༺ THIRTY - SEVEN ༻

"Hi!" I smile at Thomas on the screen, especially because he got his chin buried in the top of his jacket, and a black beanie covers his hair, snow falling on top of him.

(A/n: Coriolanus Snow please fall on top of
me too)

"Hey." I know he's smiling too. Even without the sight on his lips, his eyes squint. "How're you?"

"Good," I say. Right now, seeing him, I indeed am doing good. "And you? Isn't it a bit cold?"

"It's nice," he says. "Chuck claimed our room to do some homework and the adults are in the living room."

"So you figured you're gonna freeze."

"To call you? Yes." His eyes squint even more. "Anyway, what'd you get for Christmas?"

"An album of Tchaikovsky, a beanie, and new shoes." My face lights up. "And you?"

"New skates, some clothes, and a video game." Thomas pulls his jacket further up so it's covering his nose too, which was getting red. "Had nice days? Feelin' alright?"

I nod. It's turning into a habit to do that after every question I get asked. "Yeah. My low iron's been kicking in a few times, but everything is great."

"Minho said that, yeah."

My eyebrows fly up. I prop my palms under my chin, stretching my legs over my bed. "He told you?"

Either he's getting colder or it's just a blush on his cheeks. "Well, yes. We were calling and he told me."

"Alright." I nod. It's strange Minho would tell Thomas that while he doesn't know about our relationship, but whatever. "What'd you do today?"

"We went on a walk in the snow and Chuck and I attempted to bake," he explains. "I would've brought you some of those cookies if we hadn't already eaten them all."

I laugh out loud. "Well, there's always time to bake more."

"True." He pulls the beanie further onto his head. "Hey, it's getting like really cold here."

"Then we'll call again another time," I promise. "Bye, Thomas. I'll continue missing you."

"See ya, Blondie."

I hang up with a sigh. At least I've got work tonight. It's not as fun without Thomas, but the guests are kind and Luca is awesome. Besides, it's Wednesday. Thomas will be back Sunday, so I'll survive.

✵

Luca hands me a plate full of spaghetti straight after I arrive. He's been doing it since Thomas left, and I keep telling him I eat at home, but he said he promised Thomas he would always keep offering the food.

"Just a few bites so I didn't make it for nothing." He cracks a smile.

"You can have it," I say softly. "Really, I'm not hungry."

I'm starving. Quite literally. But just until Sunday. Then I'll go back to eating more.

"Rosetta, my stomach doesn't have to be even fatter." He chuckles. Runs a hand through his curly hair. "Here. For Thomas's sake, then?"

I take it at those words. A few quick bites. I smile while my cheeks are still filled, and Luca nods approvingly.

After my 'quick bathroom break', I start working. I'm polite and bright to the guests, but I'll never shine the way Thomas does with this job. He's amazing at it.

"Have you made your choice yet?" I look up from the device in my hands, at the two guests that walked in about five minutes ago. "Could I get you anything to dri— Vince?" And my eyes go to the woman in front of him. "Mary!"

Damn it, I was right. They're connected, even though Mary is a nurse in the UK and Vince here.

There's a faint recognition in Mary's eyes. "..Rosalind, right?"

I nod. "That's me. You treated my brother back in the UK. And Vince did it here. Lovely how you're connected like that."

"Decided I would spend the vacation here," Mary says. "Very long distance relationship, though I don't think I'll keep living in the UK much longer. Might move here."

"That's awesome." I smile. "Vince, good to see you, too. Any drinks y'all would like?"

"A wine for me," Mary says. Vince orders some special kind of beer, and I take their choices for dinner. Gnocchi for Vince, a pizza for Mary, along with a small bowl of lasagna they must be planning to eat together.

For a long time, I take other orders and bring people their drinks and food, smiling the whole time. It's not a fake smile, but it would've been realer in other situations. I don't know, I feel weird around all this food knowing I haven't kept food in my stomach longer than an hour for weeks, except for a few times where I had no choice.

Later, I'm taking the now empty plates Vince and Mary had away. "Oh." I see no one has taken a single bite of the lasagna. "Was it not to your liking? Or did I get the wrong order?"

"It's for you, on me," Vince says. "Share it with your family, eat it yourself, I don't know, but you're a great server, so why not?"

I swallow, not sure how to feel about that. It feels very... pointed, in some way. I mean, it's a nice gesture, but all these people around me—Aris, Vince, Janson—are acting as if my forehead is labeled with "EATING PROBLEMS, NEEDS FOOD!"

"Thank you." I manage to keep the smile up. "I appreciate it." A short pause in which I take a sharp breath. "What desserts would you like?"

✵

"Here." I hand Sonya the plastic box, where I put the lasagna in. "Midnight snack or something."

She loves lasagna, so this won't be a problem for her to eat. I love lasagna too, though, but gotta wait until Sunday.

She's happily eating the lasagna, but her eyes keep burning on me. I raise my eyebrows. "What?"

Fast, she looks back down. "Nothing."

"Just say it."

An exhale leaves Sonya's mouth. She hesitates. "You've lost weight," she then says. "Your cheeks are hollow and I can basically see your collarbone."

Should've chosen for oversized clothes.

I stare at her now, vaguely offended. There was no reason to say it that suddenly, or word it like that.

But isn't it what I want to hear? Don't I want the 'you lost weight' sort-of compliments? It has been my goal since the beginning after all. Lose weight so I can be perfect. But I'm not. Still not.

Thanks, Nya." I sigh.

Her eyes wide. "No! I'm sorry— I— I didn't mean to say it like that, it just flopped o—"

"It's alright," I assure. "I know I've lost weight. Want a drink?"

"Coke, please." Her eyes still follow me while I vanish into the kitchen. "How much have you lost?"

Fifty. "That's none of your business," I say.

"Do I have to worry?"

"No. I'm healthy."

"How many—"

"It's none of your business," I repeat. My knuckles are turning white around the bottle I'm holding. People should stop asking about my damn weight or eating habits. It's not their business.

Even Janson should stop. He gave me his tips and now I don't need them anymore. Honestly, I don't care what he wants me to do with my body right now. All I know is that I'm almost satisfied.

"Sorry," she mutters again. "Do you want the lasagna?"

"No. I ate enough at Mamma Mia. But thanks. Good night."

She's half gaping at me. "Night."

I rush to the bathroom when I feel it bubbling up my throat, and kneel beside the toilet— yet nothing comes. My body wants me to do it but I can't because there's nothing there to vomit.

My breaths heave. My Mom has an eating disorder too. I can see your lunch. Eight pounds off. It's for you, on me. Just a few bites so I didn't make it for nothing.

My hands slide into my hair and I squeeze, frustrated. Everything is driving me crazy. The words, the looks, the constant concern... Thomas seems like the only person who, these weeks, can talk about other things. But that could be just me, because my mind is somewhat always thinking about food and diets, so it could all be delusions I'm seeing.

Maybe Vince really wanted to be nice. Maybe Luca really didn't want to break his promise. Maybe Sonya was really just curious.

Two laxatives. Water. Laxative. Water. Laxative. Water. Laxative—

✵

"Rose?" I meet Newt in the hallway after I finally forced myself out of the bathroom. "You alright?"

There's a lot of things I want to say, but I just nod. "I'm alright," and close the door of my room behind me.

Too many laxatives for sure. I'm nauseous. I have cramps in my stomach. Awful ones, and it takes something to undress, put my pajamas on, and crawl into bed.

Soon, I've drifted off into unconsciousness, somewhere hoping I wake up in a certain person's arms.