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You have known Josh levy since you were a senior in high-school. You had moved to Eltingville due to a family job opportunity for a very specific field of work. It sucked making such a big change. It really did. But if you hadn't, you wouldn't of met them. The eltingville club. Bill, who you hated the most, I mean, he left the while group traumatized. Then there was Pete, you followed him on Facebook but you two didn't talk very much. Jerry, you were on good terms with him! You hung out sometimes. Then, last but not least Josh, who would unknowingly become your romantic partner I'm future years. Now, everyone knows that the eltingville Boys are awful by now, I won't say you twos relationship is all sunshine and rainbows. But since he got away from Bill, he got a bit better. He allowed himself to be helped in some ways. Although he still has many flaws, he's getting better. You two lived in a nice studio apartment together now, having a mostly peaceful life. Although he's gotten away from his past, things still linger. In ugly ways. The anxious memories of fights with Bill and the group. His anger issues that stem from his incel like behavior and again, constant fighting. Then there was the biggest culprit of them all. His eating disorder. He was constantly body shamed by the rest of the group, and it left him painfully insecure. He wouldn't let you touch him or look at him without clothes for the longest time. It took lots of love, patience, empathy and understanding for him to get comfortable with it. Although he didn't say it out loud he was so grateful that you were there every step of the way. Now, back to his eating problems. He went to food for comfort when he was stressed, which was constant in his late teem years with the club. This made the binge eating ten fold. This turned into some sort of defense mechanism for him. Eating until he got ill, vomiting or getting sick, and repeating the cycle over and over again. He wasn't sure why it resisted as a defense in his brain. He absolutely despised it. It made him feel weak, but he had no idea on how to stop. So he just did what he always knew. Binge. Sick. Repeat. He went through a lot of changes and extreme emotions when you came along and found out. You actually tried to help. You didn't Shame his habits or his body. You were careful and slow with your words, but made an effort as to not baby him. It got better, it didn't happen every day. But trauma and illness doesn't just dissappear when you get a little bit of help. You couldn't solve it all. You weren't a mental health professional. You did what you could, guiding him into a more comfortable space, giving him a glass of water and taking a breather with him. But even with your gentle and sweet tactics that melted his heart there were still bad days. Days where he was hunched over the toilet when you were out and about somewhere else. Sobbing harshly, throwing up the way to big meal he had a couple of hours earlier. He hated it. He hated it the most when you caught him, even though you were never angry. "Oh... joshy..." you would gently call out from behind, standing at the open door way. You could crouch behind him holding his hair back and kissing the back of his neck as the food left his system. Your touch was a big contrast, a light to what you touched. The ratty, greasy, raw painful and ugly that he thought he was. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry I don't know what's wrong with me..." he would beg. But you would gently shush him and stroke his hair. You would reach forward and wrap your arms around him as he flushed the toilet. You guided him to stand, he washed up, his big hands shaking. "There we go... it's okay..." you murmured quietly. He was pent up and angry, but he tried not to punch the wall or mirror. You led him to the bedroom. You got the half full glass of water on the night stand and made him drink. "Thank you..." he would whisper quietly. You smiled and pressed a loving kiss against his forehead. You curled up in his lap as you two sat on the bed. "You know your okat joshie... right..? Your body is your body and you are just doing what you have always done. But there are better ways to do things. I love you josh." You spoke. You stroked up and down his stomach and chest. He smiled weakly and placed his heavy hands on the small of your back. "I love you too... so much..." he replied, his voice uncharacteristically gentle and soft, compared to his mean and snarky tone he always had. Maybe he could be a bit healthier. But it was scary and unfamiliar. He couldn't fathom the change in routine and comfort, which caused anxiousness. But hopefully he could try, and maybe it could work. He would try his very hardest for you. He hated seeing you so worried. Like you were right now, whimpering gentle words into his ear and entangling yourself into his big arms. The night dragged on slowly as you cuddled and talked about his fears and insecurities, lulling you two into a peaceful sleep. Maybe it would get better. Maybe he could be happy in his own body.