Justin doesn't like food (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} goldfinch) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} resurrectio_rpg,@ 2008-07-14 14:09:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Who: Justin and Moaning Myrtle
What: Friends talking. Sort of.
Where: Myrtle's loo.
When: Monday, after supper.
Rating: PG-13ish for eating disorder talk.
Status: Complete narrative.
"Justin, Justin, Justin," Myrtle crooned softly, hovering over Justin's shoulder as he hunched over the sink. He splashed another handful of water onto his face, willing his tears to stop. It had hurt this time, worse than it normally did. Usually the vomiting spell squeezed at his stomach until he sicked up whatever little he'd eaten, but this time, his entire body felt as if it had suddenly been lit on fire. Justin was sure he would have passed out if Myrtle hadn't tried to touch a ghostly hand to his forehead.
"Will you stop this now?" she whispered. "Please, Justin. You're killing yourself."
"Just a few more pounds," Justin croaked, wincing as his throat protested against speech. He was going to have to convince Madame that he was ill and get something to make his voice sound halfway decent. "I only need a few more pounds before my trousers fit again. That's all, Myrtle. I promise."
"You need to stop now!" she cried, stomping her foot in the air. "You stop or I'll... I'll tell everyone!"
"NO!" Justin shouted, spinning around and glaring fiercely. "If you tell anyone, I'll never come back and visit you, not ever! And I'll tell everyone I know not to talk to you and you'll be alone forever!"
Tears streamed down Myrtle's cheeks in silver ribbons, and Justin immediately felt awful about what he'd said. But he couldn't back down. Nobody could know about this, not anyone, and if Myrtle told, his life would be over. After a moment, Myrtle sighed and nodded, sinking until she was eye-level with Justin.
"Okay," she whispered. "I won't tell."
"Promise?" Justin asked seriously.
"Promise," Myrtle replied. "But what if you really pass out next time?"
Justin looked away, down at the floor. "...If I faint, go get Ernie or Zach. Nobody else. Okay?"
"Okay," Myrtle whispered. Justin sighed, glancing down at his watch.
"I have to go. I need to finish my Charms work. ...I'll see you tomorrow." He was out the door and gone before Myrtle could even begin to mumble a farewell.
What: Friends talking. Sort of.
Where: Myrtle's loo.
When: Monday, after supper.
Rating: PG-13ish for eating disorder talk.
Status: Complete narrative.
"Justin, Justin, Justin," Myrtle crooned softly, hovering over Justin's shoulder as he hunched over the sink. He splashed another handful of water onto his face, willing his tears to stop. It had hurt this time, worse than it normally did. Usually the vomiting spell squeezed at his stomach until he sicked up whatever little he'd eaten, but this time, his entire body felt as if it had suddenly been lit on fire. Justin was sure he would have passed out if Myrtle hadn't tried to touch a ghostly hand to his forehead.
"Will you stop this now?" she whispered. "Please, Justin. You're killing yourself."
"Just a few more pounds," Justin croaked, wincing as his throat protested against speech. He was going to have to convince Madame that he was ill and get something to make his voice sound halfway decent. "I only need a few more pounds before my trousers fit again. That's all, Myrtle. I promise."
"You need to stop now!" she cried, stomping her foot in the air. "You stop or I'll... I'll tell everyone!"
"NO!" Justin shouted, spinning around and glaring fiercely. "If you tell anyone, I'll never come back and visit you, not ever! And I'll tell everyone I know not to talk to you and you'll be alone forever!"
Tears streamed down Myrtle's cheeks in silver ribbons, and Justin immediately felt awful about what he'd said. But he couldn't back down. Nobody could know about this, not anyone, and if Myrtle told, his life would be over. After a moment, Myrtle sighed and nodded, sinking until she was eye-level with Justin.
"Okay," she whispered. "I won't tell."
"Promise?" Justin asked seriously.
"Promise," Myrtle replied. "But what if you really pass out next time?"
Justin looked away, down at the floor. "...If I faint, go get Ernie or Zach. Nobody else. Okay?"
"Okay," Myrtle whispered. Justin sighed, glancing down at his watch.
"I have to go. I need to finish my Charms work. ...I'll see you tomorrow." He was out the door and gone before Myrtle could even begin to mumble a farewell.