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Mike loved his job, he truly did. But, these were some of the times that he outright hated. Company mandated doctor visits? He wasn’t even sure that was legal. Then again, Mike can count the amount of non-violated OSHA rules on one bony hand.
He couldn’t have been more prepared for this moment. Michael hadn’t gone to the doctor for, well– years, though he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Small tungsten spheres filled his pockets, making a clacking sound every time Mike nervously fidgeted with them. He had never been to the library before and would never go again, but he went, just this once, to find the densest metal readily available.
He stood next to his coworkers, praying that the weights were enough to make his result come out normal. Something was off about the way they were acting towards him as of late, though he couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly.
They each stepped on and got their measurements, Mike quietly proud that his non-tampered weight, he knew, was less than all the others.
“--ith? Mr.Smith?” Mike caught eyes with one of the hospital staff, patiently waiting in front of him. “Your pockets?” Michael cocked his head to the side, unsure of what the big deal was. “Your pockets, you need to empty them before you step on the scale.” Mike’s blood ran cold, mouth going dry at the thought.
“Uh, why? It’s not like some keys and a wallet can skew my weight at all… I don’t think I should take up time and empty them..” He could see the disapproving look on the staff’s face, which only elevated him further. “Um, actually, why don’t we just skip this?” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Mr.Smith.” Michael glanced around the room, catching the confused looks of his boss and co-workers.
“I uh..” Michael sighed as he grabbed the spheres from his pockets, putting them on the table. “Fine.” He got onto the scale with shaky legs, hoping that he would miraculously be 30 pounds heavier than this morning. His scale
was
broken, after all.
He closed his eyes and took a breath in, cracking them open when he heard a slight gasp. He looked to see his weight, cringing at the number.
That.. that couldn’t be right, could it?
Severely underweight. That was what the graph showed him as the doctor pointed to the square where his height and weight intersected. The light blue band of color his BMI was in was appealing to look at while he ignored what the doctor was saying to him.
Michael tuned back into a silent room. He didn’t know what was going on seconds earlier, and he would be a downright liar to say that he cared. “It’s wrong,” Michael confidently stated. “You must have the wrong patient file. There is no possible way that I am
severely underweight.
Have you seen me?”
“Well, Fritz…” Joan caught his attention. Finally, someone who he could trust, someone who was reliable. “You
have
been looking a little thin, recently.”
Michael stopped in his tracks, mouth slightly open. “Joan’s right.” Mike whipped his head around to face Jeremy. “I mean, you’ve been passin’ out almost
every day
now. It’s not just scarin’ the kids, but us, too.”
Michael looked over at Phil, who stood in silence, wearing a deep frown. Michael looked at his sorrowful eyes, only catching a small nod of agreement. Michael felt a packet pushed into his hands, looking down at the words, now blurry from the tears threatening to come out of his eyes.
"I think it would be best to refer you to an eating disorder specialist, Mr.Smith. Your vitals show nothing out of the ordinary to cause this, except for an extreme caloric deficit."
Michael's mouth opened and closed, unable to find any words. All he could manage was the shaking of his head, his mind clouded with thoughts of running away, running to another country and becoming a different person entirely. Anything would be better than being in this room, uncomfortable silence clouding like a thick fog, the eyes on him keeping his body paralyzed.
“No.” Michael laughed, voice cracking. “No, no.” He could feel his heart in his head, vision blotching with colors. “You.. you can’t make me.” He slammed the packet on the floor beneath him, actions being fully fueled by adrenaline and impulse. “You can’t make me, you can’t make me fatter, you can’t do fucking anything.” He nervously laughed, standing up as quick as he could, vision blacking out and body hitting the floor immediately after.
“Fritz?!” Jeremy followed him down, shaking his shoulder as hard as he could. It felt like years, shaking his unresponsive boyfriend on the floor. “He usually gets right back up, he’s not wakin’ up.” Turning Michael’s head towards him, Jeremy scanned his face. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils rolled back into his head to see nothing but the whites.
“We need to go,” Joan shouted, Jeremy holding Mike’s near weightless body in his arms, the group of four leaving the room before getting their own check-up results.
Jeremy threw open the back door of Phil’s car, pushing Michael into the backseat, following after. Phil didn’t quite care about the speed limit, Jeremy frantically trying to fasten his seatbelt while Joan craned her neck back to check on Michael.
The latch plate clicked into the buckle as Jeremy’s seatbelt was finally secured, bringing Michael’s body closer to his so the ride was less bumpy on his limp body. He pushed his hair behind his ear, kissing Mike’s forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. We’re almost there.” Jeremy knew it was more to comfort himself than the unconscious body next to him
“Wha..?” Michael’s voice cracked as he slowly opened his eyes, the afternoon light blinding him. He sat up as he regained his senses, trying to piece together the situation around him.
“HOLY SHIT?!” Michael scrunched his face at the loud voice of his lover next to him.
“Wai’.” Mike fully sat up, a bit unsteady. “Where are we going? Wha’s happened?” He looked around and watched the surprised gazes of his coworkers, Phil’s expression being slightly caught in the rear-view mirror as he focused on the road ahead.
“Ya’ passed out, and ya’ uh, couldn’t wake up. We’re takin’ ya’ to the hospital.” Michael’s eyes widened at Jeremy’s words, face melding into a painful frown.
“No, no, you can’t do this to me!” Mike yelled out, unaware and uncaring of the volume. “Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything, I don’t deserve this!” Michael sniffled, tears starting to come out of his eyes.
“We’re sorry, Mr.Smith.” Phil’s concentration somewhat waned, knowing now that Michael was in a stable condition. His voice was a few pitches higher than normal, trying to keep the wavering out of his voice. “It’s for the best, we never should have let it go that far.”
Snot running out of Michael’s nose, his head had started to hurt. “No!”, he screamed, grabbing onto his –now thin– hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.. Please let’s just turn around, I’ll do whatever you want!”
“We’re sorry, but it’s what you need.” Phil quietly replied from the front seat. Michael kept begging and crying, the time between his sobs getting more frequent, eventually stopping completely, putting his hands on his face.
His ringing ears didn’t quite grasp the sound of the ignition turning off, though he did feel the way Jeremy picked him up with ease. The smell of latex and disinfectants brought an uncomfortable memory to mind, Mike choking out sobs in his boyfriend's arms, refusing to open his eyes to the bright fluorescent lights and the blinding white walls.
He felt a hand go to caress his hair, though it did little in the way of making him feel better. The chatter of people and faint noise of machines from the closed doors of rooms as his hearing returned back to him solidified it,
“--n admit him to room 420!”
“NO!” Mike yelled from his place, eyes cracked open to the light of the hospital as he felt Jeremy pass him to another person, moving quickly to a place Mike knew all too well. “You’re NOT gonna force me to go in that FUCKING room!” He received no response, which angered him even further.
He heard a creak and was dropped into a hospital bed, causing Mike to squirm and clench his hands, fingernails unintentionally drawing blood from the palms. “You’re gonna be okay, Fritz. Just let the hospital staff do their thing. They’re only tryna help you.” Jeremy’s calm voice contrasted with the situation, Mike feeling his long sleeves and shirt pulled up to attach him to the machines by his side.
Eyes now fully wide, they flicked all around the room, landing on the nurse in front of him, holding a tube and a cup of water with a straw in it. She positioned him upright, aiming the tube to his nose.
“Be very still for me, can you do that?” Mike nodded as she pushed the tube in, changing his head direction after a certain point. The nurse instructed him to open his mouth, before letting him close it and shoving a glass of water into his hands. “Can you drink that for me?” Michael nodded as he quickly drank the water. The nurse checked the spot on the tube and grabbed a syringe, attaching it to the end and pulling the plunger to get what was inside.
“What’s that?” MIchael was more confused than grossed out, voice sounding nasally.
The nurse grabbed a bag and attached it to the end of the tube, hanging it up next to the IV. “Oh, it was just to make sure I got the tube in the right place.” Her eyes avoided Mike’s, as she surveyed the machines and made the exit.
“Oh, thank you!” Mike yelled to her as she left, finally back to the situation at hand.
He looked around the room. To his friends, to the tubes and wires hooked up to him, to the window next to him, to the floor right beneath the hospital bed. The place where he witnessed the death, and the place where the doctors pried his arms off his little brother’s –now lifeless– body.
“Huh, that’s funny.” Mike turned his attention to Phil, now walking towards him. “This is the same room my previous employer was in.” Phil carded his hands through Michael’s brittle hair. “His son… he was a lot like you, Mr. Smit– er, Fritz.”
Mike cocked his head, a little scared of what Phil was about to inadvertently say about his past self. “Yeah?” He watched Joan and Jeremy wander to the sides of his bed as well, somewhat interested.
“Yeah.” Phil’s tone turned a bit more somber as he recalled the boy. “You two are so similar, you both even had the same problem.” His eyes widened as he waved his hands in front of himself. “I- I mean not like there’s anything wrong with you inherently, I’m just saying that–”
“I understand,” Michael giggled. “But go on.”
“Right! He looked a lot like you, too. Your eyes and bone structure, I might be misremembering things, I mean, it was years ago, but you two looked identical.” He looked at Mike sweetly. “But, more importantly, he was thin. Like you. He would go days without eating. Whenever I would offer something to the boy, he would vomit it up minutes later.”
Mike’s face dropped, seeing the sorrow on Phil’s face from recounting the story of Michael himself as a child. “I’m sure there was something else going on with his father and all, but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for not taking that jump. And…” Phil’s voice quivered. “I couldn’t save him then. I couldn’t save him then and I’ve been living in guilt about it. I couldn’t save him then. But, I need to save you now.”
A single tear fell from Mike’s face as he flicked it away with the back of his hand. The idea of it all was so sickening. To think he could have been given a chance. To think he could have gotten away from his father, to think he could live his life away from the daily cuts and bruises, the daily fainting and purging.
He had wanted it. Ever since Henry left, Michael had grappled onto any and all semblance of a caring figure. He loved his father so dearly, it shattered his heart when he left without a trace. He wanted– no. Needed a fatherly figure. He yearned to have Phil care about him like Jeremy. A father that didn’t hurt their child was a novel idea to Michael, and he wanted it more than anything in the world.
It killed his spirit to know that he was seconds away from the care he so desperately needed. He wouldn’t be in this hospital bed, wouldn’t be bent on punishing himself for every mistake.
His eyes looked towards the setting sun in the window. How long has it been?
“You look real tired, Fritz,” Jeremy laughed. “I think we should let you sleep some.” Jeremy kissed him on the forehead as Phil herded the other two out of the room.
“Mr. Guy, wait!”, Michael called just before Phil closed the door. Walking back to Mike’s bedside, he was slightly nervous. “That boy..,” Michael’s voice was shaky as he pulled out his wallet. He chose two pictures –one taken two weeks ago, the other 4 years– and held them out to Phil.
“Mr. Smith..!” Phil’s palms were sweaty as he took his eyes from the photographs to Michael, Michael to the pictures. “You’re–”
“Michael.” Mike smiled behind drooping and tired eyes. “Michael Afton. That boy you couldn’t save.”
Phil stood, with his mouth opening and closing, unable to come up with any words. “You– My–”
“Go to bed.” Michael grabbed one of Phil’s hands, the one that wasn’t holding the pictures. “I’ll be right here in the morning.” Mike waved him out of the room and Phil silently complied, dropping the pictures back onto the bed.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“Mister Smith! Please understand, this is an extreme safety situation!”
“I DON’T FUCKING CARE!”
Joan opened the door to a very upset and pissed Michael, having to be held down by one nurse as another once again inserted the strange tube into his nose.
“Mister Smith, resistance to this procedure will be followed by an evaluation!”
Joan watched as Michael slumped down, the angry demeanor from seconds before collapsing entiirely into his usual timid personality. The nurses stepped back after the tube was once again inserted. “I’m sorry…,” Mike mumbled, looking at his twisting hands. “I don’t know what the hell got into me…”
Joan walked in with Jeremy and Phil by her side. “Am I interrupting anything?” Joan saw the beet-red complexion of his face, stained with tears.
“No, uh, you’re good.” Phil held the door open while the two nurses left, bringing up chairs to sit by him.
“What was all that about, man?” Jeremy looked slightly concerned. “They didn’t hurt ya’ right?”
Mike shook his head. “No, none of that. I just found out that uh.., this tube right here?” Mike pointed to his nose, to the tube that was just inserted minutes prior. “Well, uh, I just figured out that it’s a feeding tube. So I ripped it out.”
“You… ripped out your feeding tube?”
“Yep.”
“W.. why?”
Mike’s tone got slightly sadder. “‘Cause it’s gonna ruin all my progress! I can’t have them do this!” He took a shuddery breath in. “‘It’s gonna make me gain, and I can’t do that.” A frown came upon his face once again, letting tears fall down his cheeks. “I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it.”
Mike held in his breath as he slowly pulled out the tube from his nose. “Fritz, what the fuck are you doing?!” A grin plastered over his face, Mike relished in the sight of the tube out of his body, no more calories going in to tear it apart.
His grin, however, fell when he met his gaze with Phil’s. The sorrow in his boss’s look was unmatched. He stood there, staring at Mike. He looked into the eyes of his employee, though all he saw was that scared little boy.
That scared little boy who was in a constant state of sadness, that scared little boy who covered his father’s bruises and his self-made cuts with the fabric of his oversized sweater that engulfed his frail and dying body. That scared little boy who made vomiting a daily task, that scared little boy who just wanted love.
That scared little boy now in the hospital room, doing everything in his power to have control over his warped life.
Mike fell back in his bed, hands covering his face, shaking his head. “I can’t do it.” Phil put his hand next to Mike’s head, to which he leaned into the touch. His EKG was slowing down from the frantic pace it had been at seconds earlier. “For my entire life I’ve been on my own, this is the only thing I can control!”
He took a large breath in, having a hard time speaking without outright wailing. “I have all this stuff and I need to be an adult, but I just want love but nobodywillgiveittome and– and–” Michael took deep and quick breaths. “I’m just a little kid!!”
“Oh, Fritz..,” Phil sighed to himself, wiping away Mike’s tears. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier..?”
“I was –hic– scareeed. Nobody wants a boy like me…”
Phill’s eyes widened, letting out a silent gasp. “If you wanted love, you could have just asked, Fritz.”
“But..,” Jeremy added onto Phil. “Ya’ didn’t show any want for those things. We woulda done anything for you to get that.” Jeremy touched the tube Michael pulled out, taking note of his hollowed face. “I wish we knew sooner.”
“It wouldn’t change anything,” Mike whimpered. “It was already too late. You could never save me.”
Phil took a breath in, voice softening. “It’s never too late to try, Michael.”