When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

Empty.

That's me, always me. There's no food in me, no emotion in me, no ability to properly connect with people within the inner workings of my brain. Sometimes no legitimate thoughts.

But not with Jack.

No, lying across the All Time Low bus couch with my head resting on Jack's lap, his fingers casually brushing through my hair, I feel content. Whole. Full. Even with Alex yammering to his girlfriend about how much he loves her, I can feel complete with Jack.

When did that happen? When did Jack become the one person I could feel so okay around? I don't even get that around my band mates, my alleged friends. No matter how much I try, I don't really feel like I belong around them.

This mock eating disorder facility bullshit makes it worse. A full day hasn't even passed yet, and I already can't handle the situation. I don't want to be watched. I don't want rules regarding how I'm supposed to behave with food. I behave just fine with food. I have a love-hate relationship with it.

Bulimia, I love food but I hate food. If I were an anorexic, I'd just hate food. But none of this is about the food anymore, it never has been and never will be. This is more than food. This is about wanting something I can never have. Food is my outlet for those things I don't deal with head on.

The way I behave with food makes me feel better. I don't need to change.

I wonder if it's possible for Jack and me to continue a relationship while I continue a food-affair with my eating disorder. He'll constantly try to help me get better and I'll never truly want to get better. This poses problems. We'll fight, always be cynical towards each other, possibly never have the trust we actually need, and eventually breakup.

Maybe we should have waited to date.

Maybe I should have never let him in.

Maybe we should just break up now and save each other the pain.

I can't do that. I could never want to end what I have with Jack. I like this, I like us, too much. It's an oddly strong attraction that I don't quite understand. I pick apart a lot of things, but my liking of Jack isn't something that can be now. He's everything I want, that I never knew I wanted.

What if this does end because of my eating disorder? What if I tear us apart because I can't get better?

"What are you thinking about?" Jack asks, fingers still running through my hair.

"Nothing," I respond.

"You're always thinking about something."

"How do you know?"

"Holl, I've hung out with you almost nonstop since the beginning of tour."

"Except for those two weeks we weren't talking."

That had been because of my eating disorder. That should have been enough for me to stay away from him and not let this relationship happen. But he's so cute. He makes me melt with simple looks. I couldn't have stayed away much longer than two weeks if I tried.

Two weeks was pushing it.

"That's not the point. I know you never verbalize anything. All of your thoughts stay locked up in that pretty head of yours."

He is right. I have too much of a mental filter. I need to fix that, need to talk a bit more.

"Let me guess, you, being the amazing superhero you are, can read my brain," I say.

"It's one of my powers. Know how it works?"

"How?"

"Well, first, I ask you what you're thinking about. Then, you actually tell me what you're thinking about."

I giggle. "Is that so?"

He is so cute.

"Yeah. So what are you thinking about?"

"Your super powers."

"Holl, I'm serious."

I sigh, glancing at Alex in the kitchen. His phone is glued to his ear, and he continues telling his girlfriend about something that's probably pointless to my life. What matters is he's distracted.

I return to staring at the wall and ask, "What happens to us, Jack?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us, our relationship, what's going to happen to it?"

"You mean after tour?"

That hadn't been in my mind. I forgot tour has to end. It feels like this traveling has lasted forever as it is. But it will end. It has to.

What will happen to us after that?

"Yeah," I mumble.

"I want to stay together."

"You do?"

"Yeah, Holl. This isn't some on-tour fling. I like you a lot."

"I like you a lot, too."

"I know."

"So, we're going to have a long distance relationship?"

"Probably. I can visit you for long periods of time, a few weeks or something. We don't have many full band practices till closer to tour dates, and I can't stay away from you for that long."

He can't last long periods of time without skin-to-skin contact. At least, with me he can’t. Is he like that normally?

What happens if I'm not there for him to touch?

"Are you... You're not going to..." I trail off.

I don't want to accuse him of something he hasn't even done yet.

"Am I what?" Jack asks.

"You're not going to find some other girl to cuddle on when we're apart, are you?"

I can feel him smile. His body practically buzzes with some excitement. The question was enough for him to know I want a future with him, that I don't want this to end up some open relationship.

Or maybe it was the wording of the question itself. I don't know. Jack's brain is a mystery sometimes. It could be a shiny object that's excited him.

I do like that about him.

"I'd never cheat on you," he says.

"Never?"

"Never."

That's enough for me. Jack may be a psychopath sometimes, but he's not unfaithful, no matter how worried I get. He stayed true to me for the entirety of the tour, didn't sleep with groupies, and we weren't together for most of what's passed so far. I can trust him.

That says a lot.

But there was a reason I started this conversation, a reason I asked that question. I need to know. This needs to be cleared up. I don't want to kill his hopes and dreams about my mental stability, but this is important.

It should be important to him, too.

"What if," I pause, "What if I don't get better?"

"Don't say that. You will get better. You even ate a little bit for breakfast. I mean, it was three bites of a pancake, but it was a good start."

Don't bring up the pancakes I never ate.

"What if I don't, though? What happens with us?"

"Holl, you're going to get better. Three bites of food for breakfast is a big accomplishment for you. You'll only be able to eat more as time goes on."

"Stop talking about the pancakes and answer my question."

I feel bad that he doesn't know. He sounds so happy, so optimistic, about the whole thing. There's nothing to be optimistic about. I spit those pancakes out. When I get the chance, I'm going to vomit. I'm getting better at faking it, that's all.

And I feel like I'm lying to Jack, the man who is my other half.

"Why not talk about the pancakes? Those were a step in the right direction. You need to remember that. Each accomplishment you make needs to be remembered, otherwise you're going to lose hope."

Mother fucking pancakes. I should have tossed those damn things in Ross's face.

"What if I lose hope and never get better?"

He doesn't say anything immediately. His fingers never cease running through my hair, his body still seems to hum. Alex talks on his phone, too engrossed in conversation to care about Jack and me.

"I'm not going to leave you," Jack says, "I know that's what you're thinking. I'm going to be here for you, to help you get better and to care for you in a way no one else has. I'm not going to abandon you because you're having trouble."

"And what if I don't want to get better?"

"I can't let this kill you, so you don't really have a choice."

"Bulimia won't kill me."

"It can."

"But it won't."

"It will if you don't stop."

"So?"

His fingers stop moving though my hair, frozen mid-stroke. Alex doesn't take notice. He's turned his back to lean against the counter. He can't see anything we're doing, and we could be doing a number of things.

"You don't care?" he asks.

Hurt. He's hurt. I can hear the pain in his voice. I can't blame him. His girlfriend doesn't care if she dies. I'd be upset, too.

But it's me who doesn't care. I'm more upset about hurting Jack's feelings. There's nothing I can do about that. He wanted me to tell him what I was thinking, and I did. He can't be upset about that.

Well, he can, but I don't want him to.

"Not really."

"You're okay with dying and leaving me?"

I push my head out of his lap and look him in the eyes. They swim with betrayal, sadness, all because of me. His mouth is in a deep frown, and worry lines stretch across his forehead.

"I didn't say that," I say.

That's not what I meant.

"What do you think is going to happen when you die? I can't stay with a corpse. I may be crazy, but I am not a necrophiliac."

"Jack, I don't want to leave you, but if bulimia kills me, then that's what it does."

Harsher than necessary, I'm aware.

"Are you serious?" Jack asks. "You'd choose an eating disorder over me?"

"I'm not choosing."

"Sounds like it. You'd let an eating disorder kill you, but you won't let my love for you save you."

"That's not—Wait, what?"

Love.

He said love.

"You heard me."

Cop out.

"You love me?" I ask.

"Yes, Holl. It can't be that surprising."

"Say it. Really tell me that you love me."

I want to hear it. I need to hear it.

He takes one of my hands in his, expression softening significantly. I think he sees how important this is to me. I don't get this kind of love ever. I never get the love or affection from people I want it from.

I've only ever wanted affection from my mother and that clearly isn't going to happen anytime soon.

"I love you, Holland. I love your stupid stubbornness. I love that dimple that pops out of your left cheek when you smile. I love you in underwear. I love you in sweats. I love you."

"Would you love me if I gained weight?"

"I would love you no matter what."

"What if I say I spit out the three bites of pancake this morning?"

He smiles, almost a teasing smile. "I know you did."

I feel my jaw drop and my eyes widen. He wasn't even there when I allegedly ate them.

"How?"

"Holl, there are certain things you just don't do and never will do. Breakfast is one of them. When you didn't start cursing about Ross, I figured it out. I thought you would confess if I kept praising you for it."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No. You ate lunch with me. You always eat with me. I think Ross needs to get off the breakfast kick and settle for letting you have a small snack during the day or something. I do agree with the other rules, though."

"Are you planning on picking up a small snack for me?"

"Maybe," he says, "Are you planning on trying to get better?"

Oh, right. Getting better. We were talking about that. Way to slip it back into the conversation, Jack.

"I need some time to think about it and decide I want to get better for myself. I can't make progress until I do that," I say.

"I understand. If you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. As your boyfriend, it's my job, and I take my job very seriously?"

"Do you." I smile.

He hums an affirmative. "I'm going to be employee of the month."

"And what does the employee of the month get?"

"Anything I want."

"Is that what your boss told you?"

"She's going to when we get into a hotel room together."

Not happening unless we actually find a way to get a hotel room alone together.

"Stop talking about dirty things, Jack," Alex calls over his shoulder.

"Stop having phone sex, Alex," Jack returns.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me away from their picking. I slip it from my skinny jeans. A message from Ross waits for me. Not wanting to piss off his royal highness anymore than I may have already, I press a few buttons on my touch screen.

'Meet in the dressing room. Set list change.'

I guess he sent a mass text out.

"Jack," I cut through his and Alex's ridiculous torrent of insults. Stopping in the middle of his comment, Jack turns to look at me. "I have to go meet with the band."

"Okay. I'll pick some fruit snacks up for you from the gas station for after sound check," he says.

"I'd like that."

"I know. That's why I'm employee of the month."

Laughing, I shake my head. "You're silly."

"Another reason why I'm employee of the month."

"And you're boss will pamper you for it. I have to go before Ross kills me. I'll see you later."

I press my lips to his, not giving him a chance to respond. His lips are warm and they take control of the pace of the kiss. My heart flutters, my stomach flips, with each movement of his lips against mine.

I don't think I can get enough of that.

Jack pulls away, smiling softly at me. "Bye, Holl."

"Bye, Jack."

I don't want to leave, but I stand from the couch and walk towards the stairs. My heart thumps against my chest, telling me I can't leave yet. My brain nags me. I've forgotten something.

I know what it is.

I stop at the counter and turn to face Jack. He's eyes are on me, haven’t left me since I stood up. Biting my lower lip, I dig my foot into the floor. Jack continues watching me, silently urging me to say what's on my mind.

"I love you," I say.

I mean it.

His face brightens, Labrador brown eyes sparkling with delight. My heart melts under the gaze, a small puddle in my shoes.

"I love you, too." he says.

He means it, too.