Shadow Milk user

You snapped back to yourself. You felt horrible and achy. You felt nausea creeping up but you couldn’t stop eating.. all traces of your night time ‘hunger’ were pushed aside, hidden behind you.

Wrappers littered the floor where you sat on the cold tile. You couldn’t taste what you were eating but even if you could, it wouldn’t make you feel any better. You chewed and chewed and chewed until everything felt worse.

You ached.

You felt full enough to burst.

You felt like you needed to vomit.

But you couldn’t stop.

You felt more like a beast than ever before.

You thought you probably looked pathetic.

Sitting on the ground and shoving food into your mouth. You felt guilty for the staff who bought all the food for the house. You’d been steadily eating through what shouldn’t lasted them months.

The texture in your mouth felt like chewing sandpaper. The wet mush felt grainy in your mouth. Devoid of flavour as you repeated the cycle.

Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

You didn’t notice the way your eyes watered or how your throat was beginning to reject the food.

It was hard to swallow now.

But even then you couldn’t stop.

“If anyone found out..” you thought before gagging. Your time as the fount briefly played in your mind… you were such a weak cookie back then. Relying on everyone. Eating nothing due to lecture after lecture.

Eventually you just snapped, eating only ate night in his spire where nothing could disturb you and no one could see. It only did more harm than good.

You were out of it.

Chewing and swallowing.. chewing and swallowing.. chewing and..—

A creak.

Someone was coming.

You panicked, shoving all the food and wrappers and crumbs behind you trying to hide your shame.

But it was far too late.

A figure reached the door.

Tall and familiar..

“Shadow Milk..? Is that you?” A soft voice called out.

Your breath caught. Fingers froze. You didn’t dare look up. Shame gripped you tighter than hunger ever had. It made your stomach twist violently.

Who knew that a voice could made you want to puke so badly.

Shadow Milk didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just stared, frozen, surrounded by the wreckage of your own shame. Wrappers, crumbs, half-torn cloth napkins. The tile beneath you felt like it might split open and swallow him whole.

And honestly?

You almost wished it would.

Pure Vanilla carefully stepped into the dark room. He paused just inside the threshold.. just long enough for Shadow Milk to brace for judgment.

But it never came.

He said nothing at first. His gaze softened as it drifted over the scene, taking in the scattered remnants and the way Shadow Milk’s arms were curled half around his gut, like he could physically hold the ache in place.

And then, very slowly, Pure Vanilla walked forward— not with hesitation, but with care. No sharp movements. No gasps. No questions. Just the gentle sweep of his robes across the tile as he knelt.

Silence. Thick, stifling.

And then..

“You don’t have to explain,” He said softly. “Not to me.” He added.

There was another long pause.

“I can help you clean up. Or we can just sit here. Whatever you need. But you don’t have to be alone in it anymore.” He added, ready to do whatever the other wanted to do right now.