As I'm writing, I realize how triggering this story can be to those suffering with eating disorders or recovering from eating disorders. In no way am I promoting EDs, and I would advise no one to follow Minseok's "diet" (you can't call it a diet if you aren't eating). I am writing purely from personal experience and/or made up scenarios. Please, please, please do not do the same thing as Minseok. Please don't think about trying. And if you already are in this viscious cycle, consider recovery. I am in no way a professional, a therapist, or even a nutritionist, but I do know that this is not a way to lose and maintain weight healthily. I hope I have not offended anyone. Again, TRIGGER WARNING. Do not read if you are sensitive about ED topics!

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Blackness.

No, greyness. Minseok's eyes barely adjusts to the room, which he slowly recognizes as his own. He tries to move, but groans instead. Why is he so sore?

"He's awake!" clammy hands grasp his, and Minseok wants to pull his hand away. His fingers are too chubby to hold.... It is Luhan holding his hand. He's speaking rapidly in Chinese, to whom Minseok isn't sure. There are other voices, wild movement from the corner of his eyes. He vaguely hears his name being called several times. He hears a new set of footsteps, and the room becomes eerily quiet. 

"Let's give them some time alone." 

Minseok glances at the newcomer: Jongdae. He feels something heavy settling in his stomach. He doesn't know what to think, to do, to say. He hardly remembers what happened to him, how he ended up in his bed. What day was it? What time was it? It couldn't still be his birthday. His head aches, his body is sore. As he tries to clear his throat, he realizes that it stings almost unbearably. That's when he remembers. 

He had been eating cake... of all things to eat, his fat would choose cake... and then they were all sleeping... he was supposed to be sleeping... he couldn't sleep. He went to the bathroom--strike one. The mirror screamed and cursed him and hurt him. He stepped on the scale--strike two. He emptied the contents of his stomach. He opened the mirror cabinet and took out the bottle of pills. The mirror told him to swallow more, and so he did. He doesn't know why he fainted; he had never done so before, even when he took a dose just a week before. He remembers the door opening though... he remembers Jongdae's horrified expression--strike three. 

Minseok is sure he wants to be unconcious right now. How could he face Jongdae right now? He had lied to him, had tricked him into thinking he was getting better when in reality he hadn't budged at all. His blanket feels heavy. It's cold. Jongdae still hasn't said a word. Minseok can only think of one thing to say at the moment. 

"H-hey." 

Jongdae's chest racks as he sighs. "Hey."

Minseok immediately began to tear up, but he told himself not to cry. That one word was broken, grey, dust. It was as if Jongdae had decided to give up on him, or was very close to it at least. There was no energy, no concern. It was strained, it was pathetic. Just like him. That one word was everything Minseok was. It had no meaning. 

"I'm sorry, Jongdae, I'm so sorry..." There was no use. There was no beating around the bush. "I messed up. I messed up really bad." He didn't know where to look, where to direct his apology, but soon gave up searching and just settled on his best friend. "I don't know why I did it, I just..."

"Oh, you knew." Jongdae chuckled, but he didn't sound amused at all. "You knew, Minseok. You and I both know you knew exactly what you were doing, and you wanted to do it. I just..." Now he was crying, and Minseok felt his own tears falling. No, Jongdae, please don't cry. You of all people... Not you... "Why, Minseok? Why do you lie to us? To me? You said you were getting better."

"I thought I was!" Minseok argued. He really did. If he didn't think so, he wouldn't have touched the cake. 

"You can't continue to relapse! You can't keep these things to yourself. You can't keep hurting yourself." Jongdae placed his elbows on the bed and held his face in his hands. For a long time, they sat there crying silently. Minseok wanted to close his eyes and sleep forever. The guilt poisoned his veins and he wanted nothing more than to cut them open and release them. But the guilt will always be there, and no matter many times he cut himself, it will continue to pulse in his blood.

"Minseok, just tell me the truth." Jongdae spared him a glance, and Minseok nodded. 

He didn't really know what to say. He started off with his desire to exercise more, and eat less. He'd skip breakfast and lunch only to come home from school and devour everything in sight. The scale flunctuating angered him. Up and down. Up, up, down, down. He wanted it to just go down. Down, down, down, 'til he couldn't see three digits, but two. He developed an obsession with overexercising and counting calories. Healthy foods such as fruits and vegetables were scary to eat--especially fruits since they contained sugar and carbs. Starches were bad; no rice, no noodles, no potatoes. Junk food, sugar, salt had to be restricted/avoided at all costs. He'd succeed for a couple of days, weeks even, and then he'd give in and binge until his stomach was round and bursting at the seams. He'd lie down in bed and cry because his stomach felt awful and sleep wanted to take him. So he got up and did something about the terrible fullness. It wasn't hard, not with the mirror's guidance. 

Jongdae listened on with horror. 

Internet helped with his obsession. Minseok was desperate to find more information on how he could be smaller. The mirror said he could never be skinny. He couldn't believe that. Minseok would be skinny, and he would prove to the mirror that he can be. There were diet pills.... and then there were drugs. Minseok chose drugs. He threw out the aspirin and kept the bottle, replacing the contents with Rimonabout. This weight loss drug helped the number on the scale decrease, but everyone knows that puking only empties about half of the calories one has consumed. So he did both. And he sometimes stole a few of his mother's cigarettes, but found the taste wasn't for him. 

"The mirror stays though, Jongdae. It's always screaming at me, calling me fat."

His best friend shook his head. "This is so wrong, Minseok. Do you know how bad this is? Are you listening to yourself? You're going to die if you keep going. You really are going to die!" 

Minseok widened his eyes in alarm. Die? I will die? How could Jongdae say that? How could his best friend say such a cruel thing? But how could you do this to yourself? "Jongdae...."

"Don't try to argue with me, Minseok. You know it's the truth. This is... this is getting out of hand. You need help from someone who knows what they're doing. Please." 

Minseok shook his head. "This is where you're wrong. I don't need any help. I have you." Jongdae didn't reply, a realization hitting him. When he remained silent, Minseok felt a panic arise within him. "Right? Jongdae? I have you, right?" 

Jongdae didn't know this was that serious. He had only contemplated Minseok starving himself, maybe even harming himself. He had already prepared for how he would approach those problems. But now... Minseok was taking drugs. He believes the mirror is talking to him--he sees a monster in the mirror. No, there is nothing Jongdae could do to help his best friend. This matter is out of his hands. Minseok needs a professional. This is all my fault. If only I had realized sooner. I could have persuaded him to see a therapist sooner. I could have prevented this.

"Jongdae?" 

"I'm sorry, Minseok. This isn't someting I can help you with." The sound of a chair moving broke the tension in the room. Footsteps walked across the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door. 

Minseok felt something inside of him break.

He didn't realize that he was sobbing until someone was hugging him. He didn't know how long he was crying, didn't know who was still around and who had left. He fell alseep to some Chinese song. When he woke up, his mother was pacing across his room, raking her fingers through her hair repeatedly. She was on the phone, speaking with hiccups and hoarse whispers. He didn't know how she found out, but there was no going back now. No more pills, no more scale. For some reason, he began to think of other ways to avoid gaining weight. 

"Mom." 

Mrs. Kim paused. She spoke into the phone for another minute, then hung up and strode to his side. "Oh, Minseok... honey, what have you done to yourself?" Her son hugged himself. She felt tears prick her eyes as his eyebrows furrowed deeper and deeper. "You look... you haven't been this small since you were in middle school. And you're pale and grey and you hardly have energy anymore." 

"I know."

"Is this what you wanted?" She wasn't scolding him. Her voice was hardly louder than the whirring of the heater. She wanted to hold his hand, but decided not to. In her hand was the bottle of drugs. All along she believed it was aspirin... gave him money to buy more when in reality he was buying pills filled with depression and self-hatred. She knew something was wrong, but she never paid attention to the details. She believed Jongdae could help her son, but realized that this was something bigger than friendship. "Was this your goal?"

"Will your friends stop calling me fat now?"

Minseok heard his mother's choked sob. He heard her disappointment, her shame in him. He heard her regret, her frustration. Of course. Here she was worrying about his heatlh, while he only cared whether people thought he was fat. But somewhere along the way, the two became no different from each other. Minseok's health was to stop hearing people call him fat, was to stop seeing his fat self (or so he thought). 

"Minseok... I got a referral from your doctor to go to an inpatient treatment progam." 

"What?" 

"You'll go to counseling and group therapy and they'll help you get back on your feet. That doesn't sound bad, does it? You'll have a support group. You can make friends who understand you better, who have been through similar things you have. They'll make you better. They'll make you right." 

"You're... you're admitting me to a psych ward?" 

"No, Minseok, that's not--"

"You're throwing me in a hospital where they'll pretend like they ing care. They'll feed me crap, stick needles in me, and shove me in a room with a group of people who could care less about me. And when I'm all ing fat and still messed up in the head, they'll send me home. That's what you signed me up for, Mom." 

Mrs. Kim sighed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. "You know that is not what I want. You know all I want is for you to get better. Do you see what you're doing to yourself, what you have become? This is not right, Minseok. This is not healthy." 

His fingers were trembling. Tears were welling up. His throat itched, his ears ached. His head wasn't functioning correctly because the room was spinning and he couldn't remember what his mother just said. Then they were echoing in his mind, repeating over and over. 

Not what I want... For you to get better... Get better... Do you see... What have you become... Become... You... Not right... Get better... What have you become... Not healthy... Not what I want.... Get better... What have you become... What have you become... Become... Become...

WHAT HAVE YOU BECOME? 

"Mom..." He feels his lips tear, tastes the iron. "Please, please don't make me do this. I-I'll try. I'll try to get better, okay? I just--I can't--Mom..." 

"Minseok, I know you won't. We both know you won't. This is what you need." He wants to shake his head, wants to ask if she is so sure this is what he needs, not what she wants. But she's right. He wouldn't have tried. Maybe if Jongdae were here... Maybe if Jongdae had stayed... 

"Jongdae. I want to see him."

"Not today. Just think about what I said. We won't sign anything until you're positive about this." 

"I...."

"Think about today. Think about what happened to you and what the people who love you are going through because of it. Minseok, you are important to us. We love you, we care about you. This is not something we can control or change. This is something in your mind. These people at this hospital and even the patients... I believe they can and will help you see a different image of yourself, a way to confront your mind and beat it." 

Minseok doesn't reply. He only closes his eyes and waits for tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes in almost sixteen hours. He avoids eating or moving in favor of sleeping. His mother is constantly in and out of his room, fussing about his immobility. For the seventh time he says, "I want to see Jongdae."

Mrs. Kim reluctantly hands over the house phone. She watches her son weakly press the buttons, fingernails bright white to show how much strength he needs. After a minute, he returns the phone to her. "He isn't answering?" Minseok turns onto his side and resumes sleeping. Day one. 

He tries again the next day and the day after that and the day after that... Day two, day three, day four, day five....

He tries the next week and the week after that and the week after that... Day twelve, day nineteen, day twenty-six, day thirty-three....

One month slowly turns into one month and a half. Minseok has made a deal with his mother to eat soup at least three times a day. One same days, when the sun is calling for him to walk outside, he'll drink juice. He doesn't even make it thirty minutes without running out of breath and feeling dizzy. He always lies in bed sleeping or thinking. He uses his mother's bathroom, banned from the hallway's bathroom and the kitchen.

He doesn't know his weight. He doesn't know how many calories are in the soup. He doesn't know where Jongdae is, or even if they're friends anymore. 

Luhan visits the most, although everyone but Jongdae has come over at least twice. Minseok always asks about Jongdae, but they manage to change the subject. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Have you eaten to day?"

"How long have you slept? You should go outside and get some fresh air... Or even go to school again. We miss you." 

"Are you okay? Do you feel like fainting?" 

"Your hair is falling out."

"That's a huge bruise."

"Are you really okay...." 

When they leave, Minseok retires to his bed and falls asleep after some fitful crying. He doesn't know.... He just wants Jongdae. The voices are whispering, calling for him from the hallway, but Jongdae isn't here to protect him. 

At day fifty, Minseok begins pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. He wrings his wrists, talks to himself, makes up scenarios where he's happy and free. He goes up and down the stairs. He walks around the furniture in the living room repeatedly. He walks in a circle in the backyard to the point where a dirt track forms. All day, all week. 

"Minseok, there's someone here to see you. I think you'll enjoy the company." 

He figures it is another one of his friends. Perhaps Kyungsoo? He comes around lunchtime to make soup for him sometimes. The footsteps are different. The silence is familiar. Minseok already feels tears pricking his eyelids. He doesn't acknowledge the new presence. He doesn't say anything. 

Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. 

"Hi, Minseok." 

Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. 

"Minseok. It's me, Jongdae." 

 Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. Day fifty-eight. 

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't come over. I've been a terrible friend. I ignored you when you needed me the most." Jongdae holds his best friend's hand and wavers at how fragile it feels. Minseok still isn't looking at him. "I... Your mom told me about the inpatient thing." The hand squeezes back now, and Jongdae knows. He knows Minseok doesn't want to go, he knows that that place is the last place he wants to be right now. 

"I agree with her." He's terrible. Jongdae's terrible for saying this. "I think it would be best if you go." The hand in his is limp now. Betrayed me... Betray... He doesn't love you... He will never love you... Safe? What is safe anymore.... Friends.... Best friend... No more... Betrayed me.... Love.... Day fifty-eight... Fifty-eight days....

"Minseok, listen to me. I am your best friend. I am... I am in love with you." What? Best friend... Betrayed me... Love... Fifty-eight days.... "I love you so much. More than a friend. A lot." Jongdae leans over to press his lips to the pale skin of Minseok's hand. He stays like that for minutes, thinking, crying. "I love you, Kim Minseok. I love you at one hundred and forty pounds, one hundred and thirty pounds, or even one hundred and ten pounds. I love your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your height, your hands, your sportiness, your intelligence.

"But... you don't love yourself. You can't accept yourself. Minseok, I'll... I'll love you whether you love yourself or not. I'll love you whether you don't love me back because all I want is to see you love yourself. Your mom asked me to help you, and I told her I would. Until your birthday, I had hoped that you would feel my love and that my love would persuade you to love yourself. 

"I know better now. I know that this isn't something that someone else can help you with, that only you can help yourself. I don't think I can help you as much as these people in the hospital can. This is something bigger than I am, and you need help from people bigger than I am. These people know how. These people understand a part of it. They can guide you better than I can try." 

Minseok is facing him now, mirroring his pained expression. "So Minseok..." 

"Fifty-eight days, Jongdae."

"What?"

"I've been counting. I do that a lot nowadays. Actually, for a long time I have counted." 

"Fifty-eight days is...?" 

"Days without you. Days without my best friend. Days without the person I love the most." Minseok looks at him expectantly, and Jongdae understands, climbs into the bed beside him. "Do you know what today is?"

"What?"

"Day one. Day one with the person I love the most." 

Jongdae smiles despite their situation. "Day one with... your boyfriend?"

"Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?"

"I think I kind of already claimed you."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. But don't stop counting, because I'll love you for a long time." And they lied there, holding each other's hands, crying and laughing and being in love. 

The next day, Minseok sat next to his mom on the couch and laid his head on her shoulder. "Mom, I'm sorry I've been stubborn and difficult to raise. Now I understand. And I know I'm going to hate the first few weeks, but I want it. I want it so bad, and I think it'll be worth it."

"Do you mean...?"

"Yes. Show me the papers. I'll sign them." 

Later that night, when Jongdae and all of his friends come over, Minseok smiles. He's tired, he wants to lie down and sleep some more, but he sits there anyways. He eats his soup and listens to them talk, takes in their hopeful and proud words. He looks at Jongday and holds up two fingers. Jongdae says, "I love you."