TRIGGER WARNING

 this chapter contains themes of eating disorders, including restrictive eating and body image struggles. please read with care, and remember to prioritize your well-being

the city was alive, but she felt dead inside.

london moved as it always did—horns blaring, footsteps rushing, lights flickering against the ink-black sky. but to alex, everything was muffled, distant, like she was walking through a dream she couldn't wake up from.

it had been weeks since ibiza.

weeks since she had spoken to nick.

she told herself it was for the best. that she needed space. that he was better off without her dragging him into her mess.

but the truth?

she missed him.

and she hated herself for it.

the moment they landed back in london, alex started disappearing.

it wasn't intentional at first. she just needed time. a few days to clear her head, to breathe, to sort through the emotions that had tangled inside her ever since nick threw that punch at the club.

then a few days turned into a week.

a week turned into two.

she stopped answering texts. ignored phone calls. canceled plans with jenna and lion, telling herself they wouldn't notice, that they wouldn't care.

they noticed.

jenna tried calling every day. lion sent voice messages, his tone soft but edged with concern. even noah—who never pried—sent a simple "you okay?"

she ignored them all.

but nick?

he didn't text at all.

and that hurt the most.

the hunger came slowly. it started small. skipping breakfast, pushing around her food at dinner. telling herself she'd eat later. then later never came. she told herself she wasn't hungry. she told herself she didn't need it.

at first, it was about control. the emptiness in her stomach was a reminder that she could choose something. when everything else in her life was slipping through her fingers—her friendships, her mother, her sense of self—at least this was hers.

but then it became something else. the hunger became a companion. the ache in her stomach a familiar kind of pain. it was better than the grief. better than the guilt. better than feeling anything at all.

she checked the mirror every morning. ran her fingers over her collarbones. traced the lines of her ribs. "not enough," the voice in her head whispered.

"you have to be smaller."

she was exhausted. her legs felt like lead. her thoughts sluggish. her skin dull. but when she looked in the mirror and saw the weight slipping away, something inside her whispered, good girl.

so she kept going. 

then the email came. her mother had died in a car crash two weeks ago. alex sat at the kitchen table, staring at the screen, rereading the words until they blurred together. a crash.

a dinner. a plan to visit. and now, she was gone. just like that. she should have called more. should have visited more. should have done something. now, she never could. something inside her cracked.

and she let it.

she let herself sink into the exhaustion that had already been pulling her under. let herself unravel, thread by thread, until there was nothing left. 

she stopped answering texts completely. stopped leaving her apartment. stopped trying.

because what was the point?

the first time nick saw her again, his heart nearly stopped.

jenna had finally convinced alex to meet them for coffee. nick hadn't expected her to come, not after weeks of silence, but when she walked through the door, the air was punched from his lungs.

she looked small. not just physically, though that part was undeniable. 

her sweater hung off her like it belonged to someone else. her skin was pale, her cheekbones more pronounced. but it was her eyes that scared him the most.

they were empty.

dull.

like she wasn't there anymore.

she barely spoke the entire time. just sat there, stirring her drink, forcing weak smiles when necessary. nick didn't say anything then. but when he got home that night, he layed awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, chest tight with something between anger and fear. because alex wasn't just tired.

she was disappearing.

another week passed before he couldn't take it anymore.

jenna called him, her voice laced with worry.

"nick, something's wrong. she's not okay."

so he went to the sinclaire's mansion. he knocked once. no answer. knocked again. nothing. "alex," he called out, voice firm. "open the door." 

silence.

then, finally—soft footsteps. the door cracked open just enough for him to see her. his stomach twisted.

she looked worse than before. wrapped in an oversized hoodie, hair messy, dark circles beneath her eyes. she had always been effortlessly beautiful, but now—now she just looked fragile.

"go home, nick," she mumbled, trying to close the door. he stopped it with his hand. "not until you tell me what's going on." her jaw clenched. "i'm fine." 

nick scoffed. "you're not fine."

she exhaled sharply, looking away. "i don't want to do this right now." 

"too bad," he shot back.

her fingers curled into fists. "you don't get to do this," she whispered. "you don't get to show up and act like you care." his eyes darkened. "i do care."

"then leave me alone," she snapped.

for a second, neither of them spoke. then, softer—

"please."

nick stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "i know about your mom," he said quietly. alex stiffened. jenna must have told him. she swallowed hard. "i don't want to talk about it."

"alex—"

"i said i don't," she cut him off, voice cracking. nick took a deep breath, his eyes scanning her face, the way she was holding herself together by a thread. then his gaze dropped to her wrist, where the sleeve of her hoodie had slipped back. his chest tightened.

her arm was so thin.

too thin.

it hit him like a gut punch.

"alex," he whispered, barely able to say her name. she looked up at him. and for the first time, he saw it all. not just exhaustion. not just grief. she was hurting.

"when was the last time you ate?," he asked.

her face paled. "nick, please—"

"you're starving yourself," he said, voice breaking. her breathing hitched. tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"i just..." she swallowed hard. "i don't know how to stop."

nick exhaled sharply. his hands trembled as he reached out, gently cupping her face. "you don't have to do this alone," he whispered. alex let out a shaky breath. "i don't know how to be okay," she admitted. nick pulled her into his arms.

and this time—

she didn't pull away.

she let herself break.

and for the first time in weeks, she let someone hold her together.

if you're struggling with an eating disorder or was struggling with it, please reach out to someone who can help you. you are perfect just the way you are. you are enough for sure. just don't do that to your body. it's hell to go through it, especially alone. so please reach out to someone to get help. i am so proud of the people who recovered from eating disorders. i am also proud of the ones trying. i love you all lots. 

( © SOLXSTRS 2025 )