I stare at the phone in front of me. 

My wrist are red and sore from the ropes, but after being forced to agree with Justin's deal, I was freed. I didn't spare him another glance before returning home, where Elias had already spread the word about me to Arabella and Dante. 

His girlfriend has decided to give me the silent treatment too, so when I come home, two of the four bedrooms are locked to avoid me. Since one of the open ones is mine, I don't count that as something good. 

Dante is sitting in the kitchen, just staring at the counter as he waits for me. Exhausted and not ready to deal with this, I drop onto the couch. I lost my bag somewhere on the way from the front door to here, but I can't bring myself to care. "Go on, yell at me."

He moves to sit next to my lying body, face cautious. "I won't. Are you okay?"

After a day filled of people being mad at me, assuming things and blackmailing me, his concern hits deep. I look away, trying to hide how his words affect me. "I'm fine."

"See, that's exactly what a person that's not fine would say," he whispers, scooting closer. "Alex, I know you wouldn't do something like this. Something's up with you, and if you don't want to tell me, that's okay. I just want you to know that I'm right here. Always, alright?"

Damn it. Now he's making me cry. 

I blink quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, but it doesn't work. I start bawling like a little kid. I know it's okay to cry, but I just always feel like I'm ruining the mood when I do it. 

"Hey, now, hey," Dante frowns, pulling me in a hug. I weakly wrap my arms around him, too busy sobbing to pay attention to what he's saying. 

This is exactly what I needed today. I needed it yesterday too, but I'm convincing myself that's okay. This weight of planning to call my mom, the team's anger, Justin's blackmail and my friends' silence, it's all just becoming a lot. Too much. 

At least I know I can count on Dante. He's the only person who hasn't assumed things today, who didn't believe the lie, and I can only be grateful for that. "It's just—I—"

"Hey, breathe first," he encourages me, patting my back awkwardly. He's trying to comfort me, even though I know he's a little inexperienced with doing so. 

"Justin told everyone I threw us out of the competition," I cry. I'm trying so desperately to stop sobbing, to explain it well, but it's all just getting back at me. Why am I even telling him? Elias already told him everything. Still, now that I've started rambling, I can't stop. 

"Everyone just assumed he was right and ignored me. On the ice, they all attacked me, and when I was flat on my back, no one helped me up. Do you know how embarrassing it was to scramble up all by myself? Everyone was laughing, knowing that they could've avoided it if just one person helped me up. All I needed was a hand!"

He nods, pulling back. My overwhelmed feeling is subsiding and making place for anger again, and it's obvious he rather wouldn't be in my hold when I'm mad. 

"After practice, after everyone left, he fucking forced me on my knees. That was the most embarrassing thing of the whole day! Thomas tied my hands to my back, and he just straight up blackmailed me. I hate today, Dante! I hate it, and I just don't want to wake up tomorrow, because it'll all be even worse!"

Alarmed, he grabs my wrist. His eyes are calm, but his body speaks otherwise, as it's tense. "Don't talk like that. I want you to speak to coach about this, and you'll find a solution. In the meantime, I'll talk to Elias. He's being ridiculous. Don't listen to the others, okay? You're going to ignore them from now on, am I right?"

A tortured noise escapes my throat, something I did not intend on happening. "How? I have practice with them! Justin already stole my captain spot, and now—"

"I'm sorry, what?" Momentarily, anger flashes over his face, but he hides it again. His voice lowers. "Alex, I don't care that he's blackmailing you. You worked hard for that spot, it's fucking yours. No one else's. And certainly not Justin's, do you understand me?"

He doesn't get it. "No, Dante. Not this time. He has me on his power, if I don't pass the spot—" "What? He'll hunt you down and knock you out? I'm here, Alex. I'll protect you, I promise."

"No." I shake my head, a strangled noise leaving my throat again. "He'll—he'll tell everyone about my dad. He'll twist the truth and make him look like someone with a horrible mind. I can't do that to him, please."

Now his eyes are unsure. Dante knows about my dad and his dissociative identity disorder, unlike Elias or Arabella. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't tell them. 

"Okay," he nods. "We'll find another solution, then. I'll take care of it, I promise. Now go to your room and take a long shower, do some homework. I heard you say something to Jake about calling your mom? You can do that now, too. Anything but thinking about this. I'll have dinner ready at seven, do you think you'll want to eat?"

The first step in healing is admitting you have a problem, right? 

"Dante," I whisper. Now that I'm throwing everything overboard anyway, I can tell him this as well. He's helped me so much in the past few months, if only to eat, it's only fair. "I have an eating disorder."

His eyes widen just the slightest in surprise. He tightens his grip on my hands and nods. "Okay. Can I help with anything?"

Of course he suspected it. He knew and he still helped me. That's why he doesn't scream at me right now, doesn't tell me it's all my fault and that I just need to eat more. He knows I can't, both physically and mentally. 

"I'm going to call my mom and ask for a therapist. Jake said that would help me," I explain. He nods again, actually listening to me. It lifts a bit of the pain inside me. 

"I also think that would help, but it's up to you. You're the one who has to heal, and no one can force you to do that. You have to open up for it in here." He taps against my temple. I nod, letting my head rest on his shoulder. "I'm going to call her then."

"Do you need me to sit next to you? Just being there?" he offers. I shake my head, getting up. "No, I feel like I should do this alone. Thank you, though. Thanks a lot, Dante. You've really helped me. And I don't mean just now."

He smiles up at me. "Anytime, man. You're my best friend, I would gladly do it all over again." 

Oh, he's definitely my best friend, too. Fuck Elias. 

"So, dinner?" His grin is sheepish, as if he doesn't really know what I'll answer. But I nod, surprising both of us. "I'm gonna try and eat. Don't give me too much, okay?"

He nods and smiles. "Alright. Now, go! Or do you expect another hug?"

I stick out my tongue before running to my room, knowing he'd start to kick me after doing such a thing. Though I just told him my biggest secret, biggest insecurity and biggest worry, I feel light. Somehow he makes me feel good about spilling everything. 

Now, my call to mom. I'm still nervous about it, because we already have someone with a disorder in the family, but can she really deny me of talking to a therapist? No, right?

As my phone waits until she picks up, I'm biting my nails. It's another bad habit I need to forget about, but I feel like I have bigger problems to take care of than these. 

"Honey? I didn't know we were calling today!" Mom laughs as she picks up the phone. She's in a good mood, which means Dad's okay, which means I have no excuse to not ask. 

I hear her cooking and shouting something to my dad, something along the lines of 'oh yeah, our son's calling, try to keep the dad jokes aside, okay?'. And I completely agree with that. Dad jokes are not something I can handle this time. 

"Son! Hello, I was just busy in the garden," he tells me. The sound of water running comes through the phone, telling me he is washing his hands. "The swing needs a makeover, maybe we can do that on Christmas break?"

My heart breaks a little when I hear him talking so happily, so unknowingly. Is a captain spot really worth taking his joy of watching me play away?

"If it doesn't snow, then sure, we can do that," I agree. Makeovers are the times we spend mostly together, and I really do cherish those moments. 

"But, um, I had an important question. Mainly for mom, but if you want, you can listen too." My voice trembles, and I know they heard it. They're my parents, they know when I'm upset. "Okay, sweetheart. Do I need to sit down for this?"

Well. Sort of, maybe. "Perhaps that's best." 

"Oh Lord," I hear mom curse. Dad sounds worried, too. It makes my gut turn. "Son, you're scaring us. Is everything okay?"

I fiddle with my hands. This is the moment where I should tell them, ask them for a therapist, explain why; I just can't seem to open my mouth and be brave enough to go through with it. Instead, I zone out, feeling like everything is collapsing. 

"Alex? You know we'll support you in anything, right? If you want to drop out of college, if you really can't handle it anymore, we'll find a solution. Your sister didn't graduate high school, and look at what a good job she has!" Dad tries to reassure me. I think about Jake, and how his hands tremble when he can't handle the academic pressure anymore. He would be happy with this support. 

"I-I think I want to go see a therapist," I breathe out. The coldness of my hands is something I try to ignore. "I believe I'm developing an eating problem, and it would be great if I can get professional help to avoid it."

Silence. I close my eyes and wait for them to say no, to tell me they can't pay for that, but everything stays silent. "Do you mean an eating disorder? Honey, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't sure you would understand," I whisper. "Everyone tells me I'm not fat, but I feel like I am, okay? Everyone has a greater body, and mine just can't get into shape. I thought it was because I ate too much, but Jake and Dante told me it was the contrary, actually."

Another silence stretches. Then, dad speaks. "Hold on, now, I'm not trying to ignore what you told us, but did you mention Jake? As in, your former best friend Jake?"

Oh. Shit. 

"Well. . . kind of. We met at hockey, and we're friends again now," I explain, feeling a little like I'm caught on something I wasn't supposed to do. It's ridiculous, of course. 

"That's fantastic! Maybe we should give Janice a call! Oh, great times with her!" My mom was very fond of Jake's mom, Janice. Apparently, she still is. I never realized this whole moving to the other side of the country thing made her lose all her friends, too. 

"Yeah," I cough. "But, um, can I go see a therapist? If it's not alright financially, then it's no biggie, I promise," I add, to reassure them. They don't need to feel pressured because of my mental health. 

"No, that's okay," Dad waves my concerns away. A huge relief hits me. "My rounds are just starting to lessen, which is definitely a positive thing, and we're not broke. Just text us when you go, and we're hoping it helps you."

I do too, dad. Fuck. It would be great if I was able to look at others and just think 'hm, good body' instead of 'I wish I had that body'. 

"Thank you," I finish the conversation. Much later, after talking about all sorts of things and succeeding in laughing, we hang up. Dinner'll almost be ready, so I change into much more comfortable clothes and head to the kitchen. 

Where Dante is trying to keep Elias' and Arabella's voices down. "Shut up! You don't know the story!"

"All I know is that I don't want him to be on the team anymore! And you know what would be even better? To kick him out of the house!" Elias' words hurt me, but I keep a straight face as I walk into their sight. Immediately, they shut up, leaving only their eyes to glare at me. 

"Don't mind me, act like I'm not here," I shrug. Dante gives me a small nod and points at the counter, where a plate is. The plate is half filled with French fries (Dutch, my apologies, Jake) and vol-au-vent, which is French. After Elias' words, this is just what I need to forget this horrible feeling. My favorite dish, and not too much in amount. Just right. 

"Thanks, Dante," I grant him a big smile, trying to show just how grateful I am. Of course, he already knows, but it won't hurt to thank him a few times a day. He deserves it, if I'm honest. 

"Jesus Christ, that's not even a whole meal! When are you outgrowing this fucking act, Barett? It's not quirky anymore, it's just fucking pathetic!" Now Arabella's the one speaking. 

I'm giving my best attempt at staying selectively deaf. She's just trying to get under my skin, but there's a little of truth in her words. I probably shouldn't, but I answer anyway. "I'm working on it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better people to talk to. Dante, how's the job going?"

Dante, being a little caught off guard, looks between me and those other two. I don't count them as friends anymore. Even roommates is pushing it, because what kind of good roommate wants to throw someone out, all because of a lie?