17.0 feline

(◞‸◟)

jisung has always been a pretty observant person. that's why he noticed minhos behaviour earlier than everyone else in the group.

he pretty quickly understood though, that by the time he noticed, minho was already far too deep in. he was already a little too late.

the first time he ever noticed something being off was when minho came home from dance practice, hours after the band had already finished. jisung had heard the sound of the door opening, grabbed a cookie and waited by the door until minho entered.

"what took you so long?", he asked as soon as minho turned around and saw how minho froze in his steps as soon as he heard his voice. minhos face was red, droplets of sweat were dried on his forehead and his clothes were sweat-stained. it was usually hyunjin who sweat so much while dancing and minho usually never stayed this long in the practice room because he always got the choreography the fastest. that was the first time something felt weird.

minho seemed to think for a second before leaning down to strip off his shoes. "oh, I just forgot the time", he said incidentally, "I only noticed when my phone battery died".

jisung squinted his eyes. ever since that weight in, minho seemed to be hiding something, though jisung couldn't quite figure out what back then.

it wasn't just how minho refused to eat anything but plain rice and vegetables or how he stayed in practice longer than usual, jisung started to see him change, and it wasn't his body at first.

it started with his eyes. usually, in jisungs eyes, minhos eyes held all his emotions, all his thoughts and feelings. he wasn't very expressive, minhos feline features hid everything he thought most of the time, simply because minho wasn't all too familiar with showing how he felt like.

but if you wanted to know exactly what minho was feeling, one look into his eyes and you knew.

it wasn't so obvious at first. jisung thought minho just hid it a bit better that day, when the first few sparkles went out in his eyes. it started to get a little harder to read him.

whenever he laughed, his eyes were the first thing to shine.

"what's wrong?", oh, he was staring. jisung quickly shook his head to get his thoughts aligned.

"nothing", he smiled, "we all already ate dinner and saved chicken with rice for you. I can make you a plate, if you want".

as if jisung had said something alarming, minho quickly shook his head. and again, weird. jisung used to fill plates for minho all the time.

"I'll make my own plate, thank you jisung", minho smiled, but his eyes said something different. jisungs gaze followed minho back into the kitchen.

ten minutes later, jisungs entered the kitchen again and looked at the food from earlier. it remained untouched.

the second time he noticed something being off was after a photoshoot.

"channie hyung wants to order pizza for us since we all had a stressful day", jisung cheerfully said as he looked into minhos smiling face. his smile was gentle, but again his eyes looked weirdly different. not shiny, not dull either. minho avoided looking at jisung and shifted uncomfortably in his place.

ignoring minhos weird body language, jisung continued. "which pizza do you want?".

minho shook his head as he listened, a frown on his face, then he lifted his hands and gestured a quick 'no', as if jisung just asked him to jump off a cliff.

"tell him I'm not hungry", he had answered, instead of his usual "can we share a pizza again, jisung? with pineapple and mushrooms!", and plopped back on the bed. "I wanna go to sleep".

"oh", that was a surprise. minho never missed pizza. and sleeping before dinner? was the dance practice more draining than usual?

minho got up again, a reassuring look on his face, but jisung could tell by his tired eyes and slightly pale skin that he was feeling something more than tiredness. "really hannie, I'm just exhausted".

jisung looked into minhos eyes - he saw it. minho was lying. he smiled anyway and minho returned it. now both of them were faking it.

"sure, rest well, hyung. I'll tell chan you're sleeping. you did well today", jisung smiled, but still looked into minhos face like he wanted to search for something, anything that could tell him what was going on.

he couldn't find it - couldn't figure it out.

"thank you".

-

it sucked.

seeing your friend slowly but steadily losing himself sucked. hurt.

far too often jisung would see minho spacing out, wide eyed and mouth dropped open, not caring to follow the conversation the others had going on.

jisung was able to see minho shift from day to day - on some days he would genuinely laugh, the sparkle back in his eyes like they used to be, talking to people around him as he normally did. jisung knew those were his good days. they started showing up less.

then jisung would catch him just sitting there, breathing, helplessly trying to fit in with the others but failing miserably with every word spoken. jisung hated seeing him like that, minho reminded him of himself.

and that's why he decided to stay quiet. because if minho was feeling the same way jisung used to feel, so trapped and shut down, maybe he needed some time to himself like jisung used to. to figure out what was going on. maybe he should wait a little before talking to minho.

only later he realised his mistake.

-

hyunjin was pretty.

very much so, actually.

thats why it was especially weird seeing hyunjin thriving for perfection by refusing to eat.

it was easy to spot. it was easy to see the problem - hyunjin didn't eat with them, didn't eat alone and didn't eat when you asked him to. and because everybody knew how extremely perfectionistic the man was, it was no surprise that hyunjin didn't stop even if he complained about his sore muscles and headache all day.

distantly, jisung saw a connection between hyunjin and minho - in a way. while hyunjin was losing weight quickly by starving himself, minho seemed to do something similar. at least used to, when his diet started, until he started eating rather normally again, but still losing weight nonetheless.

not only that was bugging jisung, though. minho started to hide - not literally, he didn't lock himself in his room like jisung used to, but minho started to drown in his clothing. the sweatpants got wider and bigger and the hoodies never left minhos side even if the weather made everyone sweat like horses. that was one of the reasons why jisung wasn't able to detect minhos weight loss for the longest time.

the first time jisung had seen minhos body again was when they got dressed for their comeback stage.

coincidentally, jisung had passed by the dressing room in which minho was changing in. the door was open, just a crack, but enough to see minho standing in front of the mirror.

he was staring at himself, brows furrowed and his eyes dancing from one part of his body to the other, until he lifted his hands and let his hands glide over his collar bones. had minho always been this tiny?

then his hands started going down, feeling his ribs, then his stomach and finally, they stopped at his hipbones, which were sticking out a little more than jisung remembered.

and for the first time ever, minho was unrecognisable. not just his body, how he looked so tiny, so weak, but his eyes stopped having the sparkle jisung adored so much. his face was written in anger, all that was left behind was a set of eyes that seemingly wanted to kill their reflection.

jisung shuddered.

after that, jisung decided to tell bang chan about his suspicions first. chan promised to talk to minho, they caught him in the kitchen with bloodshot eyes and a weak way of walking while he tried to get his phone.

minho had shut them out completely. the only thing chan was able to do was to hug him, let minhos head rest on his shoulder for a second while he told him how tiny he had gotten. minho just stared at the wall in front of him, while jisung stared at him.

minho probably didn't notice, but he was shaking.

then, when hyunjin started to develop the same pattern as minho did, jisung couldn't take it anymore. minho was already pushing all of them away, no matter what they said, minho wouldn't talk. jisung started to become afraid of hyunjin becoming like him, too.

but minho wasn't too far gone already, right?

"hyunjin", jisung had said one evening after they had just eaten one of the extra spicy meals chan made. "can I tell you something?".

"why did chan make this so fucking spicy", hyunjin whined as he turned around to face jisung, who snickered in response. "sure, what's up?".

jisungs paused, wondering if he should address minho or hyunjin first, if he should even ask about both of them at all. too scared to shoo hyunjin away like he did minho, he started with him.

"minho seems kind of sad", he started. "lately".

that was definitely way too blunt, jisung thought, a little scared of what hyunjins reaction might be. hyunjin only quirked an eyebrow.

"well, I-I am worried because he barely interacts with us anymore, he started lacking not only in singing but also in dancing, too and, and, well I feel like he keeps losing weight and that's why he keeps wearing those wide clothes, and-", oh, he was rambling, and he only faintly registered how hyunjin slowly walked up to him, eyes soft as he watched jisung try to explain himself.

"yeah", hyunjin answered, tone low. "I get what you mean".

at that, they both fell silent for a moment. for a quick second, jisung remembered their predebut days in which both of them fought endlessly, with no sight of stopping - now hyunjin was the second person jisung had told his worries about, not to mention that jisung was worried about hyunjin himself, too.

jisung sighed, mostly to himself. despite his plan to tell hyunjin about how obviously minho was spiralling into something dangerous, jisung couldn't open his mouth to talk. maybe it was because he was scared of hyunjin taking it the wrong way, maybe because jisung still wasn't a hundred percent sure if minho was sad. maybe because he thought hyunjin would be disappointed that jisung hadn't noticed that he wasn't doing quite well, too.

so instead of talking about minho even further, jisung swallowed and cleared his throat.

"hyunjin", jisung suddenly said, ignoring his anxiety that started to churn his stomach. "are you alright?".

hyunjins eyes shot up and looked at jisung, as if he just got thrown out of his thoughts. "uh, yes. why?", he answered, a little perplex.

what jisung said next, he figured out later, wasn't meant to be said to hyunjin, but to minho. the thoughts that have been torturing his subconsciousness finally all shot out of him.

"I don't know, you just kind of worry us all with your eating lately", minho, you're making me worry. I don't understand how you keep losing weight. "you've lost too much weight in too little time", and you're starting to look sick, minho, I know there is something wrong with you. "we don't want you to develop an eating disorder".

hyunjin was so different from minho. other than the feline looking man, hyunjin opened up about his struggles almost immediately, telling him how he had struggled with his weight lately but would stop soon and jisung imagined minho telling him this without pushing them all away.

he sighed.

"hyunjin, you don't need to lose any weight", jisungs had answered. "you're perfect".

somewhere in the dorm, jisung heard a door shut, then hyunjin stepped back again, leaning against the counter of the kitchen, a smile on his face.

"thank you, really".

there was another short period of comfortable silence between them before hyunjin spoke up again.

"oh, and jisung", hyunjin seemed to light up a bit. "if you feel like you need to talk to minho, then do it".

.

maybe it was silly, but acting like he was searching for something in minhos room until the older came back from wherever he was at right now was the only idea jisung had in mind to talk to minho.

so, without anything to actually search for, he opened minhos drawer and pushed the pens and books from right to left and from left to right, messing up the place just to tidy it up again until-

a notebook fell out of the drawer, landing on the floor - opened.

as soon as he leaned down he could tell it was minhos handwriting - sloppily and hastily written down words in a notebook he had seemingly never touched before. jisung frowned as he picked the book up and stared at the page.

being me is like walking a tightrope of being perfect.

it only took a few lines in for jisung to understand that he was currently reading minhos diary - and it took him even shorter to realise what minho was writing about.

it all hit him at once. all the obvious signs minho gave all of them before - all the mood swings, all the hiding and going to the toilet straight after every meal. all the food that somehow vanished a day after being bought. oh, how scarily it all suddenly made sense. it sent shivers down jisungs spine.

shocked, he leaned back to steady himself with the table, and instantly felt his knees go weak. there was suddenly something itching underneath his skin and it was a lot worse than guilt - shame.

how did he not notice minho spiralling so badly? minho was so, so fragile, all this being written right here, the words basically in his hands. minho was breaking apart at the seams and there was nobody holding up him while he did so.

why does it hurt so much?

a tear must've fallen down on the paper, it smudged the last word of the sentence. jisung couldn't answer the question - everything he read in this book was mindblowing - minho was beautiful in jisungs eyes. feline features with long lashes, sharp dance moves and a wonderful voice. talented, great and in no way fat. he didn't understand how minho could even think about himself like that.

why does it hurt so much, actually?

the sound of the door swinging open caused jisung to jump and he quickly turned his head towards the sound, wide eyed. it didn't even take a second for minho to realise what jisung was holding in his hand and he rushed forward to snatch it out of his hand, anger taking the better part of him immediately.

"what the fuck are you doing?", minho spat, voice too shaky to sound intimidating but the anger was printed into his words like venom.

at once, the smell of vomit crept into jisungs nose and jisung finally, finally understood what exactly that meant. jisung kept his eyes on the book, then he eyed minho with as much sadness as his face allowed. he was hurting. minho was hurting so badly.

"minho...", jisung whispered, minhos name leaving his mouth like a breath. "shit, minho...", jisungs steady gaze seemed to throw minho off - his lower lip wobbled a bit despite his furrowed brows and even though minho wanted to look solely mad, deep down jisung saw how terrified he was at the moment. his eyes told him.

minhos eyes had gone big and round and he looked like a scared cat. "what the fuck were you doing with this?!", minho raised his voice, pointing at the diary. "that's none of your business!".

jisung hunched a little, not entirely sure what to say. "I-I wasn't- I wasn't trying to be nosy or anything", oh, he totally was, "I just-".

"stop", jisung almost flinched at how minhos voice sounded. so close to cracking, yet so harsh. all jisung could do was to helplessly lift his hands and try to explain what was happening.

his plan was to talk to minho, but god, this wasn't anything like he imagined it to be. "I swear, I was just searching for something else and found it, I didn't think much of it so-".

"fuck off, jisung!", minho finally yelled, protectively wrapping his arms around himself, fists clenched and face red with suppressed anger. jisungs vision slowly started to become blurry, tears threatening to slip out of his eyes - he couldn't even tell how minho was also so close to crying, too.

before jisung could say another word, minho turned around on his heels, expression stone cold but eyes filled with tears. the door closed with a quiet click.

jisung realised in this moment that minho wasn't the same person he used to know anymore.

his world cracked.

-

minho on the other hand was still very much convinced that nobody cared about him.

like always, minho demanded a routine. like always, he worked out every day, got his daily twenty five thousand steps in and threw up after every meal he had with the others.

that didn't stop the fact that he was still crumbling apart.

because after the next attempt of jisung trying to help him, minhos managed to hit, undoubtedly, his newest low.

and it started with a handful of cotton balls.

"I have to go take a piss", minho mumbled with a small grin on his face, only earning a little "ew, man", from jeongin, who shoved a few noodles into his mouth as minho got up to go to the bathroom.

in his mind, minho already mentally prepared himself to having to throw his guts out for the third time today - it didn't matter how many times you did it, no matter how "used to it" you were, the pain, the smell and the uncomfortableness never stopped.

of course that didn't stop minho from doing so. the uncomfortableness of food inside your stomach was a lot worse - the urge to get it out was so overwhelmingly strong, minho didn't even bother fighting it anymore.

standing in front of the mirror again, minho lifted his hoodie up and looked at his stomach. he liked that, even now after eating, his hipbones started to poke out. he would like it better as soon as the food was out of his stomach, he would like the way his chest bones showed when he put his shoulder back, liked feeling his shoulder bones, even if he just felt them ever so slightly, he liked it. it was reassuring, calming.

just as he turned around to go to the toilet, someone knocked on the door.

"minho?". jisung.

minhos heart skipped a beat. "yes?".

"what are you doing?".

"what? oh, just", minho trailed off, laughing uncomfortably. "I'm on the toilet".

they were both quiet for a second before jisungs voice could be heard through the door again.

"okay, I'll wait for you".

what.

what?

how the fuck was he supposed to purge with jisung waiting for him right in front of the door? fuck, jisung, you're completely destroying my routine.

what was he supposed to do now? just not purge? he would gain weight - he'd be fatter than yesterday again. why, why, why was jisung doing this to him?

minho simply flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet, not even putting his hands under the water. then he turned around and opened the door, ready to just go past jisung into his room again, but was stopped by jisung suddenly grabbing his hand. the pressure hurt a little.

he couldn't even jank his hand away. sure, jisung didn't want to hurt him, but minho knew his hand would probably be a little bruised by tomorrow. not jisungs fault - minho was just a little weak lately.

"minho - jesus", jisung interrupted himself, pressing down on minhos hand a little more. "you're fucking freezing".

it wasn't winter yet. it wasn't even fall yet, but minho felt how his body started to struggle to keep him warm.

"no, I'm not", minho lied. "I'm not cold at all".

The cotton ball diet became a fad in the modeling industry and soon spread to the figure skating industry. This "fad diet" involves eating cotton balls soaked in juice or smoothies to make you feel full while simultaneously restricting calories to maintain minimal body weight or to lose weight.

minho swallowed, nausea settling in his stomach as he read the article. if jisung managed to keep him from purging his food, he had to find another way to keep the food out of his body - and since he couldn't starve himself as well as hyunjin could, this was a good alternative. right?

just until jisung stops doing this, minho told himself, pen in his hand as he wrote down cotton balls on his shopping list. this time I'll really stop.

the voice inside of him was quiet this time. it was minhos subconsciousness that answered him with a laugh.

"liar, liar, pants on fire!".

-

how long had it been since it all started? minho couldn't recall most of the weeks, or months, mind too clouded with food and hunger to concentrate on what had even been happening around him. all he knew was, that it was enough time for the seasons to change.

it got colder outside and minho quickly figured that wearing a hoodie in summer and already freezing was nothing compared to living like this in winter. truly not a great time to be alive, really.

minho was curled up in a blanked, hoodie over his head, sweats on and fluffy socks covering his feet. his hands were cold, freezing maybe, but that was easier to ignore than his paining stomach. the cotton balls have been inside of him for the past four hours. he would need to throw them up soon.

he closed the chat with his mother, deciding not to text her, despite missing her wholeheartedly, and opened instagram instead. he clicked on their profile and swiped down until he saw an old group photo of all of them. almost automatically, his thumb clicked on the picture, too.

stray kids is 8. hasn't always been, but has been like this for the longest now and minho felt like that number was just right. he was comfortable, with them, together as eight. that was how it was supposed to be.

he clicked on the comments and scrolled until he found a comment that caught his attention.

has anyone noticed how tired lino looks? :( his face is so carved in, it's scary

minhos stomach churned a little, his vision blurred for a moment before he was able to look at the comment again, swiping right so he could see the picture.

would stray kids still be complete as seven? if he wasn't there, if he died because of this, would stray kids still be the stray kids they always have been?

minho would just be a memory, nothing more than a sad topic to talk about, someone you could only look at through pictures and videos. he imagined the group photo without him and felt his stomach twist and turn in horror.

somehow, his mind told him he was closer to death than he ever was and that terrified the shit out of him. minho never thought he could feel so weak he thought he might die because of this, but his slowing heart rate and the constant weak knees started telling him otherwise.

minho didn't think he could die from this. but still, for some reason, he was truly, utterly terrified.

"everyone!", changbins voice echoed through the dorm. "lunch!".

minho sighed. at least he could purge the cotton balls out after this.

"beef and rice!", changbin greeted minho as he entered the room, trying to conceal his shaky hands by putting them in his pockets. "I put my soul into this, so everyone better enjoy this!".

it was moments like this that made minho feel especially guilty. knowing that people made food for him with good intentions and minho ending up purging it into the toilet or not eating anything of it at all.

uncomfortable, minho looked away from changbins face as he sat down, twisting the end of his hoodie strings around his fingers. the food smelled good, wonderful maybe, but minho felt nausea bubble up in him as the others sat down, changbin handing everyone their plate.

his fingered trembled as the picked up the chopsticks and poked into the meat on his plate. his stomach rumbled, minho took a bite, chewed, and, at last, swallowed. it didn't even take a second before his stomach seemed to put itself upside down and minho quickly got up and ran to the toilet, metallic chopsticks hitting the ground behind him.

the fingers in front of his mouth were ice-cold as he locked the bathroom behind him and ran to the toilet, trembling. his stomach was rumbling nonstop, pain shooting through his abdomen like he had never felt before. his vision jagged and minho quickly figured that the cotton in his stomach must be the cause of all this. so - like any other person would - minho leaned forward, already feeling stomach acid come up his throat, and shoved his freezing fingers into his mouth.

somewhere in front of the door, minho heard steps coming closer. a knock could be heard, probably very clearly, but minhos blood flushed in his ears at such a high speed that he could barely focus on his own actions in the first place.

it was too late now - his fingers were shoved far too deep into his throat and it was far too late to take them out. it was chan, who was standing in front of the door, calling his name, but the sudden wave of vomit and the loud, roaming gag that left minhos throat drowned out chans voice completely.

the silence after that was deafening. it took minho a moment to understand what just happened, how clearly he had just exposed himself to another one of his friends.

and oh, god, there it was. the unforgivable silence that surrounded minho and chan, it was like the room was crashing down on minho with its nothingness. minho wanted to bury his hands in his hair, but they were covered in vomit.

"minho?".

chan sounded so far away from behind the door and minho briefly considered staying in the bathroom forever.

he's been in this room way too often by now anyway.

minho stayed quiet. his breath hitched and he was shaking like a leaf.

"minho?".

"ye-", minhos voice broke. "yeah?".

"open the door".

as if pushed a button, minho jumped up to his feet, flushed the toilet and ran to the sink to wash his hands and face.

as if that would save me now, minho shuddered as he came to understand how severe this situation was. I'm fucked. I'm actually fucked.

"just a second!", minho squeaked and looked into the mirror, panic rising in his chest as he saw his puffy lips, bloodshot eyes and runny nose, smelling his own puke on his hands on top of it all.

he not only looked disgusting but pitiful as well. how fucked up is that?

"minho, open the door. now", chans voice sounded closer this time and his tone sounded so stern it sent shivers down minhos back. chan was serious this time.

minhos hands were still trembling, but he opened the door regardless. his eyes stayed on the ground, face red in embarrassment. oh, he was so ashamed.

chan didn't say anything and minho felt utterly defeated. the silence was enough to tell minho that chan knew. actually knew and didn't just have a suspicion. but chan kept quiet and minhos eyes filled with tears. he couldn't help it.

"say something", minho whispered, voice too hoarse and throat too inflamed to be any louder. his eyes slowly found their way to chans face - minho had expected anger, disappointment but instead chan looked...

absolutely bone-crushingly worried.

minho just wanted to sink into his arms again.

chan looked so worried and for the first time since this big shitshow started, minho felt like he got what he wanted. no matter how selfish he might was right now, this was exactly how he wanted to be looked at. it was an awfully great feeling.

almost reflexively, a sob emerged from minhos throat.

chan reached forward and grabbed minhos hand, a little hesitant, but he didn't let go once he had it. there were no words.

say something, minho begged internally, say something, scream, yell, please, I can't handle silence like this.

chans hand was so warm. minho was so cold. he was so tired. too tired by now.

"minho", chan said and his deep voice vibrated through the hallway.

"shut up, shut up, chan I can't-".

"lee minho?".

it was another voice. not chan, not any of the other members, and as minho looked to the side, vision blurred by tears, he was able to see a familiar figure standing by the door. a manager.

"your last weight in for the year", he simply said while already turning around. "get ready and meet me outside in ten minutes".

chan held onto minhos hand, minho oh so desperately held onto chans.

"yeah", he whispered.

-

the place where he got weighted didn't change ever since the very first time he went there. the posters were still up, they looked a little dusty, but they were the same pictures of unhealthily skinny men and women. there was no escape from it, really.

minho knew his weight anyway. bmi 18 by now. underweight. though it didn't feel like it. he didn't expect a lot when he stepped on the scale in front of the same, wrinkly woman again.

he didn't even bother to look at the number until-

"oh", the woman sounded rather surprised. "114  lbs".

minhos head shot up and he looked at the number in front of him. his feet went cold and his heart skipped a beat. what the fuck?

"I, uhh", minho stammered, completely thrown off guard. "I weighted myself yesterday and I weighted 119 lbs".

"that's a bmi of 17.6", the woman announced, the worried look on her face couldn't conceal her obvious pride about minhos weight los. "I mean, wow".

minho only shakily exhaled. his stomach twisted, he was lightheaded again, but really, when wasn't he?

"yeah".

bmi 17.6. goal weight. his goal weight. he hit it, without knowing, because their scale was apparently wrong all this time.

he remembered how he imagined he would look like by now, how he would dress by now, how much more confident he would be by now. bmi 17.6. and he was still fat.

numbness settled inside of minho as he stepped off the scale and watched the number disappear.

he realised in this moment that it was all completely worthless. it was enough to knock his entire world off balance.

"you can stop now, then", the woman smiled, patting his back, a gross imitation of caring before she wrote down his weight on the clipboard in her hand. her droopy eyes traveled over minhos body and stopped at his face. her lips curled downward a little and minho shifted in his place.

"tell me", she said, her voice suddenly curious. "are you alright? is something stressing you out?".

minho almost had to bite down a laugh. from almost all people to ask him this, she really was one of them. it was funny in a really sad sort of way.

the very memory of being humiliated in this room shot back onto minhos brain and he suddenly felt like it was hard to breathe.

not depressed. "just tired", that's what he had to say, didn't he? to prevent people from playing the sympathy card and assume he would be okay with stupid words like "you'll be alright" and "stay strong", right? right?

minho felt completely numb.

so, why did that hurt more than anything he had ever felt before?

-

"happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you! happy birthday, dear minho! happy birthday to you!".

october 25. it was minhos 24th birthday and minho and the other members sat at the table, a big cake with twenty-four candles sat right in the middle. his friends were happily clapping along the lines of the poorly sung birthday song and minho smiled widely as he took in a deep breath to blow out the candles in front of him.

"make a wish!", felix beamed and minho answered him with a hand wave while he leaned forward, his cheeks all round with air.

he tried, he really tried to enjoy his birthday, but he knew as soon as he ate the cake his friends made for him, he would excuse himself to go to the bathroom like he always did. no question.

he felt a little bit of stomach acid come up his throat before he blew out the candles, swallowing it down like he always did. no question.

I wish that it would all just stop.

and with that, minho started to cut the cake, able to ignore his throbbing head and awfully rumbling stomach because of the four painkillers he took this morning. this was normal, even if his stomach had never hurt like this before. and, as long as he tried hard enough, he was even able to ignore how hyunjin clearly didn't even want to celebrate with minho at all.

the cake was good. but how good was food you knew you needed to throw up in a few minutes? food only tasted half as good as minho remembered it, and yet he probably ate double the amount of all of it.

minho laid his fork down as he finished his three pieces of cake and got up, knees slightly wobbly. who cared? nobody needed to know.

the floor was as cold and hard as it always was as minho kneeled down, fingers already shoved into his throat. he only gagged twice, the acidity liquid leaving his mouth faster and faster each time he did this. as soon as minho tried to hit the back of his throat again, there was a loud, piercing sound and then minho threw up again, his knees suddenly giving up as he fell to the side.

the painkillers couldn't have helped, no matter how many he took. as minho opened his eyes, he saw the white floor being covered in dark red, chunks of food surrounding the blood that left his mouth with the vomit as he fell over.

he wanted to scream, his stomach felt like he was being stabbed in the guts over and over again, another wave of vomit and blood left his mouth and minho felt like his heart stopped beating.

passing out from pain wasn't like in the movies in which you slowly lose your consciousness. no, minho genuinely thought he died as his eyes closed and his brain finally shut off. he wasn't awake to see the third wave of blood and puke cover up the floor.

-

"minho's been gone for a while", jeongin said as he took another bite out of minhos birthday cake. his hands gestured to minhos empty seat and he leaned back as he giggled to himself. "probably takes a fat shit".

"you're so disgusting", hyunjin laughed, kicking jeongin under the table and only earning a loud scream from the youngest. "but you're right, it's been like fifteen minutes, I think".

jeongin shrugged. "I need to go to the toilet anyway", he pushed his chair back and got up, already walking away. "I'll look where he is".

jeongin knew something was off as he approached the bathroom. the lights inside were on, but the door was just ever so slightly open, as if someone had forgotten to lock it. carefully, jeongin knocked once, then twice, and after the third knock, jeongin opened the door.

there he was. minho was laying on the floor, covered in blood and puke and jeongin almost fell to the ground as he saw his friend laying on the ground like he was dead.

without any other thought, jeongin rushed forward, slipping on the abhorrent mixture on the ground and falling down next to minho, who laid there, not moving a muscle.

"minho?", jeongin took minhos head, shaking it a little as he started to shake himself. "minho!".

jeongin wasn't a good with words, but if he had to explain his emotions with a word right now, it would be pure horror. he didn't even notice the tears that ran down his face.

"answer me!", he yelled, no, begged, as he chocked on his sobs. "fucking hell- minho- fuck, answer me!".

jeongins scream could be heard through the whole building.

-

-

lol