“What is it like to be beautiful?” Kim Joonmyeon asked his best friend as he picked at his green salad. Wu Yifan choked on his burger a bit and furrowed his eyebrows. “Beautiful?” he questioned as his brown hair glistened in the cafe light. Joonmyeon looked at his friend's jawline and thought, wow it has been beautifully carved by the hands of the above. His eyebrows may be thick and kind of bushy but they suited his face. Beautiful, he thought. Yifan looked dead straight at Joonmyeon and replied, “I wouldn't know. I'm not beautiful.” 

        The pair of friends were having a quick lunch before heading back to classes. Joonmyeon sighed and twirled his fork, “You're beautiful. You've very attractive. Both males and females like you very much. You may look very stoic all the time but people still like you.” The other man looked at him with a questionable look. This wasn't something they really discussed and most of their lunch conversations were usually light and happy. 

       Yifan took a sip of his water, “Is something wrong?” However, the shorter man just shook his head. Joonmyeon looked down at his lap and felt his stomach churning. He felt his stomach expand just a little and then he looked at his arms. He thought they were a bit more flabbier than normal. Then, he pushed his salad away. 

        “I'm not hungry anymore,” he mumbled softly. 

        He looked at Yifan take one last bite of his burger and then stood up, “Shall we go back?” The tall man stood up and smiled, “Yeah.” 

       It wasn't always like this. Joonmyeon never really cared about his appearance at all. He used to be happy with whatever was thrown at him. However, all of a sudden there was this sudden trend of everyone eating healthy. Then, soon, it hit him. He loved his chips, fries, bacon and all the junk food in the world. When he was stressed, he would eat but not eat healthy foods like fruits and whatnot. It was always a small bag of chips or perhaps a handful of chocolate chip cookies. 

        In his first year of college, everyone around him seemed so skinny and tall. When he looked at all the others, he would think about his arms. They didn't have muscles. There was just fat. He would look at his stomach and think that he could probably lose that belly. When he thought of himself walking, he noticed that his thighs would touch.  

       When he was overwhelmed with stress, food was no longer there to comfort him. Instead, he rubbed his wrists until they burnt red with fiery flames. To him, he wasn't just skin and bones. He was skin, bones and fat. 

        Maybe if he drank more milk as a child, he would grow taller like Yifan. If he wasn't such a socially awkward child, maybe he would have went outside more and run around like a normal child. Exercise was key as well to have a nice toned body, was it not? 

        Therefore, when he went out to do errands, there would be people handing out flyers and coupons. Most of all, gym memberships. Every time he received one, all Joonmyeon can think that the people handing these to him thought that he could simmer down his weight. He would die a little on the inside every time. 

        Even with these horrible thoughts, every once in a while when he got home from school, there would be a bouquet of flowers. Different ones each time but with the same note. 

       You're beautiful. 

        Perhaps the person truly means it, nonetheless, Joonmyeon thinks otherwise. The person is probably mocking him. They probably see him as nothing but a fool. A chubby fool. However, with each bouquet, he would place them in a vase because they were beautiful. And he wanted to be beautiful just like them. 

        Eating hurt him. Guilt ate him away. It hurt so much that half the time he spent at home was spent hovering over a toilet with silent apologies comforting him. He didn't know who to go to. He was alone in this house of his. 

       In his third year of college, he completely stopped eating. When he was hungry, water was there to fill his emptiness for a bit. Calories had scared him off. Fruits, vegetables and meats didn't have labels consisting of how much carbohydrates, fats, calories and etc and so he would avoid them. In the end, it was just water. 

       Yifan, being his best friend, noticed this. “Kim Joonmyeon, you need to eat,” he said softly when the taller man walked him home. Joonmyeon gulped and whispered, “I'm just not hungry these days.” This angel has become frail and pale. His face held a sullen expression all the time now. He was now constantly cold and shivering.  "Please," Yifan pleaded.

        He can't even walk down the streets without feeling nervous and judged by the people around him. When passing by mirrors, he can feel his reflections pointing and laughing at him. Fear is constantly rippling in his stomach. It's sad because Joonmyeon doesn't even know how to release his stress anymore.  

         All he does is rub his wrists until they burn with ember. He isn't willing to cut them because scars will make him even more imperfect and he doesn't want that. Who will love a person like him? 

         Joonmyeon smiled, one day, when Yifan walked him home from college. “Thank you so much for walking me home.” The older man froze in place as he slowly replied, “It was no problem at all.” His lips were tight and it was as if he wanted to say something more but he didn't. 

        A few days later Joonmyeon wanted to eat. And he did. He ate one cracker. However, he then started raiding his kitchen to find anything to eat. It went from crackers to ice cream and then it went to instant noodles and beyond. Soon, his cupboards were bare. His fridge barely had anything but water bottles. 

         Next, he was once again hovered over a toilet. And when he was done, he sobbed and sobbed. “I can't do this anymore,” he wailed to no one. His tears flowed down like rivers during a horrid storm. 

        I love you. Please let me in your world.

        A mere text message from Wu Yifan was what he got after crying. This was a sign. A sign to get help. Therefore, with shaky hands, he called his best friend. 

         “I'm a monster. I'm a monster,” he repeated, “I'm a monster. I'm a monster.”

       The reply he got was, “You're beautiful. You're not eating. Maybe you're eating a bit less or more than usual and that's okay because you're here with me. You're alive and that's a pretty big deal because I love you just the way you are. It might take a while to get back to your normal. Weeks, months, years. That's fine with me. You might not even get better but that's okay because I'll help no matter what. Beauty is not defined by a low weight.” 

        Anorexia is a disease, not a fashion statement.