Work Text:
Vox’s hand snuck out to Valentino's side instinctively to see if he was alive. He electrocuted the bed with anxiety, nearly causing Vox to fall out.
“What the- Val? Val!?”
Vox should have been getting used to the routine. It’s honestly stupid that he hasn’t! Every morning around 4, Val would jump out of bed. Before doing anything else, his hands pressed flat against his stomach as he sucked it in. “You’re getting prettier by the day, preciosa,” he purred, exhaling deeply. His fingers wandered down to the sharp, jutting edges of his hip bones. Valentino tapped his chin, opening his vanity’s cabinet. He plucked an unlabeled vial with neon pink powder—basically coke, but pink.
Val lined it up on the vanity and inhaled it through a gold straw. His cerise eyes widened nearly, turning more red at the edges. The gnawing, empty, almost torturous pain in his stomach evaporated. “Fuckk, yes papi you're so perfect,” he praised his reflection, his voice rasping and vibrating. Valentino browsed his closet, stopping at a black dress with lace on the top and bottom. It almost swallowed his whole frame—in a good way. The dress ended well above his thighs, starting at the middle of his chest.
Literally, everyone would want to swallow him in one bite. Val hurried to the studio almost immediately. Vox wouldn’t notice if he skipped breakfast. And if he did, Val would lie like always. The bad thing about lying is, they’ll always find out, even if you’re dead. After about an hour of yelling at his stupid whores, the high finally ended—coinciding with the day he had a ‘corporate’ lunch meeting. He had a strong feeling Vox and Velvette only scheduled this to watch him get fat.
Velvette ordered some high-calorie, grease-slicked ribs for the table. Without looking up from her phone, Velvette told him, “Eat, Val. You look like a walking coat hanger, and I won’t allow that for your photoshoot today.”
Without a protest, Valentino plunged his fork into the ribs and lifted it to his mouth. “She’s right, Val. You haven’t touched your drink either.”
Vox looked up with a brief, observant squint. Both of them exchanged glances, not making a big deal when Val ate two bites. Valentino forced himself to keep going; every bite felt like lead in his chest, visualizing flesh settling around his frame. He let out a fake appreciative hum, wiping his mouth with a silk napkin. “Delicious—but excuse me, babes, I’m going to go touch up my makeup!” Val grinned toothily.
He walked at a measured, casual pace. The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, Val was on his knees in front of the toilet. He shoved two long, furred fingers down his throat. As he gagged and choked, tears streamed from his eyes. The purge wasn’t just a little worse than last time; it was violent. He retched until only bitter, yellow bile and the stinging of his throat remained.
After flushing, he leaned his forehead against the tile, gasping for air, limbs shaking so badly he could barely stand. With desperate grace, he grabbed the Febreze from the table and sprayed it to drown out the acid scent. On the way back to the studio, Val rinsed his mouth and slipped his sunglasses on again, checking his appearance one last time before stepping back into the flashing lights.
Later on after work, they were lounging on the leather couch. Vox was going through the studio's quarterly revenue. Val was draped over the cushions, his long legs crossed. “So I told her, if she misses one more cue. I'm cutting her screentime in half!” He barked, waving his hand. Vox didn’t bother to laugh, he just stared at Valentino's wrist. Where there used to be thicker skin and stronger muscle from..well Val’s abuse.
Vox reached out, his fingers wrapping around his wrist. While he measured, it was obvious his grip overlapped. Valentino pulled his arm back with a sharp jerk, pulling his sleeve down to hide the bone. His laugh stiffened “What are you jealous of all the jewelry, Voxxie?~”.
“Your temperature is down 3 degrees” Vox’s screen flickered with a diagnostic grid. “You're resting at ninety-five degrees. Have you even been eating, or are you sick because I could order-“ he raised his voice. Valentino nearly screamed “I had a massive lunch today! I’m not sick!”. He continued as he stood up, his wings flaring to make himself look bigger. “Stop tracking me like I’m one of your stupid apps!” Vox opened his mouth to speak but that would only make things worse.
Or maybe Vox should’ve spoken, because Valentino was already up on his feet walking away. But, of course, the manic energy from the drugs started to wear off. His knees buckled and he started to sway. Val’s hand slapped against the server rack to stabilize himself. Vox moved to help, he didn’t quite catch Val though. Instead, he stood in front of him blocking the door.
“Val- you almost just fell, I can smell the chemical burn on your breath. You aren’t fooling anyone, especially me.”
Valentino bared his teeth at him, chest heaving. The static in the room rose between them like a physical wall. “Move, Vox,” Val whispered, before he raised his voice again. “I said get out of my way-“ Vox stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “No. Look at yourself, Valentino! " You're going to pass out if I let you through this fucking doorway!” His voice dropped below the static.
“I am NOT going to pass out you son of a b-“
Valentino threw a fist at his screen before it was caught. His knees buckled and he fell forward, Vox quickly caught him. Supporting his back, as he hugged him. “Let-let go of me..” Val buried his face into Vox’s chest, tears threatening to spill.
“Baby, please stop trying to fight me.”
Vox gently rubbed the center of Val’s back. While trying to shush him “I-I can’t stop..”. A sob tore out of his chest, all his anger was gone. Leaving only that vulnerable human all those years ago. “If I eat I feel it, I feel it settling into my stomach. I feel so heavy.”
“Then, let’s start slow.”
Valentino lifted his head, his mascara ruined. “No! V-Vox you can’t make me eat” he shrieked. Vox shook his head, sighing desperately “I’m not forcing you to eat! I just want you to..find like food you do like and that doesn't make you feel..heavy”. “That’s the problem, Vox! Everything makes me feel like a fat fucking pig!” He shouted, as Vox gently pulled him against his chest.
“Well..you like nachos right? Do they make you feel fat? And- maybe we could just have drinks, like smoothies and..that milk you like!”
Valentino slumped against Vox’s neck, shivering and shaking with every breath. “Horchata..it's called horchata” he murmured, with that roll of his Rs.
“Hor..horchaa-tah- whatever, you know what I mean”
Vox chuckled weakly, before he frowned again. Val nodded “I like horchata, it doesn’t make me fat”. “Then let’s get you some horchata, and if you don’t drink it that’s fine” Vox sighed deeply, he was 100% going to be pissed if he didn't drink any.
But who cares, they run a billion-dollar company.
What matters is Valentino eating for once in his damn life.
.