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Jack likes to think that there wasn’t a conscious reason he relapsed but really he knows that it was a long and thought out decision. He watches a movie and one of the characters has bulimia and he starts reminiscing about old times. At fourteen he hated life so much that death seemed better, with rose coloured glasses it started to seem better. Like he wants to get back to it.
Things have changed now. He lives by himself, in his own apartment with full control over his meals and he’s been doing really well. He’s doing so well that his parents don’t ask about his food habits over the phone anymore. He learns how to cook broccoli, orders whatever looks appetising and keeps himself fuelled. He likes eating, he likes keeping the food down.
He knows it would be a bad idea to do it again. Yet, there’s a voice in his head reminding him, filling his brain with fake memories.
It’s a Saturday when he first does it again. There’s no game but there is practice, as soon as he comes home he heads onto doordash. Jack tries to remember what foods are easy to throw up but he decides to go for what looks the best. ‘Do you really want to do this again?’ His brain asks him. Really, he isn’t sure but as soon as the food arrives, he’s ready for it.
Throwing up is easy now, he doesn’t have to shove his fingers right down his throat. It’s because he destroyed his body too much the first time around but he lets that thought disappear.
Jack has to admit it, he actually hates throwing up. It’s disgusting and it makes him feel dirty but there’s also the relief of being empty. He decides it's a bad idea to go back to it - he makes a promise to himself that he won’t do it again.
—
Obviously, he does it again.
Living in New Jersey meant that the sky was the limit. Fast food places were practically at every corner. He could get chinese food, a deli sandwich, soft serve ice-cream, pizza or gyro. Being a professional hockey player meant that he had the money to afford it all. He’s not fourteen blowing all of his birthday and religious holiday’s money anymore.
And he does order it all, he can spend hundreds in an hour. Why buy a fancy car or newly released technology when he can buy food. He can have a buffet in the comfort of his own home, nobody around to see it. It’s his adolescent's biggest dream come true. There is a lingering worry that the delivery driver will expose his secrets, he’ll wake up one day and the headlines will read: How much does Jack Hughes eat in a day? Being famous is a blessing and a curse.
But the food tastes so good, so good he understands the American obesity crisis. Only, he’s a hockey player so weight gain is not acceptable - it would be if it was muscle but he’s always struggled putting muscle on - and therefore throwing up is his only option. It’s like being able to taste the food twice, sometimes the flavours are fucking horrible but he’s learnt to manage it.
He falls back so quickly that he doesn’t even notice himself falling. Nobody else notices either.
—
Jack isn’t sure what happens when he’s fourteen. One moment he’s happily eating and not caring about his looks or his weight and then one day everything flips. Is he too big for hockey? Is he too small for hockey? Is his diet going to turn him into a great hockey player? He isn’t sure of anything anymore, eating makes him feel guilty and he wants to feel pure again.
The internet teaches him what to do. In internet forums that give deep descriptions. He learns how to make himself throw up with just two fingers, the workouts that burn the most calories, the easiest foods to throw up, every excuse in the world to get out of eating, and how to keep it all hidden from his family. And at first it’s just a diet, to eat cleaner and drop some pounds of fat. Then he gets hungry.
Maybe he should have expected it. He’s a growing teenage boy, he needs food. So he spends the day hiding away from food and then he waits until everyone falls asleep. Then, he lets himself eat. He eats junk food, snacks that his parents were saving and food he’s brought himself. He eats until he feels like he’s bursting and then he lets himself purge.
Sometimes he throws up, other times he works out until he burns all the calories - or passes out.
He chews through a packet of gum everyday, watches his body change, the way his hockey playing becomes worse, the disappointment on his father’s face. Life becomes a cycle of total misery.
—
Restarting is a lot easier than starting. The habits are engraved in the back of his brain and all he has to do is pick them back up. Chewing gum will keep the smell out of his mouth - a lot of gum is also good for dental health nowadays which is also important - concealer can hide the marks on his fingers. He can’t hide the puffy face or the rotting teeth if he keeps going long enough but he’ll probably stop before extensive damage is caused.
The high isn’t the same, even the feeling of shame is different. As a teenager it was harder to hide but the binges were a lot more fun - is that an adjective he can use to describe filling his body with food until he thinks he can bust? Throwing up is just as disgusting as ever. Exercising for hours is also just as gruelling but he feels it a lot more in his body now.
Having a gym he can go to and stay there for however long he wants to is a nice benefit of adulthood. And he does stay there for hours, in his notes app he writes a workout plan that takes around three hours and uses nearly all of the equipment. Whenever he feels like he’s about to faint or give up, he thinks about the media’s reaction if he were to show up with a buff body.
But if he didn’t sort this throwing up thing out then he’d remain bloated and full. The kind of full that’d make him swim with a shirt and enjoy the comfort of his hockey jersey too much. It was a bad idea to restart - he knows that it’s a bad idea - but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it at the same time.
Jack just wants to have a nice hockey player body, to not care so much about food. Nobody has noticed anything yet so that must mean something.
—
If there’s one thing Jack doesn’t want it’s his teammates finding out about it. He doesn’t need the concerned faces, the following eyes and probably being put on a hiatus because God has something against him playing a full season.
The devils win against the stars and decide to go and eat to celebrate. They go to an outback steakhouse, it’s tasty and they can still meet their protein goals. And Jack hasn’t eaten with the team since his relapse - which he still isn’t calling a relapse because then it feels too real - but he knows how to act normal during a meal. He only throws up when he binges and this isn’t a binge - it’s just dinner.
So he eats - there’s steak and mashed potato and a bread basket and he laughs and talks and eats. It’s a nice meal, he actually has a good time. It makes him realise just how much he loves being a devil. There’s a small urge to throw up, a familiar urge because he does it more in the evenings than any other time but he knows it’s a bad idea and it’s small enough to ignore.
He ignores it. Keeps on ignoring it. Until he finds himself at a bar, everybody starts ordering drinks so he joins in. Orders a beer and then another and then one more. The world becomes a little blurry, everyone else is talking and celebrating but he feels lost to the sidelines and the feeling that he needs to get it out is still upon him. Nobody is looking at him so he rushes off to find the bathroom.
There’s one bathroom in the bar with one toilet stalled off, he mentally prays that nobody else comes in and locks the stall door. Two fingers, the beer comes off first and it’s so disgusting that his body gags anyway. But the food has basically been digested now so barely any of that comes up.
Jack’s body shakes, he thinks that he might be crying and all that he can think about is how much weight that he’s going to gain. He pushes his fingers further back, keeps on doing it until he’s only throwing up bile and then he can hear something.
“Jack?” It’s Luke. Fuck, he wipes his mouth with some toilet paper, then his fingers and he flushes the toilet. Then, he unlocks the door.
He stands across from Luke like a scolded child. “I’m never drinking again.” He tries to joke and then he goes to wash his hands. He knows he looks bad but he’s hoping that Luke has drunk too much to notice that.
“Are you throwing up again?” Luke asks, his voice quiet so nobody else hears them.
“No, not on purpose. I just drank too much.” He’s only had three pints - maybe that’s a lot in America but it’s light work for like any other country - but Luke doesn’t know that and he’s not going to know that. He stumbles a little to make it more believable but Luke still eyes him suspiciously.
“You’d say something if it was getting bad again, right?”
“Of course.” Jack finishes washing his hands. “I’m gonna get an uber back to the hotel.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Luke asks innocently.
“I’ll be fine, I’m not going to get lost on the way back.” He bites, fighting to get out of the conversation.
—
‘If you’re going to be doing this again then you have to do this properly.’ The voice in his head tells him, he’s laying in bed with some shitty sports podcast playing in the background. They’re talking about the recent hockey games and he wants to know what people are saying about the Devils. It’s actually pretty good, they’re on a winning streak right now. He just hopes they keep it up and make it to the playoffs. Or even win the Stanley cup.
For the past few days he’s been sick with worry. Luke is onto him, he watches him all the time, keeps sending messages asking if he’s ok or if he’s eaten. And Jack knows that’s it’s brotherly concern because he scared Luke half to death the first time around. He scared everyone half to death and they’ve always worried that it would come back.
The worst thing that could happen would be his parents getting involved. He probably hurt them more than anyone. They’d pull him right out of the season and send him straight to some psychiatric hospital. Maybe they’d buy a house in New Jersey and force Jack to move in with him so they could monitor him every second of every day.
The best part of being sick as an adult was not having to hide it as hard. He could binge and purge in the comfort of his own home and nobody could stop him but that was stupid. First off, he spent most of the season in hotels and sometimes he roomed with other people. Secondly, he was in a team with his own brother who was way too much of an observer for his own liking. He could pray to be traded but then he’d probably be traded to Quinn’s team.
And he spent so little time by himself anyways, there was team practices and team outings and media interviews and charity events and then the actual games. The actual time to himself was so small that there was barely any time to destroy his body. ‘So stop’ the voice in his head speaks. He should stop, recognise the issue and end it while he can.
All he’d have to do was to speak to a team doctor and get referred to a psychiatrist and maybe take some time off but being forced out due to mental health reasons was simply too embarrassing and having to admit that there was a problem - there just wasn’t a universe where he felt confident enough to do that. So he pushes it down, puts a smile - or that neutral expression that people recognise more than his smile - on his face and keep playing.
He’s still a good player, still a star player. He’s earning around a point each game. If he can be a great player with bulimia - then he can make his bulimia just a habit in his life. Nobody else needs to know about it.
—
At fourteen, he finds that it doesn’t take long for it to become a problem. Jack stops hanging out with his friends, then his brothers. He has no motivation to play hockey anymore or to get out of bed in the morning. He’d happily lay under the covers until he stopped breathing.
He throws up nearly everyday. It becomes easy to do now, as easy as getting the puck into the net or telling his parents that everything is fine. But that doesn’t make it pain free, his heart hurts. Sometimes he’ll sit up and clutch at his chest or even lay on the bathroom floor as he tries to cry without anyone hearing. He hates having bloodshot eyes because he worries that people will think he’s smoking weed. It’s a stupid thought but his stupid teenage mind still thinks it.
Binging is like a high that he hates. He spends the day planning what he’s going to eat, browsing the aisles of Target or Walmart and searching through the pantry. The food fills his brain with dopamine, the smells and the taste and the overwhelming sugar. It’s good until he gets that uncomfortable feeling of fullness where his stomach protrudes and he can feel every layer of fat. Hockey players shouldn’t have fat, he’s disgusting, he’s disgusting, he’s disgusting.
Then he has no choice but to throw up. It’s not just throwing up, he also has to work out at a greater intensity to ensure his muscles don’t waste away and on very rare occasions he takes laxatives. Jack yearns to feel empty but bulimia doesn’t support feelings of emptiness.
And like God is laughing in his face, he manages to gain weight. Though he knew it could happen it was still so ugly. This whole diet had started so he could get fitter and instead his body was filling up with fat. Jack wanted to take some sharp blade and open up his body like a surgeon and pull every ounce of fat. Burn it and keep his body pure.
He drinks a glass of water and promises himself he’ll get it all under control soon. He just needs to get rid of all the food first and there’s no point letting all his spent money go to waste.
—
“Come and eat at my apartment tonight.” It’s a statement, not a request. Jack knows that it’s a test. Luke is trying to figure out if he’s relapsed or not.
Jack tries not to freak out, he smiles back and promises he’ll be there for eight. He continues on with practice and then heads back to his apartment and tries to distract himself with shitty tv. The sitcoms aren’t funny, the drama is uninteresting and the documentaries are predictable. It’s six, he picks up his gym bag and heads to the local gym. Going on the treadmill, lifting the weights, allows him to breathe freely. At half seven he makes his way to Luke’s apartment.
Luke is probably the best cook of the Hughes brothers. Really, Jack should be excited but he thinks he could throw up before he’s eaten. He is so fucked. And Luke cooks something straight out of a dietician's handbook. All the food groups and it’s laid on the plate like something out of masterchef.
“When did you learn to cook such fancy stuff?” Jack asks, trying to make the whole situation less awkward.
“Some of us actually paid attention when mum tried to teach us how to cook.”
“Touché.”
Jack eats the entire plate, he’d rather not but he can feel Luke’s eyes watching him, every bite, every glance at the plate. He wants to tell his brother to lay off but he knows that’ll make him seem more suspicious. So he eats and keeps eating and makes comments on how good the food is until he finally leaves the plate empty.
And he’s trying so hard not to do it, he wants to keep the food down and pass Luke’s test. But his hands are shaking and his heart is aching and he really fucking needs to do it. He’ll die if he doesn’t get to do it.
“I’m going to take a shower.” Jack says. “I’m still really sweaty from the gym.” He quickly adds so that Luke can give him the benefit of the doubt.
It’s quick and quiet, then he does take a real shower. His bloodshot eyes show how much of a disappointment he is. Luke is on the sofa, his arms crossed as he watches the tv. “Did you actually take a shower or did you throw up?” He immediately questions as he notices Jack’s presence.
“I took a shower, can’t you tell from my soaked hair? I’m going to head back to my apartment, have an early night.”
And Jack can’t properly breathe again until he’s in his own apartment.
—
Being around people hurts. And the worst part about it is that he does want social connection. He wants to go drinking after winning a game, wants to go out for food or have a breakfast buffet with the rest of his teammates the morning after a game. The main issue is that he’s not sure how to eat like a normal person anymore. Seriously, he doesn’t have real meals anymore.
Eating goes like this: a small piece of food - typically a protein bar or a granola bar - for breakfast so he can give himself some energy, chew on gum until his entire mouth tastes like pink lemonade, again find something that will give him energy for lunch, down a gatorade and maybe another. Then it’s the binge, the best and worst part of his day. That’s when he really eats. It only half counts as he throws it all up in the end.
Other people can’t see him like that, they can’t know that that’s how his diet is. They don’t get to know how sick he really is - they already know him quite well but there’s some things he’d rather were a mystery to them. He wants to be known as a good hockey player, not as someone with bulimia. The label of ‘bulimia’ makes him sound weak - less masculine.
Eating disorders have always been known as a girl thing and hockey players never suffered from eating disorders. They went to the gym and ate anything they could, it wasn’t right. He was wrong. The shame of being around people, it felt like he was living a double life.
Everyone else could eat like normal, just not him. Everyone else could work out without worrying about the number of calories they burned, just not him. Everyone else could swallow food without going to the bathroom and puking it up, just not him. He was a defect, if it wasn’t for his hockey playing talent he would be nothing. People went around wearing his jersey but they didn’t really know him at all.
—
It’s midnight when he receives a phone call. Quinn, he spits out the truth straight away. There’s no beating around the bushes in such a serious situation. Only, Jack’s still not taking it seriously. His health doesn’t feel harmed, his hockey playing ability is still at its greatest.
“Jack, we’re not stupid. We can tell that you’ve relapsed.” Quinn tells him over the phone. “I’ve spoken to Luke and unless you can come up with the most perfect excuse for the way you’re acting, I’m going to assume you’re sick again.”
“Quinn, please calm down. How about you explain to me how I’m acting? From my point of view I’m living my normal life.” He bites.
“The isolation, the fact that you went for a shower immediately after eating with him and apparently you chew a full pack of gum a day. Luke also said that you’ve been going to the gym a lot more.” Quinn explains.
Jack could just hang up, he should just hang up, but that would escalate the whole situation. “Extra released this new flavour of gum - pink lemonade - Jesper made me try it and I’m just really into it. I’m not trying to hide the smell of puke in my breath or anything. And I have a new personal trainer who is making me work out more than I used to. Also I took a shower because I felt like it. I don’t have a good excuse for that, I just wanted a shower.” He takes a deep breath after he finishes explaining everything. “Actually, I do have a good excuse because I went to the gym right before coming over. I was dying to have a shower.”
“Why do I still not believe you?” Quinn interrogates.
“You tell me, I’ve told you the truth.”
“Ok, let’s say that you’re doing just fine. If you were to relapse, would you let one of us know?”
Jack stays silent, in the hopes that Quinn thinks he’s thinking it over but really he’s wondering if he could hang up and blame it on bad connection. He decides it’ll be a bad idea and finally speaks. “Of course I would. The last thing I would want to do is relapse anyway, being sick was the worst time of my life.” He prays that he sounds believable.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” He swallows down the guilt.
—
His family finds him throwing up multiple times. Sometimes at night, those are easy enough to blame on food poisoning but during the day it gets harder. Physically, they can tell that he’s ok. Obviously there’s changes to his body, his face gets all puffy and his hands all destroyed but nothing major. They don’t throw an intervention because from their point of view there’s nothing to intervene.
Food is disappearing at a rapid rate and he’s always asking his parents to borrow twenty dollars. Jack gets caught when his mum decides to clean his room and finds a bunch of uneaten food - for his binge that night - and some food wrappers that he hadn’t wanted anyone to see in the kitchen bin. She figures it out easily enough because Jack won’t eat junk food anymore so why would so much junk food be in his room.
She waits until the late night, when he had planned the binge, to talk to him. Jack denies everything, breaks down crying and then proceeds to confess everything. By morning he’s at the hospital being forced to talk to some doctor and having his health checked over. His body is fucked and he’s forced to see a dietician and a therapist.
His potassium levels are dangerously low and he develops acid reflux. In the grand scheme of things he actually got off lucky.
—
Nico knocks on his apartment door, it’s an unwelcome surprise because Jack was planning what he was about to order. He was trying to figure out how much he could stomach before he’d inevitably throw it all up. It’s harder than it sounds.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, genuinely taken back.
“You couldn’t give me a greeting?” Nico crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow.
“Sorry. Hi, what are you doing here?”
Nico lets himself inside. “Luke talked to me. He’s really worried about you, actually most of us are worried about you because we’ve all noticed a change.”
Jack rolls his eyes, he’s actually so sick of this bullshit he wonders if he could run off from the public eye and disappear on some private island. “A change? I don’t think there’s been a change. I think people are overreacting.”
“Look, Luke told me about your bulimia and he’s worried that you’ve relapsed. I don’t want to-
Jack cuts Nico off. “That was when I was fourteen. Everyone goes through a bad time when they’re fourteen. I’ve not relapsed, he caught me throwing up once when I was drunk and now he’s got himself in a mess. I was drunk, loads of people throw up when they’re drunk.”
“Something is going off and don’t bullshit me. If you don’t tell me what’s going on then Luke will tell your parents and get them involved.” Nico threatens, Jack takes a step back and feels his skin grow cold.
“Don’t you fucking dare. They’ll take this well over proportion. What do you even want me to tell you?”
“You look really freaked out. Do you need to take a deep breath or a glass of water?” Nico looks at Jack with an overtly concerned expression.
“I’m fine. I just didn’t expect this whole conversation.” Jack feels like he could faint, maybe he will. He knows that he needs to sit down because his legs are growing weak. “Let’s go and sit down.”
“Be honest with me, are you dieting? Or forcing yourself to throw up after you eat?” Nico asks as he sits down.
“And if I tell you the truth will you make me go on hiatus? Have me take some mental health break?”
“I need you to be healthy. Forcing yourself to throw up isn’t healthy and it’ll cause a lot of damage in the long run. Did you know it can cause your stomach to rupture?”
Jack scoffs. “Of course I know the damage it causes, I’ve lived it but I’m not throwing up right now. I haven’t relapsed at all. Luke and Quinn - they get worried sometimes but they’re grasping at straws.”
“Now hold on. You just said to me ‘if I tell the truth will you make me go on a hiatus’ doesn’t that imply that you have relapsed?” Nico questions, eyes wide with worry.
Jack goes quiet for a moment and tries to avoid looking him in the eyes. “It’s not an everyday thing, it’s once in a while and when I go back to Michigan I’m going to start seeing my old therapist again. I haven’t even done it in two weeks so there’s no reason to blow anything out of proportion.” He actually threw up yesterday and the day before that. What Nico doesn’t know, the better.
“You shouldn’t be throwing up at all!”
“I know that but it’s only a minor thing and I have it under control now. I’ve gone two weeks so I can make it through the entire season. It was a mishap which does happen every once in a while. Recovery isn’t linear. That’s what my therapist always told me.” He explains.
“Jack, I can’t let you play when you’re putting your health at so much risk. You need to speak to a team doctor, take some time off so that you actually get some real help and then when you’re better you can come back.”
“No, fuck you, I can play just fine. Do you know what it’s like to be forced on hiatus practically every season? I’m sick of it and I’m not letting it happen this season. You’re not going to do this to me!” Jack argues.
“I have no choice. You might not like it but it’s for your own good. I can’t make sure that you’re not throwing up. The last thing I want to do is put you on hiatus.”
“No, I’m not going on hiatus. You’re not exactly the manager, you can’t actually make me do anything. Just forget this conversation ever happened, pretend my brothers never spoke to you. It is that easy.”
Nico looks stunned. “And how am I supposed to live with this on my conscience?”
“You’ll get over it. There’s no actual proof that I’ve relapsed, you can’t just make me take a hiatus based on a conversation that nobody else has heard.”
“You’re sick, you’re so fucking sick. You should be in a fucking hospital.” Nico shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair. “I can make you one deal. I’ll eat with you every night and if I see you throw up once then you’re done for the season. There’s no hiatus right now, as long as you stop.”
“Nico…” Jack knows that he can’t stop and that he’s not ready to get better yet but it’s this or having another season forced to an early end. “Ok, I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
—
It takes him two years before he can class himself as fully recovered. Trying to eat like a normal person again feels downright impossible, having a normal meal makes him feel like a vampire being treated like a human. His brothers sit with him, try to make him eat with him and his parents won’t let him leave the table until his plate is finished. He feels like a child.
But there’s a lot on the line that motivates him to recover. He re-finds his passion to be a professional hockey player and he does want to get his high school diploma and at some point he wants a partner. Also, he’s sick of being treated like he’s made of glass.
He’s banned from chewing gum, is forced to take a vitamin tablet everyday that tastes vile, and there’s now a lock on the pantry door every evening so he can be caught in the act. He wants to destroy his body in peace, not have the bathroom a forbidden place to go for an hour after eating.
There’s a lot of storm before the calm. He throws up in plastic Target bags, once in his pillowcase and argues with anyone he can argue with. Both recovery and staying sick feel like torture but he does recover in the end. Somehow, maybe it’s the fact that nobody around him gives up on him or that he lets his ambition take the forefront. But he does recover and he promise's that he’ll never let it get bad again.
—
So Nico comes over and he orders in or cooks. And Jack makes sure not to throw up when he’s around Nico so he does look like he’s doing better. He actually enjoys dinner, he likes having Nico over and the things that sometimes go down after they eat. The nights that he won’t tell anyone about. He enjoys waking up next to his captain and the realisation that no girl will ever fulfil him like this.
But that doesn’t mean that he’s actually recovering because he’s not. He just chooses different times to binge and purge. He pushes himself further during practice instead of spending hours in the gym. He loses weight, that’s the one thing that is different than the first time. It’s nothing major but the weight is slowly dropping off.
And his brothers are still so concerned. Every video call with Quinn leads to too many questions like ‘how is everything? What have you eaten today? Are you sure you haven’t relapsed’ and he just rolls his eyes and effortlessly lies. Luke keeps a watchful eye, he definitely notices the weight loss but he knows about the dinners with Nico also so he can’t say much. His parents stay in the dark.
It should make Jack feel a sense of relief but instead it makes him feel nervous. He starts feeling like he’s actually causing some damage to his body. Will he take it too far and cause his stomach to rapture? Fuck up his dental health? Actually let the bulimia kill him?
Jack pushes the feelings down and kisses Nico a little harder, he’ll at least have some fun before it starts to hurt him. When he goes back to Michigan, he’ll probably be caught in the act, that’s when things will really start to change.