Dennis is on a diet.

Not the one where he doesn't eat for three days then passes the fuck out, mind. (Sometimes he does that, but not often enough for it to be relevant.) It's the one wherein the fridge is stocked with low-fat, low-calorie food. (Of course, he still has to throw some out, as he discovers he feels guilty if he gets through it all.) It's the one where he declines to get involved in whatever crazy scheme The Gang are getting involved in right this minute, just to go walking for hours and hours until his feet burn; his toes turn numb.

It's the one where he's better than everyone else because Mac stuffs his face nonstop, and Charlie must be consuming millions of calories via whatever cat-food-mouthwash concoction he's ingesting now. (Although, Dennis checked Google, and he has not been able to confirm that there are any calories in sniffing glue.)

It's one of those rare days that Dennis stays in the bar with The Gang during the day for whatever weird shit they're all about to stir up. Frank's fucking a whore in his and Charlie's shared apartment, Mac's doing some Project Badass shoots, and Dee's going to class for that acting career that will obviously never happen, which leaves Dennis alone with Charlie. This was kind of a shit day to choose not to go and exercise, but he did some bodyweight shit earlier today - push-ups and that, not that he can do them - and it's not enough but he kind of feels like death boiled over and he doesn't really want to pass out again.

Besides, Charlie can be fun. Sometimes.

'Don't eat that, dude! What the hell?' Charlie exclaims, with terror in his eyes.

Dennis stops breathing for a split second; bites the inside of his lip.

'What do you mean, man?' Dennis questions, shakily.

Fuck.

Charlie frowns. 'It's green, dude. Apples aren't meant to be green. When things that aren't meant to be green are green, it means they're toxic. You could've died, man!'

Dennis sighs. 'Yeah, well. I'm trying to diet, so it's probably best that I don't snack too much.'

Charlie pauses. 'You look kinda diabetic, bro.'

Dennis scoffs. 'My body was chiseled by the Greek Gods. They added plenty of insulin.'

'No, not that.' Charlie sighs. 'Dude, it's...it's not the insulin one.'

'Okay? What is it then, buddy?' Sometimes Dennis can be gentle. Sometimes.

'It's like...it's not. It's not an alcoholic.' Charlie pauses. 'We're all alcoholics, but that's not it.'

The room is silent for a few seconds.

'Dude. It's the one where you starve yourself.'

It doesn't take long for Dennis to burst.

'A of all, how did you mix up anorexic with diabetic and alcoholic? You really are a moron. B of all, I don't have an eating disorder. Eating disorders are for those senseless women and men who attempt to transcend their mortal plane but cannot, cannot project themselves beyond their corporeal form, senseless, morons, idiots, morons, senseless…'

Dennis inhales sharply, cutting his furious rant short. He realises he has to lean against the counter, and he hopes to hell that Charlie doesn't notice.

'Dude. It's obvious. Remember that time you passed out after you didn't eat for three days? And Cricket teabagged you?' Charlie chuckles, mostly to himself. 'That was pretty fuckin' funny.'

'Wasn't funny to me.' Dennis mumbles.

'Also, you're leaning against the counter right now, Dennis. You look like a zombie or something.'

'I do not!'

'And it's obvious you've been losing weight, Dennis.'

'I'm not sure whether to thank you for the compliment or not right now.' Dennis jokes, with an acidic lump of anxiety and hunger burning a hole in his chest.

'Dude. Don't.'

As soon as everyone's back, Charlie insists that he has an announcement to make.

It's not like Dennis really ever trusted Charlie with much, but damn.

'Are you coming out as gay?' Dee snarked.

'No. No more interruptions.' Charlie takes a breath. 'Dennis is diabetic.'

'No, no, no. He's my brother.' Dee rolls her eyes. 'I've known him for years. He's never had any of those symptoms. Apart from the weight loss, because he's an insecure teenage girl.'

'No!' Charlie is shaking with rage. 'Fuck, Dee, that's what I'm trying to tell you! It's the other thing! The one where you starve yourself! I can't say it right!'

'Okay, I'm leaving.' Dennis storms off, his entire body shaking, his whole body made of knots and acid. He's terrified, but naturally, he can never show that. So he can't. He can't be around for this bullshit conversation they're about to have. It's all lies, anyway, he decides.

'Yeah, no shit.' Dee replies.

'We knew.' Mac seconds.

'He's been both an anorexic and a crackhead before, and I'd rather he be an anorexic.'

'What the fuck, Frank?' Charlie questions. 'No, actually. What the fuck, Mac? You're obsessed with Dennis. We can all see it. We can all see it. But the funny thing is. The hilarious thing is. You don't even care about him. And you, Dee. You, with your acting and being a bird and shit. Let me tell you something. If you've lived with someone your whole goddamn life, you should care about them, too. But he's not your brother, is he? And you're not his sister, are you? You're just each other's little fucktoys that just ever so happen to be related!'

Dee snorts. 'Are you into incest porn now, Charlie?'

'Dennis is a bastard man, but he doesn't. Nobody deserves this shit.'

Charlie runs off, in an attempt to find Dennis, and he doesn't really care what the others are talking about at the moment because there's no way in hell it could matter as much as this. Dennis can be a massive dick, but, in the end, Charlie works with messy stuff. Dirty stuff. And he fixes it. And he is so, so desperate to see Dennis safe.