12.0 breathe, little liar

(◞‸◟)

"You've lost weight".minho looked up - the woman with the grey hair smiled at him as she pointed down at the scale. minho was barely able to focus on it at all, his heartbeat in his ears was far too loud.

"well done".

minhos stomach twisted. a while ago this sentence would've made him jump in the air because of euphoria - now he just didn't believe it. he still basically looked the same, there was no way she would be proud of him.

"128 lbs. that's good, though I have one question".

the boy swallowed, his mouth was dry from the nauseating anxiety in his throat. "yeah?".

"have you been taking care of yourself?", the woman asked and minho stepped off the scale. he felt his shaky hands in his baggy pants and was glad he was able to hide them in there from this woman who had embarrassed him so bad just a while ago. god, stop acting like you actually care about me.

"um", minho hesitated. there was a small, selfish thought inside of him which told him to blurt out all his thoughts and fears, blame her, yell at her and get it all out, but he just balled his fists and pushed that thought aside before speaking up again. "yes, I have".

after a little moment of consideration, minho added; "I try to".

the woman kissed her teeth as she put the paper in her wrinkly hands down. "I'll cut to the chase", she simply said, no warmth left in her voice. "did you know that you're the only member that has ever gained this much weight on a break?", she frowned and minho felt himself shrink under her gaze. "everyone kept themselves in check. everyone except for you".

there it was. of course she couldn't be proud of him. why would she? he fucked up ever since he even stepped a foot into the company. he had never done well enough.

never.

for a moment, minhos mind travelled back to 2017. that's probably why JYP eliminated him back then too, right? because he wasn't good enough.

if only they never took him back.

the boy could only shrug at that, the embarrassment taking the upper hand and not letting him talk. he didn't mean to lose control like that - he didn't even notice it happening at all. minho thought back to all the snacks he had eaten in that break, all the extra plates he got whenever he just felt like it. he used to be so good at limiting himself, when did he give in to those cravings?

"well, I guess it doesn't matter now", she finally said and minho saw the woman smile in the corner of his eyes. it looked unsettling, not comforting at all and as she placed her hand on his shoulder to tell him a half-heartedly "well done" again, minho felt himself flinch under her touch. "you have dance practice in an hour, so I won't keep you longer. do your best".

minho heard his blood rush past his ears and he felt numb as he followed the manager out the building to get into the car. there was something heavy in the air - it was suffocating.

he just wanted to breathe.

-

"hi lino!", chans voice echoed through the dance practice room as minho entered the room, already dressed in his usual dance clothing. it used to be a shirt and just random comfortable pants - now it was a baggy sweater and some wide sweats to hide himself, to protect himself.

as minho closed the door behind him, he felt something in his chest. a slight pressure - something he had never felt before. regardless, he smiled at his only hyung and put down his bag next to changbin, who was already stretching.

something felt off today. maybe they hadn't opened the windows yet to let the air in? it shouldn't have bothered him so much, but it did.

minhos eyes travelled to changbins exposed back and he swallowed as he forced himself to look away. the pulling in his chest tightened and minho unknowingly gasped at the pressure. what was wrong with him right now?

his breath quickened as he slowly lifted his head to look into the big, bright mirror in front of him. oh god.

minho stumbled back, his mouth was gaping open and he quickly reached his hand out to grab the wall to steady himself.

he looked awful.

his body looked massive under all the clothing - his legs filled out his baggy pants and his wide sweater didn't even look oversized on him anymore.

and then his face, oh god his face, since when did his cheeks look this round?

minho knew he was fat, but he didn't know it was this bad.

at least, that's what he thought he saw.

the slight pressure in his chest quickly turned into a steady heart-aching pumping, which made minho stumble back a bit more, finally meeting the wall with his back. it all compounded on itself, every bad emotion, every bad thought inside of him suddenly dazed his mind.

he was losing control.

by the time the dance teacher entered the room, minhos world was slipping from his grasp. he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think straight. his hands and legs were shaking as he tried not to sink on the floor, not to let the tears slip out of his eyes.

I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe.

it was the scariest thing that had ever happened to him. for the first time in his entire life, minho was sure that this was it for him, that he was going to die.

"alright guys!", the dance teachers voice was just a background sound in minhos head. he was far too busy to concentrate on the fear of dying, far too busy to try to breathe.

he looked into the mirror again. his appearance didn't change, if anything, it got worse. he looked just as fat as he did before, just as ugly.

and then it hit him.

he needed to be on stage like this in just a few days. he needed to dance in front of thousands of fans, cameras would film him and take pictures of his body - everyone would see just how awful he looked.

a whimper escaped minhos throat as he imagined the bright lights and camera flashes. he quickly lifted his hand in front of his mouth and turned around to face the wall, but it seemingly was too late.

"minho?", changbins voice was gentle, soft even, but it was far too close for minho. he tensed up and squeezed his eyes shut.

you're so stupid. you're so stupid! just shut up, shut up!

"are you okay?".

minho bit his lip. the anxiety inside of him pulled at his insides so harshly that he thought he was about to throw up. he tried to push it down one last time, tried to ignore it, but it was all useless.

too scared of his voice breaking, the boy just took all the strength left in his body and stormed out of the room without another word, feet quickly pacing along the hallway, which seemed to be much longer than it usually was.

as soon as he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, he let the first sob escape. he quickly bit his lip again, too scared that someone on the floor might hear him, but he quickly figured out that this wouldn't work. sob after sob left his throat until the only thing he was able to hear was the blood rushing in his ears and the sobs echoing through the bathroom.

pacing around the bathroom didn't work anymore. minho slowly sank to the ground and brought his knees close to his chest, starting to rock back and forth - an attempt to ease the pressure inside of him, but it was still useless. the floor was probably dirty and minho was disgusted by his decision to just sit on it, but his knees were too weak to hold him up anymore. it didn't work, wouldn't have.

hot tears ran down his cheeks as he slowly lifted his hands and ran them through his hair, tremors traveled down all the way to his fingertips. he still couldn't catch his breath - partly because of the sobs, which clogged his throat and partly because of the ever lasting pressure in his chest. he still felt like he was going to drop dead just then and there. it didn't get better.

he would need to perform looking like this. there was no way to hide anymore. he needed to be wearing the outfit the stylists gave him, he wouldn't be able to hide his body anymore. he couldn't hide, there was no way out.

minho hated the fact that he was just a few metres away from his members, sobbing weakly and gasping for air every now and then. they could just walk in on him anytime and see his pathetic self sitting there on the ground. he slowly lifted his sweater and and clamped it over his mouth to muffle his cries, he was still shaking, it was all terrible.

it took a few more minutes, maybe ten, until his sobbing finally calmed down and he felt like he was able to grasp reality again. he took a deep breath and looked down at his watch, immediately jumping after realising that he was already fifteen minutes late to the last dance practice.

"fuck", he mumbled and got up, his knees were still shaky but he pushed himself to the sink anyway and looked into the mirror above it.

red eyes, a snotty nose and a pouting mouth looked back at him and minho crinkled his nose. it was almost like his reflection was laughing at him - but the fact that he couldn't even recognise himself anymore made it even less funny than it was anyway. he hated it. hated the way he looked so vulnerable, so weak. he didn't know if he hated himself or his reflection more. though, it was both him.

shaking his head, minho quickly splashed water into his face to get the already dried tears off his cheeks. though the water felt refreshing and brought him a little bit more back to his senses, minho didn't know what he was supposed to do about his red eyes and swollen nose.

minho was still on edge. his heart didn't stop pounding, his head still hurt and his fingers still felt tingly, but he couldn't wait much longer. the members would get suspicious, and the last thing he needed was someone paying attention to him.

not that he had anything to hide.

before leaving the bathroom, minho shook out his hands, trying to get rid of the tingly feeling, then he slowly walked to the dance practice room, the anxiety creeping up in him once again.

as soon as he entered the room, a harsh voice greeted him and minho immediately wished he was back in the dark restroom.

"where were you?", the dance teacher asked and walked up to minho, who had his eyes focused on the ground.

don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"oh, god, you look like a mess!".

minho looked down at himself. wrinkled up shirt from the way he curled himself up into a ball, messy hair from the way he ran his fingers through them. he couldn't help but internally agree.

"lino!", changbin chirped and went up to the dancer. he seemed to already be done with stretching. "what was up earlier? you looked freaked out".

minho slowly lifted his head. something inside of him was still bubbling, but he opened his mouth to talk anyway, hoping his voice wouldn't wobble and expose him. "oh nothing!", he answered with a cheerful voice, pointed at his eyes and giggled. I could at least just play it off. "allergies, I think".

he hoped the giggle would distract changbin from the fact that his nose was still swollen and he was barely able to look into the others eyes, but the rapper seemed to be satisfied, or fooled, so he just took minhos hand and dragged him into the center of the room, leaving the boy slightly dumbfounded.

"come on, stretch! so we can all finish off dance practice".

ahh, yes. right. I'm the fault everyone has to wait again. so stupid.

he hurriedly stretched and then placed himself on his starting position, just like the other members. unlike them though, he kept his head low, far too scared that he might burst into tears if he looked into the mirror one more time.

and there it was again.

I can't breathe.

the rehearsal was a nightmare. not being able to look up while dancing made minho unsteady - not to mention his shaky legs and hands, which messed up most of his usually sharp moves. every mistake he made and every "minho, focus!" was like a stab in minhos stomach. he secretly wished he could just throw up so he didn't need to go through this.

but that wish was selfish. he wasn't the only one who was nervous. everyone was stressed to some extent, just why was he being so overdramatic? chan, changbin and jisung were up all night composing music, felix and hyunjin were practicing together with jeongin and seungmin even more than usual. and what was minho doing? he was whining and bitching about how scared he was. he felt pathetic.

were the lights even brighter than usual? it felt like the lights were burning into minhos eyes. the music was too loud, his breathing was too heavy and the music was far too fast for minho to keep up. he was already sweaty, already behind, still not good enough, as always.

if only he didn't have to wear that big sweater, maybe then he wouldn't be so hot. but he was too fat not to do it. it was all his fault.

his fault. everything wrong in his life was solely his fault.

minho felt something in his eyes prickle and before he could stop it, a single tear rolled down his cheek. the voices were too much, it all happened too quickly. he was still behind, still not on the same track as the others.

don't cry, don't try, don't cry.

"lee minho! how many times have I said it already? eyes up!".

minhos eyes instinctively shot up, meeting his misshapen figure in the mirror. the dancer held his breath and looked at his sweaty face. the tear wasn't detectable, easily able to confuse with his sweat. but he couldn't look at himself for too long, so he slowly lowered his eyes and looked at his shoes.

"much better, minho! keep going!".

minho started to feel everyone's eyes on him. why were they all watching him? and why was the dance teacher lying to him too now? did he look that stupid? to believe a lie like that?

yes, yes you do.

the rehearsal ended with minho shakily standing on both of his legs, trying to get the throbbing headache in his head to stop. at least he didn't look like he was completely out of ordinary - most of the others were already sitting on the floor, hunching over or downing a water bottle. was his head spinning? no, he was still being overdramatic.

of course he was.

minho was the first one to arrive in his room. his head had stopped hurting after he exited the dancing room, which also resulted in minho leaving some of the panic behind. his fingers on the other hand were still tingly, but the dancer chose to ignore the feeling for now, since he didn't know what it meant anyway.

as soon as minho plopped down on his bed, it was as if all the energy had left his body at once. his legs felt heavy, his neck hurt and his shoulders ached. he needed a break.

he leaned back on the bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. after a while of just mindlessly scrolling through twitter, he opened the browser, finally typing in the question that was swirling inside of his mind since the "restroom incident".

can't breathe because I am nervous?

after a while of reading, minho finally came to a conclusion.

he must've had a panic attack.

"aha", he weakly said, putting his phone down. "at least I know now".

he fell asleep, his stomach growling one last time.

-

by the time minho woke up, the digital clock next to him showed the bright, red numbers -12:57 am-.

he tiredly rubbed his eyes as he sat up, already feeling the dryness in his mouth as he remembered that he fell asleep without getting ready for bed. so, knowing that most of the others were probably still awake, he walked out of the room into the kitchen to drink something and then shower so he could finally, actually, rest.

"ah, good morning sleepyhead", chan greeted minho as he entered the kitchen and immediately set a plate with rice and chicken on the table. "I saved something for you. we didn't want to wake you up".

only now minho remembered that he hadn't eaten at all today. he was so scared of the weight in, that he refused to even eat a cherry tomato.

maybe that's why his stomach was hurting so much earlier? maybe it wasn't a panic attack after all and minho was just hungry? maybe... maybe he could eat a little and prevent this from every happening again.

"thank you!", minho chirped, though his chest tightened in nervousness at the thought of having to eat again. he pushed that thought away and sat down, picked up the chopsticks and started to eat.

as soon as he swallowed the first bite, minho completely forgot about his dry mouth. he picked up one bite after another, barely chewing and swallowing everything in a hurry, as if the food was going to be taken away from him.

far, far back in his mind, minho knew what was about to happen. he remembered how he ate everything he could find, even jeongins muffins, back then. his mind started screaming at him, scolding him, telling him that he was too fat to eat, but the plate was empty before minho could register what it was saying and he got up again to get a second plate, which vanished just as quickly as the first one.

the next few minutes passed in a blur.

how many plates of rice had he eaten? how many chocolate bars after? there were so many wrappers in front of him, that he couldn't even count. did he really also eat a packet of ramen afterwards?

he didn't remember. all he knew was that his stomach felt like it was about to burst.

the watch on his wrist showed him that it was 1:48 am.

as reality finally hit him, minho raised his hands and buried them in his hair, slightly pulling at them. minho was furious. he fucked up again. he fucked up again. chan must've left the room at some point - the dorm was refreshingly quiet - not that this made anything better for minho though. he fucked up again, of course he did.

he needed to get it out.

minho slowly got up, immediately hunching over and grabbing the side of the table to steady himself. his stomach was ripping apart and minho was able to feel the food already coming up his esophagus. it was disgusting. he felt disgusting.

this feeling went with him as he stumbled to the bathroom, barely holding himself up. everything hurt now. his legs were weak to the point of trembling and minho wished he could just sink to the ground and cry his eyes out until all those stupid calories he just ate burned off.

just why was he so stupid?

after locking the door behind him, minho ever so slowly walked up to the toilet, looking at the water inside of it. it was disgusting, really disgusting, but the adrenaline in his blood pushed away all the other feelings - all the worries, fears and emotions were pushed to the back of his head by one simple thought;

I want to throw up.

minho had read a few other articles about, well, making oneself throw up, and he was sure he would manage to do it. he told himself that he was just curious about it and would never want to do something like that ever again - but as always, minho was a liar. not only to others, to himself too.

he looked at the toilet and nodded to himself. this was fine. this was what he wanted. he was fine. were his hands shaky as he hunched over the toilet and shoved two fingers up his throat? no, no they weren't, because why would his fingers be shaky if he was completely fine?

it didn't take too long. after wiggling his fingers a bit at the back of his throat, the first tears started to form in minhos eyes, accompanied by a pack of vomit, which splashed down in the water beneath him. the sound his throat made made minho's skin crawl. the taste was even more disgusting than he remembered. but he wasn't done.

so he put his fingers, which were covered in vomit, since he wasn't quick enough to pull them out before the vomit exited his throat, in his mouth again and started to wiggle them again and again...

again and again until the only thing left inside of him was stomach acid, which burned his throat to the point that he had to stop.

taking a deep, juddering breath, minho sat up again and looked at the mess he had created, immediately flushing the toilet after grasping the fact that he had just purposely made himself throw up again.

great. in all ways possible, minho was failing.

his throat hurt so much. he needed to drink something. he slowly got up and was surprised by the fact how much lighter, emptier, he suddenly felt. it was sickly pleasing. the numbness that overtook his body was calming, a thousand times better than the panic he felt all day.

after taking a few sips and washing his face to get the vomit, which was stuck to the outside of his mouth, away, he looked into the mirror one last time for the day.

his eyes were red, his hair was messy and his eyelashes were wet from his tears, but for some fucked up reason minho felt better. the tingling in his fingers had finally stopped. he was actually fine now, wasn't he?

"I'm fine", he told his reflection and smiled at it for a second before finally letting the smile fall again, leaving behind the pouting boy he always saw in the mirror. his reflection on the other hand scoffed. "sure you are", it sarcastically answered.

because for someone who is supposed to be a good liar, minho sure doesn't know how to fool himself.