Title: A Brother's Affections
Rating: T - contains potentially sensitive themes relating to eating disorders.

Klavier sat miserably at the breakfast table, staring at the unappealing lump of porridge in the bowl before him. He didn’t want it, he could already see the fat from it jumping out of the bowl and onto his body, which, if he was perfectly honest, really didn’t need any more fat on it. That was precisely why he was dieting; if he was ever going to be a famous rock star, he couldn’t be all fat and bloated like he was now.

Apparently his stalker wasn’t going to let him get away with it. Kristoph sat down opposite him, with a bowl twice as full and liberally sprinkled with sugar, that Klavier had purposefully turned down. He almost shuddered at the calories. But Kristoph, who didn’t care about his image at all, happily began to munch away. In between mouthfuls he encouraged,

“Well, come on, eat. I got up early especially to do that for you. You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, now, would you?”
Klavier looked as if he would hurt more than just Kristoph’s feelings if he was forced to put any of the grey sludge before him into his mouth, but after meeting his brother’s eyes defiantly for just a few seconds he gave in and picked up a very small spoonful. Kristoph nodded his approval.

“If you eat the whole bowl, I’ll let you have your guitar for a few hours while I’m at work. It isn’t going to bite you, you know.”

“No, but it will make me even fatter,” grumbled Klavier to himself. Kristoph heard, and all of the sparkle left his eyes. He had refrained from getting a doctor involved so far, doing some research himself and deciding that he could deal with the problem, but really, if it got any worse, he would have to look at professional help. All that had stopped him so far was that he knew how detrimental it could be to Klavier’s career later on. Already, at just sixteen, Kristoph had planned his younger brother’s life for him. Obviously he would have to be allowed to carry on with his music, there would be rebellion otherwise, but at the same time he must train to be an attorney. Preferably a prosecuting one, then they could look out for each other.

But this was doing Klavier no good. He had shrunk and shrunk until even clothes he used to wear three years ago hung off him, and he barely had the energy to get out of bed in the mornings anymore. Kristoph had decided that it was time to take proactive action and so, three days ago, he had confiscated Klavier’s guitar. The young rocker hadn’t been allowed it back since because of his refusal to eat, hence the lifeline offered if he managed the porridge.

He managed to choke down another three mouthfuls before he sat back.

“Kristoph, I can’t have any more,” he all but pleaded. “I feel sick, and fat. It’s horrible. Please don’t make me.”

“I won’t,” said Kristoph, taking another mouthful of his own porridge. “But you do not get your guitar again until you have at least one meal.” He looked sadly at his younger brother, once a young prodigy, now just a frightened little boy with lanky blonde hair and acne. “Klavier, you aren’t fat. You’re so thin that I can’t let you go near the plugholes unless you get sucked in. And it hurts me to see you like this. Can’t you see what a handsome young man you could be? Can’t you see me?”

This did manage to raise the weakest of smiles, but Kristoph knew better than to push progress any further. Instead he busied himself with his porridge again and, a few minutes later, was rewarded by seeing Klavier hesitantly take another small spoonful of his own bowl. He finished his portion before Klavier was even half way through, and so he got up and started to do the dishes. Even then Klavier hadn’t finished, and so, despite not being hungry at all, he picked up a piece of fruit, to give him an excuse to sit back down at the table again.

Slowly, painfully, Klavier got through that bowl of porridge. By the end of it he was crying, tears salting the simple food before him, but he got there. Kristoph was holding his hand loosely, an unspoken support, and it was only the thought of his guitar which kept him going until the bitter end. But there was something satisfying, something good about having finished it. He sat up properly and wiped his eyes, looking straight into Kristoph’s eyes. Kristoph nodded.

“I can have my guitar back, ja?”

“Until I get back from work,” confirmed Kristoph. “Then, if you’ll sit and eat dinner with me, you can keep it until tomorrow. I’ll leave you something in the fridge for lunch, but don’t worry about it, only eat it if you get hungry.”

They both knew he wouldn’t, but the simple, tender gesture belied a side of Kristoph that only Klavier ever got to see. As Kristoph went off to the locked study to fetch the guitar, Klavier washed up, tried his hardest not to feel sick. He couldn’t help it, though, and by the time the last of the pearly bubbles had disappeared down the plug hole he was bending over, heaving into the bowl.

Kristoph came back in, but he said nothing. He was all too familiar with Klavier being unable to hold down food. Instead he got a glass and, when Klavier had finished and was able to move back a little bit, filled it with clear tap water. He pressed it to his brother’s lips, stroking his greasy hair.

“One more condition,” he said, still holding Klavier protectively.

“Ja?”

“Please take a shower.”


Klavier sat in front of his mirror disconsolately. He was staring at his body, his horrible, horrible body. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. He wished that he never had to see a plate of food again. He hated it, he hated being so fat, he hated having to worry about his image all the time. He wanted to be a rock star so badly. All the time he would picture himself up on the stage, screaming fans below, singing the lyrics which came effortlessly when he sat down and tried to write.

Not now, though. Nobody would want to scream his name when he was so fat, so ugly, so unattractive. That was why he had to diet. Couldn’t Kristoph see it? Couldn’t Kristoph see how fat he was and how much he wanted to give up food? Didn’t his brother know that this was for the best? The counter arguments to his pleas were that Kristoph was scared – scared for him, scared that he might die. Klavier only wished that he could, so that he wouldn’t have to wake up every morning and see this horrible lump of fat in the mirror.

He’d had the shower like he promised Kristoph, which had lead to his latest scrutiny. He hated showering or bathing, had given it up so that he wouldn’t have to see and acknowledge his body. He would get up in the dark and pull on whatever clothes happened to be nearest, if he had to go out at all. He was taking a year out, to focus on his legal training. Kristoph would set him work each morning and leave him to get on with it, because they both believed that the elder brother was by far the best teacher for Klavier to have.

This did have the added benefit of meaning that no-one had to see him in his current awful state. He picked up the cotton wool pad, liberally soaked in the face cleanser Kristoph kept in the bathroom, and applied it to his face, wincing as the chemicals stung. Rock stars did not have spots, though, so clearly he had to do something about it. He balled up the dirty cotton ball, so pure and white until it touched him, and threw it in the general direction of his bin. It missed and bounced into a corner, but he didn’t particularly care. He didn’t care about anything except his weight any more.

At that moment there was a light tap, and Kristoph stuck his head around the door. Klavier hadn’t even heard him come home. He yelped and grabbed a pair of boxer shorts – probably dirty, but that didn’t matter as much as having to show his brother his horrible body. Kristoph only smiled and came in properly.

“You need to come downstairs,” he said softly. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Klavier glanced up, but his brother’s face gave nothing away, and so he pulled on a long t-shirt and followed meekly. Kristoph, for no obvious reason, guided him towards the hallway, and when he got there he lost none of his puzzlement. Laid out were two long pieces of paper, completely white. Kristoph produced a marker pen, handed it to Klavier, then began to pull off his clothes.

“Achtung!” said Klavier, for this was most unexpected. Kristoph only smiled, as he pulled his trousers down – though he left his plain black work socks on. He still didn’t care to explain until he was lying on his back, watching the ceiling, in the middle of one of the pieces of paper. Then he smiled.

“Well, come on. Don’t you see? We’re gong to trace each-other’s outlines, then cut them up, so that you can see just how thin you really are. Get drawing. This floor isn’t exactly comfortable, you know, and I can feel the draughts already.”
Numbed, Klavier obeyed, kneeling beside Kristoph’s head and uncapping the pen. Perhaps, he hoped, this would show his brother just how fat he really was. If he could prove it to him like this, Kristoph would have no choice but to accept his dieting.

The outline was quickly finished, and Kristoph stood up, careful not to smudge it. Then he insisted on Klavier taking off the t-shirt, which, though it was an age fourteen, still seemed to be on the baggy side. He lay down, grumbling slightly under his breath, and prepared to be traced. But, as soon as Kristoph came near his head, he snapped irritably,

“Make sure you don’t get that stuff in my hair. I don’t want to have another shower.”

Kristoph only smiled grimly to himself. If this didn’t work then he really was going to admit defeat and call the doctor, but he had had the brainwave that morning, driving to work. He mentally crossed his fingers as he told Klavier to stand up and went to fetch the scissors. He only hoped that he could do enough to save his brother.

He let Klavier cut out his portrait, so that he couldn’t accuse Kristoph of cutting it down, making it slimmer. He had seen a distinctly paranoid edge to his brother emerging recently, and he didn’t like it. He was done cutting first, and lifted his own silhouette up. He had to admit that he did cut rather a manly figure from this angle. Klavier stood up as well less than a minute later, and they came together.

At first Klavier couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was only when Kristoph took both cut outs and lay them on the floor, Klavier’s on top of his, that he knew he couldn’t be imagining things. That piece of paper, that was his body, that was what he looked like. He twisted his hands together. He did anything he could to distort the simple truth lying there before him. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t erase that image from his mind. It was barely half the size of Kristoph’s cut out.

He flung himself into his brother’s arms with a small sob.

I'm really not sure about this, so if you think my writing is dreadful, please let me know! Also, I was kind of guessing at the rating - very sincere apologies if I got it wrong. I'm not perfect *sob*

Your writing is by far not dreadful, and I have to say this is very different from the other fanfiction that I've read about the brothers Gavin! It's quite lovely and I hope to read more from you soon!

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It was very moving and I'm also no expert on anerexia but it seemed pretty realistic to me.
I look foward to more fanfictions from you.
Good work!

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Oh my gosh. Loved it!

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Wow, I really liked this. ^^ It was moving, and I could see Klavier having an eating disorder.

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I just read through all this and have only one word: beautiful. I'm not familiar with anorexia (except the odd joke about my tie being anorexic because it's really long) but this really touched me. Well done. Have a cookie. :3

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i loved it.

GO KRISTOPH!

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