Beautiful

Just like the disorder, the relapse crept up on me. Gradually, I was looking at myself in the mirror like I did in the thick of things. I went back to using the scale obsessively and saw every ounce I gained as a personal failure. Not an hour passed where I didn't think about how much I hated myself. All I wanted was to feel normal again, but it was like I had forgotten how.

Not to mention, my relapse could not have happened at a worse time. At the end of that week, I was meeting André's family.

Unlike mine, they lived upstate, so it wasn't a long drive to get to the house he grew up in. He emphatically told me, multiple times, that I didn't need to feel pressured to come with him. If the environment was one that would make things worse I was allowed to say no. I said yes at a time where I was sure I could handle things, but now I had been in a downward spiral for days.

I couldn't bring myself to back out. I needed to be strong. Part of me knew that I was going back to my old habits of keeping my struggles a secret, but anorexia nervosa had trained me to be a master at rationalizing self-destructive behavior. I was going to be with André and that meant I would be okay.

The two of us had gotten so close recently. Hardly a night passed where one of us didn't sleep over at the other's apartment. We talked and texted constantly. He was an important part of my life, and I was important in his.

I'll never forget the first time he said "I love you" to me. It was on a Sunday. We had baked red velvet cupcakes at Dalkom Park that day and watched a movie at my apartment after. The two of us were cuddling on the couch and he just said it to me like it was the most normal thing in the world, so I said it right back to him. I hadn't had a boyfriend in a long time, but I had forgotten how happy it made me to be with someone who loved me like André did.

We talked about it and it had been decided that he would brief his family members ahead of time about me, tell them what to expect. I felt so horrible about it, the fact that André had to explain and prepare his family for me, but it would have been so much worse if they didn't know.

It was his first trip back home since he moved to open his bakery, and the special occasion was his mother's birthday. She was the unofficial head of the family so this was something her sons would never want to pass up. Aside from André and me, there would also be his older brother Aleksandr (apparently European names starting with A was a theme), his wife Kira, and their son Cooper, all staying at the house. I was meeting the whole Park family in one go.

We got there in the evening and things seemed to be going well. Everyone was nice to me, nobody asked uncomfortable questions or made comments, not even 11-year-old Cooper. But I could always feel their eyes on me, whether they were actually there or not. I wasn't better, I wasn't even at good place in my recovery. André was bringing me into his home and I felt unworthy.

Things kept getting worse during dinner. I tried kimchi for the first time, which smelled funny but tasted great. In fact, everything tasted great, but that wasn't what I was thinking about. Everyone else was having Korean barbecue and rice while I was sitting there eating a boring salad and roasted vegetables. I felt like a little kid sitting at the grown-ups table.

It wasn't the people I was with. They were all so kind and understanding. The problem was me. I was putting on a mask, smiling and acting like everything was okay while I was stewing in depression and self-loathing. They all loved André so much, so what would they think when they saw him bring home such a weak shell of a man? I didn't know what their expectations were, but I felt like I had disappointed all of them. I was living a lie.

Like many other things I think, I knew it wasn't true, but the thought didn't go away, it just stayed there. After dinner, I went to André's room, where we both would be sleeping, feeling like I was about to cry. I needed to lie down.

I just wanted to be okay again.

*****

I told both my mom and Aleks the exact same thing over the phone long before we even left our apartment building.

"My boyfriend Tory is a recovering anorexic. He has a bad relationship with food and eating. He's improving, but still a little sensitive. As long as there's healthy food options and nobody says anything about his weight or appearance, things will be fine. Just treat him like you would anyone else."

Thankfully, both of them got the message loud and clear. Aleks could relate, having gone through self-image issues in his life, and I think Mom was just happy I was in a relationship after so long staying single and focusing on work. In phone calls or texting she would often ask me if I was socializing, meeting new people. She was very warm and sweet with Tory.

After dinner my mom, Aleks, and me spent some time catching up. In the back of my mind I was worried about Tory and the way he wanted to be alone right after dinner, but from the beginning I made him swear up and down that if things got really bad he would talk to me immediately. Right now I think he just wanted to be alone, so I let him have his space.

Both my mom and brother let me know that they liked Tory. They saw the same things I did, how kind and how strong he was.

"I just feel like I'm not doing enough for him," I admitted.

"Sweetie, everybody has their struggles. All we can do is be there for each other," Mom told me. "The idea that someone out there supports you no matter what and wants you to be happy, that can do more than you'd expect."

"Absolutely," Aleks chimed in. "And he knows you're there for him. He appreciates you, anyone could see that."

Things were so hard when Dad died. Losing a family member was something I didn't think I could ever come back from, but these two family members helped me through it, and I came out on the other side a stronger person. I hoped I was doing the same thing for Tory.

About half an hour later I decided it was time to check on him. I went to my old bedroom and found him under the covers, sulking with the lights on.

"How are you feeling, babe?"

He sighed.

"I've been better."

I got under the blankets behind him, wrapping my arms around his body.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

There was a long pause before he answered.

"I wasn't ready to do this. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, exactly? They all like you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, I feel like I did. They all met me when I'm in such a bad place. It's humiliating. I can't stop thinking I let you down."

I turned him around so we could make eye contact.

"The only way you could let me down is if you just gave up completely. But you're here. You're trying. I'd never fault you for that. Still, you shouldn't be thinking about this in terms of what I want. What do you want?"

I saw his eyes get shiny.

"I just want to be happy. I don't know if I've been truly happy in a long time."

I gave him a kiss and pulled him close, stroking his back with my hand.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, Tory?"

"I...I really don't feel beautiful."

"That's the thing that makes me sad. You're a good person. You have a beautiful heart and that shines through in your actions. But you don't really see it like that. There's a beauty in you that mirrors and scales can't convey. And no matter how bad your self-image is, that doesn't change."

We were so close our noses were touching. I looked into his eyes.

"I want to love you until you can see yourself as the Tory I see when I look at you. Just keep trying, and I know you'll get there someday."

He blinked some tears away. "I'll try. I promise."

I gave him a kiss. "I love you." We had only started saying that to each other recently, but it was needed in moments like these.

"I love you, too."

We held each other close for a long time, but eventually he was ready to get back out there again.

The rest of the evening went well for the two of us. As a family we played Jackbox on Cooper's Switch, and we were all laughing and having a good time. I noticed that the smile Tory had was different from the one he had a few hours ago. He wasn't just putting on a brave face anymore. He was genuinely having fun.

Tory looked beautiful.

I wanted to see him like that as much as I could.

*****

The next day was a lot better for me. André's mom's birthday was technically the next Tuesday, but we had the birthday dinner and festivities on that Sunday because everyone was there. The tradition was to not go out to eat and instead stay home and have a big, home-cooked meal. That definitely sounded like something I could handle.

Unsurprisingly, André took charge when it came to cooking both the dinner and the dessert afterwards. All of us pitched in, even little Cooper. The big star of the dinner was a huge hot-pot of a kind of Korean tofu soup called soondubu. Normally the family cooked everything in the big pot, including eggs, bulgogi beef, kimchi, and lots of soy sauce, but the Parks were nice enough to change things around this year. This time there was just the pot of broth and tofu in the middle and everything else was on the side, so we could add only what we wanted to it. I was there for the entire creation process, so I knew what was in the stew, and it was something I was able to eat just fine when I added a lot of vegetables and avoided the rice. It felt so good to eat the same thing everyone else was eating. I also learned that soondubu was something I wanted to fully integrate into my life. It was spicy and homey and made me feel warm on the inside.

Dessert was a different story. Apparently Mama Park enjoyed eating a cream cake on her birthday, with plenty of whipped cream and fresh fruit. It was a lot of fat and sugar and I didn't think I would be able to have some without feeling really bad about it afterwards. Thankfully, nobody asked me if I wanted a piece, nobody even acted like they noticed I didn't have any.

Everyone was having a good time, but I couldn't help but notice just how beaming André was. He was so happy that I was enjoying myself.

We had a wonderful evening, but when everything died down André brought us to his room and essentially jumped me. Within a second he was all over me, kissing and stroking my body.

"I am so fucking proud of you, babe," he husked in my ear.

I realized that I was also proud of myself. I got into it with him, feeling up the glorious form of my boyfriend. Heavy petting turned into grinding and before we knew it our clothes were off and we were on his bed. He was sucking my cock while was eating out his perfect ass.

I still couldn't believe how amazing his buns were. According to André he did rugby in high school and college and still worked out three or four days a week, but he had always been sort of bulky. Whether this ass came naturally or was formed with dedicated training, it was a damn work of art and needed to be appreciated as such.

Normally our sex life was a sort of give and take when it came to control. I was more of a top and he was more of a bottom, but there was never really the feeling of someone taking charge. That was not the case tonight. This time André took the reins. He ripped open the condom and slid it on me before getting into position, straddling me. Never before had a bottom dominated me, and holy shit was it something. My man went full-on power bottom bull rider on my dick and I was worried I was going to squeal and alert everyone in the house of what we were up to.

André kissed me constantly, stroking my body and telling me how much he loved me. I almost started crying from happiness. This wonderful, beautiful man loved me, anorexia and all. I wasn't fighting alone anymore.

I came relatively quickly and shifted my focus on giving him pleasure. I sucked his dick and finger-banged him until he was shooting into my mouth.

By then both of us were sweaty and tired. We cuddled together, him spooning me. Neither of us said much for a few minutes.

"You know what really grabbed my attention that first time we hooked up?" he asked me.

"No, what?"

"When I was holding you in bed I kept looking at the bumps your spine made on the back of your neck. It was kind of aggressive."

Huh. I never really gave that part of my body much thought. I was usually looking at other parts of me, like my stomach and thighs and what I perceived to be man tits. But in my recovery I was beginning to see more and more how skinny some parts of me were.

"Any particular reason that came to mind?"

"I'm just bringing it up again because that part of you is beginning to soften. It looks a lot better."

He felt up my body.

"How have you been feeling?"

I thought about that for a bit.

"I think I'm feeling less weak. I have more stamina, and I'm not tired as much as I used to be." For a while I was dependent on coffee to keep me feeling alive in the mornings. But now I had a little more energy. My life was improving, if in small ways.

"Thank you so much, André. I couldn't have done this without you."

He kissed my ear.

"I appreciate that, but you should give yourself more credit. You're the one who's working so hard. I'm just here to support you."

The conversation died down and we got ready to sleep. It felt like we were surrounded by a little pocket of warmth. He and I had this small piece of the world filled with our love for each other. It was so comfortable, felt so right. Before long I had drifted off, snuggled in the arms of my amazing boyfriend.

*****

About two weeks after Mom's birthday I was in the process of perfecting my recipe for a new item at Dalkom Park: opera cake.

Opera cake is a fairly ambitious and time-consuming cake to prepare. It's like tiramisu, with layers of sponge cake soaked in coffee syrup and some chocolate, but it also has a kind of French buttercream. It requires a lot of layering and patience to make properly, but the end result looks and tastes incredible. Hopefully, incredible enough to warrant paying a little extra money.

Tory was with me when the final product was complete. I knew that it contained some of his favorite foods: coffee, almonds, and dark chocolate. He was really impressed.

"That looks fancy as shit."

I laughed.

As usual, when I finish a recipe, I celebrate by having a full piece of it myself. I packed up a slice and we went back to my place.

We had dinner, him now being able to branch out a lot more with what he ate, and we enjoyed ourselves. Eventually it was time for that cake I spent so long making.

Tory looked at the piece of cake in a way I didn't recognize. He had grown comfortable around desserts and unhealthy food, but he was acting a little different.

I had already eaten half of it when he asked me something.

"Can I...can I try a bite?"

I almost dropped my fork. Tory had made strides in his recovery. We had gone out to eat a couple times, he threw away his bathroom scale, and he was gaining some healthy weight back. But this was a big leap.

"Are you sure?"

"I think I am sure. I look at that and I'm not thinking about what's in it. I'm just thinking about how good it looks."

I gave him my fork and he carefully put together a bite that had a little bit of everything. He put it in his mouth and started chewing slowly. After he swallowed the room was silent for a few seconds. Then he started tearing up.

"Tory? Tory, are you okay?" I was beginning to panic.

"I'm okay," he whispered. "It's just so good."

There was a pause and then we both started laughing. I hugged my lover close and gave him a kiss.

"You've come a long way, baby."

"I...I guess I have. Thanks."

We kissed again, and still a little teary-eyed he gave me a big, genuine smile.

There was a lot of hope in that smile.

It was beautiful.