Requested by swaggysloane: Y/N has an eating disorder.

*Please note: this request contains Y/N having an eating disorder, and struggling with her relationship with food. If anyone even has an inkling that this may be too triggering for them to read, please do not read it, please look after yourselves. I know that even for people without eating disorders, relationships with food can be difficult and tough to navigate sometimes, so please do not read this if this applies to you, I will be back soon with lighter chapters. Also, as always, please feel free to message me if you do feel upset by any of this, but y'all already know the drill by now in terms of that, and being sensitive in the comments. Finally, I do just want to say that I personally do not suffer from any kind of eating disorder, so I am truly sorry if I have misrepresented them in any way, that is not my intention and I have tried my hardest to portray them respectfully without personally suffering from one. Love you guys, please take care of yourselves, and stay safe xxx*

I sat at the dinner table in Tom's parents' house, my eyes glued to the plate in front of me, and my heart fucking numb as I stared at the food that was on it. The thoughts in my head had become so loud and deafening that the voices of my boyfriend and his family were nothing more than distant whispers. I continued to try and stay calm, though that wasn't working as I pushed the food onto my fork and raised it to my lips before putting the food into my mouth. I forced myself to chew and swallow it so that Tom wouldn't know how fucking anxious and numb I felt as we continued to have what everyone else thought was just one of the nice, Holland family dinners.

"Sweetheart?" Tom's voice broke through those in my head, my heart fluttering in my chest as I felt my boyfriend place his hand on my thigh. I looked at him as I continued to eat the food that was in my mouth, though I already felt ashamed and disgusting for having taken the small bite as I looked at him.

"Hmm?" I asked and raised my eyebrows to prompt him to continue.

"You okay?" He checked, his eyes flicking over my face as if he could see right through my lies. I nodded and forced a smile onto my lips.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just need the bathroom." I shrugged nonchalantly, Tom following my movements as I picked the napkin up from my lap and placed it onto the table before standing from the table.

"Okay, love. Don't be too long." He nodded and gently placed his hand on my lower back as I stood.

"I won't be." I smiled, making him return it and bite his lip as I headed out of the room. But as soon as I was out of sight of Tom and his family, my smile dropped and I picked up my pace. I rushed upstairs so that no one would hear me as I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I collapsed next to the toilet and stuck two fingers down my throat, my heart racing as I desperately tried to make myself sick. And, it worked. I squeezed my eyes shut as I threw up into the bowl, the bitter and horrible taste filling my mouth as it happened. But it was better than having the voices continue to scream in my head. I sighed and sat back from the bowl, my body sat up against the bathtub as I took deep breaths. Unfortunately, this wasn't a rare occurrence for me. I was twenty-four, and had been struggling with the eating disorder of bulimia since I was sixteen. I had never had a healthy relationship with food, a fact that I had always suspected stemmed from the fact that my mother had raised me to believe that being larger than other girls was disgusting and wrong, and that I had to be one of the skinniest girls of my age. I had always been told this, and so it was a wonder that I had been sixteen when I had developed bulimia, and not younger, but regardless I had developed it as a tactic to outwardly appear fine, all whilst not actually keeping down the food that I hadn't wanted to eat in the first place. Every day for the last eight years, I had had awful and intrusive thoughts that always told me that I would be repulsive to everyone who loved me if I gained even a fraction of a pound, and that I would be fat and disgusting in no time if I allowed myself to actually keep down the food that I ate. I had to admit that when I had met and started dating Tom, three years ago now, the new relationship had helped to dull these thoughts. But only for a while. Of course Tom was incredibly supportive of me, and he understood how hard it was for me to constantly be told by my own head that I wasn't allowed to eat. But...he also thought that I was in recovery for my bulimia. Which, given what I had just done...I wasn't. I knew that it was extremely unhealthy to be lying to Tom about my progress with my recovery, but I couldn't help it. It devastated him when I did this, and so I knew that I had to keep this from him. Even if it hurt me instead. Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the bathroom door, making my eyes widen and my heart jump violently in anxiety.

"Darling? Are you okay, you've been gone for a while." Tom's muffled voice sounded through the door.

"Yeah, Tommy, I'm fine, I'll be out in a minute." I lied as I shot up and flushed the toilet before grabbing the box of floss that was on the side of the sink. I snapped some off and quickly flossed to get the taste and smell of vomit out of my mouth before binning the floss. I took a deep breath, my heart still pounding as I unlocked, and opened the door. Tom looked at me as I did, my boyfriend's gorgeous eyes breaking my heart as they looked at me with worry laced into them.

"You sure that you're okay, my love?" He checked as he raised his hand to my cheek and cupped it softly. I nodded and gave him a small smile as I put my hand over his.

"I'm fine, I promise. But regardless, I appreciate you checking up on me." I lied through my teeth as I looked into his eyes. He sighed and nodded.

"Of course, sweetheart. Come on, let's go back to dinner." He gave me a small smile, making me return it as I let him take my hand, and lead me back downstairs to finish the dinner with his family.

Tom's P.O.V

"Darling, I'm home!" Tom yelled, the boy pulling his keys out of the front door before shutting it and kicking his shoes off. He looked down the hallway, a smile curling onto his lips as Tessa rushed towards him with her tail wagging erratically.

"Hello, my love, where's mummy, huh? Where's mummy?" He smiled and shook his head, his voice having converted to his baby voice as he spoke to Tessa and stroked her head. He sighed and looked back up through the house, his mind all too aware of the fact that Y/N still hadn't responded to him.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" He called out again as he started to head up the stairs. Tom loved Y/N with all of his heart, she was truly his one, which was why he had been so concerned recently that Y/N was struggling with her bulimia. And maybe even that she'd relapsed back into the disorder. Tom has started to notice the behaviours come back that were associated with Y/N's bulimia, like her suddenly needing the bathroom after having eaten a single forkful of food, and her taking way longer than would be considered normal in the bathroom. It broke Tom's heart to know that she may have relapsed, but it hurt him even more to know that this was obviously something that Y/N felt so ashamed of that she didn't even feel safe telling him that. No matter how much Tom reassured her that she could come to him with anything, he knew that there would be times where her thoughts would be so much louder, and Tom would of course stand by her through that.

"Y/N, my love, please say something so that I know that you're okay!" Tom yelled out again as he got to the top of the stairs. Then he heard something that made his heart break even more. His eyes wavered, his worst fears being confirmed as he heard the sound of retching, and throwing up coming from their shut bathroom.

"Darling?" He called out again as he got to the door and gently knocked against it. He could hear quiet sobbing, a tear leaving his own eye at the sound of his girlfriend clearly so torn down and tired.

"Y/N, sweetheart, I'm going to come in now." He warned, his heart and mind trying to brace himself for what he was about to walk in on as he opened the door, and walked in.

Y/N's P.O.V

I sat by the toilet in mine and Tom's bathroom, the skin of my arm numb from being placed to the bowl for so long as I sat against it, and quietly sobbed. I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body hurting and yet numb at the same time as I tried, and failed, to throw up anything else that I possibly could. I had gone out for lunch with my sister, and the only thing that I had been concerned about the entire time was getting home, and being able to throw the food back up. I had fully relapsed by now, and that fucking broke my heart. But I knew already that I had to keep it from Tom. I couldn't hurt him like this again. I couldn't.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" My eyes widened as Tom's voice called out.

"Oh, fuck." I choked to myself, my mind already knowing that Tom would know what I was doing the second that he saw the bathroom door shut. I couldn't hide this from him any longer. Even if I wanted to, this was it. He was going to find out that I'd relapsed.

"Y/N, my love, please say something so that I know that you're okay!" I heard Tom yell out again as his footsteps slowly but surely got closer to where I was. I took a deep breath and sat back up onto my knees, my mind knowing that this would be my last chance to get rid of anything that was in my stomach before Tom would catch me, and inevitably stop me. I stuck my fingers back down my throat, my eyes squeezing shut as I tried to throw up. But nothing came up, only retching coming from me as I heard Tom's footsteps get to right outside of the door.

"Darling?" My boyfriend's voice spoke once more. I choked and shook my head, sobs leaving my lips at the fact that it was over. Tom was going to find out, and I couldn't stop it.

"Y/N, sweetheart, I'm going to come in now." He warned, my heart and mind trying to brace myself for what was about to happen as the door opened, and Tom walked in. I bit my lip and looked up at him, Tom's face dropping as he saw me on the floor.

"Oh, sweetheart." He choked, making me return it as he collapsed to the floor beside me and immediately pulled me into his lap. I sobbed into his shirt, my eyes squeezed shut and my hands balling into fists around the fabric as I just let him cradle me. After all, his arms were the only place that I felt even remotely safe anymore.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I sobbed and shook my head.

"No, my love, don't you dare, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault, this is your eating disorder, and you can't help that. Please don't feel sorry, it's okay, you're okay." He choked, his lips pressing to my hair as I felt his tears fall into my curls.

"I'm not, Tommy. I can't silence them anymore. I need help, Tommy, I need help." I admitted quietly.

"I know, darling, and that's okay, because we're going to get you help. But I am so fucking proud of you for admitting that you need that. That's a major first step to make, and I'm so proud of you for making it. And we're going to get you help. You'll get help, and I'll be by your side for all of it. I love you so fucking much, sweetheart, that will never change, and I will never leave your side. I promise you that." He reassured.

"Thank you, Tommy. Thank you so much." I choked, my heart feeling numb, but still cared for in the arms of Tom. My bulimia was petrifying, the thoughts in my head scared me on a daily basis. But knowing that Tom would never leave my side, knowing that he was in this with me for life helped, even if it was just by a little bit. That would still mean so much to me. And I'd always love him for that too.