I hear your stylist complaining again about how your clothes are too wide for you and how your makeup makes your cheeks look hollow. We all know it's not the makeup's fault you look thin. The director's assistant enters the room, telling us we have two minutes left before the show starts.

Fried rice. Calories: 333kcal. Fat: 12.34g. Carbons: 41.70g. Protein: 12.47g. I put the bowl of instant food away, deciding not to eat anything of this unhealthy, fat grub. “You are not hungry?”, you ask me, eying the bowl hungrily. “No, I just ate. You can take it if you want”, I try to make my lie convincing and push the bowl on your side of the table.

I watch you secretly. You look vulnerable. Small, sitting on the chair in front of one of the mirrors, the many layers of your wide clothes hiding your bony body. Dark rings around your tired eyes, your face has lost its brightness and only a pale, dull complexion is left. “Hey, you okay?”, I whisper, kneeling in front of you

Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat on my upper arms, fat on my thighs. Fat in my face, my cheeks, my chin, my neck. My , my belly, my calves. I'm ugly and so far away from the perfection I demand from all the others. The perfection I am famous for. They don't know me. Nobody knows me. I stare at my face in the mirror. I'm so not perfect. I want to be somebody else. Smart and exercised like Taeyang. Talkative and pretty like Seungri. Charismatic like Seunghyun. Warmhearted like Daesung. But first, I have to get thinner.

Sweat on your forehead. You have started shaking.”Hey, I asked if you were okay?”, I ask again, this time a bit louder. You finally react, slowly turning your face towards me as if you just have realized I am sitting in front of you. You look at me impassively. “Yes. Yes I am”, you say. You appearance says otherwise.

“Eat something”, Taeyang holds a sandwich in front of my mouth. “I don't want to”, I push the sandwich away. “Why? I have rarely seen you eating anything at all these days”, he starts nagging. He's not my mother. “You have to eat, we are promoting our album in the next months”, he continues. Stop. “I don't want to”, I mumble. “What did you say?”, he interrupts giving me a sermon. “I'm not feeling well”, I answer him a bit too fierce. He seems taken aback as I stand up and leave the room. He wasn't suspicious, wasn't he?

We are called into the studio now. I'm waking next to you, just in case. “Don't you want to rest a bit?”, I dare to ask you. I'm not surprised when you shake your head vigorously. You look as if it's even hard to walk. I want to hold you back from going into the studio, keep you from all the weird glances, their eyes scanning your skinny body. They will make you feel uncomfortable, and I know you will take it the wrong way.

I don't remember how I got into this bed. I was partying yesterday, I drank a lot of alcohol. And I successfully ate nothing. Suddenly there was this feeling of dizziness.”Oh, you're awake. Do you want something to...”, your voice fades away. You sit down at the side of the bed while I sit up. I still feel a bit dizzy and I hold my head in my palms. “Rest a bit. I will bring you something to eat”, you inform me with a certainty that doesn't allow me to contradict. That is the first time in weeks I eat something proper, even if it is just porridge. You sit there with tears in your eyes when you hear me puking it out again because of my revolting stomach.

I feel your hand grabbing onto my arm for support. You smile affectedly, sitting down on the couch. The interviewer starts talking but you barely listen. Your gaze seems to be leading you far away. It's your luck that the show is Japanese and you don't have to talk very much.

“What happened?”, I ask, sitting down on the bed again after taking a shower. “I suppose you drank too much alcohol”, you respond, averting your eyes. “I... fainted?”, I could not fully grasp it. And the worst thing was, you don't believe it was the amount of alcohol I drank which let me faint. It was just another factor. Tired, feeling run down I lower my gaze towards my shaking hands.”Ji, what are you hiding?”, you say calmly but with a hint of concern, and I practically sense your stare now. I slowly dare to raise my eyes.

I see your hand playing with the hem of your shirt. Your nails turned slightly blue. I shiver when your elbow meets my arm because they are really cold. Wishing I could warm you up, I take your hand and disguise it as fan service. We fake smiles and laugh, but you don't even know what you are laughing about.

“I'm not perfect”, I hear me say. “You are. Don't you listen to what they are saying about you?”, you try to convince me of the contrary. “That's not what I meant”, I snap back. “What do you mean then? Hyung, you are worrying us. You aren't eating anything, you exercise madly and you are getting thinner day by day. Why are you doing this to you? To us?”, you keep ranting and I stopped listening to you a while ago. “I'm not perfect enough for you”, I interfere. This seems to be enough to leave you dumbfounded.

The interviewer stopped talking and watches you but you don't give a reaction anymore. I give your limp hand a squeeze and earn no response. “That's enough, Jiyong. Call a doctor!”, I shout, turning to the interviewer. You don't object.

“I don't understand”, you have calmed down and your eyes try hard to meet mine. “Of course you don't. How would you know?”, I snort bitterly. “Then tell me”, you beg as if you actually cared about me. Instead of telling you anything I grab the back of your head and draw you close until our lips meet. You try to pull away surprised but soon you open up to me. Sitting to far away from you, I move a bit closer. Your hands travel down my bony body until you reach the hem of the shirt you gave me. After freeing me from it, you hesitate.

Carrying you out of the studio, I feel you shaking violently. Why did you do this to yourself? It could not be because of me. No. No, I could not be the only reason.

“You kissed me because you love me, right? Because that is the reason I kissed you back”, you say, and I don't believe you. You just want to comfort me. It's not true. “Stop lying to me,” I talk back and before you begin trying to convince me again, I kiss you again, pushing you into a lying position.

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A/N: I wanted this to be a oneshot but because I still struggle with the end, I put this up as first part of a twoshot. Hope you had fun reading this. As an explanation, though I think you understood, the parts in italics are Jiyong's part in the past and the normal ones are Seungri's in the present.