He lies in the hospital bed beside his worried brothers. His face is pale and gaunt like he hasn't had anything to eat in months; his wrists are bandaged up tightly.
The doctor comes in with a tray of breakfast, but he refuses to eat it, turning his fatally skinny body away and pretending to be asleep. He hears his oldest brother sigh sadly, but he doesn't care. Doc shrugs it off and sets the tray on the side of the table, figuring he'll be hungry by lunchtime.
…
The beeps on the monitor grow slower as the day passes, indicating that his heart is failing. Probably due to the lack of nutrients in his system, but they don't know that for sure. What they do know is that he's slipping away slowly and painfully.
He clutches his chest, cringing in pain as he feels that it's getting harder to breathe. His vision is blurry as he tries to concentrate on his brothers' faces above him.
By that time, four more faces appear above him, one of them his best friend's. They all seem to be staring with worry, but he can't tell, as everything turns dark.
…
Ha. They think he's dead.
Dead wouldn't be the word he would use. He'd use, maybe, 'permanent sleep'. But, no, he's just taking a little rest.
He feels the bed shift and opens one eye, his vision a little bit clearer than usual. Opening both, he turns and sees the one person he thought hated his guts, but the worried expression on his little companion's face tells otherwise.
Sighing with defeat, he scoots closer to his brother's friend, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see him… smiling…
…
They diagnose him as 'anorexic'.
He cringes at that word. No, he's not becoming anorexic; he just doesn't want to gain weight, what's so wrong with that?
He's convinced that they don't know what they're talking about, that they're out of their minds. They're crazy, delusional.
They explain that he might have to stay in the hospital for a few more days until he regains a healthy weight, but that they're glad that his brothers have caught on and taken him to the hospital immediately.
…
He still refuses to eat after a few more days of them trying. Well, try as they might, he's not eating anything, not even from this shitty place. The hospital food tastes like shit, just pure fucking shit.
His oldest brother tries force-feeding him, but his other sibling and the doctors say that that's not going to help his situation any. The doctors say that it might take some time, but he'll eat eventually.
He mentally curses them, all of them, saying that he'd rather die being the skinniest he can get than eat and gain weight.
…
Months pass, and miraculously, he hasn't "kicked the bucket" yet.
His ribs are protruding from his skin, which you can visibly see underneath the hospital gown. His face is almost skeletal-looking. His thighs are far apart, and his arms look almost twig-like.
His brothers have both gone to work after taking a few days off to be there for him, and he's glad because he knows that if they see him in this horrible of a condition, they'll be left with no choice but to try and get him to eat.
He tries to sit up, but he's too weak. His heart feels like it's literally trying to break his ribs.
…
By the time his brothers come back into the room, his eyes close and the monitor flat lines.
47 pounds. That's how much he weighed.
He passes with a smile on his face… because that was his goal, and he finally reached it.