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#i think ... perhaps ... I fucked up my metabolism by way of developing an ED a few yrs ago dbdjdkl
dandyshucks · 2 months
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me getting nauseous after i eat breakfast every morning and Guz hovering over me worriedly saying "yeah hun I don't think that's normal..." and I just wave him off because I'm USED TO IT ITS FINE DONT EVEN WORRY ABT IT BIG GUY just give me like an hour or two and I'll be back on my feet again. gives him a shaky thumbs up.
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I haven't seen an ED hc on here yet and I need to project a bit so here's this: at the begging all the queen boys were skinny as hell but as time went on the only one who remained that way was brian. and everyone assumed that it was all natural. what they didn't know was that brian consciously started eating less when he got to the age where people's metabolism usually slows down. he was well aware that his skinniness was part of his trademark look and decided he needed to keep it that way (1/3)
he started cutting down the amount and frequency of his meals but the others never noticed - brian had always been peculiar with food (not eating meat or unhealthy things etc.) so they assumed he ate at home whenever he refused the takeout they had in the studio. in the mid 80s they slowly start noticing that brian’s no longer just skinny, but also sickly looking but still don’t say anything, assuming he might have a stomach bug going on (touring can bring that on quite easily after all) (2/3)
then, a couple of months later, brian passes out in the studio and the boys finally connect the dots. they feel incredibly guilty for not noticing the signs and are determined to help brian recover. (3/3) //if you could please write something where the boys realise all this had been going on without them noticing and then try to figure out how to help brian out of this mess while he refuses to believe that he needs help at all (can be gen or you can add a ship if you’d like)
TW explicit mentions of Eating Disorders, Disordered Eating, Anorexia, Orthorexia, Hospitalization and excessive vulgar language. 
All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand…
For my life still ahead, pity me…
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24
Again.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24
One more time. So you remember how you fucked up.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24
24 ribs sticking out from grey ashen skin.
Brian’s bony finger traced over each one as he counted outloud, eyes focused on the full body mirror in front of him.
You remember how handsome you used to be? Remember when theyjutted out like a fucking Greek god? But you ruined it. You ate that chocolatecupcake like the pig you are and now you’re fat again. Fat and disgusting.
“One, two, three, four, five…”
It doesn’t matter if you cry about it. It won’t make you anyskinnier. Put on your running shoes, fat ass.
“Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”
RUN!
Brian wiped his face free of the tears, eye’s falling downto his bare feet. Skeletal but most people’s standards but bloated looking tohim. He had blisters on his heels from running a mile every morning, but itdidn’t matter. Pain was beauty, right?
Of all the numbers, zero is the most beautiful. Brianthought that to himself as he ran around his neighborhood, the sun dipping inthe sky, crickets already chirping.
His knees hurt so bad, his chest was on fire and he was surehis blisters had reopened, but he had done this to himself. If he only atethings that were good, he wouldn’t have to run this second mile. If he juststopped inhaling anything that came into sight, he could be home right now,settling into a night’s rest.
But he was out here. In the cold English sunset, wearinglayers of jogging clothes to try and keep warm. He deserved this. Briandeserved this.
The day he hit his goal weight, he’d never have to do thisagain. He’d be doing zero laps.
It was nearly midnight before he tempted to step on thescale.
The bathroom was so dark. Only trickles of moonlight pouredin from the window. He refused to turn on the lights since he weighed himselfnaked. Having to see his bare body was revolting. There was so much wrong withit. His legs were too chubby. His stomach so round. His cheeks akin to a hamster.It was better in the dark.
The cold metal of the scale sent a shiver up his body as hestepped onto it. He had to squint to see the number, but he was sure it hadgone up since this morning. That fucking cupcake.
8 stone.
Tears pricked his eyes. The number had gone down. Why was hestill so big?
So big.
Who could like someone so grotesque as him? With so muchskin? With so much fat?
Brian hugged himself, elbows tucking into his concavestomach.
He was disgusting.
“You’re drinking your coffee black, Bri?” Roger asked, nosescrunched up as he peered into Brian’s coffee mug. Brian pulled the mug closerto him defensively but smiled and lolled his head as if nothing was wrong.
“You know I don’t drink milk, mate,” Brian said, taking asip of the acrid brew, forcing his brow to stay unfurrowed.
“Since when? Thought you were vegetarian, not one of thoseweird animal hippies,” Roger said eyes narrowed.
“Well, I’ve decided through research that the milk industryexploits cows. Did you know that mother cows and their c-“
“Yeah, yeah, alright. You could at least put a sugar or twoin there, you mad man,” Roger said with the wave of his hand, Brian’s plan atboring him with animal ethics having worked.
Brian smiled to himself, taking another sip. Roger was outof his mind if he thought he’d ever put sugar in anything he ate. Might as welleat straight fat. At least his little plan worked.
“Brian, sweetheart, you look absolutely pale! Have you caughta cold?” Freddie said, a hand pressing against Brian’s clammy forehead. Brianducked away from the touch, laughing nonchalantly as he did.
“Perhaps? I feel, uh, fine. Maybe I’m just low in something,”he said as convincingly as possible. His fingers started to twiddle with the sleevesof his shirt that was far too big.
Freddie gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but he nodded.
“Well, you better rest up. Can’t have our main guydeveloping an ailment before our show tomorrow, huh?” Freddie said, a handstraying onto Brian’s bony shoulder. The touch made him erupt into goosebumps.
Did he know?
Does it matter?
“Brian, we need to talk,” John said, his grey eyes big andstormy.
His gut dropped to the floor, heart pounding so hard itechoed in his ears. Was the gig up?
Brian wouldn’t go without a fight.
“What about?” he said casually, crossing one leg over theother, leaning back on the couch backstage.
John sat down next to him, uncomfortably close. Brian didn’tlike people touching him. It made it all the harder to hide.
John looked around to see if anyone was around before heleaned and whispered, “The crowds really big tonight. I, um, I’m kinda nervous,”
Oh sweet jesus. Thank god. Thank god.
The anxiety melted from Brian, a small smile growing on hisface.
“John, how old are you? You silly man,” He said jokinglybefore pulling John in for a hug.
The bassist grew rigid, not reciprocating. It’d only been a second,but the atmosphere grew bleak and heavy. John pulled away, face tightened infear. He looked over Brian for a second before he left in a hurry without somuch as a word.
Did he feel how skinny fat Brian was?
Who cares?
Just because you finished a successful tour does not meanyou get to pig out. Look at all this food. It’s disgusting. Unhealthy. Do youwant to be fat? Don’t you want to be the skinny boy everyone knows and loves?
But I’m so hungry…
Hunger is good. Hunger means you’re strong. Hunger means you’rebeautiful. Hunger means you’re worth something.
I don’t feel good.
You won’t feel good if you get fat. If you stay fat.
I really don’t feel good.
Put that carrot down. Do you know how much sugar carrotshave? Do you want to poison your body with junk?
I think I’m gonna…
The after party for The Game fell silent. They’d all beendrinking, laughing, eating and a few other illegal activities when they heard athud. Hundred of eyes searched the room for the source of the noise untilsomeone spotted a collapsed Brian by the single veggie plate in the corner ofthe room.
Flurries of bodies and voices, yells and whispers erupted,some rushing to the phone, some running over to Brian.
Roger, Freddie and John surrounded their guitarist, panicfueling their every move.
“He’s bloody cold! Has someone called 999?” Roger shouted,rolling Brian over so he was on his back. It was a frighteningly easy task todo, the guy being light as a feather.
“Brian, sweetie, wake up please. Help is on the way, love.Stay with us, please,” Freddie pleaded, eyes misty as he held Brian’s handbetween his own, hoping to warm it up some.
John just stood next to the three, mouth and tongue seized,body trembling uncontrollably.
This is good. This is really good. Maybe soon you’ll benothing. Zero. A beautiful number. A beautiful state to be in.
“…He was in fucking heart failure…”
“…electrolytes too low…”
“…emaciated…”
“…bone’s of a 60 year old…”
“And if he had died?”
“…you never said anything!”
“…was I supposed to know what this was?”
“He’s alive no thanks to any of you…”
Brian’s eyes opened sluggishly, theonly thing he could seeing being an intense white light.
Was this it? Was he in heaven? Was allof this finally over? The pain and the cold and the empty stomachs and the migraines?Was that all gone now?
“He’s awake,” a mousy voice said.
Brian’s vision cleared, revealing awhite ceiling.
So he wasn’t dead.
He looked in the direction the voicecame, shivering when he saw it was John. His face was so swollen and so redfrom crying. It looked like he’d done a week’s worth. When their eyes met, Johnlet out a heart shattering sob, burying his face into Brian’s bed sheets. Theywere soaked.
Why was John crying so hard? He justpassed out was all. Nothing to be bent over.
His eyes scanned the room for other faces.
He found Roger’s. His eye bags wereunprecedented. His hair mused like he’d been trying to pull it out. Rogershrunk back into his chair, looking down at his shoes instead.
He didn’t have to look for Freddie.
Freddie walked up to Brian’s bed, hisface untelling. He looked at Brian’s IV, which he just now noticed he hadbefore he opened his mouth to speak. He faltered for a moment but spoke.
“Brian, I am so, so sorry,” he said,voice cracking, throat dry. He reached for Brian’s hand, but Brian pulled away,shaking his head.
“For what, Fred? I just passed out! It’sno one’s fault,” he said incredulously. They all looked like train wrecks for asimple blackout?
Freddie recoiled at Brian’s wordsbefore he softened again. His eyes parted from Brian’s, licking his lips. Whydidn’t anyone want to look at him?
“Brian…you didn’t pass out. You wentinto heart failure. You were in the ICU for 3 weeks in a coma. It…they had touse the electric paddles on you on two separate occasions,” his voice grewthick, obviously trying to push away the urge to cry and scream.
“They thought you weren’t going to makeit,” Freddie mouthed, his shoulders caving in as a few tears escaped down hischeeks.
Brian blinked before finally look downat himself.
Various bruises on his arm fromdifferent IV’s and blood draws Burn marks on his chest. And a line running downhis chest, all stitched and taped up.
A number 1, almost.
Not a zero.
He looked up to Freddie, jaw hanging.
“You needed a bypass, Bri,” Freddiesaid, a nervous hand rubbing his neck.
“W-Why?” Brian choked out, his mindhaving gone blank.
Roger snorted from across the room. “Youknow why,” he said bitterly.
And it was true. Brian knew why.
The room was quiet except for Deacy’smuffled sobs.
“I…I…the…I..can’t bloody think withyour crying, John!” Brian snapped. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t.This..illness made him do horrible things. Nasty things.
John responded by growing smalleralthough his crying didn’t. Freddie wanted to bark back, but this wasn’t right.None of it was. Instead, he grabbed John and left the room. Roger was the onlyone who could talk to Brian about serious stuff anyways.
Brian gulped when the door slammedbehind the two. Now it was just him and R-
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rogerasked, playing with the hem of his shirt. There was no malice in his voice.Just a simple question.
“I..didn’t think anything was wrong,”Brian said, which was the truth.
This, whatever it was, made the worldsplit in two. Reality and what went on his brain both felt real. He knew he wassick, but he wasn’t. He knew he was skinny but he wasn’t. He knew he was dyingbut he wasn’t. It was hard to know the truth sometimes. All the times. It washard to reach out when everything felt both okay and crumbling. Which was thetrue one?
Roger let out a puff of air from hisnose, eyes fluttering shut, desperate for sleep. In times of crisis, he seemedto be the only one capable of keeping their wits about, so he’d been on babysittingduty for nearly a month. He wanted his bed so bad.
He wanted his best friend too.
“That’s fair,” he said with a sigh.There was another silence between them before Roger got up and padded over toBrian’s bed side. He plopped himself onto the uncomfortably wet sheets but paidthem no mind, instead looking at the skeleton before him.
“We’re all really sorry, Brian. None ofus knew you were fighting a battle alone. We just thought…I don’t know what wewere thinking. But we thought you had a handle on whatever you were doing and thatwas wrong of us to just assume,”
“You needed us and we weren’t there.There’s only so much we can do about the past though, right? But we’re gonna behere for you from now on. When they send you to the psych w-“
“Psych ward?” Brian spat out, sittingup straighter in bed.
That’s where crazy people go. I’m notcrazy. I’m fine. I’m fine. I don’t belong there. They’ll make me eat. They’llmake me gain weight.
Roger just took in Brian’s anxiety, an uncharacteristicallygentle hand laying onto Brian’s bandaged chest.
With the sincerity and sweetness of amother, Roger said, “We almost lost you Brian. We almost had to bury you. We’renot going to let that happen again. You’re not going to leave us like that,”
Brian laid back against the bed, hisonly veiny and pale hand going over Roger’s.
Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense.Nothing was good. But he knew he could trust Roger. That infernal voice buzzingin his head might have been his constant companion, but Roger was his bestfriend. And best friends don’t lie.
Brian blinked away a few tears, hiswhole body tired, in pain and in a mental tug of war, but he said, “Okay,”Roger collapsed for the first time in weeks.
John held onto Brian so tight, his faceburied into his neck. He would prefer to never let go, but he knew he had tosoon.
“Brian, I lo- you’re my best friend,okay? Get better?” he said before letting go. Brian smiled, patting his back.
Freddie came in for a hug next, meltinginto Brian’s embrace.
“I need my guitarist back. My soul brother,”Freddie said, kissing Brian’s cheek.
Lastly was Roger who just held out hishand for a shake. A firm one.
“See you soon, mate.”
Brian looked at all of them, taking intheir faces before he had to go. Wheeled out from the hospital and into the vanthat’d be taking him to the psychiatric ward.
The future ahead was scary and unknown,but he wanted to charge ahead. He wanted to live. For his friends, his family andmost importantly, himself. He wanted to play guitar and sing and eat and neverworry again.
All he wanted was to be four again.
Not zero.
Never zero.
Take heart my friend we love you
Though it seems like you’re alone
A million light’s above you
Smile down upon your home
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