Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lance sighed, his face down on his apartment table. His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were baggy. He knew he was in college, but damn, he felt so tired. Since his slip up, he’s been feeling tired every day.

When you go to college, a lot of people say your worries will go away because you’ll have other things to concentrate on. That isn’t completely wrong—he has been focusing on his studies to the point where it was a distraction from all his other issues, not to mention all the therapy he went through was paying off. But that doesn’t change the fact that those issues are still there, and he has bad days...

Looking down, he grabbed the edge of his baggy hoodie and drew it further away from him. It didn’t cling to him, but he wanted it to distort what he could see as much as possible. He could see his tan thighs coming out of his blue shorts and frowned, poking at them. Even though he knew he was sitting down, he still thought they looked too big.

Initially, his first thoughts were self-deprecating ones. Mostly about how he should go on a small diet; that people probably thought his body looked weirdly proportioned, especially his legs. There was also the helpless feeling of not controlling how others perceive him, whether it’d be how he looked or another thing that he really had no power over.

A small frown spread on his face at the spiraling thoughts, a small rise of anxiety sprouting in his chest. He took a shaky breath and shook his head—things are going badly, but he could still bounce back from this. This is just a setback, even though the swirling feeling in his empty stomach is screaming at him that he’s a failure and to just give up recovery.

His disorder liked to make him feel like starving himself was a way to make his body more appealing, that it was a way to have more control over his life. But after so many years, he started to just recognize it as another lie.

Reluctantly, he got up, his body making him sway a bit and his mind going blank for a moment. Quickly, he scrambled to hold onto the table for support, muttering a quiet, “Crap...” And then squeezing his eyes shut until it was over.

Luckily, it didn’t last too long before the lightheadedness was over, allowing him to freely walk to the kitchen. The idea of eating food made his tummy twist in all the wrong ways, especially since he’s been eating less for the past week after he was doing so good with his therapy plan, but he couldn’t help it.

The shame was ebbing at him a bit, making him feel like he failed again, but he tried to push it out. A little voice that suspiciously sounded like Keith in his mind, saying, “You’re dwelling too much; get up and move forward,” A small huff of laughter came from him as the thought came into mind—that is something Keith would say.

Opening his and Keith’s fridge, he felt a pang of disappointment but unhealthy relief at the lack of food. All there was were eggs, almond milk, Jongga kimchi, and leftover rice. Yikes, he forgot they’ve been putting off grocery shopping. His avoidance of the fridge and overreliance on those Walgreen health-fiber cookies made him not realize they were in a major need of a shopping trip.

As he moved the few foods around, as if something would magically appear, a small thought popped into his head.

‘It’d be easy to just skip eating... There’s nothing anyway... It’s not your fault if there’s nothing you could eat...’

The thought made him pause his movements, his teeth slowly biting his lip as the words processed. That thought wasn’t exactly wrong... He could just skip eating today... Not eating wasn’t exactly bad, right? His thighs have gained weight... It’d be helpful, and even if he did want to eat, there was nothing left he’d want to eat, right?

The apartment was quiet all except for the sound of his breathing and the beat of his heart. If anyone could hear it, they’d think he was contemplating murder or something instead of if he should skip a meal or not. In honesty, the way his mind sometimes thought about food, he might as well think it's the same.

He gripped the fridge tightly, his lips pressed together tightly as he stayed frozen in contemplation.

Finally, after standing there for what felt like too long... He closed the fridge.

But he wasn’t going to give up this quickly.

Another voice that sounded like Keith, antithetical to the one that tried to worm him out of eating, spoke, “Don’t make excuses for yourself. Even if it’s hard—everything in life is hard. You matter more than a hurtful, easier decision. Just think about it Lance.” It scolded and Lance cursed whatever little mini-Keith that was plaguing his brain but also thanked him for making him chose healthier options for himself.

His stomach gave a rumble, and he winced, wrapping his arm around his middle. God... it has been a few days since he really, truly ate something that wasn’t a quick “health” food from a pharmacy. He didn’t realize how badly he was treating his body until it slowly caught back up to him, like it always does.

A small ache started spreading onto his forehead and he grimaced, placing a hand on the front of his face. Another headache, just like the one he got yesterday.

The mini-Keith started speaking again, “Would something helpful actually be making you sick, Lance? This isn’t health or a beauty hack, you’re killing yours--”

But then Lance threw his head back and spoke out loud to himself, “Okay! Fine! You are so dramatic! Gosh, I can’t even get away from you in my head, I’ll make better decisions. Jeez...” And if his neighbors asked if he was speaking to a mental health motivator of his boyfriend in his head, he’ll absolutely deny it.

He moved from the small apartment kitchen and into the living room, plopping on the couch. The couch was a dark blue and a steal for the price and condition, of course Lance got it; he was a good immigrant boy, which meant not extra money spending.

Next to him were soft, fuzzy red blankets that he grabbed and wrapped around himself to help warm up his cold body—they smelt like Keith and that always made him feel better.

Lance let out a small whine and curled up to himself a bitter and murmured, “I forgot how sick not eating makes me feel...” And shivered, feeling the ache in his head spread. Even though he didn’t feel good right now, his wanting to get better mindset reminded him that discomfort like this were just more reasons to get out of his relapse.

His brain fogged up, but he was able to remember some good coping skills...

With a shaky hand, he reached into his short pocket and pulled out his phone, a light blue phone case with a shark charm hanging on it. He powered his phone on, being met with Keith’s grumpy face wearing his hoodie and looking up at the camera, looking too cute for someone with a mullet.

Maybe if they made Keith face shaped cookies, he might eat those when his anorexia was getting to him... But maybe that’d also scare his boyfriend off. Oh well.

Swiping to his message app, he opened his boyfriend’s contact and then faked out typing, trying to hype himself up.

A small pang of guilt hit his chest, and he furrowed his brows as he starred at the screen. ‘I shouldn’t bother him with this... He’s already really stressed... It’s my fault I chose to starve myself... Maybe I deserve...--’

‘No. Don’t think like that.’

He shook his head and started typing, his mind struggling to remember what he was even doing or thinking with his ADHD and then added brain fog. Luckily, it came back to him after he thought hard, and he sent Keith a message.

‘babe, can you pick up a medianoche sandwich and yuca with mojo from that small cuban place I like pretty please? I’m not having a good brain day...’ He texted, the guilt still chasing him, but he tried to push it aside. Keith told him to text him when his anorexia was bad and he needed a comfort food to eat; Lance was always hesitant to do it at first, but after a while of dating, it got easier.

Surely enough, his phone made a little noise and his boyfriend’s message popped up. ‘Okay. I can do that. Dw. You okay?’ The dry texting always made Lance laugh a bit. Keith wasn’t the best talked whether it’d be in person or over text. It was cute though, endearing.

His fingers slid across the screen as he messaged back. ‘Just a bad brain day :/ well few days. eating has been hard.’ The message was honest but wasn’t springing anything on Keith unexpectedly. He didn’t want to overwhelm him or worry him too much, wherever he was; he told Lance earlier, but he forgot.

It seemed he wasn’t too busy though because he replied back fast, ‘don’t do anything stupid. I love you. Ill grab your food. Anything else you need?’ Somehow Keith knew how to balance his blunt personality with also being caring in his own way and it was exactly what Lance needed; a friend, a boyfriend, to be supportive in their own way without coddling him or dismissing him.

He hummed and thought of other things from his coping list, like distraction, and decided that would be a good idea while he ate. ‘i just want to watch a movie and cuddle with my boy ;)’ He typed shamelessly.

It actually took another moment for Keith to text back, and Lance chuckled quietly because he could tell Keith probably got flustered. ‘Mhm. We can do that. Ill be there in 30. Just got out of class.’ Ah, that’s where he was.

Shifting on the couch, he laid on his stomach and messaged back, ‘awesome! I miss you’ He felt all gooey messaging his boyfriend, but he always kind of felt that way with Keith. Having a boyfriend, especially his boyfriend, was the best.

He got a simple, ‘<3’ in return but it filled him with immense joy because he knows Keith doesn’t use those for anyone else but him.

To kill time, Lance got up to do something else. If he stayed in once place like earlier, then he might spiral into more self-destructive thoughts. His anxiety loved boredom, and he really didn’t want to ruminate when he should be doing something to feel better.

His eyes lit up as he thought exactly of what he could do to feel better.

Wasting no time, he skipped along and went to their bathroom, seeing various skin care products everywhere. For the past few days since his slip up, he hasn’t had the energy to do his skin care, but he knew if he did it, he’d feel better. He figured if he was unhappy with his body, he could find healthier, more fun alternatives to like it.

For the next thirty minutes, he used various products; cleansers, exfoliators, and toners on his face, then manicured his nails and finished off by plucking his eyebrows a bit. He sighed in content and relief when he started to feel refreshed, a bit more confident than before. He looked in the mirror to see what he liked about himself. A small smile graced his features when he felt his soft skin and perfectly shaped eyebrows, a hint of admiration towards himself.

In therapy, he learned it was good to find things about his body that he likes that he wouldn’t want to change. He also learned that if he couldn’t fix something he didn’t like in under thirty minutes, then he should learn to accept that part of himself instead of forcing a change. Any forced change on his body is an unhealthy one.

However, his self-love time was pleasantly interrupted by the sound of their door opening. His face lit up as he scrambled to close all the floral containers of skincare and he rushed into the living room.

When he entered, he saw his boyfriend kicking his thrifted combat boots off and holding a bag that had a savory, tangy, sweet scent entering Lance’s nostrils from where he stood. The appetite he’d been lacking for days started resurfacing at the scent of his favorite food and his mouth watered.

Keith turned and saw his boyfriend, giving a small smile. “Hey, Lance. I got your food—I also got, I think it’s bah-bi-doh?” He guessed questioningly, holding an orange drink in a clear plastic cup.

A small laugh came from Lance, and he carefully took the drink and then sipped it. He hummed and said, “I think you mean batidos, baby,” He corrected with a gentle tease. It was sweet when Keith attempted Spanish.

He blushed a bit and nodded, then walked over to the couch and set the food on the coffee table. Unlike Lance, Keith didn’t bother to change out of his going-out clothes, which was a black tank top, skinny jeans, and red varsity jacket. Usually, Lance would scold him for bringing the gross germs inside, but Keith brought him food so it could slide today.

Without hesitating, he sat next to his boyfriend and cuddled into his side, holding onto Keith's jacket. Keith seemed surprised, as if it wasn’t routine, and wrapped an around Lance. He was always shy in his own, awkward, Keith way but Lance loved it.

Speaking partially into Lance’s hair, Keith asked, “Are you ready to eat and watch a show? You can pick; I don’t mind.” He offered, rubbing Lance’s back.

Lance looked at the food that still had to yet to be taken out of its plastic bag and squirmed a bit in intimidation. Eating healthily for the first time after eating poorly after a few days always the hardest; the guiltiest, the least stomach able, and a little nauseating.

He almost backed out last second, compulsively wanting to give an excuse, but instead he put his face in Keith’s side and mumbled, “Yeah... but can you say nice things to me while I do it?” He knew he was being at least a little needy, but the praise really helped.

Keith grabbed the remote for Lance and passed it to him. “I can do that...” He smiled and kissed his head. At first, Keith really struggled with words of affirmation, but he learned to do it—for Lance. “I smiled in class when you asked me to get you food...” He admitted, his voice hesitant like he wasn’t sure if he should share that.

But it instantly brightened Lance’s expression, and he swayed into his boyfriend, “Awe! Keith! You’re just a sweetheart who hides under his mullet,” He teased and kissed his cheek.

With a scoff, Keith carefully pushed Lance away with pink cheeks and murmured, “Shut up, Lance...” Before reaching for the food and opening it, revealing a perfectly cooked, mouthwatering sandwich with a side of boiled yuca con mojo that looked equally as tantalizing. “Now pick your show and eat,” His voice firm, but the way his eyes lingered on Lance did show that he was worried—he was his boyfriend after all.

Lance gave a simple nod and went on Hulu, then selected Love Island. Keith’s face gave a hopeless look at him when he selected that show. Again... But he simply laughed and raised an eyebrow, “What? This is your favorite show,” Even though it most certainty was not.

Keith groaned and slouched into the couch, Lance still cuddling his side. “I hate this show, Lance. How do you watch this? I just don’t get how these people, like, date strangers,” He complained; his mind just couldn’t comprehend it.

The other selected episode one, season one, and put the to-go box in his lap with the comfort sandwich and side of yuca “I think you’re just too demi-romantic and autistic for this show, babe,” he said simply and shrugged.

With a confused expression, almost a pout, Keith retorted with, “I think I’m just sane,” And then kept his eyes trained on the show. He figured Lance wouldn’t want to be watched while eating, that usually seems to make him anxious.

Nervously, Lance grabbed the plastic fork and unwrapped it, then stabbed the yuca and took a bit. When the flavors first hit his pallet, he almost jumped—because holy moly over the last few days he forgot what flavor tasted like. The garlic, citrusy flavor hit his tongue instantly and the familiar scent almost made him tear up.

Gosh. This is one of the reasons he has to remember to stay in recovering.

Glancing over at him, Keith just tentatively asked, “Is it good...?” Looking hopeful.

Giving a thumbs up, Lance quickly nodded and took another bite, “This taste so fricking good, Cuban food is so underrated,” He loved his country, because they could cook and it showed.

Keith smiled and nodded, “Good... You’re doing so good...” He praised, patting Lance’s hair as he ate a bit more. Pride dripped from his voice at actively watching Lance face his eating disorder.

A small blush spread on Lance’s face. He was so good at giving compliments but receiving them from Keith always made him feel fuzzy. “Thanks...” He looked at his boyfriend who was now turning back towards the screen, but he couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek.

Keith turned briefly and kissed his cheek back before watching the dramatic show.

The couple sat there and watched the show as Lance ate, the cameras cutting to each contender to interview them about their date and who they like. It was mind boggling for Keith who was getting annoyed by all the drama, but Lance soaked it up like a sponge.

Sometimes Lance would hesitate before taking a bit, a contemplative look on his face, and that’s when Keith would rub his arm and murmur sweet reassurances into his ear.

All the praise and compliments did numbers on Lance’s self-esteem; to have someone remind him eating was okay and that they were proud of him for doing it. There were two people in this world he felt comfortable enough to do that with and that was Keith, and his mama when she first started helping him with recovery in high school.

After another episode of drama, Keith wanting to rip his eyes out, and Lance on the edge of his seat, he finally decided to tackle the sandwich. The smell was sweet, buttery, and savory, but he couldn’t help the voice in his head that was screaming about all the calories associated with those things.

He sighed and picked it up, feeling how the indented bread pressed against his fingers. It looked amazing, but he also felt so scared.

Keith noticed him hesitating and frowned, “Are you okay...?” He asked softly, his eyebrows creased slightly as he saw Lance thumb the sandwich.

With a meek, “Mm...” He shrugged and answered honestly, “It feels intimidating, you know...? My brain is just screaming at me about the calories and how I look...” He looked back down at his legs and how they smooshed against the couch. He lifted them off the couch with his feet on impulse.

Keith made a sad and confused face, then bluntly said, “I think you look pretty...” In one of the sincerest voices Lance has ever heard. His boyfriend’s shoulders were sagged like he was hurt by Lance’s comments about himself.

A fuzzy, warm feeling started spreading in Lance’s chest and he couldn’t help the small, happy smile that grew on his cheeks. “You always know what to say, huh?” He asked softly.

With a shrug, Keith just looked down and held one of Lance’s hands, “Not really... I just say what I think and hope I don’t make things worse,” Which feels better than any scripted, general statement Lance has ever heard in recovery.

His face softened and he squeezed Keith’s hand, “You don’t... You make things better,” And watched as Keith gave him an unsure look. He laughed and leaned in closer, “I’m serious...! You really do, Keith... Especially on days like this,” He looked him in the eyes, his own slightly crinkling at the corners.

Lifting their intertwined hands, Keith pressed a simple kiss to the back of Lance’s hand and said, “That makes me happy... I want to help on the days where things are hard...” He rubbed his thumb on Lance’s knuckle.

His heart fluttered from the careful affection, “I promise you do,” And then he looked at the sandwich that was still in his other hand.

Yes, his anxiety was high and there was a swarm of thoughts about taking a bite of it, but also yes that he knew that after this meal, things would get easier. Besides, even if they didn’t, he had his boy who would help.

Only with slight hesitance, he lifted the sandwich and took a bite. Instantly, he was welcomed by familiar, comforting flavors. The bread was easily bit into and carried a bit of a sweet taste that paired amazingly with the pork, giving it a sweet-salty taste. Then, as he chewed, the pickles sliced through the richness of the cheese and meat and helped balance the flavors. All the profiles danced in harmony and Lance’s understimulated taste buds practically celebrated.

He couldn’t deny the small tug of anxiety in the back of his mind. It was the same one that screamed about how this will ruin his progress, about the calories, about what he looks like, but when he felt a kiss to the side of his head, all the those started disappearing.

Love Island played on the screen that his blue eyes could focus on, and his ears had his boyfriend’s gentle reassurances of, “You’re doing so great...” and “I know this isn’t easy for you, but you’re taking all the right steps...” Together, it made a safe, non-judgmental environment that was all he needed.

One delicious, slightly guilt-ridden bite after another, the sandwich slowly started to disappear. It was also at this moment that Lance realized his headache was starting to go away too, along with the ache in his stomach.

After he was done, Keith turned towards him and cupped his face. Lance leaned into the calloused, beige hands, looking up at his boyfriend. Keith looked back down at him and stroked his cheek, leaning in to gently capture him in a kiss.

The kiss was soft and gentle, loving pouring into it. They both exhaled through the kiss and kept this lips connected. Keith’s pink lips were chapped but it added to who he was, and Lance loved it.

Soon, they pulled away with their lips disconnecting, but there was a sound their lips made that sounded like they wanted to stay connected. Lance wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and hugged him, Keith pausing but then returning the gesture.

They sat like that just for a little bit, Keith rubbing his back and Lance burying his face in Keith’s strong shoulder while the shame from eating steadily started to drain away. It’d probably be back later when he showered or when he looks in the mirror, but for right now, he felt happy.

Murmuring into his ear, Keith quietly said, “I love you... thank you for letting me help...” Because out of everyone Lance knew, Keith was the one who valued trust the most.

Easily, he whispered back into Keith’s neck, “I love you too... And thank you for making days like these easier...” And he placed a chaste kiss on his pulse point.

A nuzzle of the nose was in his hair and an adoring, “Anytime...” Was given.

Yes, he has days where things are hard and where his body and desperation to control something was trying to grab onto any little self-confidence he had...

But... despite all of that, it was the little things—like eating food he grew up with in Cuba, or cuddling with his boyfriend while they watch a show he loves, or Keith tasting whatever he ate last on his lips that made him remember: recovering was always worth it.