Chapter Text
There are some habits that die harder than others, and Patrick's avoidance of food was one of them. He wasn't anorexic, or at least that's what he said when confronted about his issues. He didn't have this need to be as thin as a rail, nor did he feel bad about how he looked. His issues didn't come from a self-image problem; rather, they came from an issue with existence itself. In order to survive, one needs to eat. This was a fact of life, but at the same time Patrick wasn't the same as others. He shouldn't need to eat to survive, or perhaps maybe he did, and it was this fact that made others need to eat, as that was designed into their creation. He wasn't sure. Patrick liked food fine. He ate enough to survive. He didn't dwell on it. He ate what he was supposed to. He was thin but he had a high metabolism. It wasn't an issue. Sometimes he opted for coffee instead of a proper breakfast. It wasn't an issue. Sometimes he skipped meals in order to test his own limits. It wasn't an issue. It was never an issue until someone made it an issue. Patrick wasn't anorexic. He was alive. He was real. He shouldn't have to explain himself to those who he knew wouldn't understand, but that's what he signed up for when he started a relationship with his own creations. Real or not, this was the life he had chosen.
“You need to eat.” Belch remarked as he watched Patrick make himself another cup of coffee, unable to miss how he chose to ignore him, no doubt because of this acknowledgement. “You can't survive on coffee alone.”
“I'm fine.” Patrick muttered as he took a moment to appreciate how hot the coffee was as he enclosed his hands around the cup, pausing for a moment as he noticed how Belch had continued to stare at him. “I ate yesterday.”
“Yeah? When?” Belch challenged in such a manner that he started to sound more like his mother than his boyfriend, looking the other man over as he made his way over to the table. “You skipped breakfast. Henry ate your lunch, and Henry slept over at your place last night, and he said you barely touched your dinner, so when did you eat?”
“Isn't Henry supposed to be the mother hen of the group?” Patrick mused as he brought the cup up to his lips, knowing full well if the other two were here, they would be just as, if not more, on his ass about this little issue of his. “I'm fine.”
Patrick knew if it wasn't for the fact that the two of them had to pick up Henry and head over to see Vic, he would have received a much longer lecture about his refusal to eat, but Henry could be bitchy when not picked up on time, and Vic's mother was expecting them. Vic had invited them over to help clean out the shed and go help get everything ready for the fall and winter season. It was work, but in comparison to the kind of shit Henry often dragged them off to the farm to do, it was rather easy stuff. Vic came from an upper-class family. None of them were exactly open about their relationship for obvious reasons, but the connection between them was clear. Patrick's parents were just thrilled over the fact that he had made friends. Belch's mother had her opinions, but as long as her boy stayed out of trouble, she didn't care too much what the four of them did. Vic's parents didn't approve of their little friendship for several reasons, but for the most part, they kept that to themselves. Butch, on the other hand, was a whole other story, but that was a conversation for another time. Patrick didn't have time to unpack those kinds of issues. It was around noon when Vic's mother came out with snacks and drinks. While she might not have approved of her son's choice in friends, she at least treated them as what they were, and that was friends of her sons, or at least that's what she assumed them to be. That's what her son had told her. Vic didn't exactly announce that he was on his knees at least once a week or bent over the table or had ended up with his dick wet. Friends were easier. Friends were safer. Patrick didn't want food, but Vic’s mother was never one to take no for an answer. She claimed he was too thin, and that was that.
“You're staring.” Patrick acknowledged as he bit off another piece of granola, if not just to satisfy Vic's mother, who had more or less forced the treat onto him, not missing the small smile he earned over the action. “Are you happy now?”
“I would be happier if you ate a proper meal.” Belch responded as he wrapped an arm around Patrick, not bothering to push too hard on the matter, as he knew by this point if he continued to push, he would stop eating entirely. “It'll do.. for now. Finish that. Henry has his own damn food to eat.”
“I don't steal that much of his food.” Henry argued as he took a few more off the tray, unable to miss the look Vic had as they both knew this to be a lie and how Belch kind of mirrored his expression. “Fuck both of you.”
“You can have the rest of this.” Patrick remarked as he passed what was left of the granola bar over to Henry to eat, choosing not to acknowledge the clear issue both Vic and Belch had with this. “What? I ate half of it.”
“Half.” Belch repeated with a sense of overall bitterness as Patrick shook his arm off of him, a sigh escaping him when Vic chose to turn his attention towards Henry who was eating like a man who had been starved for a last week which allowed Patrick to slip through the cracks as usual. “Vic, you can worry about Henry and his unhealthy eating habits later— Vic— Hen— You know how what? Nevermind. Patrick. Eat.”
Patrick, in fact, did not eat.