Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lucas' relationship with food, just like his relationship with sleep, isn't exactly the healthiest. It's not a real problem, because it's not an issue all the time. 

There are entire months he can eat normally, practically without an issue. He doesn't weigh himself (the mirror tells him enough), doesn't fear any type of food, doesn't exercise for hours, doesn't make himself throw up. (Those few times he stuck his fingers down his throat after a fight with his dad, or after getting bad after bad news on his mom don't count; they were isolated incidents and he didn't cough up much more than bile and a few pieces of food he hadn't chewed well enough.)

There are triggers, and by now, Lucas knows when he has to be careful. They're simple things that'd trigger just about anyone: his mom getting sicker, his dad being an insistent ass he can't actually stand; worry over Eliott, his friends, grades. 

It's especially tricky when Lucas can't sleep. If he can't sleep, it's never the right time to eat anymore, and so he decides he doesn't want to. (It has nothing to do with the few times he ate a lot to compensate for not sleeping, or to stay awake, or simply because he was so dazed from sleep deprivation he ate everything in his reach before realizing what he was doing. It's not like he's afraid of it happening again. He's not.)

Sometimes, it happens the other way around. It starts by not eating– and getting headache after headache, and being cold, and shaking. In the end the hunger becomes so intense it keeps him awake at night, no matter what else he tries.

Nevertheless, it's not an issue. Lucas eats with everyone around him –and it's not like anyone has said anything about it, which means it's probably nothing.

He can (pretend to) eat normally most of the time. He's fine.

It starts after one of Eliott's episodes. It's not on purpose, this time. He's just– he's worried and he's taking care of Eliott, and so, he forgets to eat. 

And yeah, it's actually been weeks since it happened and Eliott's completely back to normal now, but— there's something (he doesn't know what, doesn't know why this time when others he's been completely fine), but it's. It's just so hard. 

Lucas knows this isn't healthy, knows he can't expect Eliott to get better when he's not taking care of himself, knows his grades and relationship will suffer as his focus wavers because he isn't eating enough. But is is just so easy, so easy to substitute food for coffee, and say he'll eat later because he's got to study or do something or–

Lucas tends to forget, sometimes, that he isolates himself when he gets like this. "Oh, I promised the guys we'd hang tonight. You know how hard it is to to see each other right now that we're not in the same school" and "Oh, I'm so sorry. I promised Eliott we could have date night. You know how busy he is with his film project, so it's not like we have a lot of time to see each other."

It always takes him by surprise whenever someone starts to worry, because it's so easy to lose track of time when it feels like you're constantly stuck between a fog and some kind of distant, persistent pain that you've made part of you: be it a hunger pang, or a headache or whatever disappointment you have with your lack of progress this time. 

Sometimes Lucas forgets when he last ate, and while he's secretly proud of it, he can't say the same of not remembering when he last talked to someone, or when he last slept; and he can never tell which one is which when he's in it deep enough.

It's someone's birthday— maybe, Lucas can't actually remember. They're pre gaming at someone's house– just The Gang this time. Yann, Basile, Arthur and him. They're laughing about something, and Lucas is laughing too, but he can't really shake the surprise in Basile's eyes when he came in right in time.

"Lucas", he had exclaimed, eyes wide and arms open, genuine excitement in his voice that had quickly died down and tired down into worry. "We haven't seen you in forever, man. What happened? You lo-"

A sharp elbow from Yann into Bas' side, followed by a wince and a curse. Arthur catching his eye, and signing something to him that Lucas can't really remember what it is —he's pretty sure everyone in the group is pretty good at sign language by now, but he just hasn't kept at. They learnt it as a surprise for Arthur's last birthday, but it's easy to forget it when you don't use it much– but he's sure it's making fun of Bas. He fakes a laugh, but still sends him a grateful smile.

So, yeah. It's been a while. And someone's laughing and it isn't Lucas anymore because he's gotten so lost he doesn't even know what they're talking about anymore. He's looking at his beer and thinking about what Arthur meant, and what Yann knows, and whether he can get rid of the beer without someone noticing because he already has enough of a headache and really doesn't want to deal with this, with the calories the beer might have (and no, he doesn't count them because he isn't sick and it's not like he needs to anyway when he isn't eating or, at least, not something outside of what he allows himself to eat right now. He's not scared of it, it's just unnecessary. He doesn't want it) or how it will affect him later.

Yann elbows him under the table, but doesn't make him talk. 

"You good?" He mouths. 

Lucas' instinctively starts to nod, but he knows he doesn't look right and he doesn't want to feel like he's lying to his friends. Again. He turns his nod into a shrug. "Tired," he mouths back.

Yann nods in understanding, but Lucas still sees him worry and he feels so guilty. He knows Yann must think he's hiding something, that there's something wrong again, when that really isn't it. But Lucas can't reassure him because he can't tell him the truth. (And he'll want it, because every time Lucas has really struggled with sleep, he was hiding something and Yann knows it.) He knows thay if he tells him the truth Yann won't see things his way, and will tell Eliott and they'll make him stop. 

It isn't long after when Arthur excuses himself to the bathroom and Yann goes get something for the party they're pretty much buzzed and ready for. Lucas is already so tired he's considering pretending to get a call from Eliott so he can go home early and not have to talk to anyone else tonight.

'You okay?" Bas says suddenly, starting Lucas out of his thoughts. Lucas turns to look at him and immediately decides he does not like the look in his eyes. Basile is smarter than he looks, smarter than they give him credit for and he's looking at Lucas like he knows something. Like he knows his secret.

"Fine," Lucas answers slowly, trying to think how to play it so nothing is given away. "You?"

"No," Bas says, honest in a way Lucas rarely hates, but right now really does. "I'm not fine because I'm worried about my friend. And I– I don't get it because we already know you're gay, and you know how secrets never really work well for us in this group, so I don't know why you won't just tell us."

"What– ?" Lucas is honestly confused. 

Bas covers Lucas' hand with his own and looks him in the eyes. His voice drops into a whisper.

"Do you have an eating disorder?"

Lucas chokes. He hasn't drunk anything yet and he doesn't— he really doesn't want to drink anything, but he starts coughing and coughing and he can't stop. Basile starts clapping his back, but he can't catch his breath, can't get any breath in because he's choking on nothing and maybe Bas knows more than he says and he probably can tell because of Daphné but Lucas is not that bad yet and he'll—

He's chugging the beer down without thinking, or even looking at it. It's too warm and it stings all the way down, but he can't worry about it when it's giving him a break from the coughing and the worrying and Basile. He takes a breath after, and it's not so hard anymore, but he has to concentrate to make it a steady thing. 

The beer in his hands is empty and he isn't anymore and he's actually never been this bad but it still shouldn't be a problem, it isn't . His stomach churns and he has to run to the sink before he's throwing up all over himself. 

Bas hovers behind him. "How can I help?"

Lucas turns around to tell him to back off, to not tell anyone else, that he doesn't know what he's talking about. But he can see behind him that they aren't alone anymore, and Arthur is grimacing at the smell and Lucas— He can't take it. 

He takes off with his heart hammering, almost running into Yann near the door. He hears him say something, but can't make out what it is, not with the blood pulsating in his ears. He's dizzy and tired and thinks he might faint and that can't happen with anyone around. Lucas mumbles something about feeling sick, and leaves.

Once outside his own place, he has trouble convincing himself to get in.Lucas doesn't know if anyone has talked to Eliott and  is terrified about it. 

The cold is too much for him though, and it barely takes minutes of internal struggle before he's in the complex and walking up the stairs and into their apartment. He didn't need to worry, because Eliott is already asleep. It must be later than he thought. Lucas changes into loose leggings and an old threadbare t-shirt because he's too exhausted to shower. He lays beside Eliott and breathes in his scent. Despite it, sleep doesn't come easily.

The second time someone says something, he's at Manon's. He's supposed to be catching up with Emma because they don't really talk anymore and Emma has been asking him to hang for ages now.

However, Daphne had been having some kind of crisis that morning so everyone had been over, and Emma had asked him to go over there instead.

Lucas doesn't really have much to say so he's just been absently nodding at her conversation with him and Manon (Imane, Alexia and Daphné have already left.) 

Suddenly, Manon pushes herself up from the bed they're sitting at and raises her voice. "How about a late lunch?" 

"Oh," Lucas says. "I'll be leaving then. I promised Eliott—" 

"Nonsense," she says. "Come on, I'll cook."

"Yay," Emma lights up at that. "You'll see, Lucas, Manon makes the best food."

"I'm sure," he placates. "But I really should get going now."

"Please," Emma asks, "just stay a little while longer." 

And Lucas wants to, he really, really does. But the thought of eating something he doesn't know the ingredients of and the smell he can already imagine will overpower everything is already making him nauseous. He ate this morning too, afraid he wouldn't have the energy to keep up with Emma enough not to worry her, and he can't afford to eat again so soon.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, as sincerely as he can, "but Eliott really is waiting for me. I just hadn't realized how late it already is."

Emma looks at him pleadingly again, but Manon nods. "It's okay."

They walk together to the door before Manon asks Emma to get her something she has forgotten in her room. Then, she hugs him.

"It's okay, Lucas," she says again. "Just know we're here for you. Whenever you want to talk about it. Or not."

And Lucas knows she knows. And how wouldn't she, with her experience? And he couldn't be more grateful for it, but he doesn't want it.

"But tell someone, yeah?" Manon pleads. "Soon."

Lucas looks away. "I'm fine."

"Sure," she says knowingly. "But fine people deserve help too." 

She squeezes one last time, and steps back. "Say hello to Eliott from me, yeah?"

"Sure."

It's a Thursday when Lucas comes home to Eliott cooking. It's nothing really special, just chicken carbonara pasta, but it's still a surprise.

"How come you're home so early?" 

"Hello to you too," Eliott chuckles, a smile that makes Lucas catch his breath as it illuminates Eliott's face. 

Lucas instinctively smiles back. "Hi."

And normally– Well. Normally, he'd curl his arms around Eliott and hug him until he's sure nothing is gonna burn before he'd turn around and they'd greet each other with a proper kiss. Today, however, the smell is so strong Lucas can practically feel the fat in the sauce permeating his skin and turning into fat. The smell is so strong it hurts. He feels heavy from it and he isn't even in the same room yet.

"Lola is coming over for dinner."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah," Eliott explains, "we wanted to talk about that sequel I was thinking for that project we did together, remember?"

"Right," Lucas says, pauses for a second. "I'll make myself scarce, then."

"What? No," Eliott complains. "I want you here."

And this time, Lucas has no excuse. He's speechless. Once again, it's Thursday, and Eliott knows no one is really available to hang tonight so Lucas can't say anything or he'll be caught in a lie. And he can't say he's sick or tired, because Eliott will postpone it and take care of him instead, and he knows how long Eliott has been waiting for this so he can't do that. 

There's no way out of this. Lucas shivers. He doesn't want any part of this, but he doesn't know if Eliott is suspicious yet and he can't risk it —Eliott has been complaining about how cold Lucas is, and worrying because he never wants to have sex anymore, and he isn't really talking and Eliott can tell he isn't sleeping much and he still doesn't know if anyone has told him anything yet.

Lucas wants to curse his body for his eating issues— and why are they taking so long to go away again? They usually don't last this long (it's been a few months now), or get this bad anyways. 

The doorbell announces Lola's welcome, and Lucas can't help but be shocked by quickly the time has passed since he came home.

Greeting her passes in a blur, as well as most of the conversation he's had with her and they've had around him. All he can focus on is the food, and the smell, and how Eliott ladles heap after heap on each of their plates without asking before sitting down. Lucas is trying his best to breathe through his mouth, but he doesn't want to bring attention to himself, so it isn't being easy.

Warmth envelopes his knee under the table, catching his attention.

"Everything alright, my love?" 

The muffled sounds sharpen into actual words. Lucas jumps in his seat. Not visibly enough for Lola to notice, he thinks, but there's no way Eliott hasn't felt it.

"Yeah, sorry." He says, lifting his gaze up from the plate. He's surprised to see everyone else is almost done. Lola is looking at him strangely and, oh no, Eliott looks really worried.

"You sure? You haven't touched your plate."

"I'm just," Lucas excuses himself. "Tired, y' know? And I had a really big lunch anyways, so I'm not really hungry."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Lucas shrugs. "You were really looking forward to this."

Eliott's eyes soften, although the concern doesn't leave his face. 

"Would you mind if I just head to bed?" 

Eliott leans forward and kisses his forehead. Lucas relishes in his warmth. 

"Get some sleep. I'll wrap this up and come with you soon. We should talk."

"Oh, no, I'm fi-"

Eliott glares. 

"Alright," he whispers.

In bed, he closes his eyes and tries his hardest not to flinch at every sound of something happening: plates clinking, drawers opening and closing, muffled voices. He plans to pretend to sleep by the time Eliott's back, but he's lucky enough this time, because all the little sounds and sleepless nights catch up to him and finally lull him to sleep.

Eliott isn't next to him when he wakes up the next morning. For the first time in a long time, it makes him feel relieved, which in turn, makes him feel guilty for being relieved.

At first he thinks Eliott must have woken up really early, but a quick glance at him phone tells him he's actually overslept. Class is already halfway through, so he doesn't even try to get dressed to get there. 

Still in yesterday's clothes, Lucas ventures into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Hey," Lola speaks from the couch as he walks past it.

Lucas tries not to show his alarm, how his heart stopped for a minute at hearing her when he thought he was alone.

"Why are you still here?" He asks, realizing too late how rude he sounds.

"Slept over," she says. "It got too late and Eliott insisted."

"Oh," he says, a little bit lost. "Don't you have class?"

Lola smirks. "Don't you?"

"Touché."

He strides the last few steps to the kitchen and fills a glass from the cupboard with the coldest water he can find. It's soothing the discomfort of water in an empty stomach is easy to ignore.

"Is that all you're gonna have?"

"Why are you following me?" Lucas asks, turning around. Lola lifts her hand as she raises her eyebrows, a half-eaten apple he hadn't seen before in her hand.

He crosses his arms, defensive. "What's it to you?" 

"Well," Lola reveals, "you didn't have any dinner last night. And I'm pretty sure you lied about lunch too."

"I didn't." Lucas lies.

"You look pale, and sick. And you stared at the pasta last night like it would kill you. It's just like Daphné."

And at the mention of Daphné, once again, Lucas loses it. "Look," he says. "You don't know what you saw last night, and I'm really sorry your sister is sick, but that has nothing to do with me. You all need to stop projecting on me and what I need– I really don't need, is an addict telling me what to do with myself or how to live my life. I'm not making myself sick. I'm not Daphné."

He regrets it the second the last word leaves his mouth. Lola looks so angry, and Lucas wishes she would hit him, scream at him and hurt him like he has her, but she doesn't. She spits her apple out.

"You're worrying everyone, Lucas. Not so long ago you were worried I was going to bring Eliott down. It's time for you to take a long hard look at yourself."

Lola storms out right afterwards, her quiet words sharper than anything else she could have done.

Everything in Lucas tells him to apologize, but he's suddenly so drained, so tired, he doesn't even have the energy to stand. He leans on the wall as he lowers himself down until he can feel the cool floor under his legs, and tries to breathe through it. 

Lucas wakes up on the couch. He doesn't remember getting here. The room is dark, which means he's pretty much lost the entire day between fits of sleep. It's the most he has slept in a really long time. 

He still feels tired.

Eliott is sitting across from him, a sketchbook in his hand. Lucas can't tell if he's realized Lucas is awake yet.

"Hi," he greets timidly.

Eliott looks up, and although his eyes are red and he isn't smiling, he still looks so beautiful it leaves Lucas breathless. 

"Hey," he greets back, voice hoarse.

"How long have you been here?"

Eliott shrugs. "Can we talk?"

"What about?"

"Lucas," Eliott reprimands. He sounds so tired, too.

Lucas swallows, the lump in his throat tightening. "Okay," he whispers.

"What's going on?"

And, okay. Lucas has agreed to talk, but now that it comes to it, it's so hard not a word comes out. Why is it so hard?

"Are you... Are you sick?"

Lucas shrugs. He wets his lips, nervous. "I don't know," he confesses. " I don't know."

"Okay." Eliott nods to himself. He takes a moment for himself before speaking again. His voice shakes when he asks: "Do you want help?"

"I don't know," Lucas confesses. Eliott's face falls a little, and Lucas— he has to try. 

"I don't think I deserve it."

Eliott's eyes widen in shock. "Why?" 

"'m not sick." Then, to himself, he whispers. "Not sick enough yet."

Eliott blanches, and Lucas knows he heard him. He leans towards him slowly, as if to giving him a choice, and Lucas– He leaps forwards because he's selfish, because he wants a hug even if he doesn't deserve it either, not when he's worrying everyone for something that isn't even an issue.

"You are," Eliott whispers into his hair." You are, and I love you, and I don't want you to die."

And— oh. Is his hair wet? Is Eliott crying because of him?

"'m not dying," Lucas chokes out. 'M here, I'm not dead."

Eliott sniffles. "Not yet. But you are dying." He hugs Lucas tighter, like the embrace is gonna keep him there with him forever, like it's gonna protect him even from himself. "Mon amour, you need help. You deserve it. You deserve everything. Please, I—"

Lucas sniffles. He hates how easily Eliott crying makes him emotional too. He's not crying, not yet, doesn't think he can right now, but he wants to. This is heartbreaking, and what makes it worse is that he knows what it's like to be in Eliott's place right now. To worry that this time, after this episode, his partner is not gonna make it. And it's like— oh.

He isn't that bad yet, is he? 

"I love you," Lucas says instead of reassuring him again. He's confused, and it's one of the only things he's sure of right now. "I love you," he repeats.

"I love you too," Eliott eventually murmurs back. 

"But love isn't enough, is it?" Lucas continues, heartbroken as he notices Eliott's hesitation. Without leaving his embrace, Eliott shakes his head.

And Lucas is so scared of what that means, of what it means for them. And then he remembers, he remembers how he always finds his way back to normal eating and it hasn't happened yet this time. Yet. And maybe—, maybe it has been too long. Maybe—, he inhales sharply, maybe this time he does need some help.

He leans up to kiss Eliott's forehead before leaning their foreheads together, their noses brushing against each other. He inhales, and when he speaks, his voice sounds wet with unshed tears. "Okay," he concedes. "I'll— I'll try. I'll get help."

"Yeah?" Eliott asks, hopeful.

Lucas nods, willing himself into not losing his nerve. "Maybe, maybe you can ask your therapist for references next session?"

Eliott nods. "I love you."

Lucas feels drained again, like every conversation he's having today is taking everything out of him. Maybe there really is something wrong with him.

He nods. "I love you too," he says. His back twinges, and he sighs. "Can we go to bed now?"