Kurt is fat. No, he isn't fat. He is chubby. Which is just as bad.

Blue eyes are racking over his body. His damned pear shaped body. His broad, girly hips, his way-too-big ass, his huge thighs, that move like disgusting jelly at every step he takes. The sight makes him want to smash the mirror into a million pieces. But Blaine would hear that.

Sweet Blaine, who he shuts out every day, so he can stare and pinch at his body. So he can drag the hidden scale out of the closet from underneath a huge pile of his clothes, that Blaine would never dare to touch, and write down one sickening number after the other, with only the small satisfaction of the number actually dropping every day. The newest number reads:

114.6 - BMI 17

Each number is written down neatly, but slightly pressed down into the paper with frustration and desperation. Every day, the journal is carefully hidden underneath the mattress before he unlocks the door again.

He feels awful, keeping things from Blaine, because he knows his boyfriend loves him. He does. But he knows it's only a matter of time until the lovely, oblivious, beautiful boy will find someone who is so much better than Kurt. Prettier, thinner, worthy of his love. And Kurt doesn't want to be alone. He needs Blaine to stay. Blaine was his personal angel, who saved him when he felt miserable and worthless. Blaine made him smile again and made him feel loved and flustered, just by singing a song to him, while he was a complete stranger. An intruder, even. A spy. And Blaine saved him, just like that. Kurt needs him.

So he has to do this alone. Blaine would never compliment him if he knew Kurt's ways. Living on two spoons of sugar-free cereal, diet coke, water and four rice crackers was nothing to be proud of. It was too much, even. But he doesn't want to risk losing control because he's getting too hungry.

Blaine's voice is heard from the other side of the door - "Kurt, please stop working and eat with me for once!" - and Kurt forces himself to look away from the disfigured image in the mirror. He bites his dry lower lip, his fingers still pushing and pulling his fat arms.

"I don't feel good, babe. I'm going to sleep early. You're right, I'm working too much. Tomorrow, okay?"

"Kurt, open the door, please."

Panic builds up in his fragile disgusting body. Quickly, he pushes the scale underneath the bed, half wrecked journal messily stuffed underneath his pillow. Then he pulls his clothes back on. He opens the door, knowing his hair is a mess. He decides to fake a yawn. "I think I already slept for like an hour or something."

Blaine looks worried. Kurt hates himself for lying, but even though it is for Blaine, he knows his boyfriend would never want or allow him to starve himself. Kurt likes to call it an emergency diet, because he can only eat this much for a while, to speed up the progress. He knows it's unhealthy and wrong, but he has no other option. The pear shape had to disappear.

Before he can process what's happening, Blaine has him wrapped up in his arms and pressed tightly against his warm, hard chest. He can feel the muscles in Blaine's arms clenching against his waist and back. Kurt hates that he can't be tanned, exotic and muscular like his boyfriend. They're traits he loves about Blaine, but it also makes him jealous and desperate. Why was someone with a great body like Blaine Anderson with this pale, chubby, girly voiced thing?

He tries his hardest to relax in the boy's arms. To pretend everything's the same as before. He really does. But he can't help but to suck in his stomach, freeze slightly and being unable to return the hug. He wishes the fat would just disappear already, so Blaine can touch him without having to feel like he's holding a fucking hippo. That's what it must feel like to hold him. Kurt is sure about it.

"I made you a salad. Just try to eat something, beautiful."

"Blaine, I-"

"Please, Kurt. You look terrible."

Stings are stabbing holes into his chest. It's hard to breathe and he prays for a stab to hit his heart so he can die already. Of course, nothing happens. Blaine can't even see it bleeding. It's all in his head..

Oh, he knows he looks terrible. He wants to yell at Blaine, tell him he's working on it. 'Soon I'll look perfect' keeps on pounding in his head. But he can't say it. Blaine will freak out, Kurt will freak out. No, lying was the best thing to do.

"I'm not feeling well." I'm so hungry, Blaine.

"It's just a salad, Kurt." Make me eat, Blaine. Please, look into my eyes find out my dirty, little secret.

There's a silence, in which Blaine waits patiently and Kurt is counting calories.

"Fine, I'll try some of your salad."

"Thank you, baby. I'm sorry if I'm pushing you, but you're turning into a ghost."

"It's fine, Blaine. I'm neglecting you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Let's just get some energy into your body, before you continue writing again."

Kurt follows Blaine to the kitchen, where a plate of his favorite salad is waiting for him. His body trembles and aches as he sits himself down on his chair.

'It's okay. I'll just skip on the rice crackers and diet coke tomorrow.'

His stomach instantly growls, obviously not agreeing and Kurt is terrified for the weekend.

Christmas could ruin everything.