When Carmy met you, you were super skinny. Like.. borderline gangly. It concerned him, but you were healthy, so he didn't really pay much mind. Of course, his subconscious made him try to feed you his food often, but y'know. Being skinny was just.. you. He'd never seen you anything but.

Till the two of you started dating. It was gradual, your weight gain. Neither of you had really noticed it, to be honest. It was natural, and Carmy was not complaining whatsoever. There was more of you to cuddle and hold close and grab, a few of his favourite activities, so why on earth would he complain about it? However, for you, it was quite the opposite. You did complain.

"What're you lookin' at?" he asks, seeing you standing by the mirror as he came into the bedroom. His brow furrowed, seeing the displeasure in your gaze. Carmy tilts his head, as if trying to find what you could possibly be unhappy with on your body. He, personally, can't see anything. "Guess you win, babe, cause I can't see shit," he speaks whilst rummaging through a drawer.

"Carm, I'm—" you huff, "ugh, I'm fat," Carmy scoffs at your words, shaking his head as he looks for his sweats. Fat? No, he liked you like this. Meat on your bones, and all that. "Thank fuckin' god, was startin' to think you didn't like my food." The way you scoff makes him laugh, and he makes his way over after having slid on his sweats to wrap his arms around your waist.

His head burying in the crook of your neck, he interlaces your fingers with his over your tummy. "You're perfect like this, alright? Don't start with all that, c'mon," he takes you in for a moment, "c'mon," he says once more, squeezing your hands gently.