He didn't mean for 'it' to start, much less for 'it' to turn into anything. Not that he really saw it as anything, but he wasn't so stupid to think that everyone else would see it how he did. But like many things, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and the snowball effect quickly grew too big for someone to overcome alone.
If asked to pinpoint exactly when it started, Alfred wouldn't be able to tell you. He could already picture people rolling their smug eyes with the assumption that it was a recent thing, a flippant decision made on a whim that was better not acted upon. Because at the end of the day, he could already hear them calling him lazy for doing it the way he did and chalk it up to attention-seeking.
But for Alfred, it seemed like the inevitable outcome and people shouldn't be so surprised. All his life he had been vaguely aware of a few ideas and usually when they were brought up he never paid much attention to them. After all, they had just never applied to him. He just never clicked with the idea that these warnings were for him.
He knew that eating too much makes you fat. Well, he 'knew' it without ever being explicitly told. That didn't make any sense, did it? People told him without telling him and that's how he knew that it was bad.
He enjoyed food but he didn't eat that much. He wasn't exactly as careful with what he ate as someone who pretended (at least, he assumed they pretended) to enjoy salads, but his eating habits weren't so bad that he needed a diet! He knew that children didn't have to worry about it too much, there's no need for them to be in shape. Being a late teen was still very much a child in many people's eyes and his own. People would always remind him that it's a good thing he's still growing while he was eating. It was rude and he shrugged it off, but the strange comments were never really forgotten.
Forget when the seeds were planted. He'd never be able to think so far back to be able to pinpoint. His whole life he'd been brushing off weird comments and vibes associated with food. If he had to choose the moment he started to take action, then he had a precise setting in mind.
He was having a frustrating, long day. Honestly, he just wanted to go home and become a vegetable on the couch as he played video games or doom-scrolled memes for the rest of the day. It was Summer break! The only thing that should be on his mind was absolutely nothing! He only had one Summer break left for the rest of his life! Well... schooling life. After that, it was the real world, and he didn't want to think about that!
Instead of enjoying himself, he was navigating thick, loud crowds following the whim of his older brother/wannabe mother as they marched between stores. Usually, the mall wasn't so aggravating, but a series of bad moments led to a bad day and now Alfred was in a bad mood. He made sure everyone knew it. Groaning and mumbling to bypass annoying derivative conversations and encourage everyone to hurry up so they could just get home already.
One thing he particularly hated was clothes shopping. Shopping just wasn't his thing, y'know? It was boring and stupid at best and grating at worst. He never knew what the big deal about clothes was but to each their own he supposed. What he really detested was being made to participate, something he made clear when Arthur demanded he tried on clothes because 'he could use them' and 'Arthur was just trying to look out for his sodding brothers', as if what Alfred had at home wasn't fine enough or he even wanted this.
There was no arguing as he sighed and accepted the pile of clothes thrust into his hands. He slinked away to the changing rooms and pulled the curtain harder than necessary. There were 3 mirrors, one to his left, right, and one directly in front of him illuminated by a soft light between them. He stared at his reflection for a moment before breaking eye contact, pushing his glasses onto his head and scrubbing at his face. As much as he wanted to just hide in there and take a breather, he wouldn't put it past his overbearing helicopter brother to walk in and check how the clothes fit. Considering how packed the line of changing rooms was, that would be super embarrassing. Everyone would be able to hear them with only a curtain for privacy.
He just wanted to get this over with.
There was a plain white shirt, no doubt for 'formal occasions'. He sighed and dumped his favourite jacket on the floor and kicked it into the corner. The pile got bigger as his shirt joined and he turned to the white pristine shirt, free of smudge marks and wrinkle lines, unlike his own clothes. Awkward fingers undid the buttons one by one and he took it off the hook. It felt strange as he put it on, but from pulling the middle together he could tell it would fit. He almost didn't 'put it on properly' by ignoring the buttons, but more time in the changing room was more time for everyone else to finish.
Doing up the too-small buttons with too-big fingers wasn't much of a challenge. With no subtlety, he started to check himself out in the mirror. He didn't look too bad! If you ignored how his faded jeans clashed - his favourite pair to throw on because he was too lazy to style - then he definitely looked smart. He was quite pleased that he found something that he could buy and felt like he achieved something on this trip. Maybe if he says yes to this dumb shirt then Arthur would finally get off his back and worry about Alfred's more cooperative brother that Arthur would demand to clothe too.
But first, he had to be sure that it was actually good. Sure, it would be all too easy to just say yes and then never wear it, but if he actually had to wear it (big if) or got a chance to wear it and impress everyone with how smart he looked, then he'd have to make sure it would fit.
He did some stretches, moving his arms from side to side, then up-
Suddenly the shirt became a crop top and his stomach was exposed to the world. Alfred 'tsked' as the fabric crunched uncomfortably and suddenly was too rough against his raw skin and his brain was screaming for him to get it off and he wasn't going to disobey those commands. His fat fingers hastily fumbled with the buttons and he internally growled at the fact that they just wouldn't come off-
Thankfully he got them off and freed his skin from the wretched piece of clothing. He tossed it aside vindictively, but now he was faced with having to try on some pants. Plain-looking black slacks, for formal occasions.
They didn't go any better.
He knew that they must be a size too small but he was determined to get them up over his thighs, but no matter his stubborn pulling he couldn't fight the taunt fabric.
He quickly got them off, irritated at the stupid garment that it just wouldn't fit right away. Now when Arthur came in and heard they were too small, he'd just go get another pair to make Alfred try on! He groaned out loud and crashed his head against the mirror. He didn't want to try on more shit, couldn't he just say no and go home? Seriously, he was almost an adult. He should be allowed to say no!
As if it were that easy. He could picture Arthur pulling the 'you live under my roof, you follow my rules' bullshit. Plus the minute Alfred turns 18 and becomes an adult, Arthur would probably charge him rent. Even if he's technically a single parent at the age of 20-something and therefore in theory sympathetic, Alfred didn't give a shit. The minute he had to pay rent the minute he was gunning for his independence.
But that wasn't really relevant and Alfred still had to try the clothes on. He sighed, loudly, uncaring who was listening to his ordeal or judging him for turning it into such a big deal.
There was still another pair of pants to try on and here he was standing in his underwear inside a cramped cupboard-sized room having a staring contest with himself in the mirror. Not wanting to be found like that and chastised for his lack of cooperation, he pulled himself away.
Alfred wanted to punch something when a pair of 'trendy' khaki pants wouldn't go further than halfway up his thighs. Seriously, did they have to be so tight?! He groaned. He wasn't that fucking fat, was he? He glared at himself in the mirror. Sure, he knew that the pants were just a little bit small, but it didn't stop him from noticing, really noticing what his body looked like.
His thighs bulged over where the pants couldn't go any further and his gut seemed a bit pudgy. The mirrors on the side weren't doing him any favours as he caught his side profile. The first image that came to his mind was a grey alien because no way was that silhouette human.
He knew that was just what he looked like and any other day he would've brushed it off and just taken it as a fact. But today, he couldn't stand it. Today was a horrible day, and he had a horrible body.
Naturally, Arthur came in then and saw the pants were too small. Apparently, she thought that was just his size. Bitterly, he wondered if that was the size he was supposed to be. Was this what he got for not taking care of himself? For eating too much and being a big slob? Would he not be subjected to this if he was just 'in shape'?
He resolved to change that ASAP.
When he got home, he claimed he didn't need dinner because today had just been so busy and he wasn't hungry. It was unusual for him to claim as such, but nobody forced anything down his throat. All he got was a raised eyebrow from Arthur, who then immediately forgot when he heard the click of a boiled kettle and Alfred slipped from the room.
So when Alfred climbed into bed that night, despite the squirming and clenching of his hungry stomach edging from distracting to painful, he felt like he was making progress. He kept repeating that in his mind as he lay awake for hours his clenched eyes as he willed himself to sleep.
When he woke up, there was a calmness inside his body and he knew he could go without breakfast too. But he broke his streak by lunch. He was hungry and microwave pizza was too good to resist. He enjoyed eating it at the time but then he felt guilty about breaking his streak over something so small. His stomach growled and demanded more, his salivating mouth chimed in as his body wondered when it would get its lunch dessert. Alfred really had to fight himself to resist. He knew where the chocolate was and he just wanted one bar... fuck, his mouth really wanted to chomp on something. But he couldn't just eat nothing, right?
So he picked an apple. Even if it was boring and he really wanted the chocolate bar. That's healthy enough right? Maybe that was a good idea. Just a couple of small changes here and there, plus going for a run around the block once a day.
Seemed fair to him. But how would he know if it's working or not?
In the end, he decided to weigh himself every day. And because he knew his memory was really shit, he'd write it down too so he wouldn't forget how much he weighed the day before.
Between missing 1 meal a day and choosing 'healthy' options, he figured it would be enough. Hopefully.
A little voice in the back of his head told him he wouldn't see real change unless he did something extreme, but Alfred was lazy and the struggles of yesterday didn't piss him off as much as they did yesterday, so he figured as long as he was trying something, it would be enough.
To his frustration, he stayed a stable weight for a couple of weeks, which was really discouraging because wouldn't he at least lose a little for his efforts? He was sacrificing chocolate for fucks sake! He hadn't had chocolate for weeks and you're telling him he hadn't lost a thing!
Figuring that it didn't make a fucking difference, he ate all the chocolate in one night while playing his favourite game instead of going for a run or something. He's missed it and it felt sooooo good in the moment.
Until he saw how the wrappers piled up. And the moment had passed. And he couldn't even taste the chocolate in his mouth anymore.
He probably didn't need to eat them all in one go. He didn't need them at all. Did he really even enjoy them? Now he had none later and despite knowing he made no progress over the past few weeks, it felt like he was going back on it anyway. Suddenly he didn't feel right anymore and an uncomfortable feeling made a home in his chest.
Fuck it, he could still balance it out. He didn't have dinner and went to bed with a churning stomach. It hurt and was hard to get comfortable, but determination filled him as he reminded himself of the calm feeling in the morning. That episode with the chocolate was the last. Alfred hoped he enjoyed it because now he was serious. He was going to lose his damn weight and finally get into shape!
His whole life he'd been asked when he was planning on getting into shape, some kind of ideal form of being that Alfred just never understood. He never understood why they asked or the way they asked, because that just implied there was something wrong with the way he was now. Like he was supposed to be somewhere else and choosing, stubbornly, not to get there. Of course, he just never thought those comments applied to him. He could move, he could run, ergo he was 'in shape'... enough. But apparently not.
He was starting to see it now. Suddenly he felt stupid for not getting it and he could feel his face heat up when he thought about how everyone must've been shaking their heads behind his back and judging him for what they probably thought was purposeful and obtuse ignorance.
Alfred stared at himself in the mirror the next morning, the early sun illuminating his room in fresh light and allowing him to examine everything with great scrutiny. Standing there in only his underwear, he could see his pudgy body for what it was. Fuck, that was what he looked like? How embarrassing. He cringed. Before, it was just his vessel, but now he knew it was more than that. He turned to his side and was disappointed when the imperfections popped out. His belly hung over a little and he should definitely stand up straighter, his spine was kinda weird and there was a bump on the back of his neck, probably from looking down at his phone so often. But he was always an optimist in the face of adversary. It gave him hope that it seemed the solution was so easy.
From now on, he'll pair his techniques. He'll swap out bad food for healthy, skip some meals, go for runs, and force himself to have good posture and hold his phone higher so his neck doesn't bulge out. Hopefully, that would make a difference.
Being consciously aware of all this stuff is really exhausting. Alfred's back hurt from forcing the posture but he really didn't want to slump. Sitting normally before never felt weird, but being mindful of where his body was at all times made him feel like he'd been weird all this time and now he didn't know how to sit normally. Could everyone else see it? Were they just politely not saying anything?
He'd have to figure out how people sit before he goes back to school.
Or sooner, because he thought he saw Arthur giving him weird looks and while Alfred pretended not to notice, he couldn't ignore the way his heart sped up and his hands clammed up.
Holding a phone at eye level so he didn't look down really made his arms hurt, he never knew he was so weak and was disappointed in himself. But maybe if he kept at it then it'd tone his arms because they were kinda flabby. It felt like morbid curiosity to look at the bag of fat on the underside of where his biceps should be. With each movement of his arm, no matter how small or exaggerated, it swung and juggled and with detached contempt, Alfred detested that it was attached to him.
But most people had fat on their arms, right? That didn't make him feel any better about having it attached to his body though. He just hoped no one noticed it as much as he did. Now that he knew it was there, every time he checked himself in the mirror he couldn't tear his eyes away.
Alfred managed to switch out bad foods for good though. It was relieving to be able to do at least one thing right. His body adjusted to not having breakfast. It wasn't a good idea to miss so many dinners. Because it was Summer break, his breakfast was actually lunch, so no one would notice him skip. When school came back, he'd still be able to skip because everyone was busy in the mornings and couldn't keep track. It was less risky to skip than dinner and now his body was already adjusted for when school started again!
Going for runs actually went well and he found himself getting faster and faster. It did wonders for his motivation and soon he was adding on one block after another to really tire himself out. No matter how tired he got, he forced himself to keep going. More running meant less weight after all.
He didn't weigh himself for a month while he mixed all his tactics together. He didn't want to be disappointed when there wasn't a massive change day after day, so he figured that if he just waited he'd be blown away by his progress. As time passed he became more nervously excited to see how he did and he couldn't stop betting on the number. He had to have lost 30 pounds (~13 kg). At least. With that number in his mind, he felt like all his hard work was worth it. After all, what's a Summer break without constant snacking?
So this morning, Alfred was prepared to be blown away by how much he'd lost since the last time he stepped on the scales aaaaaand... he saw he lost a grand total of 8 pounds. (~3.6 kg)
Are you fucking kidding me?
That's hardly anything! He had googled how much someone his age should weigh and he's 44 pounds overweight! (~20 kg). The exact number is irrelevant, but tears pricked in his eyes when he saw he still weighed over 200 pounds! (~90kg).
And all he could lose was 8 measly little pounds. That was fucking nothing.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Alfred kept muttering as he stared at the number. "Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck me!"
Alfred glowered at the scale and smushed his shoe into it to either punish it or make him feel better. It did neither.
He balled his hands up as his face contorted in frustration. So what the hell was all that work for then! If he hardly lost a fucking thing why did he put in so much effort?! He's tempted to throw the scales out of the window, but the logical part of his mind reminds him that he needed it and how else would he tell if he lost weight? Plus Arthur would never shut the fuck up if Alfred broke something and whenever Arthur was breathing down his neck, Alfred was always stressed. Stressed equalled eating so he really should avoid that.
But back to losing weight, he still needed to lose it. Though it seems he would only lose the weight by magical means! Because seriously, what the fuck? Life was so unfair!
Feeling bitter and wanting to bring himself comfort, he stormed to the kitchen with only one goal in mind: chocolate. He was a little put off when he came face to face with his distorted mirror image.
"You alright eh?" Matthew asked as he ate a pancake omelette, which Alfred could not take his eyes off, even as Matthew read Alfred's mind and partially shielded it. Fuck chocolate, he was scabbing his twin's food!
Wait. He was so stupid. How could he forget he had a twin? He supposed it was fair, considering they didn't share a room and they both did their own thing most of the time. But this meant he had a frame of reference for what he could be if he actually tried. Matthew!
Matthew was 'in shape' and Alfred was always being compared to him. Though usually, it was about their temperament. Intelligence or cleanliness, sometimes it was about the fact that Matthew played a lot of sports and Alfred played e-sports and it showed in their bodies. Not that Alfred really noticed their bodies before, they both work oversized and baggy things. Alfred was never seen without his cool-ass bomber jacket and Matthew had a cozy maple hoodie so it wasn't like Alfred saw a major difference between their bodies anyway.
It wasn't like he was ever looking. That was probably weird. He didn't know, he just never thought about it and now he was considering how weird it would be.
The chocolate and pancakes were still at the forefront of his mind - because he's Alfred and he's always thinking about food ha ha ha - but now he was focused on his goal of seeing what his body could look like! If it was just normal for his body to look this way, then so would Matthew's! Alfred would have to find out what Matthew looked like before he undid all his progress by having some yummy, yummy food. Because if it was so hard for him to lose weight, then maybe he was meant to look like this. So before he gave up, he needed to scheme a scheme to find out what he needed to know.
"I'm booooooored," Alfred slumped in the chair opposite his twin, his eyes drawn to the movement of his brother moving the pancake out of reach. "Did you wanna go swimming or something?"
"Swimming?" Matthew repeated suspiciously. What the hell was so suspicious about it?
"Yeah, we haven't been to the swimming centre before and I'm bored so why not? We haven't hung in ages!"
It was probably his fault they weren't as close as they could be. He prioritised video games and doom-scrolling over everything and could waste the entire day away. Sure, Matthew would join him here and there if he was playing a multiplayer game and they'd get super competitive and have a lot of fun, but ultimately Matthew just didn't love video games as much as Alfred did and wouldn't play them day in and day out.
Luckily Alfred didn't need to push hard to get what he wanted. Maybe Matthew was bored or didn't have anything else to do, but he agreed with a shrug.
Alfred scrambled together what he needed in his room. He got a towel and goggles and changed into his swimming trunks. He stepped in front of the mirror and for the first time Alfred could ever recall, he was nervous to go out because of what he was wearing. Was that weird? He blinked as he thought about how that insecurity was stereotypical of a teenage girl. Would it be sexist to assume this was only a girl's problem? Did boys ever worry about things like this? He assumed they didn't because he hadn't ever heard a boy complain. Or maybe boys weren't meant to complain? So he sighed and resolved to make sure no one knew he even thought about it. That would be weird anyway and he didn't want people thinking he was weird. Or looked weird...
His bottom half looked fine, being covered by shorts and all, but his top half... his stomach seemed to spill over the hem of the shorts and his arms were still flappy. He frowned and wondered if he should put a shirt on or something. But then that would be weird. Why would he need to wear a shirt? He never did before and it wasn't like he was protecting his skin from the sun inside a covered building... but he just wanted to put on a shirt. He didn't want to see what he looked like and he didn't want Matthew to see or be grossed out if he did look bad. Alfred wanted to see Matthew, not the other way around!
Would that be weird without context?
But he had already made up his mind. No matter what the results were and if Matthew's body looked just like his, Alfred still couldn't accept looking this way. It was gross and he was gross.
A scheme came to him, if Matthew was wearing a shirt then Alfred would put on one too, so he didn't look weird not wearing one. Yeah, that sounded good. He ignored how he found himself hoping Matthew was wearing one as he went to check on his brother.
"Come in," Matthew said as Alfred rapped on his door and Alfred kicked it open. Matthew was sitting on his bed and shoving his stuff in a bag... and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Alfred's plastered smile faltered when he realized that now it would be weird if he put one on, especially when Matthew just saw him without one. Fuck, he should've thought that through. But he really wanted to cover up. If people saw him and Matthew side by side then their differences would be as bright as day and Alfred felt shame in knowing people would notice.
But he didn't know for certain if Matthew looked any different from him, for all he knew-
Matthew stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. Alfred could see exactly what he wanted to and suddenly he wished he didn't. Matthew was certainly 'in shape' and more fit than Alfred would ever be. He wasn't chubby or pudgy, he was lean and slim and Alfred felt bloated standing right there-
"Are we going?" Matthew asked, confusion on his face as to why Alfred was zoning out. Good thing he didn't notice his brother staring at his body and Alfred quickly snapped his act back together.
"Sure are! Lemme grab my shit."
When he came back, he was holding his bag in front of himself and his spine was pulled as taunt as he could get it in a desperate attempt at 'posture' (what even is 'posture' anyway? The word doesn't feel like a word anymore). He didn't want Matthew to notice what a slob he was. When they walked into the centre, the bag stayed protectively right in front of him. He clutched onto it when they walked along the edge of the pool and passed all the parents sitting there with arms or legs crossed and with sunglasses over their eyes which only had Alfred catch his own reflection when he looked their way... He only parted with the bag to get into the water and hoped that between leaving it on the seat at getting in, no one noticed and judged him.
Seeing his not-so-identical twin be wayyy better than him not only ignited a slight jealousy that wasn't there before, but also really motivated him to stop being a pudgy freak. He spent most of his time in water deeper than his shoulders, miserable and motivated as he schemed.
Once they got back home, Alfred didn't eat anything for the rest of the day. It was very difficult but he did it. Instead of eating, he ran around the blocks until his knees were knocking and he was tired enough to sleep on the sidewalk. Only then was he satisfied that would finally make a difference.
When the next day came, his stomach was churning. He really didn't want to give in, not after all that effort, so he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. He couldn't be hungry if he was sleeping. Only the hunger pains kept him from getting comfortable and gifted him a headache. He sighed and couldn't help but think of all the delicious cereals waiting for him in the kitchen... so quick and easy to grab, nice to munch...
He resolved that he'd have lunch, a nice healthy lunch, but until then he had to distract himself from eating. Maybe drinking would suffice until then, you couldn't gain weight from water, right? He drank a whole cup of water and then jumped into the shower. He got out feeling refreshed and stepped on the scales. He hadn't magically dropped by any great number, it had only been a day, but Alfred still felt disappointed. He noted the number and when he got to his room he collapsed into his wheely chair and wrote the number down with all the others. It had been some time since he had regularly recorded but suddenly all he wanted to do was take notes on it obsessively. For some reason, he couldn't wait for tomorrow when he'd weigh himself again and found himself looking forward to filling out the week.
He looked over the numbers he had already wrote and frowned. Maybe it was normal for weight to fluctuate a little each day, but as long as it was moving in a downward trend then he'd be alright with it. Taking out some paper, he drew a graph of all the previous numbers and dates. It seemed rather stagnant until he didn't weigh himself for a month and it dropped in comparison, quite a lot. But not enough. He could stand to lose more. He patted a hand against his stomach and cringed when it jiggled. He could grab it with his fist and it made him feel sick, cringing at the change of taste in his mouth when he felt the fat flesh.
He drew another graph. If he measured each day then maybe it would make him feel better, make him feel like he was making progress. He resolved to weigh himself every day. At the very least it would keep him motivated.
A week passed, far too slowly considering how each day was a battle and the kitchen cupboards were far too close and convenient. While Alfred may be a lazy slob, he was also stubborn as hell and he wanted to stick this through more than he initially thought. Resisting sweet, sweet sugary food was all worth it though and Alfred was pleased that his graph was slowly inching down. Not as fast as he would like, but progress was progress. It did make him wonder how much more efficient he could be though. He felt like he should be doing more.
But he didn't know what else to do. It already felt like he was doing a lot and he was finally getting results that validated that. What else could he do? Once he had the question in his mind, he knew he would be stewing until he had an answer.
But that wasn't the only thing he was stewing over when something else came to his attention. Something he forgot, or didn't realise changed everything and he needed a way to deal with it, fast or he risked backtracking all the effort he painstakingly went through!
Every week or so, Arthur demanded they have a family dinner. Even before Alfred started all these changes he found these family dinners to be fucking annoying and it grated on his nerves how Arthur just whimsically tried to play happy family every now and again and Alfred was just supposed to play along.
He supposed the family dinners were entertaining enough, in theory. Alfred and Arthur got along in the strangest way, but it was always entertaining for everyone involved. Well, maybe not Arthur, because when he and Alfred got into arguments he seemed genuinely invested in making his point as loud as possible as if he could really convince Alfred otherwise. It probably was only entertaining for Alfred, because he knew Matthew wasn't impressed by the conflict he caused.
But at the end of the day, it didn't really matter. Dinner always came to an end (eventually) and when it was a family dinner, it meant a feast. Or at least what Alfred had pretended was a feast in the past. If anything, there were just a few modest options to choose from and Alfred just saw it as an upgrade from the usual everyone-for-themselves routine that applied to any other day of the week.
In the past he always looked forward to these family dinners because Matthew would cook a few options to outnumber Arthurs and put something edible on the table, which Alfred always appreciated. He never cooked anything himself but he didn't need to when Matthew really enjoyed it and always insisted that he was fine with labouring for so long and making so much.
He really was the better twin, wasn't he? Alfred felt guilty at the thought. He just hoped no one else noticed how little he gave and how much he took...
Who was he kidding? Of course they noticed.
Aaaaand with that in mind, Alfred resolved to figuring out how to approach family dinner. Not only was there no way not to get away with not eating, Alfred wanted to eat it and enjoy the food but he really didn't want to undo any progress. He lost 5 pounds (~2kg) this week and he wasn't about to put it back on by being a greedy dumbass. He would just take a reasonable amount and stop eating once he wasn't hungry. He didn't need to be full, just not hungry.
And while he was at it, he would thank his brother for pulling both of their weights because Alfred didn't contribute at all, as usual.
Arthur had made a salad, as usual, along with some other things that looked healthy. Alfred eyed them and questioned his sanity. Usually, Alfred would ignore the salad as a valid option but with great dismay, he thought he should at least consider it. He did, then remembered that Arthur made it and decided that it was not on the menu for him.
"So, how have you been?" Arthur asked as he put the salad on the table and engaged in the traditional small talk that was boring and stupid as fuck.
Alfred shrugged. He didn't really have a lot to say. There was only one thing on his mind daily but it wouldn't be smart to say that. It would make the conversation weird and he might be oblivious at times but he knew it was inappropriate to voice things like that about himself. He wouldn't want it to be taken the wrong way after all.
"Just video games y'know, what's new?"
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Right, of course. I dread to see the energy bill after you go back to school," Arthur said, sounding disappointed and Alfred glanced away with annoyance and a little guilt. Arthur just sighed and changed the subject.
"Now, are you going to at least try my salad this time? I know you think healthy food is boring, but I think you might appreciate the dressing. At the very least, it would be good for you."
Alfred's stomach sank. It would be good for him, wouldn't it? He should, shouldn't he? He didn't want to, but life was apparently full of doing things you don't want to do and he'd come this far... if he had to do it, then so be it.
"I'm not hearing you say no. Good lord, do you have a temperature or something?" Arthur muttered and placed a hand on Alfred's forehead. Suddenly Alfred was more irritable than he'd ever been when just arguing, at least not when actually fighting with Arthur. Proper fights were rare, but usually they had more warning than just coming out of nowhere.
"Why the fuck did you ask if I'm not allowed to say yes then?" He exploded and felt like shit when Arthur flinched back, yanking his hand away in surprise before a stormy expression came onto his face.
"Because I'm making conversation, brat. And I'm looking out for you by suggesting you take better care of yourself! Do you want to eat yourself into an early grave?"
"If you think that eating is so bad then why don't you tell me not to eat your stupid salad?!"
Matthew tried to break them up but Alfred just ignored his annoying glare. No doubt he thought Alfred was starting drama for no reason for something stupid like attention and not because Arthur was being an asshole!
Their fight didn't last much longer anyway. Not when Arthur suddenly decided to snap and put his foot down. He actually sent Alfred to his room and Alfred had to keep the shock from his face. Easy enough to do when his mouth suddenly sneered and he stormed away. He wasn't doing it because he was obedient, he was going it to get away from fucking Arthur.
Though the second he turned, Arthur decided he would keep on yapping.
"If you don't apologise for starting problems, then you'll be missing dinner!"
Alfred gave him the finger, because fuck that! Why the hell should he apologise when Arthur started it just as much as Alfred did! In the past, withholding dinner was only a threat Arthur had resorted to in order to keep the table peaceful. It was only ever used against him though, supposedly because it was only effective against him. 'Alfred loved food' and if you controlled the food you controlled Alfred.
But not tonight. He groaned and stomped to his room, kicking the door closed and flopping onto his bed with his arms crossed while he pouted. But the anger was only on the surface, inside he was elated because he just realised how clever he'd unintentionally been. Fuck, he's a genius.
If he didn't apologise, it wouldn't be all that strange or suspicious because he was so stubborn. If he didn't apologise, he wouldn't have to eat tonight and he won't accidentally go back on everything he'd done so far! Genius! All he had to do was pick a fight with Arthur every time he came and then he wouldn't have to worry about eating. Now that he thought about that sentence, that was a first. But he supposed he had to grow up sometime. Long gone are the days when he ate whatever he liked without consequences.
He spent some time scrolling on his phone and tuning out the muffled noises coming from the other side of his door as Arthur and Matthew chatted without him. Alfred just tuned them out, he didn't want to hear about how Arthur preferred to eat with Matthew over him. So Alfred just distracted himself with his phone.
Alfred had almost forgotten about what was going on in the other room when Arthur strutted into his room, arms crossed and stuck up scowl on his face. Alfred sighed and threw his phone down as he prepared himself for whatever was about to go down.
"You're more stubborn than I give you credit for," Arthur sighed and leaned against the door, raising a single eyebrow. "Though I must say I'm surprised. I thought you'd suck it up and apologise because your appetite came before your ego."
Alfred could feel his face contorting into offended annoyance at the jab. Could Arthur just get the fuck out of his room? He didn't need to come in here just to taunt him.
"Fine, have it your way. Don't apologise. I'll be the bigger person and let your moment of teenage angst go so you can still have dinner. Lord knows how grumpy you would be if you don't get to stuff your gob."
The annoyance bubbled into bitterness inside of Alfred. He had a plan and now Arthur was ruining it! And for what? Because it would make him feel like he's better than Alfred? The teen bit his tongue as he thought about how he was meant to respond. He had to tread carefully here because if he was too suspicious, then he'd give himself away and he really didn't want to get in trouble for what he was trying to do. The last thing he needed was for someone to try and stop him from achieving his goal.
In the end, he didn't get a choice. His hesitation was too long and Arthur sighed and threw his hands up.
"Well, it's not like I was expecting gratitude! Forgive me for expecting some manners, a simple 'thanks' would do. Suit yourself, but you'd better come out of your moody cave sometime soon or there won't be anything left for you to eat."
Arthur stepped out and left the door open a sliver instead of fully shutting it and Alfred glared. Fuck, his brother could be so pretentiously annoying sometimes. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled as he thought about not going out there. His hand formed a fist, his blunt nails dug into his palm and he punched his bed. Fuuuuck, seemed he'd be going out there.
Stepping out of his room to see his brothers were already sitting around the table gave him the strange sense that he was being evaluated. With their eyes on his, his annoyance skyrocketed and he had to fight to stop it from becoming full-blown anger. He had to stop everyone from noticing how much of a foul mood he was in for he'd have explaining to do as to why he felt so entitled to be angry. Because Alfred loves food and should be happy he gets to eat.
So he choked it down and took his seat.
There was a sizeable portion of the shared plates missing, but there was still food on his brother's plates so they hadn't been eating for long. Maybe they had been too busy talking... probably about him. Alfred swallowed back any worry for what they were saying and focused on the task at hand.
At least Arthur didn't demand that Alfred say grace, so he could think in peace. Usually with every shared meal, they said grace and everyone lunged towards the food, desperate to scab what they had a hankering for before someone else did. Usually, Alfred was always the swiftest and most aggressive, Matthew a close second because polite courtesy did not apply to hunger and damn could his twin get hangry.
He distantly wondered if anyone ever said comments to Matthew about his appearance or weight, or if it was just Alfred.
That was irrelevant now. This time Alfred was the last one to put something on his plate and never before had he hesitated like this. Everyone moved on instinct while he was rooted in his chair actually thinking about what he could eat. Conversation started around him, but he couldn't focus as the thoughts in his head consumed him. His eyes were stuck on the food and he was terrified to look anywhere else. All he could do was imagine everyone was staring at him with judgment. Judging him for acting weird... wow he really needed to get a grip and put up an act. But he could also see them judging him for piling up his plate and polishing it clean. That was something he vowed would be a thing of the past but he could still imagine what everyone was thinking, unknowingly to him at the time. He hadn't really considered it at the time, he was just enjoying the food. But no doubt he grossed everyone out. Always the one to take the last drink and slice of pizza. He could only imagine what a critical Arthur was holding back, no doubt thinking he was virtuous for holding his tongue and not pointing out how his little brother was putting on unnecessary weight. Alfred wondered what Matthew was thinking, no doubt keeping silent to keep the peace and feeling like he was the bigger person by pretending it wasn't his business.
Arthur probably favoured Matthew over him. He only needed one good twin, right? Matthew was active, fit, and went outside instead of playing video games all day. Arthur openly praised him for that, so who knows what else... Matthew probably knew what grass felt like. To top it off he was polite and didn't complain half as much as Alfred. Yeah, if it was Alfred's choice, he'd have a favourite too.
"Alfred, you should call an electrician because I believe the wiring upstairs is faulty."
"Huh," Alfred blinked and focused on Arthur, who had a thick eyebrow raised in his direction as he ate.
"He's calling you an NPC," Matthew added helpfully. Alfred couldn't help but feel cornered under their scrutinised gazes.
"Sure, that," Arthur sighed. "Go to bed early tonight. I doubt it would do any good but there must really be something wrong with you if you're hesitating to eat."
Alfred didn't really feel like eating. Sure, he was hungry and the smells were tempting, but he didn't really want to actually put it in his stomach. But tonight was okay, because he had to. Plus it was only one night. If he ate a lot today then he'd just eat less tomorrow. That seemed reasonable. Yes, that was a plan.
"I just didn't know what to eat first, 's'all," Alfred snarked and he put some things on his plate. A little bit of each salad and a small cut of each meat. Maybe if he got a variety and spread it out a bit it might look like his usual portion of 'a lot.' But the idea of that still made him feel guilty. Seeing just how much he used to casually eat visualised out in front of him made him hate himself for eating himself into this predicament in the first place. If he just held back a little bit (well, a lot actually), then he wouldn't have to work so hard now to get himself to where he should be.
But when Arthur politely and routinely asked him about whatever current game he was playing, Alfred was able to take his mind off of his obsession as he moved on to another one and in great detail described the exploits of his video adventure.
He was too busy talking that eating just happened naturally. It was comforting and he enjoyed the taste. When his plate was empty it was hardly a hard decision to add some more. It was second nature and he put no real thought into it. After all, he was going to eat it. His mind wasn't fully present to stop him or beg him otherwise with reason.
It was only after, when his parents were packing up the leftovers and wrapping things up that Alfred realised that he could've just kept on eating, and it wasn't because he was hungry. He was eating because it was there and it was something to do. He felt too warm as he tried to figure out just how much he ate and why the hell did he eat so much? His body was burning and he was too hot for his own skin. His stomach felt too heavy and out of place and Alfred wished he didn't eat all that. Paranoia settled in as he just wanted to break away and jump on the scales to figure out just how much he set himself back.
He took steadying breaths. Why was he getting so upset? If he lost the weight before, he can lose it again? Besides, it was only one night.
He kept repeating that in his head. The taste of the delicious food on his tongue had turned to ash and the satisfaction had worn off. He was hyper-aware of how his stuffed body felt when he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, rationalising that he was taking this too far, that feeling this shit was wrong but also entirely his fault.
Of course, he felt shit. A grown adult didn't need to eat as much as he did. He just won't eat that much again.
He didn't eat that much again, but-
After family dinner, he swung the pendulum as far as he could the other way. He ate as little as possible and only stuck to a few very boring, healthy options when he did.
But eventually, the pendulum snapped and he fell back into bad habits.
It all started when he saw that Matthew put away some blocks of chocolate in the cupboard. Although Alfred really missed chocolate, he knew he couldn't have it. It was a 'bad' food and he didn't need it. But he just couldn't stop thinking about it.
In the end, he decided it was okay if he had one row. Sure it was full of sugar and sugar was bad, but he didn't have that much to eat today so it wouldn't actually affect his weight, right?
So he paused his video game and snuck into the kitchen. No one was there to see him break off a singular row and return to the game. He played for a couple of minutes before he paused the game again. The row he had was gone and it wouldn't really matter if he had another, right? He went back into the kitchen, opened the cupboard and snapped a row before putting it back. It tasted soooooo good and it melted in his mouth and it was gone before he even unpaused the game. He played for a few minutes as he enjoyed the lingering taste in his mouth. He hadn't had anything overly sugary for the past forever! It had been beyond difficult not to give in, but with most things hidden in the cupboards, it had been out of sight and out of mind.
He kept playing the game but couldn't stop tapping his foot. He itched to pause the game but he didn't want to have more. Two rows were more than enough.
But he could enjoy more.
He wanted to focus on the game and kept playing, but somehow he couldn't become fully immersed.
He paused the game.
Somehow, he was hardly surprised when after so many trips, he was holding the empty wrapper of what was once a full block of chocolate only half an hour ago.
shit
shit shit shit shitshtiishsihtshtishitsshit
It had just been so easy to keep eating once he had the taste of chocolate in his mouth. Each row was hardly big enough to really enjoy the taste and it was all gone too soon.
Alfred buried the wrapper in the outside bin so no one would see what he'd done. He didn't go back to his game, he couldn't enjoy it anymore, so instead he locked himself in his room as he paced and pulled at his hair.
He didn't mean to do that. He didn't mean to do that! His eyes burned as he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Why couldn't he stop himself? Fuck, was that going to show up on his graph? Pacing back and forth only made him restless. Fine, he slipped up, but it was only one slip-up, right? He could still work it off. Today was just a cheat day. A reward for losing another 10 pounds (~4.5kg) in the past week. He dressed in his athletic gear and left through his window. Who knows what his brothers would say if they knew he was going to exercise.
All Alfred had to do was work it off and he'd be fine. He'd just have to make sure it didn't happen again.
It happened again. Not immediately, thank fuck, because he'd never be able to forgive himself if he sabotaged his efforts again so soon. But no, it was a week later when he woke up to a glorious smell wafting through the house and what he should've done was lock himself in his room and try to fall back asleep. Going back to sleep had been working most mornings whenever the threat of pigging out on food was too big to handle. But he didn't go back to sleep. No, instead his sleep-addled mind dragged his zombie-like body out of his cozy warm bed to go check it out. Matthew was making pancakes. And since his twin was in a good mood, he was happy to share.
One thing led to another and Alfred ate the pancakes. He shouldn't have even had one. He was no longer hungry in the mornings so he didn't even need to eat it. But he did and he had another, then another, then another- Each covered in a new topping that made him crave another. One with ice cream and strawberry sauce, one with a shitton of crunchy sugar and lemon juice, one soaked with maple syrup because if he didn't then Matthew would use up all the syrup and Alfred couldn't let that happen-
He felt sick afterwards. When he returned to his room Alfred turned the mirror around. He was too upset to even look at himself. He wanted to pull at his hair and scrub at his eyes because he just couldn't resist. He had been losing weight too! His graph was going to be so fucked up! How could he keep the weight off if he just loved food too much?
He fell back onto his bed as his breaths came out short and rough. He ached to take back the action, to make things right. But he just couldn't do the right thing for himself no matter how hard he tried. Why couldn't he just not be fat?
He wanted to eat, he wanted to taste. But he didn't want the consequences that came with it. He needed a solution before he sabotaged himself again. He didn't trust himself at all and didn't want to touch it again.
Until he came up with a solution, he would just have to try not to eat at all. He would only eat if he absolutely had to. He knew he had to eat something, it was just a matter of what and when. But until he worked out a better system he was safer not eating at all.
Surely he would come up with a solution before he starved to death.