it was february when sehun first said it.

there were no birds chirping in the tree beside his bedroom window, there was only ice on the sills and snow all over his mother's garden.

 

“i’m on a diet.”

 

there was a small pizza carton lying in front of jongin that day, half-eaten and getting cold. jongin’s hair in the mirror sehun had on his bedroom door was reddish pink and pinkish red, like a summery sunset and the color of sehun’s chubby cheeks in the chilly air. sehun’s old gray sweatpants were tight on his thighs and the expression he wore on his face told jongin to stay quiet .

don't boss him around.

he's not a child and you're not his mother.

 

“alright,” jongin said with a half-smile. sehun ate an apple but his eyes were never this cold before. he looked like he was neptune and jongin was mercury, like they existed in the same system but there was nothing jongin could do to get to him.

 

he knew something was wrong when he was told to take the leftovers home with him.

 

*

 

it was march when sehun first collapsed.

 

he was avoiding jongin the entire morning because the pink-haired boy was pestering him to eat before their performance.

 

“i’m on a diet,” is all jongin got when he tried.

 

sehun was the best dancer on the team, he needed all the focus he could get. sehun knew that as well as jongin did, but he'd just hit 150 last night and it felt so good that he couldn't screw it up.

there were seven daisies in the grass where sehun fell and only three of them got soaked in the blood that ran out of his nose.

jongin said nothing as he sat in the waiting room while sehun was at check-ups. he stared at his baby pink vans until they wheeled him out; the gold medal hanging around his neck felt more like a noose than a trophy.

jongin doesn't like daisies anymore.

 

*

 

it's april when jongin first sees sehun throw up.

 

it's sehun’s birthday and they're all in sehun’s backyard eating the cake chanyeol has made, the once chubby black-haired boy wearing baekhyun’s clothes because his

own are way too big on him. his wrists are thin and eyebrows furrowed in between honking laughter at jokes jongin knows sehun doesn't think are that funny. everything smells like mowed grass and sehun’s mother's hyacinths that jongin has spent his entire childhood trying not to step on. they're important to mom! don't step on them! is what sehun used to say when they played around the yard as kids with golden hair and sunshine eyes who knew nothing about counting calories and counting the times their best friend has gotten a nosebleed during practice in the past three months.

 

“how much sugar have you put in here?”

 

“was it skimmed milk?”

 

“do you know how many grams of chocolate exactly?”

 

sehun apologizes to chanyeol when he realizes he’s interrogating him like this. his cheeks are flat and pale and lips dry as they curl around his fork uncomfortably, forcibly. there is a red wound on the knuckles of his right hand, eyelids heavy and eyes the pure contrast to the clear blue sky above him. he still smiles and talks and laughs, though, and it makes jongin feel like he has an afternoon of his life to spare and live in a beautiful lie.

 

sehun excuses himself to go to the bathroom right after they eat the cake and jongin gets worried when he’s absent for twenty minutes. the paintings in the hallway are aligned weirdly, nobody has straightened them for a while. he forgets to knock on the bathroom door and the first thing he sees is his own pink-haired reflection, right above the black-haired one with three fingers up his own throat. jongin feels like a bad person when he starts crying before he helps, when he starts yelling before he cleans and when he starts telling sehun how wrong what he's doing is before he hugs him. jongin can smell the strawberries and chocolate on his pants later on even though he didn't drop any cake on them while he was eating. he'd know why the scent is there even if it wasn't followed by the reek of regret as well. (but it is and jongin can't eat chocolate and strawberries together for a long time after this.)

 

sehun steps on his mothers hyacinths on his way back to the table. jongin doesn't blink.

 

*

 

it’s may when sehun tells jongin he never wants to see him again.

 

it's raining like it always is in may and sehun and jongin are fighting like they always are when sehun is on a diet . jongin couldn't care less if he's thick or thin but sehun he knew four months ago had the sun shining in his eyes and this person staring back at him with emptiness could be anyone but his best friend. sehun- the boy who used to blush at dirty jokes and write poems for little luhan in seventh grade is now just a looming shadow that looks like it's about to collapse every second. sehun- the one who was strong enough to win every play-wrestling match against jongin, now 110 pounds of bones and blood and thoughts so black and so overbearing that they float in the empty space around him and eat him and everyone who tries to help him alive.

 

“you’re sick. you need help.”

 

- “ off.”

 

jongin comes home with soaked clothes and a heavy heart. it doesn't stop pouring for the next two weeks and jongin has a hard time sleeping. eating. talking. his brother asks but it feels pointless to tell. yixing gets a black eye in practice when he asks why sehun hasn't showed up in a month and if it has something to do with the fact he's anorexic. jongin hates that word like he hates daisies. strawberries. chocolate. hyacinths. he apologizes anyway, and so does yixing. talking about sehun leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. maybe that's the reason no one does it anymore.

 

(he sees daisies on his way home from practice and smells hyacinths from his neighbor's garden when he goes to take out the garbage. he breaks the glass on his nighstand when he gets back into the house.)

 

*

 

it's june when sehun rings his doorbell.

 

jongin can hear birds chirping in the tree outside his window, the sun bathing the flowers and cacti he’s grown in pots on his balcony in its glow. his hair is newly bleached and it smells like coconut and a fresh start.

 

sehun looks exhausted, but his hair is silver gray and his pout isn't as sad as it used to be.

 

“i’ve been in a horrible place, but i've also been a horrible person to the least horrible person i know.”

 

“i've been told by baekhyun that you grow flowers now. i brought you some of my mother's hyacinth seeds.”

 

“i'm sick and i'm sorry.”

 

“i dipped a strawberry into some chocolate yesterday and i didn't throw it up.”

 

“i need you with me while i try to help myself.”

 

“i don't think i can apologize enough for pushing you away.”

and when jongin hugs sehun, he realizes his new hair smells like coconut, too.