otherwise, no matter how hard the punch, no matter how many hours without sleep or food. Funny thing was, that he never would hurt his daughter. Lisa was his everything, his little princess. And he was certain that Leonard knew that. But he did not trust him. Fair enough, he wouldn't trust himself either.

In his dream his father had chuckled when he had seen that stony expression Leonard got, when he was trying hard to suppress his emotions. Even now, wide awake and 30 instead of 13 years old, Leonard shivered, remembering his fathers cruel laugh.

That night, he was finally allowed to eat, after nearly 24 hours without food. He was hungry, he was downright starving, but he couldn't get just one slice of Pizza down. The anger and the hatred was choking him so badly, that he could barely chew without heaving. He was just lucky his father was too preoccupied with the heist he had helped to plan and didn't payed him much attention. That night was the beginning of a very messed up relationship with food.

He laid a hand on his quietly growling stomach. He was in the middle of planing a new heist, so he was generally eating very little. Lisa constantly brought him food and often would only leave after he took a few bites. Sometimes he would keep the food in his mouth and spit it back out the second she was gone, because he knew that if he consumed anything with more sustenance than water his stomach would revolt violently.

He sighed and got back to his bed. He should at least try to sleep some more, because days running on empty were fucking exhausting. He knew he had a problem, had known it the minute he couldn't eat that slice of pizza. And his problem was not his eating or to be more precise his not eating. His problem was, that he had the bad luck to have a real asshole for a father. His eating disorder and all the other stuff was just a symptom. All a symptom for the little boy inside him, screaming for help. Leonard would protect this little boy no matter the cost, just like he had protected his sister.

He woke up at six in the morning and after a quick shower and dressing in black workout clothes, he crept into the kitchen, hoping for some coffee in peace and quiet of this early hour. But no such luck, Lisa was already there and preparing breakfast.
"Good Morning", she smiled at him and he could feel the panic rise in his throat, he could not get out of eating now.

He forced himself to smile back. It was hard work, to lift the corner of his mouth, making an effort to not make it seem like a grimace.

"Did you sleep well?" His sister asked and flipped the eggs in the pan, making his stomach churn painfully.

He nodded and sat down, pouring himself a cup of coffee and unfolding the paper to build up a wall between him and the food. The smell send his stomach to do somersaults.

Lisa forced his paper aside and placed the plate with the fried eggs before him. She gave him a stern look and he slumped his shoulders in defeat. He pulled the plate close and again unfolded the paper, so his sister couldn't see, that he quietly picked up the egg with a napkin. Then he purposefully scraped his silverware over his plate, to make it seem like he was eating.
He hid the full napkin in his hoodie, fully aware that this was a risky game he was playing. He put down his paper and smiled at his sister.

"Thank you, this was delicious", he said to her, smiling painfully and finishing his last mouthful of black coffee.

He got up and kissed her on her head, consciously holding his body away from her, so she couldn't feel the stuffed napkin, that made his hoodie bulky at the kangaroo pocket.
After he got rid of the napkin, he went back to his plans, counting the seconds that it would take to get from one point to the other. Numbers had alway calmed him down. Numbers had no mood, numbers you could trust. Until now he had consumed 2 calories from the black coffee. He decided that this was a good number. One that would bring him luck.

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