I had a completely different chapter for the second part of
To the Bones.
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Ryan was standing in front of the mirror on Brendon’s door pinching the skin on his stomach he considered to be fat. His boyfriend was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, ignoring it. “My mom still wants you to come to church with us. She thinks it’ll be good for you.”
“I let you talk me into Thanksgiving dinner. There’s no way I’m going to church, too. I’m going back to campus Sunday morning.” The boy turned and crossed his arms. “You used to call me beautiful.”
Brendon sat up quickly, looking straight into his boyfriend’s eyes. “And?”
“You stopped.” He didn’t seem upset by this, more interested. Doubtless he was hoping Brendon would say he was fat so he would be validated in his fasting and purging.
Brendon signed and turned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Come here.” He held out his hands and Ryan took them, unsmiling. “If I hug you too tightly, your ribs will crack.”
“So I’m not beautiful.”
There was another sigh and Brendon stood, lightly kissing Ryan on the cheek. “You’re always beautiful to me. I just wish you didn’t care so much about what you eat.”
There were footsteps in the hallway and the boys dropped hands, turning as the door opened. Brendon’s sister, Kara, stood in the doorway. “Mom says to wash up for supper.”
“Learn to knock!” Brendon yelled as the door shut.
Ryan winced, bring his hands up to cover his ears. “Ow.” he said pointedly, glaring slightly at his boyfriend.
Brendon gave a small smile and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t cause a scene at dinner, okay?”
“I don’t cause scenes.” the older boy said dryly. “You do.”
Dinner was . . . shockingly normal. To the eye. Brendon, however, knew the amount Ryan was eating was far from normal and that his boyfriend would be pinching his ‘fat’ long into the night. He was naïve enough to assume it would stay in Ryan’s stomach.
Brendon’s mother wasn’t. Catherine Urie pulled her son aside in the kitchen to ask him about Ryan’s lack of figure. “Brendon, that boy is too skinny.” she said in a low voice, grabbing her youngest child’s arm.
“He’s always been skinny, Mom.” the boy said. It wasn’t a lie really. Ryan
had always been skinny. He just hadn’t always resembled a skeleton.
“Not like that, he hasn’t.” the woman said, shaking her finger. “You were worried, remember.”
Brendon sighed, not liking where the conversation was going, trying to pull away from his mother. “He’s stressed. He’s just worrying about college.”
“Talk to him.” the woman said quickly as her son turned to leave.
Brendon was already out the door when he turned back. “I already did.”
Ryan only spent about ten minutes scrutinizing his reflection in Brendon’s mirror. “Your mom’s weird.” he said, pinching at the skin on his arms.
“’Cause she kept putting food on your plate?” Brendon was staring at the ceiling, trying to flick his eyes to his boyfriend’s reflection. “Moms do that.”
“Spencer’s mom doesn’t.”
“Only ‘cause you don’t go over there anymore.” He started biting at a hangnail on his thumb, wondering if Ryan knew the amount of calories he was consuming from it. “How much do you weigh, Ryan?” He tried not make the question casual, not anxious or worried.
“Ninety-one, I think. Probably ninety-five after all I eight. You don’t have a scale in your bathroom.” Ryan sighed, letting go of the skin on his stomach and smoothing down his shirt. He turned around and walked toward the bed, crawling over the pull-out and slipping under the sheets with Brendon. “Do you believe in God?”
Brendon turned, slightly startled. “N-No. Why?”
“Well, you go to Church.”
“I have to. You came over for Thanksgiving dinner and you don’t believe in food.” The boy winced immediately at his words, expecting an immediate blowup or breakdown. Instead, a soft smile danced on Ryan’s lips and, with a small shock, Brendon realized Ryan’s lips and eyes still looked the same, even if his shoulder blades were sticking out.
“So, that’s my religion?” Small giggle. Everything about Ryan was small.
“Anorexia isn’t a religion.” Brendon muttered under his breath. If Ryan heard, he didn’t show it. “I love you.” he said, a little too-loud, blushing when stared at him with wide eyes.
“I know.” He snuggled against the older boy. “I love you, too.”
Brendon’s arms came around Ryan, around the blanket they were under. He couldn’t feel the bones. For the first time since they’d started dating, he couldn’t feel Ryan’s bones. “Are we going to sleep now?” he asked.
The older boy nodded tiredly.
“The light’s not out.”
Ryan didn’t answer.