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You stand shirtless in front of the mirror, fingertips poking on your lower belly. It's not exactly chubby, is it? You're not sure. Somehow you didn't even think that you could put on any chub there at all. Feels weird.
You run your hands on your torso. It's softer than before. You're not sure what to think of that. You knew you were gaining weight, you wear clothes. But you've had the same body type for so long. You can't help the weird sensation when you take a breath and can't see a single rib.
Should you try to lose again? You still train. Not as much as while having to do all things to stay alive, on a mission to save a country or while said country is still infested with lingering sadnesses, but it's still good to not get too rusty. Maybe you should do so more? You don't think you'd like to get fat. Fatter? Can you be called fat now? It's hard to tell. Sure, Mira and Isa are thicker than you, but Mira is a woman and Isa is muscular, so that's almost expected. You're neither.
But regardless, what else can you do? The obvious answer is eat less.
The thought brings bad memories. Putting half eaten sandwiches in your pockets because the cold, half staled thing could be your only ensured meal the following day. Rejecting snacks while watching plays because even on the cheaper places it was likely to be a ticket-or-food choice. Worrying three newly made friends because you stopped eating while still hungry, and again at camp some time later because you ate too much and your stomach couldn't handle resulting in a proper bathroom being missed more than ever.
You know you're being dramatic. Very dramatic. It would be far from the same. You still don't like the thought of restricting again, by your own will this time.
You also don't like to remember a moment on the roof of a House, slightly filtered by the passing of almost two years, and think that you're ruining something your partner likes.
You were small and cute. Like a sharp knife decorated with flowers is small and cute.
Not for much longer at this pace. Look at your pants! How long they've been tight enough to see the shape of your calves?!
Between the scar in your face and msny others in your body, including a good portion you made yourself, you're not even sure how he found you cute in the first place, but changing for sure doesn't help. You're not that bad anymore, you know he won't stop caring about you, but the physical part have weight for the lovey dovey stuff (weight, ha).
(It's not funny)
Of course, you don't want to lose any clothes Isa made, either. He made it for you. Shouldn't you want to keep them?
You stop poking when you hear the click of the door handle.
"Night, Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau!" You say with a grin. Exposure therapy, overwrite the bad memory like Bonbon did with croissants!
The noise he still makes definitively has nothing to do with anything.
"Night, Sif." You can hear the blush in his face even without seeing it. Cute. "Getting ready for bed?"
Sure, let's go with that. "Yeah, feeling a little extra tired today."
You hear a hum beside you. "Got it. Today was quite full."
Wait, it's weird to not look at someone while talking. You turn around.
... Oops, you're not the only one shirtless anymore.
Stars, he's handsome. You know that, you've seen Isa in less than just pants before - Bambouche is by a beach and who goes into the sea fully dressed? - but the timing is not the best to think about that.
You must have made a face, because you know you're not blushing, and Isa's relaxed expression changes as soon as he sees it. You want to cover up but, you only have your arms at reach, and hugging yourself won't make you less suspicious.
"Sif? What's wrong? Something on your mind?"
Nop! Nop! Nop! Not before you do something! Maybe not even after!
"It's nothing. Just tired."
"Right. Well, let's try again." You could say you never before regretted admiting you know he's smart, but that would be a lie "What is on your mind, Siffrin?"
Oops, full name.
Fine, fine, just say a piece. Like not-so-old times! A piece to test the waters! If that means the dam will break is another story!
"The pants you made are getting tight. The black pair."
It's not only the pants, you know that. He'll know that soon enough. Maybe it's what you need for that extra push. External confirmation.
"Oh, right. Do you want me to upsize them?"
... Of course that would come first. You should know better. Your boyfriend's not exactly the loose lips type, if you stop and think.
"I think of upsizing, me is enough." You grab a pant leg for emphasis. Or rather, scrape what little cloth you can to get a grab. Looking at that doesn't help either, and that seens to be a magnet for your eye. "I don't even know how many pounds I put on..."
So much for just giving a piece, eh?
The ruffling on the closet stops, but nothing hits the bed. He already put on the sleeping clothes? Not weird but a bit of a change of habit.
A hand comes to your field of vision. Clearly a porpuseful move, to not sneak up on you by accident. It comes to your forearm and closes around it. You feel like a pet being measured.
"Fair. I saw you put on a few inches, too." Great, it was notable, how in the stars- "You're looking healthier."
What?
"Healthier?"
You actually look at your partner now - oh, it wasn't a change in habit at all. Isa's just in his underpants now, his own fair share of scars littered over his body. You know some are from battles or training, others from body craft. Maybe it's weird, but you kind of have a favorite, a pair of twin scars under his pecs.
Handsome.
And you don't want to feel out of place. But, he just said you're looking healthier?
You don't stare at Isa's chest, you look at his face. Looks worried. "You didn't notice? I didn't want to say anything, it wasn't my business, but you were very underweight." His gaze doesn't change much, but he does offer you a gentle smile. "You're getting more energy, too. I know you like naps, but it's nice that now you take them for liking rather than for needing."
You must be sleeping already. This gotta be a dream.
Except no. This is such an Isabeau thing to say. And, you don't think he'd lie about that. It would be so easy to go in another direction without sounding bad at all.
"All in all, you're looking pretty good!"
No way. Not that you don't believe Isa, just...
Just...
"I don't think that's the right way to say it."
"Nah, it totally is!"
A very strong arm wraps around your waist, and pull you to Isa's side. You can see your reflexes. You... feel out of place, but you also can see the warmth in his eyes. Almost as warm as his skin.
You hug back. Warm, soft, kind of sweaty, but you don't mind that much. You'll take more than a bit of sweat for this contact.
"Can we cuddle?" You feel heat rise to your face. "Like this? If you don't mind? Just cuddle?"
Your boyfriend gives you a sly smile. "Of course we can. Gorgeous."
The heat becomes a sun blast. "Isa!"
"Two can play this game, Sif!"
You don't have a retort. You all but fling yourself at the bed. Isa is much gentler climbing on, and put his arms around you as soon as your wrap his ankle on yours.
The flustering mostly goes away as you two wrap your limbs around each other. You have hugged plenty of times, but, skin to skin feels different. Feels like a lot, but not in a bad way. Without thinking, you run your fingers over his chest scars.
You love this contact. His touch, his heat, his attention. You want all of it.
You want to have it all around you. To cut his skin crawl inside his skin be under the hot skin you like so much. You want to open his chest muscle arteries feel the heat of flesh and blood on you you want you want break ribs curl inside his ribcage feel your body melt off from the heat skin limbs eye jaw be more together than anyone could dream about you want you want take his heart into your hands just like he said you have it open your own chest put it there feel it pulse beside yours while nested into his open chest you want you want-
You want this. To be held. To be safe. To be cared for. There's still a part of you who says you shouldn't, that this is greedy. You try to quiet it with the smiles you often get in response. Mira's when you would cry and have catharsis. Odile's when you said you wanted to see a professional. Bonnie's when you actually tasted a croissant for the first time since the incident. Isa's right now, larger body involving yours almost completly.
It's still a lot. You don't fall asleep before getting overwhelmed and needing to get out to warm up with blankets instead.
But, this is fine. You weren't used to any touch before. You can get more used to it. You want to.
Isabeau's soft expression as you coccoon show you that he's willing to wait.