Mornings can either be the best or worst stages of his day. 

The best times are when he lifts his shirt up to reveal a smooth, flat stomach. He feels light, as if he were weightless, and a smile breaks out onto his face. Even when he turns to the side, his stomach is leveled, almost deflated. If he inhales, his ribcage presses tightly against his skin and Minseok marvels at the wonderful sight. He doesn't eat breakfast afterwards, fearing he would somehow ruin this glorious moment and come home feeling bloated.

The mirror doesn't yell. It allows Minseok to revel in his complacency. It's only fair; when Minseok does what he is told, he will get the results he deserves. It sits back, waiting silently for the next time the boy looks at himself. It knows what thoughts will run through Minseok's mind, and it laughs wickedly--knowingly to be exact--because this always happens. Minseok always falls into these traps. 

Stupid, naive boy. When will you ever learn? Your every action comes with a price, because you sold yourself to me. Smile all you want; dance all you want. You may even sing and skip your way to school! But you and I both know that when you are not truly happy. You are never satisfied, Minseok. Remember that; remember that you can't be satisfied while you're chained to me. 

The times when Minseok's mornings are shuddersome are when he's bloating. It's probably due to a late-night snack or an outing with his friends the night before, and his brain tells him, "It's okay. Calm down, Minseok. Munch on a banana and get some fluids in you. It will go away soon." 

The comforting words slip through one ear and just slides out the other. 

Because that's when the mirror has a hold of him, and Minseok can't have a mind of his own when the mirror has him. He's helpless in its claws. Disabled. Powerless. Paralyzed.

Sometimes the mirror screams at him, shoving him into the corner of the bathroom until he's curled up, knees huddled to his chest and arms covering his head. It slaps him left and right, kicks him right in the abdomen, and engulfs his entire body with an oppressive heat that at his skin. Minseok is panting by the time the mirror is done with him. His hair is tousled, and he hugs himself, sniffling and twitching. The scorches feel real, and they reside only when Minseok is slumped against the wall, sweating and heaving. 

But sometimes it doesn't say anything at all. Instead the mirror magnifies his reflection and amplifies his flaws. His skin is dry with wrinkles cracking the arid surface. His eyes are redder, puffy and swollen as if he'd been crying all night. His lips are bruised to the point where its unappealing to just moisturize them with his tongue. 

The mirror likes to have fun. It stretches his skin to make Minseok believe he gained ten pounds. It concaves his cheeks until his cheekbones are protruding, then immediately switches to his real reflection, taunting him. Haha! You will never look like that. Might as well starve yourself! 

In simpler terms, the numbers on the scale determines whether Minseok's mornings are good or bad. If they were smaller than yesterday, he goes through the day smiling. If they were larger, he works himself into an oblivion of sweat and starvation. 

Today just happens to be a lousy morning, despite Jongdae arriving early to wake him. Minseok watches his shirt fall, curving around his abdomen. The scale had not changed, but the aftermath of last night's binge eating, Minseok expected it to be like this. It could be worse. If you didn't take the mirror's advice, the numbers would be higher. 

He sighs and tears his eyes away from his reflection. Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he just cut off inches from his waist? Or his arms? or his legs? Or his face? Why couldn't he lose all this ugliness? What was he doing wrong? He gave up on his previous eating habits, completely giving up junk food, and even exercised daily, whether it be during P.E. class or at the park with his friends. 

Was it the binge eating? They only happened every once in awhile. Was he not exercising enough? Or maybe he wasn't using the most effective exercising method? Should he apply to a gym? Should he lower his calorie intake? 

"Hyung! Guess what's on TV right now? Our favorite! Hurry up! It's starting in like, five minutes." Jongdae appears in the doorway, grooving to a random beat to show his excitement. Minseok smiles in return and nods. He pushes his questions away and reminds himself to do some more research later. 

"I'll be down in a minute. I just have to wash my face." His best friend enters the bathroom, wrapping his arms around Minseok's middle. 

Jongdae was an emotional kind of guy, always touchy-touchy with their circle of friends. He's always touching them. A pat on the back or a soft hand on the shoulder. At times he'll hold their hands or sit in their laps, but there isn't a time when Jongdae is seen not touching anyone. He touches Minseok the most, of course, always hugging the older male. It could be when they're in the same room or when they're simply standing next to each other. 

But Minseok always unconsciously in his belly when his best friend hugs him. It's become a habit-- in his stomach. He feels uneasy when someone touches his stomach, fearing they'll retract because of the layer of fat. He's self-conscious of his appearance to the point where if he feels unfamiliar eyes scrutinizing him, he in. It's not an option, he just automatically does it. He sits up straighter and stretches his legs to make himself appear longer and leaner. Frequently, Minseok doesn't anything to trigger the reaction. The moment he leaves his house to the very second he returns, his abdomen is tight. 

They are still standing in front of the mirror with Jongdae's arms around Minseok's waist. The younger rests his chin on his hyung's shoulder. Minseok visibly relaxes. He sighs again, this time the worry slipping out along with his breath, and leans his head on the other's. 

"Look at me," Jongdae says softly. Minseok catches his eye in the mirror. "Hey, handsome." They both grin, the air lighter, more comfortable.

"You're not so bad looking yourself." 

"Ugh, hyung, tell me sometimes I don't know." 

Minseok pushes him out, but his playful expression contradicts his actions. "Just let me wash my face, you conceited little brat."

Jongdae chuckles and blows him a kiss. "You should feel honored to be in the presence of such a dashing, young gentlemen," he winks, sticking out his tongue. "See you downstairs! Don't take too long! I know you love looking at your beautiful self, but friendship is more important than beauty, hyung!" 

Said hyung shakes his head, still smiling. When he glances up, the mirror grips his throat. Don't think that just because he compliments you that he's telling the truth. You're still no better than yesterday. You better do something about that before we'll have an even longer talk tomorrow morning.

It lets him go, red-faced and struggling for air. Minseok, teary-eyed, swallows the lump in his throat. After catching his breath, he joins Jongdae downstairs. When Jongdae bids him goodbye and goodnight, he trudges to his bathroom.

The medicine cabinet swings open and he reaches forward. 

The next morning he wakes up bright. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and Minseok feels like he's soaring high in the clouds. 

***

"Minseok!" Mrs. Kim calls as she wipes her hands on the apron around her waist. Bowls are pulled from the cupboards, and eating utensils plucked from drawers. "Come eat breakfast, Minseok! I found a new recipe, and I want you to try it." 

Footsteps thunder down the stairs. Said boy pokes his head in the kitchen. "I'm not really hungry, mom." 

Minseok's mother frowns, and she sets down the bowl she just scooped some rice into. "Not hungry? You didn't eat dinner last night." Minseok shrugs. He turns to locate his shoes. "Well, I'll ask the neighbors to try it then. I also made lunch for you. And maybe Jongdae might wa--"

"I think I'll grab something from the cafeteria. I'm in a hurry, I forgot I had to give Jongdae something." His voice fades away, completely cut off when the front door clicks shut. 

Mrs. Kim stares at the perfectly wrapped lunch box on the kitchen counter. 

She glances at the hallway mirror, and a pathetic, weak laugh escapes her lips. Bits of graying hair plastered to her forehead while her neat bun had fallen to pieces. She tucks the stray strands behind her ear, revealing an array of wrinkles sprouting across her features. She's tired. 

"Minseok-ah..." What aren't you telling me?

Minseok never bothered complaining to his mother about his desire to become skinnier. She caught on herself. The scrunching of his nose as he looked at her dishes in distaste, the addition of the scale in the restroom, the change in choices at the grocery store... All these factors led her to believe that her son was indeed trying to cut back on his weight. This baffled her at first because she saw nothing wrong with her son's appearance. 

But the main reason he chose not to tell his mother was because Minseok didn't believe he had a problem in the first place. What was wrong with trying to eat healthier? What was wrong with exercising? What was wrong with caring about how you look? Everyone cares about how they look. That's the reason why mirrors were invented, so people can look at themselves to change how they look if they're unsatisfied. He wasn't doing anything different from that. 

Other than his diet, Minseok is still the same boy. He's still trying his best in his studies, hanging out with friends, and surfing on the internet during his free time. 

"Yifan!" Minseok swivels to his left and passes the basketball. Said male makes a shot with ease. "Nice!" Yixing, on the other team, dribbles the ball across the court with the rest in tow. The boys are panting as they run back and forth across the gym, each team scoring one after another. This is Minseok's favorite hour during school: lunch. 

His morning classes are always giving him headaches, so a game of basketball helps ease away the stress. The others couldn't agree more, and Minseok is relieved that he doesn't have any lazy friends. Except for Jongdae, who prefers singing over sports. Jongdae always sits on the bleachers shouting supportive cheers or practicing songs from his music class. Today he is sitting with Zitao, the maknae of their circle. The latter is engrossed in the novel he brought along. 

The gym doors burst open, and in walks Kyungsoo with two plastic bags. "Look who came with lunch!" Immediately, the rowdy boys abandon their game to rush over to the bleachers. Luhan rubs his tummy as he bounces up to Zitao, whining in Chinese about how hungry he is. He doesn't get the chance to sit down next to their maknae because Yifan already steals his spot. "That's my baby you're cuddling with," the pretty male hisses. 

Yifan responds by sticking out his tongue and pulling Luhan's baby closer to him. "And he's my boyfriend." 

"Boyfriend?!" both Luhan and Zitao screech. The poor kid looks horrified, and Yifan melts as he begins to rapidly blink and stutter a weak retort. 

"Oh, stop bullying them, Yifan," Yixing scolds. He then calls for Minseok to join them, though they already know his answer. 

"No thanks, I think I'm going to play a little longer." It's the same every time. His friends don't prod any further than necessary, but they do notice Minseok's lack of appetite. 

"Are you sure?" Yixing tries again. "Kyungsoo made dumplings for you! I'm sure you don't want to miss out on his cooking?" 

"Nah, I'll pass. I have to work on my three-pointers for the festival. Jungshin is definitely playing for his class, and you know how I hate losing." They reluctantly stop trying to persuade him because they couldn't agree less with what he said. Minseok is more than competitive with sports, especially soccer (thank goodness the festival is indoors). If he wins, his team has to have scored by at least five points more than the other time, or else it is considered a loss. 

It's just how he is, and Jungshin really is a tough competitor, with his height and all. 

Jongdae watches his best friend, worry creasing along his forehead. It was alright for Minseok to want to practice, but he was pushing himself way too hard.  Jongdae could tell from the way the other's chest heaved and the clouded look in his eyes. It appears as if Minseok had been running a fifteen mile marathon and would collapse any minute. 

The singer glances at his friends. Zitao is still in Yifan's lap, nose curled in a book, while Yifan and Luhan laugh at a joke Yixing just cracked. Luhan then proceeds to poke the maknae, which leads to Yifan threatening him to stop badgering his "boyfriend". Over the two's bickering, Kyungsoo is texting someone (probably Jongin) with Yixing leaning over his shoulder.

"Did Jongin finish retaking his test?" Yup, Jongdae knew it. 

"Not yet. They're giving him a small break. He's freaking out over the math section, but other than that, I'm pretty sure he'll do fine." 

"He better! We stayed up helping him study..." 

Alright, it's about time Jongdae does something. He can't just sit there and watch his best friend practically wheeze to death. And if no one else is going to do something, then it'll be his job to step up. Jongdae made his way across the floor until he was standing in front of Minseok. 

"Hey."

"Hey," Minseok pants, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. "What's up? You want to play?" 

Jongdae smirks. He rolls up the sleeves of his eyes, never breaking eye contact. "Sure, but I want to challenge you." 

"Oh?" Minseok dribbles the ball between his legs, showing off his technical skills. "And what are you proposing?" 

"The first person to shoot a basket wins. If I win, you have to stop and eat lunch with us. Hey, don't give me that look! You can practice tomorrow. The festival's a month away, hyung."

"And if I win," Minseok straightens himself and extends his arm forward. Jongdae's lip twitches. Was his hyung so confident that he was going to win? We'll see about that. "Then you have to do my homework for the entire week." 

"Sounds like a deal to me."

Kyungsoo watches this scene with a tiny smile. The chance of Minseok losing was 0%--in most cases. When it comes to Jongdae though....

Minseok's dashing, Jongdae's defending. They're sliding against each other, arms splayed in midair. And then! 

"Ow!" 

The eldest hyung drops the ball to aid his dongsaeng, who's clutching his ankle for his dear life, tears glistening at the corner of his eyes. But, before Minseok could even open his lips to ask "Are you okay?", Jongdae springs upward and snatches the ball. He sprints towards his side of the court and makes a winning shot. 

Their friends are whistling and cheering on the sidelines, Jongdae's victory a complete surprise.

"You tricked me." Minseok was still in his kneeling position, unable to take in this cruel reality. "I lost." 

"I changed my mind, hyung; I won't be taking a choir major in college. I'll go for acting instead! Did you see your face? You were so worried!" Jongdae wipes a fake tears with his palms, cackling at Minseok's forlorn aura. The laughter in the gym eventually dies down, and Minseok accepts his fate.

"We did make a deal," he mumbles, trudging alongside his best friend.

"Yup! And now it's time to eat. There's still some dumpling left, right?" Kyungsoo pulls out another plate for the battered hyung, who still looks as if his hopes and dreams have been crushed. "Oh, and Minseok hyung?" Said hyung raises his eyebrows. "Don't forget to shower before lunch ends. You reek!" 

He wonders how the other boy does it. Minseok had trained himself to resist  temptation, to push away the fatique, to ignore the urges his body wants. And Jongdae breaks his resolve in seconds. He knocks down the gates, tears down the "caution" warnings, and pushes past his walls, all without breaking a sweat. His dongsaeng has him completely wrapped around his finger. 

Minseok chuckles, shaking his head at the memory of Jongdae's false injury. My heart almost jumped out of my chest.

***

"Minseok-ah? Have you finished your homework?" Mrs. Kim stands up from the couch to stretch. "I'm about to start making dinner. What would you like to eat?" 

Her son doesn't tear his eyes away from the television's screen. "Hm, I'm not that hungry, mom. You can make yourself something small." 

Mrs. Kim feels something snap inside of her. "Minseok-ah." Her voice wavers due to the anger she was currently containing. "I want you to eat something." 

Minseok frowns. He had never heard his mom speak this way to him. What did he do wrong? "Why, mom? I'm really no--"

"I don't care!" she shouted, fists clenched by her sides. "I don't care if you're not hungry, I want you to eat something! At least a small sandwich!" She kneels down in front of him and grasps both of his shoulders. 

"You never eat, honey," she says softly, b with tears. She's no longer angry, just exasperated. "Whenever we see each other, you never eat. Why?" 

"I'm just not hungry," is all Minseok replies. He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't know why it was such a big deal. Isn't it a good thing that he's not eating? His mom's friends won't anymore, and then she won't be pitied for having such a horrible son. 

"How?" she cries. She shakes him as her tears begin to flow heavier. "How can you not be hungry? You never eat! You must be hungry! Why do you keep on insisting that you're not hungry? Are you trying to starve yourself? Did you eat at all today? You said you would buy something in the cafeteria. Did you--"

"Mom!" Minseok does not like where this is going. She's trekking in an off-limits area. Did they not agree that they wouldn't speak of this? Why now? "I did eat lunch. You can even ask Kyungsoo because he was the one who brought it. I happened to eat a lot so I'm not hungry at the moment. Why are you acting like this?" 

Mrs. Kim grip tightens. "Why am I like this? You tell me, Minseok! You tell me why I stay up all night worrying about how my son is starving himself and obsessing about his weight like some teenage girl! You tell me why I even bother learning new, healthier recipes because my son never eats them! Huh? Can you? Can you tell me?"

"Mom."

"You don't eat breakfast. You don't eat after school. You don't eat dinner. The food is piling. But then suddenly the food disappears in the middle of the night! Poof! All gone! Where could it have gone to? Did someone break in and steal our food?"

"Mom!" 

"It can't be, right? Our neighborhood isn't like that. So what or who could it be?" She looks at him pleadingly, searching his eyes for the answers. But Minseok is fuming. His blood is boiling, and it's taking up all of his control to withstand the impulse to raise his fist. 

Instead, he yanks himself out of his mother's hold and stands up, glaring at her through his bangs. "What are you trying to say?" he whispers, unknowingly expressing his hurt and betrayal in that one question. What was she insinuating? That he ate all that food? That he's fat? That there's something wrong with him? 

Mrs. Kim widens her eyes. "I--"

"Save it! I don't want to hear it! This is my life and I can make my own decisions! So what if I don't eat? It's not like I'm committing a sin. In fact, your friends would probably encourage me! And then what? You'll finally not have a fat son! That what you wanted, isn't it? So why are you acting as if you care about my health now?" He stalks away, climbing the stairs two by two, ignoring his mother's apologies. 

Minseok slams the door shut behind him and slides down the wood, holding his face in his hands. His shoulders shake as the sobs rack over his body. She's right. I did eat all the food that one night. I'm such a sick, disgusting piece of . She's probably disappointed in me. 

What should he do? How should he make up for his actions? 

In the middle of the night, after checking his mother's bedroom and confirming that she was sleeping, Minseok crept into the bathroom. This is the best way. Right, mirror? He opens the medicine cabinet and hesitates. 

Yes. I told you before, didn't I? Do it, Minseok. Don't second guess yourself, just do it. I know that you know better.

Minseok doesn't think this is wrong. Not at all. After all, it's not like he has a problem. Watching his weight isn't a problem; He's just trying to become a better a person. A person that everyone will be proud of, and maybe even jealous of. He just wants to be satisfied with his physical appearance. 

How was wanting that a problem? At least he was taking action instead of just saying he'll do it and in the end not. 

Minseok doesn't have a problem, he's sure of it.

This isn't a problem.