It was only seven o'clock in the morning- at least that's what the clock in the bathroom said. An hour ago, that's when Sunggyu had come into his room, telling him to wake up, telling him he had twenty minutes. That means it only took about a half hour for the house to erupt.

His whole body shook. He paced frantically around the tile floor for a moment before grabbing at the bottom drawer of the sink where he'd kept an old toothbrush for times like these. Times when he felt dirty, even if he hadn't eaten anything. Times when he just needed to get something out of him... anything. He leaned over the shiny porcelain seat of the toilette and forced the tooth brush down his throat. He gagged but nothing came out. He tried again, shoving the brush down his throat time after time, but still nothing arrived. He threw the toothbrush and ruffled his hair in frustration, stifling a scream.

What the am I supposed to do now?!? The words echoed in his head as if they'd been shouted from the top of Mount Everest. His mind was too cloudy, too murky, too crowded. Thinking was the last thing he wanted to do, but it seemed to be all his body would allow. Too many questions had been introduced in the previous scene. A scene... that's exactly what it had felt like: a scene, a TV show, a movie, someone else's life. Sungjong was used to this dreamy, dazed feeling. After about a month and a half of starvation, reality stopped proving itself. It was hard for him to tell what's real from what's not, what is from what isn't. Actually, he wasn't even sure if he'd really told Myungsoo about his eating disorder, or if it had happened in a dream.

So did he really just slap Myungsoo across the face? Did Myungsoo really tell his darkest secret to the entire house? Or was it all part of some twisted nightmare in which there is no end. It had to be. Sungyeol would have never said those things in reality. He loves me, Sungjong thought to himself. His mind paused a moment, allowing the puzzle pieces drift into place on their own. But he loves Myungsoo most. Myungsoo comes first, and Sungyeol would defend him no matter what. Sungjong should have expected him to protect Myungsoo instead of feeling hurt when he did.

Sungjong told himself not to be mad at his hyungs; he had no reason to be. But despite his forgiving thoughts, he could never quite rid the constant, shameful overtones of his everyday life. They were always there: after a performance, during an interview, before bed. Sungjong had learned from an early age that shame has no wristwatch, no time limit. This will never go away. Tears fell down the boy's swollen cheeks. He couldn't help the sinking feeling that everything he did was just... wrong. A few crisp knocks on the door startled him out of his misery for a few moments. Sungjong took a shaky breath.

"Just a minute." He said softly. More knocks. "I said hold on!" He said angrily.

"Sungjong-ah," the knock called back, "Sungjong-ah I didn't have time to use the bathroom before I left, I need to get in." It was Hoya. Sungjong rushed to his feet and smoothed down his wet button-down shirt. He wiped his tears and opened the door a crack.

"Can't you use it later?" He asked, hoping his hyung would understand.

"Nope." Hoya pushed through the door and headed over to the sink. "Do you know where the makeup wipes are? I wanna take this off my face before rehearsal." Sungjong pointed to the drawer he'd left open and Hoya nodded. "Thanks, Jongie," he said, smiling sweetly. Sungjong watched his hyung wipe the makeup off of his face, revealing something most fans would hate to see. To the outside world, Hoya was nearly flawless. He's known for his jaw-dropping dances and muscle definition, along with his wittiness, beautiful voice, and overall manly stature. The one thing he doesn't seem to have, the one thing he's incredibly good at hiding from the public, is his bad skin. Luckily, Sungjong wasn't Hoya's fan; he was his friend. He loved seeing Hoya in his natural state more than anything in the world, acne and all. It was the one thing he could deem pure reality, even in his dazed, starved state. "," Hoya swore, "these stupid wipes are just not good for eye liner." He chuckled a bit.

"Let me help." Sungjong giggled, taking a step closer. He took the wipe from Hoya's hands and tried to get underneath his eyes. "Look up for a sec?" He tilted his entire head towards the ceiling. "Aigoo, hyung," Sungjong said, hitting him playfully on the shoulder, "just with your eyes, dummy!" Hoya laughed and obeyed this time, but only for a moment. Soon enough he was staring directly back at Sungjong's swollen face. Sungjong stomped his feet in frustration. "You have to keep them there, hyung."

"Whyyyy?" He whined, shaking his shoulders cutely.

"Because, aegyo king, I'd rather not poke your eye out." The hyung sighed.

"Fine.... its just hard not to look at you when you're smiling at me like that."

"Then I won't smile." Sungjong teased.

"And neither will I." Hoya teased back.

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"FINE!" The two of them kept a straight face for about a second before bursting out in laughter. "I'm never gonna get this off, am I?" Hoya chuckled. Sungjong giggled and shook his head. "Eh, that's alright." He said, shrugging his shoulders and taking back the makeup wipe, "I'm just glad to see you smiling again." Sungjong cocked his head to the side.

"What do yo-"

"You're clothes are still wet." Hoya noticed suddenly. His eyebrows furrowed and he patted the damp side of Sungjong's body, where he'd fallen in the puddle of water. Sungjong shivered a bit at the elder's touch. "You haven't changed yet?" He said worriedly.

"No," Sungjong started, "I was just....." His eyes darted around the room for an excuse, but only landed on the tear filled toothbrush thrown next to the toilette. Hoya followed the young boy's eyes to the strange instrument of torture and cringed. He picked it up casually and threw it in the small green garbage can next to the door. With his hands in his pockets, he finally spoke of the scene.

"Sungyeol... he said a lot of things to you, eh?" Sungjong nodded and looked down. "I wish I could say he didn't mean it," Hoya said thoughtfully, "but I think he did." Sungjong nodded again. "And... Sungjong-ah?" He said tentatively.

"Hmm?" The boy looked up for the first time since the elder set his hands in the pocket of his jeans. Their eyes met for a moment. Hoya scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I think he was right." He didn't mumble, he didn't stutter, and he didn't look away. Sungjong sniffed and a few tears fell suddenly.

"Me too." The words left his mouth as quiet sobs, sparking a parade of tears accompanied by a wretched wailing that was obviously heard throughout the dorm. Hoya said nothing and left the bathroom briefly. He appeared again with a pull-over sweatshirt, jeans, and a fresh pair of boxers.

"Get changed." He ordered, handing the clothing to the younger. Sungjong didn't accept them, he couldn't. Everything he did was wrong, everyone thought so. Even Hoya, his 'favorite hyung' could admit it. His world had been so dreadfully dismal in that moment that his malnourished bone and muscle decided not to move. He was paralyzed with woe. All he could do was stand there and cry. Hoya slowly set down the clothes and wrapped his arms around the boy's skinny body. "Shhh, shhh," he pet the back of Sungjong's head gently, nestling his chin into the crook of Sungjong's neck.

"I'm-m-muh... so s-sorry h-h... hyung." He cried between gasps. "I don't... w-w-w-want to h-hurt anyone..." He buried his head in Hoya's strong shoulders and wept for a bit before continuing. "But I think..." He took a deep breath into Hoya's T-shirt, his cologne filling his nostrils and giving him strength. He lifted his head and took a step away from his hyung, creating a bit of space between the two. "I think it's all I can do." He whispered hurriedly. The room was silent for a tick.

"Jong-ah," Hoya sighed and picked up the outfit he'd prepared for Sungjong. "I hate hot chocolate." He said unexpectedly. Sungjong cocked his head to the left. "When I was young, my family would take me out after dance practice and buy it for me every once and awhile, but I would never drink it." He took a step towards Sungjong, closing the gap between them. "But when you make it, I just..." he paused to giggle a bit, "I can just picture you bustling around the kitchen, turning on the stove, filling every cup, measuring things, stirring them all up. It's cute." Sungjong furrowed his brow, unsure of what his hyung was really trying to say. "So when I take the first sip of that hot chocolate, I can't help but picture you making it, and suddenly it's delicious. Suddenly this feeling comes over me, like... like there's someone who really cares about me, like I have someone watching out for me no matter what, someone to make me hot chocolate." He smiled and looked down shyly. "It makes me feel warm even if the drink's a little cold." Hoya handed the pile of clothing to Sungjong and wiped the tears from his face with his thumb. "So get dressed, go to rehearsal, finish today's schedule, and make everyone's hot chocolate. We'll fix the rest later. Just carry on exactly how you do, because there's nothing wrong with it." Hoya gently caressed each of the swollen cheeks and smiled sweetly. "There's nothing wrong with you." He placed a dove-like kiss on the young boy's forehead, and with that left the room, bringing the bag from the trash with him on his way out.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]

Omg an update! What do you think of it?

A lot of you are commenting really nice things, and I haven't been able to get back to all of you!! I'm sorry loves, I usually do it on my phone so it takes a little while sometimes. As always, let me know any improvements, thoughts, or ideas for the rest of the story. Predictions are always welcome too. Honestly I just love seeing my readers getting involved with the story ^.^

Love you guys!! See you next update<3