11.0 control

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minho has control.

at least that's what he calls not being able to tell hunger and guilt apart.

it didn't matter though. it was okay, he was okay. those were his to-go words whenever the twisting pain and rumbling in his stomach made his mind cloudy and his limbs weak. he was okay, because it was all working.

minho was losing weight. in those last two weeks before the comeback, minho lost about 13 lbs and he couldn't lie - even though he hadn't had a day in which he didn't feel his head and body protest against his actions, he was proud. proud of having control.

his days went like this;

waking up at exactly 7:30 am was a must, because minho needed to get at least 10 thousand steps before everyone had breakfast. then he could have an apple or an orange, got a bowl and sprinkled some crumps into it so it looked like he had already eaten breakfast. the other members didn't need to know minho skipped breakfast. and, if he was honest, it was too draining to sit with all the others and watch them eat, ignore his hunger and still act like everything was okay.

which was the case, of course.

then he went on and did what all the other did too; dance practice, vocal lessons, just everything they needed to do before a comeback. but even if the day was uneventful - like just practicing a few lines - minho ended up feeling lethargic when he finally laid down on his bed.

the problem was, no matter how exhausted he was at the end of the day, his mind just wouldn't let him sleep. maybe it was the never ending thoughts that rushed through his mind, maybe it was the painful hunger in his stomach, but whatever it was, it made minho stay awake too long for his liking.

and then he got up at 7:30 am again, just to repeat that endless, exhausting circle.

minho started wearing big shirts and pants whenever he went out, because "they were just more comfortable". sure, the scale might showed him that the numbers went down, which undoubtedly satisfied him in some twisted way, but whenever he looked at himself in the mirror for hours and hours, until he didn't even look like himself anymore, all minho could see was his pudgy arms and the way his stomach looked soft and the way his body somehow looked... weird. like a puzzle that didn't fit.

he lost 13 lbs. in two weeks. that's a lot, he knew it, he felt it - maybe not on his body but he felt the way his brain slowed down, the way thinking and memorising lyrics got hard, not to mention how much he struggled to memorise the choreography. it annoyed him, because back then he didn't struggle so much whenever he needed to lose weight - he just did it. since when was he this weak?

under all those layers of clothes minho felt defeated. two shirts and baggy pants and beneath all of that, minho was still fat. the feeling nibbled at him, inside and out and minho was only able to see himself as the chubby, round faced boy with a pouting mouth and a frown in the mirror.

sometimes the feeling got a little too much to handle and the boy found himself locked in the bathroom, hiding from the others, while his whole body hurt. minho was getting used to the pain, slowly and steadily, sure, his stomach hurt, his head hurt and his limbs hurt but it was all somewhat numbed out by exhaustion, hunger and worry. and, maybe, a slight panic attack.

he took a slow, juddering breath. he wished he could turn to someone, let some of his feelings bypass out out of his body, but who could he talk to? he was together with seven different boys all day, they were all his brothers, the people he felt closest to, but he couldn't imagine any of them relating to him, so he just didn't tell anyone.

his rational brain knew that something inside him was definitely wrong. be it the desire to obsessively count all the calories he ate and not ever go over his 200 calorie limit, or the fact that he didn't even recognise himself in the mirror anymore and had to contain all his sanity to not snap at everyone that was breathing the wrong way - something was clearly wrong.

but minho was too distracted to realise it yet, so while dozens of concerns and worries flew through his head and his brain constantly found another way to ruin his day, he just kept telling himself that he was okay. he had control.

"hi, lino", minho looked up and saw jisung walking over to the couch to sit next to him. minho smiled at the other and took another strawberry out of the little bowl. it was his first and probably last meal for today. "hi, sung".

minho saw the smaller sitting next to him on the couch - the younger curled up next to him and minho felt that something was off. he raised and eyebrow. "is everything alright?".

jisung seemed to be a bit lost in thought, his head snapped up and he smiled, even if it was a bit unnatural, at minho and nodded. "huh? yea. yes, sure".

"are you nervous?".

minho saw jisung shift a little in his place. the comeback was right in front of the door - four days were left. the mood in the dorm was tense, everyone was excited, but also nervous.

minho on the other hand didn't know if he was nervous or just straight up shitless scared of standing on stage again. god, he had seen the concept photos and had absolutely hated them and how was he supposed to do well in front of so many people if he was still fat? not to mention the last weight in tomorrow. all those things were turning minhos stomach upside down, but he swallowed his fear down, as he always did, and looked back at jisung, who was avoiding eye contact.

"a little", he mumbled and then finally straightened his back, his eyes flickered over to the table, then to minho's hands and then finally to the strawberries. jisung raised his index finger and pointed at the bowl. "can I have some?".

this is my last fucking meal until tomorrow when we eat dinner, I'm gonna fucking starve all day but- "sure", minho smiled and jisung happily reached forward to grab a few strawberries. there was a comfortable silence between both of them. while jisung seemed to be lost in his mind again, minhos brain was currently going haywire over those three strawberries which wouldn't be in his system, which meant that he would do so much worse at dance practice today.

and then minho thought about it again. three strawberries.

it was laughable, really.

"are you nervous?".

minho looked up again and this time their eyes met. jisung stared at the other with an unreadable expression and minho felt his eyes drop to his thighs, which he immediately regretted because god, they looked so chunky next to jisungs skinny thighs.

a sharp, bitter taste settled in minhos throat and he stopped in his motion before the strawberry could enter his mouth.

"a little", minho quietly answered and started picking at his skin on his thumb - a little habit he picked up after trying to stop himself from eating whenever he was hungry.

"are-", jisung started but stopped himself just a second after. he seemed to fumble a bit with his words, not exactly sure what to say, until he finally released a big breath. minho tensed up.

somehow, something was wrong.

he was okay, right? there was nothing he had to hide, nothing jisung could know. minho tried to breathe in and out to release some tension, but his breath came out juddering and he suddenly felt his heartbeat quicken.

why was he so nervous anyway? he had nothing to hide. what he was doing was normal for idols. he was doing okay.

"how...are you?", the words finally left jisungs mouth and minho suddenly felt...trapped?

trapped in a conversation he didn't want to start in the first place anyway because he was far too distracted thinking about what he could eat tomorrow, or couldn't, or when to work out.

minho bit his lip. how was he doing? sure, he was okay - in pain and very exhausted and constantly worn out but he was okay. and god, for some reason he wished he could tell jisung everything about how he had been feeling since that stupid weight in, he wished he could tell him how much the mirror had been torturing him and how scared he actually was of the comeback.

but minho was a coward, or a liar, so he just picked up the last strawberry and put it in his mouth, chewing on it until there was nothing to chew on anymore and swallowed before putting on a smile.

"I'm doing great, actually", he answered, the lie leaving his mouth like it was nothing. "and you?".