okayamajima
Title: Untitled (for now)
Author: hotfruits
Rating: PG-13
Characters: slight Okayamajima. Yamada-centric.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: He rolled over in bed, shoving his face into his pillow and screaming, punching the mattress as he struggled with his thoughts, although it was pointless. He knew he had made up his mind.
warning: this fic is about bulimia.
AN: wrote this for littlemelonblue's birthday (which was forever ago), because we love broken!yamada.
It all started with a harmless comment, a few simple words, that sent Yamada’s world crashing down. He had never known, as he looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes raking over his thighs and his stomach and his chest, taking in the pale skin and wondering, as tears ran down his eyes, what had happened.
He choked on his tears as he grabbed his thighs, pinching the fat there until it hurt and he instinctively let go. He did the same with his stomach, self-hatred bubbling up inside of him as he shook his head, angry and confused and depressed.
He sank down onto his bed, curling up as the tears wracked his body, and he made a silent promise to himself; he’d do whatever it took to get his thin body back.
***
He began with dieting, completely cutting out sweets and restricting his carb intake, while increasing the amount of fruits and vegetables he ate. It went well for awhile, he lost a few pounds after two weeks and a few more after a month, but the progress was slow, and he needed more instant results.
He added exercise to his diet, running in the mornings before school and lifting weights with Keito after dance practice. Finally, he began seeing the results he wanted, his thighs slimming down and his stomach becoming smaller, and he could feel the muscle building up there, along with his biceps.
After three months, he felt better, so much better, smiling in satisfaction when Yuto complimented him, his fingers lingering on Yamada’s bare hip as they changed after dance practice.
It was good, but he still wanted to lose a bit more, just a bit, and then he’d be satisfied. He didn’t want to wait another month though, so he started eating less, no sweets and no carbs and barely any meat, just fruits, vegetables and water. After a few days, he saw more improvement, but it was hard to enjoy it when his stomach grumbled painfully, begging him to feed it. He ignored it though, drinking some more water and grabbing another apple, eating about half of it before leaving for his morning run.
It was then that things took a turn for the worst, as he slowly jogged past a bakery, the delicious scent of freshly baked dough and strawberries calling out to him. He stumbled into the small shop, an arm wrapped around his stomach as he eyed all the treats; cakes and pies and muffins, topped with various fruits and whipped topping and granola crumbles, and he whimpered, trying to beat down his overwhelming hunger.
He couldn’t though, and he walked up to the cash register, ordering two slices of strawberry cake and paying the girl, before taking a seat at the nearest table, laying his head down on the cool surface.
A few moments later and the girl came by with his cakes, placing them in front of him and he sat up, grabbing the fork and shoveling it all down. His stomach protested against the sudden food intake, but he ignored it, so hungry and so desperate as he devoured the last bite, sighing pitifully when it was all gone.
Setting down the fork, he took a deep breath, trying to dispel the nauseas he began to feel. It wouldn’t go away though, and soon he was on his feet, rushing towards the bathroom in the back of the shop and into a stall, dropping to his knees as he vomited.
It hurt, his throat burning and his eyes watering as he shakily stood up, clutching onto the door when he almost fell, breathing deeply through his nose. After a few minutes, he exited the stall and made his way to the sink, turning it on and rinsing out his mouth, spitting the water out and turning the sink back off. Wiping a hand over his flushed face, he left the restroom and then the restaurant, avoiding the girl’s eyes as he ran back out onto the street.
Thankfully, he didn’t have school or practice today, so when he returned home he collapsed onto his bed, curling up under the covers and shivering, trying to ignore the thought that kept repeating in his head.
He shouldn’t do that, he knew, it was unhealthy and dangerous and besides, he was a boy, boys didn’t do things like shove their fingers down their throats and make themselves throw up, so that they could be pretty and thin…but then again, and he hated himself for realizing this, he had been able to finally eat sweets again, after months of not doing so, and because he threw it all up, he wouldn’t gain a pound because of it.
He rolled over in bed, shoving his face into his pillow and screaming, punching the mattress as he struggled with his thoughts, although it was pointless.
He knew he had made up his mind.
***
“Yamada, are you okay,” Yuma asked, sitting beside him on the bench in the changing room, “You’ve…you’ve lost a lot of weight.”
“I have?” he replied, surprised, looking down at his body. It wasn’t as pudgy as it had originally been, but it was still bad, and he still had a few more pounds to go, just a few, “Maybe a little, but not much.”
“But, your ribs,” Yuma frowned and poked his side, causing him to jump back and squeak, “I can practically count them.”
He looked down again, brows pulled together. His ribs weren’t sticking out at all, what was Yuma talking about?
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said, putting on his shirt and patting Yuma’s head, before leaving the locker room, and a scared Yuma sitting alone on the bench.
***
When he returned home that evening, he went into his bedroom and locked the door behind him. Stripping down to his underwear, he walked over to his mirror and stood in front of it, confused.
Was Yuma blind?
His ribs were definitely not sticking out, or any other bone in his body. They were hidden under a layer of fat, a layer that no matter how far he ran, how little he ate or, how much he threw up, he couldn’t seem to get rid of it.
If he could just lose that layer, he’d be okay, he’d finally be back to what he used to be and then he could be happy again.
He just needed to lose that last layer, the thought repeating in his mind as he put his clothes back on and entered the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. He winced as he eased a finger down his throat, eyes tearing up at the now familiar burn, and when he touched his gag reflex, he quickly pulled his finger out and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, coughing painfully once it was all gone.
He got up and grabbed his toothbrush, quickly brushing his teeth and rinsing out his mouth, spitting it all into the drain. He sighed, wiping his sweatshirt sleeve over his face, his forehead sweaty and tears staining his flushed cheeks.
Just a few more pounds, he reminded himself, leaving the bathroom and heading down into the kitchen to help his mother with dinner, already dreading his next visit to the toilet, but knowing that it would soon be worth it.
***
He sluggishly entered the gym he and Keito lifted weights at, pulling up his baggy sweat pants and joining the older boy by the leg press machine.
“Fuck, Ryosuke,” Keito swore, catching Yamada when he stumbled and fell forward, “You look terrible.”
“I’m just tired,” he said with a yawn, stepping away from Keito’s hold and beginning to stretch his legs, preparing himself so that he didn’t get a leg cramp like last time.
“I don’t think we should lift weights today,” Keito said, his eyes trailing over Yamada’s body. “God, when was the last time you ate?”
“I ate right before I came here,” he answered, which wasn’t a lie, really.
“I think your diet is getting out of control,” Keito said, grabbing his arm and giving it a squeeze, “You’re just bone, what the hell?”
He yanked his arm out of Keito’s grasp, glaring up at him, but Keito ignored it as he grabbed him again and dragged him out of the gym and into the locker room, Yamada stumbling when Keito suddenly let go of him.
“What are you-”
“Take off your clothes, now,” Keito said, his tone serious but his face frightened, eyes watering. “Do it now, or I’ll do it for you.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he stripped down, tossing his clothes onto the floor. He looked back towards Keito, who was staring at him with tearful eyes, his hands covering his mouth as he shook his head.
“What?” he asked, not understanding why Keito was reacting like this. He wasn’t that hideous, was he?
“What have you done to yourself?” Keito choked out, walking over towards Yamada, his hands reaching towards him but faltering, as if he was afraid to touch him.
“I know,” he sighed, “I’m fixing it though, just a few more pounds and I’ll be okay, I swear.”
Keito blinked, confusion flashing over his face as he asked, “What?”
“I’m fat, but I’m losing weight, I swear,” he replied, and he could see the realization dawning upon Keito’s face, but then it quickly flashed to anger and he found himself shoved into the gym lockers, crying out in pain.
“Fat?!” Keito practically shouted at him, breathing heavily as his fists clenched against Yamada’s chest, “You think you’re fat? Oh my god,” Keito gasped, and then asked, “How can you even say that?”
“Because I am,” he replied, confused, “Keito, don’t you see how fat I am?” he asked, gesturing towards his stomach and thighs, “I’m disgusting.”
Keito’s eyes widened, and he took a step back from Yamada, taking another glance at his body. “Ryosuke,” Keito said quietly, “You’re so thin, way too thin. Whatever it is you’re doing, you have to stop.”
Yamada frowned at this, his brows pulled together, “I’m not thin, Keito, and until I am, I’m not stopping what I’m doing.”
“Please,” Keito pleaded, but he pushed the other away, scooping his clothes off the floor and wordlessly putting them back on, ignoring Keito as he left the room and went back to the leg press machine, getting into it and starting his workout.
***
It all came crashing down a few days later, after he collapsed at dance practice. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was Yuto’s tear-streaked face, hovering closely over his own as he shouted his name.
Now, he was in the hospital, trying to relax into the hard mattress as the needle in his arm made his skin itch. Looking around the pristine room, his eyes eventually landed on Keito, who was staring down at the ground, sniffling.
“Keito,” he called out, and the older boy looked up at him, “What’s going on?”
Keito sighed, taking a deep breath as he stood up and made his way towards the hospital bed, carefully sitting down on it and grabbing Yamada’s hand.
“Ryosuke, do you know how much you weigh?” Keito asked, and he shook his head. The last time he had checked his weight was before he started making himself throw up, and he had been fifty-two kg then.
“You weigh less than Chinen now, just forty-two. You lost around twenty-six kg Ryosuke,” Keito sighed, and he gasped at this, eyes widening. Had he really lost that much?
“Your parents are going to make you see a counselor,” Keito gave his hand a squeeze, “Ryosuke, why would you do,” Keito paused, struggling over his words, “That, to yourself?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, his mind going at a mile a minute, so many thoughts running around. He didn’t feel like it, but his weight was so low, way too low, he knew. How could he have lost so much and not even notice it? He should be all bones, not chubby with a little bit of muscle definition here and there. “I just wanted to lose a few pounds, that’s all. I wanted to be thin again.”
“You were always small though,” Keito sighed, “Ryosuke, please tell me you’ll go through the therapy. I know you don’t believe it, but you need help.”
He closed his eyes, sighing deeply, but nodded none-the-less.
***
Yamada entered the small bakery, smiling when he saw Keito and Yuto waiting for him, with three slices of strawberry cake at their table. Going over to them, he sat down next to Yuto and grabbed his fork, taking a small bite of the cake.
“How was counseling today?” Keito asked, leaning his elbows on the table as he watched Yamada eat.
“It was good,” he said, his response muffled by a mouthful of cake. He swallowed, “I’m getting better, stop worrying so much.”
“We’ll always worry about you,” Yuto winked, “But that’s cause we love you.”
Yamada smiled, so grateful that he had these two, and so many others, to help him through this time, “Awe, I love you guys too.”
Author: hotfruits
Rating: PG-13
Characters: slight Okayamajima. Yamada-centric.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: He rolled over in bed, shoving his face into his pillow and screaming, punching the mattress as he struggled with his thoughts, although it was pointless. He knew he had made up his mind.
warning: this fic is about bulimia.
AN: wrote this for littlemelonblue's birthday (which was forever ago), because we love broken!yamada.
It all started with a harmless comment, a few simple words, that sent Yamada’s world crashing down. He had never known, as he looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes raking over his thighs and his stomach and his chest, taking in the pale skin and wondering, as tears ran down his eyes, what had happened.
He choked on his tears as he grabbed his thighs, pinching the fat there until it hurt and he instinctively let go. He did the same with his stomach, self-hatred bubbling up inside of him as he shook his head, angry and confused and depressed.
He sank down onto his bed, curling up as the tears wracked his body, and he made a silent promise to himself; he’d do whatever it took to get his thin body back.
***
He began with dieting, completely cutting out sweets and restricting his carb intake, while increasing the amount of fruits and vegetables he ate. It went well for awhile, he lost a few pounds after two weeks and a few more after a month, but the progress was slow, and he needed more instant results.
He added exercise to his diet, running in the mornings before school and lifting weights with Keito after dance practice. Finally, he began seeing the results he wanted, his thighs slimming down and his stomach becoming smaller, and he could feel the muscle building up there, along with his biceps.
After three months, he felt better, so much better, smiling in satisfaction when Yuto complimented him, his fingers lingering on Yamada’s bare hip as they changed after dance practice.
It was good, but he still wanted to lose a bit more, just a bit, and then he’d be satisfied. He didn’t want to wait another month though, so he started eating less, no sweets and no carbs and barely any meat, just fruits, vegetables and water. After a few days, he saw more improvement, but it was hard to enjoy it when his stomach grumbled painfully, begging him to feed it. He ignored it though, drinking some more water and grabbing another apple, eating about half of it before leaving for his morning run.
It was then that things took a turn for the worst, as he slowly jogged past a bakery, the delicious scent of freshly baked dough and strawberries calling out to him. He stumbled into the small shop, an arm wrapped around his stomach as he eyed all the treats; cakes and pies and muffins, topped with various fruits and whipped topping and granola crumbles, and he whimpered, trying to beat down his overwhelming hunger.
He couldn’t though, and he walked up to the cash register, ordering two slices of strawberry cake and paying the girl, before taking a seat at the nearest table, laying his head down on the cool surface.
A few moments later and the girl came by with his cakes, placing them in front of him and he sat up, grabbing the fork and shoveling it all down. His stomach protested against the sudden food intake, but he ignored it, so hungry and so desperate as he devoured the last bite, sighing pitifully when it was all gone.
Setting down the fork, he took a deep breath, trying to dispel the nauseas he began to feel. It wouldn’t go away though, and soon he was on his feet, rushing towards the bathroom in the back of the shop and into a stall, dropping to his knees as he vomited.
It hurt, his throat burning and his eyes watering as he shakily stood up, clutching onto the door when he almost fell, breathing deeply through his nose. After a few minutes, he exited the stall and made his way to the sink, turning it on and rinsing out his mouth, spitting the water out and turning the sink back off. Wiping a hand over his flushed face, he left the restroom and then the restaurant, avoiding the girl’s eyes as he ran back out onto the street.
Thankfully, he didn’t have school or practice today, so when he returned home he collapsed onto his bed, curling up under the covers and shivering, trying to ignore the thought that kept repeating in his head.
He shouldn’t do that, he knew, it was unhealthy and dangerous and besides, he was a boy, boys didn’t do things like shove their fingers down their throats and make themselves throw up, so that they could be pretty and thin…but then again, and he hated himself for realizing this, he had been able to finally eat sweets again, after months of not doing so, and because he threw it all up, he wouldn’t gain a pound because of it.
He rolled over in bed, shoving his face into his pillow and screaming, punching the mattress as he struggled with his thoughts, although it was pointless.
He knew he had made up his mind.
***
“Yamada, are you okay,” Yuma asked, sitting beside him on the bench in the changing room, “You’ve…you’ve lost a lot of weight.”
“I have?” he replied, surprised, looking down at his body. It wasn’t as pudgy as it had originally been, but it was still bad, and he still had a few more pounds to go, just a few, “Maybe a little, but not much.”
“But, your ribs,” Yuma frowned and poked his side, causing him to jump back and squeak, “I can practically count them.”
He looked down again, brows pulled together. His ribs weren’t sticking out at all, what was Yuma talking about?
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said, putting on his shirt and patting Yuma’s head, before leaving the locker room, and a scared Yuma sitting alone on the bench.
***
When he returned home that evening, he went into his bedroom and locked the door behind him. Stripping down to his underwear, he walked over to his mirror and stood in front of it, confused.
Was Yuma blind?
His ribs were definitely not sticking out, or any other bone in his body. They were hidden under a layer of fat, a layer that no matter how far he ran, how little he ate or, how much he threw up, he couldn’t seem to get rid of it.
If he could just lose that layer, he’d be okay, he’d finally be back to what he used to be and then he could be happy again.
He just needed to lose that last layer, the thought repeating in his mind as he put his clothes back on and entered the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. He winced as he eased a finger down his throat, eyes tearing up at the now familiar burn, and when he touched his gag reflex, he quickly pulled his finger out and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, coughing painfully once it was all gone.
He got up and grabbed his toothbrush, quickly brushing his teeth and rinsing out his mouth, spitting it all into the drain. He sighed, wiping his sweatshirt sleeve over his face, his forehead sweaty and tears staining his flushed cheeks.
Just a few more pounds, he reminded himself, leaving the bathroom and heading down into the kitchen to help his mother with dinner, already dreading his next visit to the toilet, but knowing that it would soon be worth it.
***
He sluggishly entered the gym he and Keito lifted weights at, pulling up his baggy sweat pants and joining the older boy by the leg press machine.
“Fuck, Ryosuke,” Keito swore, catching Yamada when he stumbled and fell forward, “You look terrible.”
“I’m just tired,” he said with a yawn, stepping away from Keito’s hold and beginning to stretch his legs, preparing himself so that he didn’t get a leg cramp like last time.
“I don’t think we should lift weights today,” Keito said, his eyes trailing over Yamada’s body. “God, when was the last time you ate?”
“I ate right before I came here,” he answered, which wasn’t a lie, really.
“I think your diet is getting out of control,” Keito said, grabbing his arm and giving it a squeeze, “You’re just bone, what the hell?”
He yanked his arm out of Keito’s grasp, glaring up at him, but Keito ignored it as he grabbed him again and dragged him out of the gym and into the locker room, Yamada stumbling when Keito suddenly let go of him.
“What are you-”
“Take off your clothes, now,” Keito said, his tone serious but his face frightened, eyes watering. “Do it now, or I’ll do it for you.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he stripped down, tossing his clothes onto the floor. He looked back towards Keito, who was staring at him with tearful eyes, his hands covering his mouth as he shook his head.
“What?” he asked, not understanding why Keito was reacting like this. He wasn’t that hideous, was he?
“What have you done to yourself?” Keito choked out, walking over towards Yamada, his hands reaching towards him but faltering, as if he was afraid to touch him.
“I know,” he sighed, “I’m fixing it though, just a few more pounds and I’ll be okay, I swear.”
Keito blinked, confusion flashing over his face as he asked, “What?”
“I’m fat, but I’m losing weight, I swear,” he replied, and he could see the realization dawning upon Keito’s face, but then it quickly flashed to anger and he found himself shoved into the gym lockers, crying out in pain.
“Fat?!” Keito practically shouted at him, breathing heavily as his fists clenched against Yamada’s chest, “You think you’re fat? Oh my god,” Keito gasped, and then asked, “How can you even say that?”
“Because I am,” he replied, confused, “Keito, don’t you see how fat I am?” he asked, gesturing towards his stomach and thighs, “I’m disgusting.”
Keito’s eyes widened, and he took a step back from Yamada, taking another glance at his body. “Ryosuke,” Keito said quietly, “You’re so thin, way too thin. Whatever it is you’re doing, you have to stop.”
Yamada frowned at this, his brows pulled together, “I’m not thin, Keito, and until I am, I’m not stopping what I’m doing.”
“Please,” Keito pleaded, but he pushed the other away, scooping his clothes off the floor and wordlessly putting them back on, ignoring Keito as he left the room and went back to the leg press machine, getting into it and starting his workout.
***
It all came crashing down a few days later, after he collapsed at dance practice. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was Yuto’s tear-streaked face, hovering closely over his own as he shouted his name.
Now, he was in the hospital, trying to relax into the hard mattress as the needle in his arm made his skin itch. Looking around the pristine room, his eyes eventually landed on Keito, who was staring down at the ground, sniffling.
“Keito,” he called out, and the older boy looked up at him, “What’s going on?”
Keito sighed, taking a deep breath as he stood up and made his way towards the hospital bed, carefully sitting down on it and grabbing Yamada’s hand.
“Ryosuke, do you know how much you weigh?” Keito asked, and he shook his head. The last time he had checked his weight was before he started making himself throw up, and he had been fifty-two kg then.
“You weigh less than Chinen now, just forty-two. You lost around twenty-six kg Ryosuke,” Keito sighed, and he gasped at this, eyes widening. Had he really lost that much?
“Your parents are going to make you see a counselor,” Keito gave his hand a squeeze, “Ryosuke, why would you do,” Keito paused, struggling over his words, “That, to yourself?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, his mind going at a mile a minute, so many thoughts running around. He didn’t feel like it, but his weight was so low, way too low, he knew. How could he have lost so much and not even notice it? He should be all bones, not chubby with a little bit of muscle definition here and there. “I just wanted to lose a few pounds, that’s all. I wanted to be thin again.”
“You were always small though,” Keito sighed, “Ryosuke, please tell me you’ll go through the therapy. I know you don’t believe it, but you need help.”
He closed his eyes, sighing deeply, but nodded none-the-less.
***
Yamada entered the small bakery, smiling when he saw Keito and Yuto waiting for him, with three slices of strawberry cake at their table. Going over to them, he sat down next to Yuto and grabbed his fork, taking a small bite of the cake.
“How was counseling today?” Keito asked, leaning his elbows on the table as he watched Yamada eat.
“It was good,” he said, his response muffled by a mouthful of cake. He swallowed, “I’m getting better, stop worrying so much.”
“We’ll always worry about you,” Yuto winked, “But that’s cause we love you.”
Yamada smiled, so grateful that he had these two, and so many others, to help him through this time, “Awe, I love you guys too.”