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Prompt: “Anorexia/Bulimia”

Pairing: Lay/Luhan

Words: ~1900

Dedicated to Fujin-chan.

Warnings: Character death

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“I knew it wasn’t too important, but it made me sad anyway.”
- J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

 

 

***

 

12/12/12

 

It’s cold out, very cold. Yixing said that it was snowing earlier today, but I didn’t really want to get out of bed.

 

It’s warm in here, and people can’t see me.

 

I don’t want them to see me.

 

Tao said I missed out on an ‘epic snowball fight’. I told him it was OK.

 

I don’t think he believed me.

 

Sometimes they look at me funny.

 

I don’t like it when they look at me like that, it makes me feel sick.

 

***

 

 

“Luhan?”

 

There’s a heavy sigh, and the figure on the couch gets up, pulling a blanket over his shoulders as he drags himself up and into the kitchen. Once he finds a place at the end of the table next to Yixing, he wraps the blanket around his lithe form, watching as steam escapes his lips as it hits the chilled air. He laughs a little as Xiumin picks up on this, blowing his own steam into the air with glee.

 

“Maybe I can write my name with steam!” he says with a chuckle.

 

“I doubt it,” Luhan responds, small smile gracing his lips. But the smile never truly reaches his eyes.

 

“I can try at least!” Xiumin exclaims, laughter in his voice.

 

He leans closer to Chen, exhaling loudly as he bobs his head up and down. The steam doesn’t resemble anything at all, just a cloud of steam. Chen complains about Xiumin’s stinky breath and Xiumin pouts grumpily, puffing his cheeks out.

 

Luhan wishes he could be as comfortable as Xiumin.

 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Yixing asks, pointing to Luhan’s bowl.

 

Luhan shrugs, the chopsticks still untouched. It’s a beef concoction of sorts, and Luhan can see the warmth coming off of it. There were buns and dumplings on a china plate in the centre of the table before, but it seems Xiumin has already claimed the lot.

 

That, or Tao grabbed one or two on his way to the shower earlier that evening. Wushu often got the younger teen hungry, and Tao could eat a mountain. Often, Luhan would slip his leftovers onto Tao’s plate and the boy would give him the warmest of smiles.

 

“I’m not too hungry, Yixing. I ate before when you were all outside.”

 

Yixing gives a small nod, finishing off his meal before packing the stacking the dishes on the kitchen bench. He wraps some foil over Luhan’s untouched bowl before placing it on the top level on the fridge, for all to see.

 

“You can have it for lunch tomorrow,” Yixing says coolly, eyes flicking to Kris a wary glance.

 

 

***

 

18/12/12

 

Chen keeps coming to me for advice on Mandarin. He says he needs my help with some of the nuances of the language, especially for that song we’re working on, but I can’t help but feel he’s trying to keep me occupied.

 

I wonder what he could possibly think of me. What they all think of me.

 

I guess I’m just disgusting.

 

Yixing likes to watch me. He likes to wrap his arms around my shoulders because it makes him feel not so lonely. He likes to poke my stomach and tickle my sides.

 

I hate it.

 

It makes me feel too big. If I was skinnier, maybe I’d be more comfortable for him to wrap his arms around.

 

***

 

 

Luhan scrapes the contents of the bowl gingerly into the bin, ready to dry heave into the plastic confines of the bin as the scent fills his nose and his stomach backflips. He bites his lip, drawing blood, until the waves of nausea pass.

 

Luhan’s hands find the wall and he presses his palms against it, steadying himself.

 

That was close.

 

If anyone had woken up, they would have found out. Everything.

 

Luhan breathes a sigh of relief as he lets the door click softly behind him, taking the garbage out to the trash at the back of their small apartment block.

 

It’s three in the morning, and no one is awake.  Luhan likes this time the best. The streets are almost always empty, and there’s freshness in the air that gives him unwavering levels of hope. His shoes click down the familiar pavement, softly. It’s a familiar direction, and, lucky, it is empty today.

 

Luhan s his hand forward, grabbing a tree branch and tilting it to the side as he steps off the sidewalk and onto the snow-covered ground. There’s a small bench to the side, and he sits. It’s nice here; quiet. He knows he’s the only one that visits this place anymore. This park has been forgotten, and you can see where reckless teens have graffitied over what used to be a slide and swing set.

 

It’s the only place he can think.

 

Kris shouts at him again that morning when he returns to the dorm and Luhan lets his head droop to the side and his eyes fall to the ground. He flinches as Kris raises his voice at him, chastising him for being reckless and idiotic.

 

But Luhan doesn’t care.

 

Its only one more thing Kris can be angry with him about.

 

 

***

 

21/12/12

 

Christmas is soon.

 

I hate Christmas.

 

It’s full of fake people and fake joy and fake love and fake everything.

 

Kris says he wants us all to go across to the other’s dorm so we can celebrate together. I know it’s hard for him, being so far away from family. They’re all having trouble with the distance; sometimes I hear Tao cry himself to sleep. Christmas must be a big deal for them all.

 

But I don’t care. My parents never wanted me.

 

I hate Christmas.

 

I hate that I have to pretend to be happy when all I want to do is be alone. To not be me.

 

Yixing says he’s going to take me shopping.

 

I hate shopping too.

 

I look at all the clothes and it makes me feel fat. There’s all those girls dolled up in make up with thin, brilliant legs and taut lips. They look like dolls. I wish I was a doll.

 

Mother told me once that things that are the most beautiful are the easiest to break.

 

I wonder what it would be like to break.

 

***

 

 

“Here we are,” Kris breathes, dragging Luhan down the hallway into a warm room with tinsel lining the windows and a large tree decorated with various ornaments sitting in the corner. Tao bounds over, pulling a bag of gifts behind him. He adds them underneath the tree with a smiling Sehun.

 

Chanyeol and Baekhyun are wearing matching sweaters, and they bound over to Luhan, dragging him onto the lounge.

 

“Look, look!” Baekhyun shouts jovially, running across to the light switch. He switches it off, and the occupants of the room gasp in excitement as the tree lights up, it’s rainbow fairy lights casting the spectrum across the walls. Luhan likes the colour, because it’s true beauty. It’s not something that lasts.

 

True beauty is fleeting.

 

“What do you think?” Chanyeol says in his baritone voice, eyes wide with happiness. Luhan gives him a small smile.

 

“They’re very pretty,” he concedes.

 

“Not as pretty as the meal Kyungsoo’s prepared for us all!” Kai exclaims once the lights are flicked back on, rubbing his hands together. Luhan gulps as he is pushed forward by Kai into the kitchen.

 

The table is set with a mix of Western and Asian cuisine. There are winter salads, pieces of smoked ham and baked potatoes lining decorative plates, small tea lights lining the table and a giant turkey sitting in the centre. He sees there is a bowl of Kai’s favourite kimchi spaghetti and he closes his eyes as he watches Kai pile the stuff onto his plate.

 

“Dig in!”

 

Kyungsoo presses chopsticks between Luhan’s fingers, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. The rest of the members take their seats, passing plates of food to each other directly under Luhan’s nose.

 

Luhan takes the chopsticks gingerly and presses a piece of lettuce between his lips. He opts for the salads, knowing that they will chastise him for not eating. he will pick that with the least amount of calories, and thus the easiest to get out of system when nightfall came. Potatoes had too many calories, especially because they were baked in butter. Meat was too heavy.

 

Luhan picks at the food, letting out a sigh of relief once the rest finally stop eating, quick to stack his plate into the dishwasher.

 

When they have returned to the dorm room, and the lights are switched off, Luhan creeps slowly out of his bed, feet dancing as he weaves around the squeaking floorboards. He makes it to the bathroom, holding his breath until he’s locked the door behind him. A tear escapes his eye as he leans down over the toilet bowl, ing a finger violently down his throat.

 

 

***

 

27/12/12

 

I got a letter today, from my mother. It was kind of weird, because she never sends me letters; she’s never been bothered to before.

 

I know it’s not important, but it makes me sad anyway.

 

It was on bright red paper, and it hurt my eyes. I don’t like my mother’s handwriting, it’s too… angular? Lifeless? Yeah, that must be it.

 

She said she watched our latest interview. She said it was ridiculous and stupid how I was always pretending to be happy.

 

She said I had gained weight, and that I should lose it. She said the face of a group should be skinny and have nice skin, and that I’m hideous and ugly.

 

I hate that she’s always right.

 

***

 

 

“Luhan, open the door!” Yixing yells, bashing his fist against the wood.

 

Luhan sits one the other side, anxious hands running through his haphazard hair. He lets out a strangled sob as the bile rises in his throat once again, crawling weakly across tiles to the toilet, crouching over the bowl as he chokes.

 

Nothing comes out.

 

There’s nothing left for him to lose.

 

True beauty is fleeting, he thinks to himself. Maybe he’ll die young, but at least he’ll be beautiful.

 

He laughs at himself.

 

His mother would be proud.

 

“Luhan, get out of there!” Yixing screams, pelting on the door.

 

Luhan laughs even louder, clutching his chest as pain rakes his insides. He shuts his eyes tightly, willing the pain away, but he can’t. He can’t breathe anymore. He can’t think.

 

Time starts to slow down around him. His vision blurs, and he sees a single figure pick him up off the tiled floor, warmth dancing on his skin. It’s a nice feeling, he thinks. It’s fleeting.

 

“You can’t go!” Yixing sobs, clinging to Luhan.

 

Fear fills his eyes as he looks down, fingers gripping Luhan’s shirt as it becomes sodden with tearstains. Luhan lets out a sigh, eyes fluttering open. Yixing can see there’s dampness to them, and he lets out a strangled sob. He hears commotion behind him, but he shuts the world out until all that remains is Luhan. Luhan, the small and fragile angel that he held between his fingers.

 

“I should have done more!” Yixing sobs.

 

“I love you!” Luhan lets out a small smile as Yixing’s tears hit his cheeks. His gaze softens as his heartbeat slows.

 

“Am I beautiful?” he asks. Yixing presses their foreheads together, lips brushing against Luhan’s cheek.

 

“You’re beautiful, Lu! You’ve always been beautiful!” he shrieks, curling his fingers around Luhan’s tiny wrists.

 

There is no pulse.