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I’m not quite sure when it started. I mean, I remember some parts of it, but there are many pieces missing.
My earliest memory is from fifth grade, six months after my dad died. All I remember is coming home after school and eating an entire bag of microwave popcorn myself. I figured I'd had a long day, and my foster dad was at work, so it wasn’t like there was anyone there to stop me.
It happened fast, in an instant, almost. That’s the first time I felt it; the shame, dread, unbearable guilt that would hang over me forever.
It became a habit, and I did it every single day after school after that, without fail. Every time, the same feeling came over me, but it was worth it for those five minutes of nothingness. I could forget everything: the grief, the stress, the self-loathing.
The second time I remember that feeling was when the popcorn finally caught up to me. It had been weeks, maybe months even, and I felt disgusting.
My foster dad had a scale in his bathroom, and I knew that. Something told me I shouldn’t, but I went in and weighed myself anyway. I’ll never forget that moment: the first time I really, truly hated myself.
Seeing that number, whatever it was, was enough to cause me to lock myself in my room for the rest of the night, crying into my pillow, like I was in some dramatic teen movie. When my foster dad knocked, I said I was fine through my tears, and we never spoke of it again.
…
“Keith, aren’t you gonna eat anything?” Pidge mumbled through their mouthful of food goo. All sets of eyes around the table turned to me.
“Nah, I’m fine,” I responded, trying to keep my tone lighthearted. My stomach growled. “I already ate.”
Nobody batted an eye.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I was happy or resentful that they believed me so quickly.
Every bite they took was taunting me. How can they just eat so casually? Do they even know how many calories that must be? Pigs.
Oh my god. I was a terrible person, wasn’t I? I felt sick. I stood up. “I’m going to bed.” I announced. We all said our goodnights, and I rushed away as soon as possible.
…
That night, I dreamt of all the sweets and junk my heart could desire. There was no guilt, no shame, just me and the food. It wasn’t the first time I’d had that dream, but it shook me every time.
I checked the clock: 2:55 in the morning. I sighed and got up. I might as well have gotten some water while I was awake. I knew I’d probably end up eating whatever else was in the kitchen, but I didn’t want to acknowledge that.
As soon as I walked in, resolve broke. I’d saved up all day, hadn’t I? I thought I’d earned myself a treat. Hunk had made cookies earlier, and I went to work on them. When I stared down what felt like seconds later to see that they were all gone, I felt nauseous. I’m not sure if it was because of all the cookies, or the embarrassment.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
…
Days blended together.
Wake up, train, ignore the hunger, train, ignore Shiro’s concerned glances, train-
My only sense of peace came at night, in the kitchen, stuffing my face and finally feeling nothing.
“Keith, can we talk?” That’s what I woke up to a couple weeks later, Shiro barging into my room like an asshole at 10:00pm.
I groaned. “Sleep.” That was all the diction I had the energy for.
I startled when I felt myself being tugged away from my covers and set down gently on the ground. “Get up and get dressed. I’m serious, Keith, now.”
“Fine, Jesus.” I sighed, throwing on the nearest items of clothing I had.
Shiro practically dragged me to his room, sitting me down on his bed.
“Keith, I need to know you’re going to be okay.”
Panic blossomed through me, a lightning bolt of fear destroying any semblance of hope I’d had that this conversation wouldn’t be about this.
“What? I’m fine, Shiro. This was all to ask if I’m okay?” I scoffed, starting to stand up.
Shiro gripped my shoulder in a way he never had before, tightly, desperately, like I would float away if he let go. “I can’t stop thinking about this. I’m really worried.”
“I had an older sister, you know.” Had?
“I thought you were an only child.” I said, lost.
Shiro laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah, pretty much, most of my life. But I did have a sister, at one point. She was eight years older, but we were still like best friends. When she was about 15 and I was 7, she stopped eating. Our parents weren’t around, and I didn’t know what was going on. I just thought it was a game or something. I remember asking her ‘aren’t you sad you can’t eat chocolate chip cookies?’ ” His voice broke, and his eyes shone.
“I watched her waste away, and l be damned if I let it happen to you too.” Shiro’s voice shook. I’d never seen him this emotional, and it scared the hell out of me. “Don’t even lie. I know you haven’t been eating.”
I tried so hard to keep my emotions in check, but soon I was crying, too, and hard. I felt his arms encircling me, and his own tears dampening my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. It’s not your fault, yeah? I’m sorry for not noticing.” Shiro responded.
I chuckled, wiping my eyes. “But you did notice, though. Isn’t that why we’re having this conversation?”
Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was Lance who said something to me, actually. He wanted to talk to you, but he thought you’d take it better from me.”
I blinked. “Lance?”
Shiro nodded.
“What- what? What did he even say?”
“Just that he’d noticed you’d only eat in the middle of the night. Apparently he walked in one night to get a drink and saw you. Got worried, so he went again to make sure it wasn’t a one-off thing.” Shiro said gravely.
I huffed, standing up. “That prick.”
Shiro’s sympathetic expression quickly morphed into one of caution. “We both know Lance cares about you and he wants you to be happy. That’s all. Please don’t blame him for this.”
By the time he’d finished talking, I was already gone, storming around the ship in search of a certain lanky, blue-eyed rat.
I must’ve looked insane, as Hunk nearly dropped his bowl of cake batter when I rushed past the kitchen. Then again, I wasn’t the one making a cake at 10:00pm. “Have you seen Lance?”
Hunk’s eyes widened in fear, and I immediately felt bad. “Uh- I, yes, er, no? I don’t know, uh, sorry.”
That lovable bastard was such a terrible liar. I gave him the death stare.
“Fine, he’s in his room.” Of course he is, you dumbass, Keith, what’s wrong with you?
“Thanks, Hunk.” I said, hoping my eyes would say what I couldn’t bring myself to: sorry for being a dick all the time.
…
“What the fuck, Lance?” I said as soon as I opened his door. He let out a long, zombie-like groan and turned over, pillow over his head to shield him from my wrath.
“Shhh, sleepy time.” I heard muffled from the pile of blankets.
“Lance, what did you do?” I shouted, hoping my voice hadn’t cracked.
This got his attention, and he finally sat up and even took off his stupid face mask.
“What?” He said with those dumbass, adorable confused puppy eyes. The most infuriating part was that he genuinely didn’t seem to know what I was so angry about.
“Are you kidding?” I growled. “You know what I’m talking about.”
A look of recognition dawned on his face. He put the game down. “Wait, are you talking about what I told Shiro?”
“No shit that’s what I’m talking about, you asshole!” I cried. “You really think what I do is any of your business to tell to Shiro? You’re not entitled to know or tell anyone else anything about me.”
Lance’s eyes widened, and he laughed incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”
“What do you mean? I’m dead serious.” I responded.
“Keith, have you seen yourself? You’re destroying your body, you understand? I can’t sit by and let you spiral like this.” Lance had never been so genuinely angry with me.
“Jesus, I get it, you think I’m making myself ugly or fat or whatever the fuck- it doesn’t concern you what I do.”
“I don’t give a shit what you look like. I’d still enjoy who you are no matter what. But the way you look right now… you’re still gorgeous, but you’re sick. You need to realize that we- I- care about you, and it hurts so much seeing you go through this without anyone to help.”
He thinks I’m gorgeous? Wait, focus, Keith.
“You don’t understand, Lance, it’s good. What’s wrong with saving up my calories for the end of the day? You’d rather I get fat?”
My stomach dropped when I saw that Lance’s eyes were shining. “Keith, calories aren’t a currency to save and spend. You need them to survive. You’re killing yourself and you don’t seem to get that.”
I was horrified when tears sprung to my eyes, too. Not gonna cry for the second time today. Not gonna do it.
I did it.
Before I could hastily wipe my eyes, Lance had already stood up and pulled me into the tightest hug I’d ever felt. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” I sniffed into his shirt.
“It’s okay, buddy. I get it. I probably should’ve talked to you myself without getting Shiro involved. That was a bit of a dick move.”
“No, you were right.” I admitted.
“Wait, wait, wait, did I just hear Keith Kogane, the emo god, the legend, tell me that I’m right?” I pulled away from the hug and laughed wetly.
“This is a one-time thing, I promise you.” I smirked when he squawked in outrage.
I sombered. “Hey Lance?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you talk to me when you saw me in the kitchen that night?”
There was a pause. “I- it’s hard to explain. I’m not sure. I know it’s so shitty, and I’m so sorry. I guess I got…scared? I dunno, something about seeing your former arch-nemesis just so vulnerable, it felt wrong, and I know you don’t like me enough to have that conversation. I think that’s why I got Shiro, cuz I know you’re like family.”
I gave his hand an awkward, but comforting (I hope) pat. “I understand. It’s an awkward thing. It’s not your fault, and I could never get mad at you, I swear. And by the way, I do like you.”
Lance preened. “Keith Kogane, absolute tiger of a man, telling me he could never be angry with me? What a high honor!”
He squealed when I punched him in the gut, and by the time I’d finished laughing, he seemed to have recovered.
He yawned. “Well, thanks for waking me up so pleasantly, but I think I’m gonna go back to sleep for an hour or twelve.”
I smiled. “Yeah, you do that.”
Lance chuckled and hopped right back into bed. I left, satisfied, and thought maybe, for once, things might turn out okay.
…
After the debacle of that day, both Lance and Shiro were on my ass, but, surprisingly, Lance more so than Shiro.
Every morning, he’d meet me in the training deck after I’d finished and walk me to the kitchen to eat together with the rest of the team. It was hard, and sometimes I resented him for it, but I knew it was best.
Some days were good. I’d eat full meals and have a snack, and not binge or restrict anything at all.
Others were hell. The worst were when I just couldn’t bring myself to eat, and wound up crying over my plate in front of the entire team. It was humiliating.
Hunk would give me a big hug, then tell me how amazing I was. Pidge would tell me I was “a jackass but like the best kind”, which I knew was their way of comforting me. Shiro would talk me down, tell me stories, everything, and wouldn’t listen to any apologies from me, claiming I had nothing to apologize for.
But Lance.
I loved every single one of them, but there was something different, special, about how I felt with Lance. Like I was appreciated and respected, but not idolized.
After our heart-to-heart, not only would he walk me to meals, but he’d sit me down every once in a while and ask how I felt, what he could do to help, etc., and I’d just never felt so cared for, even by Shiro.
…
Lance and I had taken up late-night talks together recently, and they had become almost a sort of therapy session for the both of us.
“I just feel like, even if we do make it home, will my family even really know me anymore? It’s been years, and I think they might actually believe I’m dead.” That was the first time I’d ever seen Lance cry, like really cry.
“I don’t think they believe that, Lance. I don’t know your family, but knowing you, you’d crawl into the depths of hell and back for them. You’re, like, invincible.” At that point, Lance had stopped crying and was instead looking at me like I was some sort of god. “And I don’t think you could ever change enough that your family would stop knowing who you are.”
Lance laughed.
I stared.
He laughed harder.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I swear I’m not laughing at you.” He gasped between laughs. “I just thought about us a few years ago, and us now, and-”
He dissolved into another bout of laughter, and I couldn’t help but chuckle along with him.
There was silence for a while. Silence with Lance didn’t feel uncomfortable, though. It was nice.
“Okay so, please don’t answer this unless you feel comfortable,” Lance began after a couple minutes, “But what do you think started your thing with eating?”
“I’ve thought about that a lot, actually, and I still don’t know for sure.” I explained, “But I think it’s a combination of my dad dying when I was little, and then just the body image issues at the same age.”
Lance hummed thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you feel about your body now?”
I chuckled. “Loaded question there. Most of the time I still hate it. Even at my lowest weight, I still had a belly. There are some good days, but they never last long. I dunno, I’m tired, Lance, I’m really goddamn tired. It’s too much and… I don’t know.”
Lance’s hand was on my shoulder then.
I was on a roll, might as well keep going, I figured. “I guess I stopped caring at some point. I’m not sure when. I’d alternate between eating everything in sight and eating nothing all day, depending on how I was feeling. It’s just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Lance. I can’t do anything without acting like a fucking freak. No dates to restaurants, no fun night out with friends, nothing without this thing following me wherever I go. And no matter how hard I try, it’ll never go away.”
I think I was crying now, I wasn’t sure.
Lance took a shuddery breath. “I know this is hell, and I’m so sorry you got stuck with it. You’re the best person I know, and you don’t deserve all the shit you’ve had to deal with. I know this doesn’t fix the problem, but I want you to know as your friend that you are so beautiful, and no change in size or shape would make you ugly to me, or anyone on the team. I hope you know that.”
I laughed in between sobs. “You’re way too good at this, asshole.”
Lance laughed too. “I know.”
…
On one of our late-night talks a few weeks later, Lance asked me:
“Have you ever dated anyone?”
I smiled. “It’s a huge compliment to me that you’d even consider the possibility of someone dating me. Nah, I’ve just never been good at connecting with people, I guess.”
Lance frowned. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short, you’re a total catch! Cute face, amazing ass, funny occasionally, and the stupid mullet to keep your partner’s self esteem from getting too low.”
I threw my head back and laughed, face burning from the compliments. Did he really mean all that? “Sure, Lance. Have you ever dated anyone?”
He smirked. “Hmmm let’s see, there was Susie in second grade, Frank in sixth, Daniela and Jenny in seventh, José in ninth, Jerome in eleventh, and-”
I chuckled. “Damn, we get it, Romeo.” Why did I feel a pang of jealousy hearing about how many people had dated Lance? I absolutely knew the answer, but I did not want to confront that truth right now.
…
Remember that thing I said about bad days? The next day was definitely one of them.
I woke up already feeling hungry enough to eat the whole world, raring to go eat, while another part of me was trying to restrain myself and never eat again.
I trained way too hard, I knew that, but it was a weird way to try to compensate for all the food I knew was going to end up in me soon.
By the time Lance had shown up to the training deck to walk me to breakfast, my internal battle was going in full force.
You’re already disgusting as it is, might as well eat whatever you want now.
No no no, don’t eat, if you do you’ll never stop and be even more ugly and fat and-
“Keith? You ready?”
I cleared my throat, rushing to meet him in my doorway. “Yeah, sorry.”
Hunk set down two plates of space pancakes in front of us, and I thought I might throw up.
Lance grinned, already digging in. “Hunk, you absolute genius, I love you.” He mumbled through his mouthful of pancake.
A spear of jealousy went through me. He could just eat so casually, without any guilt or embarrassment?
Fuck it.
I began to eat as well, practically shoveling the pancakes down my throat. I couldn’t even taste them.
“Yeah, Hunk, these are amazing.”
…
I walked back to my room, too mentally exhausted to handle training. The sickness crept over me, reminding me how much I’d just eaten.
That was enough calories to last you all day, you fatass.
I trudged into the bathroom and stared. I locked the door and crouched over the toilet.
I tried, I tried so hard. My fingers reached down my throat as far as they could, and I was choking, but nothing would come up.
A knock resounded through the room. Lance.
“Keith? What’s going on in there? Open the door.”
I gagged as I took my fingers out of my mouth, coughing. “I’m fine, Lance, just not feeling well.”
I heard the knob twisting. “I’m serious, let me in.”
“I’m fine. Go away” I yelled, washing my hands.
“I heard you gagging. I know you’re not okay.”
Exasperated, I opened the door. “Why does it even matter? It didn’t work, because apparently I can’t even fucking throw up right.”
My voice broke. Seriously? Really gonna cry in front of Lance for the third time in a week?
He pulled me into yet another hug and let me cry.
…
The next morning, after I’d trained, Lance hadn’t come to walk me to breakfast. This was the first time in weeks. It felt a bit shitty, but whatever. I’d been letting myself get too close to him anyway.
Trying not to think about it, I clomped my way into the kitchen, where the entire team was already sitting at the table.
Oh no.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to stop the panic from boiling over inside me yet again.
Shiro spoke. “We’re gonna talk a bit.”
I groaned. “I’ve already had way too many talks.”
Pidge chimed in, in typical Pidge fashion. “Well, tough.” Hunk nudged them disapprovingly with his elbow, but they regretted nothing. I almost laughed.
“We thought that Lance’s one-on-one time with you was working, and it was, but it clearly hasn’t been enough.” Shiro stated. Of course Lance told the team.
“So we’re going to make sure that you’re never alone, at least until we think we can trust you enough to be.” He continued. “Obviously, we can’t put you in official treatment or anything, so we’ll try our best to help you ourselves.”
My heart sank. Never alone?
“I will stay with you in the mornings, so Lance can finally get some sleep. Hunk will be there when you have lunch, Pidge when you eat dinner, and Lance will share his room with you.” Shiro stated.
I sighed. I wanted to fight this, but there was no use and I knew that. “Okay.”
That night, after I’d brought all my things into Lance’s room, we were lying in his bed, and it was obvious that neither of us were sleeping.
“Hey Keith?” I heard a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“We’re friends, right?” I heard a note of uncertainty in his voice.
“Of course.” I said. We’d been getting along for at least a year now, I thought that had been obvious.
A sigh of relief came from him. “Okay, just wanted to make sure.”
“Are you okay?”
I heard him shifting. “Yeah, I just get insecure sometimes.”
I turned onto my side to lay facing him. “What do you have to be insecure about?”
He gave me a weird look. “What do you mean? Like, everything. My face, body, being Hispanic, being loud and annoying-”
I cut him off. “You have no reason to feel that way, Lance. You’re, like, the coolest person I’ve ever met. Other than Shiro, obviously.”
“Keith Kogane, Master of Darkness, telling me I’m cool?” Lance screeched, hugging me so hard it was practically a throttle.
I scoffed. “No shit, Lance, why else would we be friends?”
He cooed. “You’re so soft! I can’t believe I thought you were emo.”
I laughed and hit him with my pillow. He sobered for a second.
“You’re really kind. You need to start treating yourself the way you treat me. You were right about the insecurities thing, and you need to take your own advice.”
I let out a shuddery breath. “I know. It’s just hard.”
He put his head on my shoulder, sighing. “I know.”
…
When had I started thinking of Lance when I accomplished something or heard a joke? Wanting to give him a hug every time I saw him? Staring at his face to take in every detail, every little thing that made him, him?
I wasn’t sure, but all I knew was that Lance was beautiful and amazing, and I might be not-so-platonically attracted to him.
It had become a problem, really. After all, we shared a room, his bed. I woke up to his sleeping face every morning. It was getting harder and harder to keep myself from letting me believe he could love me.
And sometimes it really felt like he might.
The lingering eye contact, the fond smiles, the check-ins on my eating…
He felt like home. And I wasn’t sure what to do about that.
After a while, I grew restless. At this point, I didn’t care. I was gonna drop the biggest hints ever and seduce Lance.
…
Oh god, I really hadn’t thought this out, had I?
“Uh, Lance?” I squealed as he sat on the couch, gaming. He looked up.
“Yeah?” Oh Jesus Christ that smile-
“Do- would- would you like to go out with me?” Oh good lord did I really just ask him that?
His face blanked. Then broke out into a huge smile.
“Really?” He seemed happy, I thought.
“Uh, yeah.” I replied.
“Like, on a date?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, a date, date?”
“Yup.”
“Of course! What took you so long, you dick?” He laughed, giving me a hug.
Well, that was certainly a better reaction than I’d expected.
“You like me?” I asked incredulously.
He pulled away from the hug. “Duh, I’ve liked you since, like, year one at the Garrison.”
I gaped. “Me too, dork.”
I paused. This didn’t feel real.
“You really like me? Like, actually? How? I’m such a mess.”
“You’re you, mess or not, and I really like you. Like, really really.”
I laughed. “I really, really like you, too.”
I didn’t know what would come of this, but I was sure of one thing: that no matter what happened with my eating, or the team, that I would always have someone to love and to love me.