By the time the last year of middle school (my ninth grade year) had rolled around, I had lost at least twenty kilograms. I still cringed looking at the mirror, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. I was slightly better than the monstrosity I used to be.

Somewhere along the way, Himchan had forced me to stop working out, worrying about my sudden decrease in weight. He began nagging at me, telling me I had to eat more to equal out the amount of calories I lost. When I disregarded his warnings, he forced me to stop, warning Yongguk not to let me into the gym when I rolled around.

It wasn’t fair. Himchan had somehow found a way to make me look decent, but then taken it away just as fast as it had been given.

He wasn’t leaving me with much of a choice.

I stopped eating then.

Eating brought calories, and calories meant gaining weight. If by not eating, I could lower the amount of fat packing back up at my tummy area, then I was willing to forgo my old past time. Eating was expensive anyways. I could save the money for plastic surgery for the parts losing weight couldn’t fix.

By this point, Jaebum had finally allowed me into his posse, letting me approach his grace with that angelic smile of his. I was finally pretty enough to hang with the boy of my dreams. He somehow made me feel not as worthless. Being with him made me feel complete.

Arriving at school, Jaebum would come to me in all smiles, melting me into a pile of gush as he wove his arms around me fondly. He was perfect; too perfect for me.

My every waking moment soon began to dedicate to Jaebum and his life. In the mornings, I would peel open my eyes extra early to pack a sandwich for him – he didn’t have time to eat breakfast, coming to school early for the soccer club –, lying to my parents that it for lunch. Then at school, I would sit off at the benchers, the little brown baggie on my lap as Jaebum ran around with his friends, kicking the ball left and right. (To be honest, I didn’t know a single thing they were doing, nor whether they were kicking the ball in the correct goal or not. Playing sports, to be honest, was not my thing.)

When his practice ended, he would jog over to me, flashing a wide grin and flailing his arms in sorts of a hello, wiping his sweaty face on the side of my uniform. I would complain, but the whole time, there would be a smile on my face.

Sometimes, Jaebum’s friends from his club would join us as he walked back up to class for the rest of the day to progress.

It was a perfect schedule.

I couldn’t have asked for anything better.