*Warning* Eating disorder mentions 

Baekhyun’s POV

I woke up in a hospital bed, memories of what happened just hours ago flooding back to me. Sh*t.

I noticed that I felt really good. Physically, at least. But to me, that was bad news. I knew they had probably fattened me up or something to make me feel that way. By now, I thrived on the feeling of being weak from not eating. The feeling of being nourished was foreign and cold to me now. 

I know it was crazy of me to not want food at this point. I had passed out. I obviously needed some fuel. But I couldn’t. I was afraid. The more I kept myself from consuming calories, the more I became afraid of them. Thats why the nutrition was forced into my body. 

I could see how it was hurting Chanyeol. Chanyeol was the best thing in my life and I was hurting him. But that only made me want to punish myself more, to keep myself from eating longer. 

I had an eating disorder back in high school but with my parents there to help me, I got over it pretty quickly and I was back to my old self. It was a short battle. But little did I know at that time, the battle wasn’t over. 

I remember when it all started again. It was February. Practices left me tired and my self esteem low. Everyone seemed to be so much better than me. So much better looking. Better at dancing. I could never compare to them. 

I started eating less and working out more because I wanted to gain some muscle, to be able to look good on stage compared to the other members. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be unhealthy about it. There was nothing wrong with losing a little weight if you did it in the right way. 

But I couldn’t stop. I caved to the bad and unhealthy thoughts. I skipped meals. I counted the calories too much, the number dropping by a small amount each day. I wouldn’t let myself eat anything remotely bad for me. Eventually, I wouldn’t eat anything good for me either. I was too weak to go to the gym at that point, so I lost muscle but it made me happier because the number on the scale kept dropping. But every time I would look in the mirror, I saw so many flaws. I still see so many flaws every time I look at myself. I try to avoid mirrors as much as possible. They make me sick. Thats the thing with eating disorders, they always leave you unsatisfied. As soon as you lose a few pounds you just want to lose ten more. 

One of the worst things about not eating was your lung capacity. It seemed to be so small. And with that, it was extremely hard to have proper breath support for singing. I loved to sing. It was one of my favorite things in the entire world. But it was so hard to sing when I hadn’t eaten. It was one of the things that helped me recover the first time. Now, I only practiced singing alone, not wanting the other members to see how bad my singing had become without proper breath support. This wasn’t enough to make me stop. Food was more frightening that a bad singing voice at this point. 

I only ate enough to get myself through dance practices. I needed a bit of fuel so I could work my hardest. I wouldn’t let anything, not even an eating disorder, get in the way of my performance. 

I guess it wasn’t enough this time. I never thought I would pass out. I was good at knowing my body and how much it needed to stay functional, but I guess I pushed too hard in practice. I was walking to my water bottle after an hour of learning choreography. I needed some hydration. I could feel myself being dizzy and my vision went a little black but that was usual for me. I usually just waited until the feeling passed and I could see again. But it didn’t pass this time. I reached down for my water bottle and then my vision became blacker until I fell, consciousness lost. I don’t remember it in very clear detail. 

The last thing I wanted was for people to worry about me. And that was the problem with passing out. People were going to ask why. I would have to think of an excuse. If you don’t have an eating disorder, you don’t understand. Its as simple as that. Back in high school, I tried to open up to friends and talk about it. I got comments like, “But you’re not even fat,” and, “You know you’re being irrational, so why do you do it?” or, “Why don’t you just eat.” People didn’t understand the complexity of what was going on inside my head. Thats when I stopped opening up about it. People tried to stop you. They tried to fatten you up. It was hell. Thats why nobody was going to know this time. 

But Chanyeol knew. I could see it in his eyes when I didn’t eat with him, when I said I wasn’t hungry. I tried to hide it from him. I would throw food away like I ate it. I wore baggy clothing to hide my body. But he knew. I knew he knew. It killed me to see him sad for me. But I couldn’t stop.

But I knew deep down that I deserved this. I deserved the pain. The hunger. The loneliness that came with it. I deser—

My thoughts were interrupted by a frightened looking Chanyeol bursting into the room. 

“Baek….” the sorrow in his voice formed a lump in my throat. His eyes were full of worry. I did this to him. I was horrible. I didn’t reply to him. I didn’t know what to say. 

I saw he was carrying a plate. He handed it to me. On it there were some apple slices, a sandwich, and a chocolate chip cookie. Of course he expected me to eat it. I took it in my hands and just kinda stared at it. I hadn’t eaten a meal this big in many weeks. I had only eaten little nibbles of food here and there to keep me going. I picked up and apple slice and put it in my mouth. It tasted so sweet, like candy. I wished that I could eat food like this all the time without getting fat. 

It took me a while to finish all the apple slices, Chanyeol standing next to me the whole time, watching as I ate. It wasn’t awkward though. We were too close for things to be awkward. I set the plate on the table next to the bed, sandwich and cookie still uneaten. I half expected Chanyeol to tell me to finish the food but he let it be. I guess he didn’t feel like forcing me. I was happy for his leniency today, but I knew he wouldn’t always be so kind about it from now on. Unfortunately for me, he cared to much to let this go on. 

“Baek, you look better,” he sat on the side of my bed. He took my hand in his. His hands were larger and more tan compared to my pale skinny fingers. But I liked the way my hand fit in his. It was perfectly fitting. It sounds silly, but it was like our hand were meant to hold each other. I thought of pulling my hand away because I didn’t deserve Chanyeol, but I let him hold my hand for while. He sat there, the back of my hand with this thumb, calm silence engulfing us, the whole time, staring at each other’s hands. 

“Baekhyun, have you noticed that your hands don’t fit as well in mine?” Chanyeol broke the silence. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re skinnier, smaller than they were before, they used to be a perfect fit and now it’s slightly off,” his words were like a knife in my stomach. I hadn’t noticed. I was blind to it. No matter how much weight I may lose, or how much an eating disorder would change me, I would always be blind to it. Channel wasn't though, Chanyeol saw me waste away clearer than my own eyes could. 

I held back tears but he didn’t. I saw a small drop slide down his cheek and drip onto his hand. He pulled his hand away from mine to wipe his cheek. He looked at me, ready to say something. I could see the red around his eyes, filled with worry. I never meant to worry him like this. 

“Baek, they want to send you to a treatment center. Is that something you want? I mean, you probably don’t want it, I know. But you need to get better Baekyun and I don’t think it’s going to happen on your own.” By now he was looking away from me, hiding the tears on his cheeks, trying to hide that he was crying. But I knew. I knew him too well. 

I knew this conversation was coming. Treatment center. A prison where they force food down your throat, weigh your fattened figure, and ask you unlimited questions about how ty you feel about gaining weight. Treatment centers are usually filled with teenage girls and the only time I’ve been to one, I was the only boy. I hated it. I didn’t mind girls, but I felt alone, isolated. Like there was something wrong with me. Boys didn’t have eating disorders. It made me feel like there was something very wrong with me. Like I was completely abnormal. 

“No.” I said, making sure my tone was clear, “I will not go.” 

Chanyeol let out a sigh. I could tell my answer pained and frustrated him. Of course I wanted to make him happy, but I wouldn’t subject myself to that hell. I knew this wouldn’t be end of the conversation about treatment though. It would most definitely be brought up later. If not by Chanyeol, then by annoying doctors who are certain they know what’s best for me. 

I will continue to refuse to go. I know what is best for myself. Nobody can change my mind. I don’t even think I want “recovery” or whatever you want to call it. I don’t want food shoved down my throat. But I also want to make Chanyeol happy. I make him sad. I’m pathetically depressing to him. I don’t deserve someone like Chanyeol but I can’t give him up either. I need to try to make him happy. 

“Baekyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you stop eating?”

“I wish I knew, Chanyeollie, I wish I knew.” 

With that he leaned down, taking my hand in his again. He lay on my chest and closed his eyes. It was calming, having him here with me. It wasn’t long before I closed my eyes, too.