Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jungkook sighed miserably once again, dizzy and laced with fatigue. These nights felt oddly familiar, as if one day was the same day, constant repetition of the same actions, same misery, same same same. Jungkook pushed his hair out of his eyes, sick smeared across face and neck – the pungent scent was delirious, intoxicated and poisonous. The toilet was disgusting, full of hour ago foods and water. Jungkook frowned, how his throat was painful and red-raw, eyes red and face swollen.

He truly hated this, he thought as he washed his face and gurgled some water to remove the sicky taste within his mouth. Vaguely recalling that he shouldn’t brush his teeth for an hour until, just not to further damage his teeth (not like they were perfect anyways, diet coke and food stained them yellow, purging made them weak, sore and a gross yellow)..

Though as much as he hated this, hated how his heart strained and how he would clutch it thinking he was seconds away from a heart attack. He has this sort of taboo enjoyment from it; how he could eat so much, purge it and then lose weight, or maintain.. though there were times when he gained, but he must say a 0.5 grams gain from 3000-7000 calories WAS not so bad.

Jungkook glanced at himself in the foggy mirror. His hair was brittle and thin, dry and almost fire-teasing. It often came out when he showered, never clumps but copious amounts of thin threads. His skin was blueish, a sort of periwinkle, violet and his veins popped like crazy. His glands under his jaw were swollen, almost giving an illusion of a double-chin – in which he hated so much, but they ached too. Everything ached. It was miserable.

Switching off the bathroom light, the buzz of the shitty exhaustion fan slowly died. As Jungkook re-entered his bedroom sluggishly, every bone ached but he truly couldn’t find the ability to venture into the dark apartment to search for an electrolyte tablet. Sitting down the bed, it creased beneath his weight, and the nice chill temperature of the mattress was alluring from the sweat he guntered from throwing up.

Obviously he could not see in the darkness, he was a mere, meagre human after all; and he laid crumpled up like an unborn foetus, biting his lip and praying he wouldn’t cry and disturb the sleeping Namjoon beside him. Hands upon his tummy, he still could feel the swollen bloat of his late night binge – his body had accustomed to purging by, and he failed to get everything out.

“You okay, Kook-ah?”

Jungkook rolled over, Namjoon’s dazzling sweet cinnamon eyes glistening under the faint luminous light of the silver moon. Namjoon rose his hand and brushed it against Jungkook’s cheek, a smile soft upon his lips. “Y-yeah, of course.” Namjoon gave a slight hum, rolling over as he whimpered a snore again.

“Hey, Joon?”

It was all silent once more, the motorway humming in the distance; its calming clarity was alluring like a siren song, or a slumber consuming lullaby. Jungkook found pleasure in it, one of his ultimate favourite sounds in the world, that and the laughter of his lovers.

“Yes?”

Jungkook shuffled uncomfortably upon the mattress, it crumpled as he moved. “I haven’t been able to shit in like 3 days, “ he bit his tongue as he lied to the back of his lover, unaware that he was manipulating him. “Do you still have those pills that help you-you shit?”

Namjoon rolled back over and flicked on the bedside lamp, he looked beautiful in the gentle moonlight; even with the heavy bags of an undergraduate, or his sleepy expression. He struggled to place on his thick glasses, squinting under the blinding light. “You mean laxatives?”
“Do they help you crap, I’ve been bungled up for days now..” Namjoon paused momentarily, as if to think. Then , “yeah, some in the drawer next to you. Take 2 only, anymore could be dangerous. Goodnight.”

Then it was silent again, and Namjoon seemed to have fallen asleep almost instantly. Jungkook sighed softly, enamoured by the gentle giant, and took off his glasses and placed them on the counter top. He searched for the box, finding it and downing 7 instead of 2. He’s far too desperate for just 2, he really needed everything out. Sipping some water, he laid back down heavy on the pillows with a burdensome heart; mind whirling louder than any sane thought, he just stared, mindlessly, almost dissociated at the bare ceiling, just floating, almost drifting, until he fell asleep.

*

There was loud chirping that decided to awake Jungkook the very next morn. He groaned miserably, the lack of sleep hitting him harder than a withdrawal, and rolled over grunting at the disturbance. Beside him was a sort of fading warmth, clearly Namjoon had ventured out to the kitchen not so long ago – probably hoping not to wake Jungkook up.

Said Jungkook stretched as he woke up, his stomach aching slightly but nothing to be too alarmed on. He rubbed it subconsciously, odd.. how peculiar it was to be aching in the morning, as it gurgled and turned almost like he was going to be sick. Then a bulb lightened within his head, the laxatives must have kicked in by now, he’d rather take this to the bathroom.
When he finished the toilet, glancing at his poor self in the mirror. He gave a short smile, though it looked so fake, so forced, so so sad.. but he didn’t give it another thought, and immediately rushed, praying that his weight had gone down.

With wide eyes, he ushered a ‘shit’ out thin lips – he had lost almost 1kg from absolute nought! NO exercise and NO dieting, just heavy 7000 kcal bingeing. A silly sort of bliss drew from his lips as he chirped with pleasure, he almost stimmed upon his feet like a petulant child, boring a stupid grin upon his swollen cheeks. 1kg! This lax, he thought as he hid the scale again (Jin said it was to keep it away from Jimin), was an absolute LIFE CHANGER. Why hadn’t he done it before?

Little giddy Jungkook skipped his way into the kitchen, the first time in forever was his tummy so flat - it was ridiculous. Jin raised a brow at the odd behaviour of the younger, but placed a plate of crumpets and greek yoghurt in front of him. Shrugging, “I bought those, I feel a bit ugh today, so I’m off cooking.” Jungkook kept his hypnotised smile, oblivious to anyone else but his holy saviour ‘laxatives’.

Jimin entered, his hair orange today. Namjoon had off-handedly mentioned that Jimin shouldn’t have dyed his hair, for it was far too brittle, thin and already damaged, so dyeing it would have just made it come out worse. But when Jimin’s lips puckered, Namjoon spluttered and gave an apology.

General chit-chat bore no attention from Jungkook today, as the younger just stared at the meal before him with a thought in mind. “Hey Jin! I’ve got school today, so I can’t eat this, gotta go! But I promise I’ll eat dinner tonight!” The concept of Jungkook promising to eat something drew a surprised gasp from Jin, and the elder blind to what Jungkook was internally planning later that night. “Of course! Have a good day!” Jin smiled.

Jimin frowned at the strange behaviour of Jungkook, but kept his lips sealed and stirred his yoghurt until it looked gross and mushy. Yoongi had walked into the living room by now, hair messy and eyes heavy with bags – clearly he hadn’t slept, Jimin wasn’t sure how the elder could do that. He had to sleep every night for at least 8-10 hours, because sleep helps with weight loss, and by God does Jimin want to lose weight, wishing to return to his lowest weight.

“Morning gang, “ yawned the feline shorty, as he patrolled through the room as Hoseok gave a kiss to his forehead, Yoongi shyly closed up on himself – checks flushed with a sort of cherry lipstick blush, and tried to brush it off nonchalantly but miserably failed. Taehyung waved, he was upside down on the couch playing Mario Kart on the TV.

“Morning, hyung!” Taehyung chirped back just as bright. Yoongi sat beside him, the couch crunching beneath his weight. The small but lovely kitchen was loud, as Jin was playing around with the microwave to create Yoongi a hearty breakfast, and distantly Jimin could hear the motorway and life beginning in the city below.

The cosy room was sort of claustrophobic to him. How over all this silent white noise he could hear, came the poisonous overbearing record mind of his – ‘calories’ and ‘weight gain’ repeating around like a broken LP, draining him already and it was barely 9 in the morn, an intense deafening roar, unable to keep any sane sort of argument.

Jimin scrunched his nose, his body felt far too heavy for his own delight – he couldn’t bear to eat this silly breakfast, couldn’t care to waste calories on something so meagre and so early in the day, especially when he had plans this morning. If he ate this now, he knew he’ll feel heavy immediately, subconsciously or physically, perhaps he’ll bloat and everyone will stare at him, point out how much weight he’s gained, or how much he’ll feel it.. and then his friends will comment that he’s gained.. shit, he couldn’t do this.

“Hey Mini, you good?”

Blinking, asserting himself back into the presence. Jimin stared at the confounded Taehyung, he bit back the uncomfortable swallow and gave a weak smile, “y-yeah, of course.” Taehyung grimaced, unconvinced it seemed, but seemed not to say a word, perhaps it was out of kindness.

Yoongi gave a sharp yawn, “you’ve got an appointment at noon, Mini, want me to come with you?” Jimin glanced around the house taking in all the sights, trying to calm his building anxiety; 5 things he could see (Jin, Mario Kart, empty beer cans, peanut shells, his breakfast), 4 things he could touch (his pyjama pants, the cold, marble table, a spoon), 3 things he could hear (the motorway, the microwave bleeps, mindless chatter), 2 things he could smell (crumpets and cologne) and 1 thing he could taste (toothpaste).

Yoongi stared at the blank, absentminded orange boy, “Mini, you want me to come with you? It’s on my way to work.. I’ll drive?”
Jimin shook his head, “yeah, yeah that’ll be nice.” Yoongi gave a soft, loving smile – it was cute, gummy almost, showed off all his pretty, little teeth and his pink gums.

*

“You wrapped up all warm, Jiminie?” Yoongi inquired, wrapping a nice, winter scarf around Jimin’s neck, almost wrapping him whole. Jimin whined, “it’s almost Summer, I don’t need a scarf!” But he still shivered, Yoongi frowned. “You’re so thin, Mini, you’re practically turning purple! You need to wrap up, I don’t want you catching pneumonia..”

Jimin almost scrowled, a bite of fury upon his tongue. Almost snarling a nasty comment about his weight, but held his breath, anger was not on his checklist today and neither was making Yoongi upset. Yoongi gave another smile, patting Jimin’s head – he stood on his tip-toes, the little 152cm thing.

“Do you mind if I connect my phone to your radio?” Jimin gave a boxy smile, Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly. “Go for it, just don’t play any shit.”
“Hyunnggg ~” Jimin groaned playfully, not spiteful at all. “Trust me, my music choice is top tier!” Yoongi only rolled his eyes, “you listened to 1 song for 24 hours once..”
“It was ‘Empathy’ by Crystal Castles! I’m going to listen to it forever!”

The drive was then silent, but a lovingly comfortable type of silent. The bumps of the road jolted Jimin every now and then, Jimin’s hip bones digging into the seatbelt uncomfortably and he shifted as if he couldn’t sit right. The bone in his ass hurt as he sat upon it, fuck this. Jimin loved feeling light, looking thin and dainty, bones protruding like art, like a doll, pristine and clean.. But, he missed his healthy, long hair, his plump and silky lips, his skin being a lovely peach and brownish hue, his ass being huge. And worst of all, he wished his health was perfect again. How his heart skipped beats or created new ones, he felt too light headed to anything at all, how he had to leave school because he was failing.

“You want to go to the CO-OP before we go in?” Yoongi asked as they drove by it and parked in the Mental health car park. Jimin felt his nerves bubble, a tingle of unease like every time. He wanted to stand on the scale here and see it go down, but he knew that if it did they’ll probably section him.

“Mm, yeah sure.”
Lighting up, “want a snack before you go in?” He turned the car off, “I really am desiring a digestive biscuit..” Snorting, Jimin hummed in thought.
“Maybe, but I am a bit thirsty.”
“Sweet, well get a bottle of water too.”

*

The waiting room was unnerved, Jimin had decided from day one. The yellow was sickly and the copious amounts of children doodles did not calm him down, the lady at the desk bared a gentle smile each time she caught eyes with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to give one back. There was a small sensory room, and it was pleasant to stare at, but Jimin spent most of the time pacing like a madman watching the TV talk about healthcare.

He had just downed the whole 1L bottle of water, anxiously watching if Yoongi had picked up on it. But the little munchkin just sat and nibbled away at his 5th biscuit with blissful, full cheeks. In some silly way, Jimin envied him.

“Jimin Park?”

Yoongi alerted up in surprise, motioning to him.

His therapist stared at the two with a kind smile, “do you want to come in alone or come together.” Jimin pursed his lips.
“Yoongi do you want to come in?”
The black haired beauty widened his doe eyes and clenched his hands, “if you wish me to.”

The room was as barren as it usually was. Blue, uncomfortable chairs circling one small coffee table, a ticking clock that sounded like hell and just drew his attention instead. The walls felt clammy, drowning him in this interrogation light blue. And there was a large window, a small oak tree resting outside, where birds chirped free and light, singing all sweet choir songs, and squirrels played with their friends.

“Okay, Jimin, how are you feeling today?” He asked, iPad in his hands.
Jimin paused momentarily, anxiously kicking his legs. “I-I’m alright, yeah.”
“And how’s the eating coming along, have you been able to reach your meal plan guidelines?”
Jimin pursed his lips in deception, “absolutely, down to a tee.”
Dr.Lou stared at Yoongi expectantly, who raised his brows surprised and nodded furiously.
“Good, and how have you been feeling this week, Jimin?”

Jimin paused, generally debating how he had been.
“Well, I-I’ve been alright, I suppose..” Jimin played with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve been eating a lot more, and walking outside when things get too rough, I’ve been to the park 3 times this week. I’ve chilled in my attic room with Taehyung, we watched some shows and ate popcorn. Played games with Hoseok, had late night pizza – 3 slices and some dough balls.”

“Good, good.. And the depression?”

“Still the same. I wake up and want to go back to sleep most days, I stayed in bed Friday and Saturday. Wanted to kill myself also, but I didn’t. I feel utterly useless most days, what’s my purpose, why am I so miserable with my life? I have lovely friends, lovers and I can do things others might not be able to.. but.”

“Sometimes it just comes, even if you’re the most talented person in the world – everyone compares themselves to another, ‘I wish I could sing like them’ or ‘what if I was normal and not a celebrity like them, would I live a regular, uninvasive life?’” Jimin hummed to the idea, he truly had never thought of that in expense.

They spoke for a little bit more, questions and answers flowing out of them with ease. Until Dr.Lou clapped his hands in glee, “right, shall we take your weight now?” Jimin frowned, he really needed a piss but returned the smile and nodded with a false amusement.

He led him into the other room, a sort of Medical ‘aesthetic’ room. A hospital bed laid in one corner, a height measurement and a scale ominous in the corner. “Just take your shoes and jacket off, step on and I’ll write it.” Jimin followed accordingly, he stood on it as it clinked making him nervous. What if the water didn't put on the weight, what if it showed his true weight?
“44!” Jimin stepped off with ease, pleasure mumbling in his aching bones. The water and sodium overload last night had pushed him up 4kg, he chuckled quietly at the white lie - his true weight was 40 still. Dr.Lou smiled but it wasn’t so happy, “you’ve gained a bit, but it’s still severely underweight for your height 162cm.. keep up the good work!”

*

After the appointment, Yoongi ruffled Jimin’s hair with the most adoring smile upon his cheeks. “You’re doing amazing, Min!” Jimin flushed, sort of embarrassed by this frivolous lie he was upstanding, but took the compliment in with a short thanks. He felt no warmth and no joy from the praise, it wasn’t something he deserved. But, Yoongi of course was nonchalant to the whole fabrication, and started the car buzzing with anticipation and congratulation.

“Right, shall we get a MCDonalds?’ Yoongi inquired, as they began the rather short but dreamy ride back home. Jimin froze in his seat, the soft track of ‘Welcome to MY world’ played gingerly among the silence of fear that sprouted within Jimin’s mind. “Uh-um..” Jimin played with his hands uncontent, no he did not want to get a MCDonalds.. It was all and only greasy, fatty and bland. High in calories, unpleasant and a waste of calories – just the thought of fast-food was sickly, and Jimin wanted to throw up right there.

“Come one, Min!” Yoongi gave a sweet smile, changing lanes. “I’m really craving a burger and we can bring some back for the gang, maybe get Jungkook something sweet..” Jimin frowned, he couldn’t say ‘no’, not after he lied to the clinic and said he was better right in front of Yoongi’s face, and especially can’t say ‘no’ when he had just ‘gained’ 4kg.

“Um-well, I..” Jimin felt his tongue heavy, eyes shaking and wavering. But he swallowed bile and gave a bleak smile, “I can get a salad..” Yoongi grinned.
“They have a low calorie section too!” He pushed his phone into Jimin’s lap, “200-odd calories for a burger! But don’t think about calories, food is fuel, remember!”
Jimin hummed, staring at the ridiculously high 250 calorie foods, “food is fuel..” Alas it didn’t resonate with him.

*

Hoseok laid on the couch restlessly, his bones just felt far too heavy - almost like metal - and no matter what position he laid in, he couldn’t find something that didn’t make him want to rip his skin off. He felt far too hot, like sweat was clammy and sticking his loose clothes to his skin, an icky horribleness, just wanting this warm weather to disperse and become that winter coldness he liked.

He played relentlessly with his fidget toy, something that Jin had bought him when he had started this habit of clicking his fingers at times of anxiousness. Biting his lip red raw, a sharp taste of metallic - it was by far disgusting.

There came a sigh, “Hobi-baby, do you want to come to Town with me?” Hoseok glanced up with hooded eyes, his throat felt a little dry and clammed today, almost like words felt impossible to draw out. But even though Town was often crowded and obnoxiously loud, Hoseok did need some items from the cosmetic store, and he wanted a new manga because he had finished them all already, many times, and though he’d be fine with reading again and again, he did want more ones.

“Mm.”
Jin gave a small smile, hands hovering above Hoseok’s red hair. Not touching him but giving a pseudo feeling, this was the most preferable for Hoseok, and he truly appreciated Jin’s 6th sense of knowing when Hoseok wanted not to be touched. Getting off the couch, “lovely then, let me change jumpers and then we’ll head out, okay Hoba?”

“Mm.”
They took the bus down to Town, it was almost jarring to be so close to others - how he could practically feel their breaths against his neck, or how some people were too loud, shouting and bellowing into their phones. Jin clasped Hoseok’s hand in a sort of calming manner, squeezing it tightly just like how the younger one liked it. “You’ll be okay.”

But the sweat beginning to bead upon the back of his neck only suggested otherwise.

*

Town was busier than usual. Many people flocked like birds, squawking loud and obnoxious, a poisonous tar of cigarette smoke hurt his nose and he scrunched in distaste, and a slight scent of piss was unbearable. As if it was heightened, Hoseok frowned. Maybe he shouldn‘t have come today, maybe he should have just ordered online, maybe maybe maybe..

“Let's quickly pop into H&M, I need a new jumper for Yoongi, “ Jin hummed, pushing Hoseok slightly into the overbearing luminous lights of the shop. Hoseok grunted, but walked in hesitantly. Whilst Jin patrolled over the jumpers, muttering to himself of sizes and textures, Hoseok kicked his feet upon the marble floor and glanced around nervously.

He felt like everyone in the store was looking at him. Like a thousand eyes were locked onto him, scrutinising every minuscule detail. He saw a young lady whisper something to her friend, and she giggled back towards his direction – were they talking about him? Did he look gross? Did he look funny? Did he, did he?

Jin clasped his hands again, a lovely smile upon his bread cheeks. “You good?”
“Mm. Anxious.” Jin nodded, “just feels like -” Hoseok took a deep breath, trying to regulate his heart straining, but it all seemed truly futile, and it was rapidly beating. Inhaling deeply, “like everyone’s staring at me, and-and I can’t do it.”

Jin sighed softly, standing from his crouch. Ruffling through his dark hair, his eyes bared a sort of concern for the trembling Hoseok. “Right.. let me just pay for this, and we’ll go buy lunch.. hm? How about that?” Hoseok felt his throat tighten again, just like when he eats lemons, sour and bitter, almost like they were ripping sharp cuts down his throat.

As Jin rushed off, Hoseok bounced upon the heels of his shoes. Thinking and thinking, he played the episode of his favourite show in his head – each scene playing out, word by word, scene by scene. “You good?” Nodding, Jin gripped his hand tightly and they rushed out to the local Chopstix (Hoseok’s choice when they were in town).

*

As Hoseok was mindlessly chewing on his noodles, eyes focused on his phone as he quietly watched Netflix with subtitles. Jin watched enamoured by the true beauty of his lover, how he bore soft cheeks with a heavenly glow upon them, and they were stary freckled, but unlike Yoongi who had a plethora of constellated freckles and beauty marks, Hoseok had a few but they came in clusters. Hoseok had such lovely red-apple hair, bright and intense but lovely on the eyes.

He had the perfect nose, a steep slope and a fairy-like button. Jin could trace it in his sleep.

‘You can’t eat all the chicken or Hoseok will choke and die’.. Jin blinked at the sudden intrusive in his thoughts, glancing down anxiously at his caramel chicken. He sighed, arguing back to himself, ‘don’t be ridiculous, Hoseok won’t choke if I eat all this chicken..’ He knew his OCD was irrational, and he knew that he'd just take his meds in the morning and all would be dandy later.. But there was always doubt, and upon his tongue laid a ‘what if’.

But he soon picked up his last bite of chicken, already about to take a bite when Hoseok coughed. Jin frantically dropped the chicken and climbed over the table, “holy shit! Are you okay?” The younger stared at him all wide-eyed, “of course. I just coughed.”
Nodding, “yes, coughing.. not choking..” But he dared not risk it in case Hoseok does choke.
Perplexed, Hoseok chewed some noodles and stared at the shaking, paling Jin. “‘Choking’, of course not.” Humming in delight at how nice they tasted.

‘The table could be contaminated, and you touched it..’ Jin blinked, glancing at the right side of the thin air, the area he usually looked in when he could hear the thoughts. ‘Contamination means death, you’ve put antigens into your body now, what if you don’t know how to fight it and die?’ Jin rose his hands off the table, uncomfy with how everything just felt, like a ghostly feeling that couldn’t be removed.

‘What if the chef poisoned you? They’ve touched the food, they could have put something in it.. and did the waiter look at you funny, what if they poisoned it, what if the staring has done something to it?’

“Shit, shut up, “ Jin growled lowly.
“Me?”
“Nah, not you, OCD’s playing up..”

Hoseok frowned, “is it loud?”
“Yeah, “ Jin gripped his hair, “I don’t think I can eat anymore.”
He whispered ‘more’ three more times afterwards, hitting himself in the head and cursing at the sharp discomfort.

Hoseok tutted as he brushed his hand upon Jin’s, “please don’t hit yourself..”
“Think it was an OCD tic.. shit, this shit sucks.” Hoseok pursed his lips, he was no empath for it was unrealistic, but the entire concept of someone he cherished being in such miserable pain pained him.

*
Taehyung laid upon the mattress on the floor in the cottage-interior inspired attic. His eyes felt heavy despite his 12 hours of sleep, and his phone was just out of reach: though he drew no energy to grab it. The ceiling was bumpy, and the faint chill of the wind blew in from the drafts, and though he shivered, he couldn’t feel the cold. Everything today felt far too much.

There was sweat and fire igniting throughout his bones, like sharp pain that immobilised him. And the cold couldn’t overrule it, no matter how hard he removed excess layers, sat upon the duvet cover and had the cooling desk-fan on.

The room was still so lovely, faint vanilla and sweet strawberry scented; fairy lights hung low and high, their gentle light comforting upon the strained eye. The TV was on, but the video was paused and everything was deadly silent.

His mind was ruthless however, the silence not bleeding into here. Countless past memories played on repeat, endless and unconsented for. He could bear tears from his eyes, cry a thousand rivers, but it wouldn’t change a thing.