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Chapter Text

Jimin knew something was off the moment the music started. His arms felt stiff and heavy. Each step on the wood floor echoed in his ears. His next jump wasn't as graceful as it could have been.

Dance practice was supposed to be an escape; an easy way to lose himself in the beats. Nothing mattered but the music sounding from the speakers and the reflection in front of him. 

But this time felt different to Jimin. He missed his entrance cue and tried to recover, but then he was a beat too fast. Hoseok looked at him from his side, puzzled. This was their warm-up song. This was supposed to be a breeze. 

They restarted the song for the fifth time that afternoon. Jimin let out a frustrated huff with every new mistake, not just the ones he was making. Namjoon should have taken larger steps. Jungkook was too far forward. And was someone going to tell Yoongi that he should try looking like he actually wanted to be there? 

"No, play it again," Jimin snapped when Hoseok suggested they all take a break. 

He was going to get it right this time and only then would they move on. While everyone sat against the wall chatting, sipping on electrolyte water, he continued to run through the steps.

Five, six, seven, eight, turn, step, three, four, jump, kick-- 

Jimin tried to remain on autopilot, but a stronger voice was slowly drowning out the music. 

There's a mistake, another mistake, start over, another--

Why couldn't he get this right? This choreography was so easy yesterday so why was he struggling now? The frustration building in the back of his head was bleeding into another feeling. 

This feeling had a name, Jimin realized. 

Anxiety. 

Jimin was no stranger to feeling anxious. As the group's success grew so did his worries. It's not that he had much to complain about. He was living the idol life. Millions of adoring fans, millions of dollars supposedly, and millions of thoughts running through his head.

Was he good enough? Was he holding the other members back? What did he have to fall back on if he failed?

But that's what the company-sponsored therapists were for, to teach them how to cope with being famous. Ironically, living his dream was bringing him nightmares. The prescribed breathing exercises and positive thinking were supposed to banish the anxiety attacks. 

But he'd never had one during practice. Dancing was his safe place, the one thing this crazy industry wasn't able to touch. Then why was his heart about to beat out of his chest? Why didn't he feel safe?

Jimin stopped mid-turn, frozen in place, eyes unfocused and wide in the glare of fluorescent lights. Rushing blood replaced the sound of beats in his ears. The small studio and its inhabitants washed away as a new chant overtook his brain.

not safe not safe not safe not safe not

Gone was his reflection in the smudged mirror, gone was the sweat-splattered floor, gone were the peals of laughter coming from the corner of the room.

not safe not safe not safe not safe not

What was he doing here if he couldn't handle one measly practice? Where was he expected to be and how could he reach that level of perfection? Why couldn't he just--

"--minie. Jimin-ah?"

A concerned face abruptly flooded his vision, knocking him back to reality. Knitted eyebrows were not a good look on Seokjin. He was going to get wrinkles that way. Was Jimin getting wrinkles? His eyes flitted to the mirror, now noticing the members noticing him. Someone had switched off the track at some point. Silence replaced the laughter from before. 

Everybody seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for Jimin to make the first move. 

"I'm taking that break."

Jimin tried to keep his face passive, to keep the frustration and desperation from filtering through. From Taehyung's expression maybe he wasn't all that successful, but no one tried to follow him as he walked out with stiff arms and legs, trying to act natural. Trying to act as if his world wasn't coming apart from one bad thought. 

Once secluded in the dingy handicapped bathroom, Jimin was confronted with another mirror. Peering into it, he tried to search for a possible trigger for the attack. He knew it wasn't normal to be reacting to mistakes this way. Using one of the exercises his therapist taught him, he retraced his steps from that morning. He had woken up from a semi-restful night, well, as restful as it could be with Hoseok mumbling in his sleep. Moving on, only one person had managed to interrupt his shower; Yoongi burst into the bathroom, insisting he needed to get rid of his coffee breath at that instant. Next Jimin had breakfast, sitting at the counter with the others. Seokjin had teased him for his height, giving him an extra bowl of rice to "help him grow." Then changing into sweats and driving Jungkook to practice, letting the youngest have control of the aux cord for once.

Jimin ran through his steps a few more times. He knew the answer was hidden somewhere in his morning routine. He examined his face in the mirror as if to find the solution to his anxiety written there. The only noticeable anomaly was the puffiness of his cheeks.  His eyes panned down to his chin, somehow fuller than before. Huh, when did that happen? His hands caught his attention as he lifted them to touch his new double chin. Even his fingers seemed stubbier. He lifted his arms and watched how they jiggled with the movement. His shirt rose up to reveal a pudgy stomach, a layer of fat covering what were once chocolate abs. His thighs told the same story, ten times bigger than the last time he checked.

The answer had been in front of him all along--that extra bowl of rice. No, one serving couldn't have caused this excess flesh. He had somehow been slowly growing without him noticing and now it was too late. No wonder he felt so out of place with dancing, his body as heavy as his mind. He didn't understand how all this could have happened without his knowledge, but now that his eyes were open there was no denying the truth.

Jimin was fat.

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Jimin ran on autopilot the rest of the rehearsal, thankfully without any more noticeable mistakes. But a storm brewed in his mind--timetables, calories, exercises--all things he would need to research in the privacy of home. A tentative plan was formed--he'd just have to eat a little less and work out a little more. The answer was simple. Idols went on diets all the time. Management would have put him on one anyway; they must have noticed his weight gain even if he hadn't himself. It wasn't too late for Jimin to fix this. 

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Jimin perfected his routine by three weeks. That first night after his discovery had him locked in the bathroom, hunched over his phone, scouring the internet for anything that would show him how to lose weight quickly. Comebacks were only a couple of months away and preparation time always flew by. He needed to be at his best, he rationalized. Most of the sites he found on dieting were in English and hard to understand through Naver translate. Some of what he could understand was a bit concerning. He didn't know what pro-ana meant, but the before-and-after pictures didn't lie. If the diets worked on these people, he would make it work for himself.

And so Jimin's life began to revolve around food and exercise.

Exercise in the morning before anyone else was awake. A quick jog to the gym to do questionable workouts from questionable blogs. Returning home, he got away with his first lie of the day. Yes, he had already eaten breakfast while out. No, he didn't want any of theirs. The members had yet to call him out on it. Though no one had noticed yet, he could always pass off shaky hands on the post-workout adrenaline. It was easy to get away with anything in the morning. None of the members ever wanted to go to the gym with him, 5 a.m. was too early to get moving. 

Mornings also meant weigh-in time before his shower. The day's mood was set by the small white analog scale Jimin hid in the back of the bottom cabinet. Even though they were all supposed to be watching their weight, he couldn't help being embarrassed by his need to know his numbers at all times. He didn't want the others to know that he was concerned about his figure. There would be the inevitable teasing, or worse, they would offer advice and help. But this was something Jimin had to do by himself, or at least that's what his pride told him. 

By noon, he would be well into the day's schedule and starving. Well, he was always starving these days, but the hours before his first meal of the day were always the hardest. Not that his small lunches brought much satisfaction. What was it Jungkook had said during that one vlive? He would be satisfied only eating Army's love. 

More little lies throughout the day. No, he didn't want to take a tteokbokki break. Yes, he was ready to start practicing from the top. No, he wasn't nervous about his solo. Yes, he was sure he'd be ready for the first showcase.

Around four, he had his next snack, usually about to pass out at this point. On especially hard days, Jimin wondered if this diet was worth feeling like he was dying most of the day. But catching sight of Hobi's delicate ankles while they stretched together or the way Yoongi looked so small while napping in the middle of the breakroom couch gave him extra resolve. His brothers worked so hard to be their bests. He needed to get his priorities straight and do his job as an idol. 

Dinner brought Jimin the most trouble. If he was lucky, they would all be doing their own thing at the company building and he could hole up in an empty conference room. Curled up in an office chair with a blanket around his shoulders and a laptop on his knees, he would brainstorm lyrics, study past performances, and binge-watch diet vlogs on YouTube. Though he wasn't an introvert, decompression time like this was becoming precious to him. Alone he didn't have to dodge requests to eat out, compare bodies in the studio mirror, or even put on a fake smile. He could take a break from the constant persona he was fronting.

Dinners at home brought the complete opposite of relaxation. The band tried to have family dinners at least a couple of times a week. Jin complained about cooking for so many at a time, but everyone knew he adored feeding his younger brothers. Precisely why it was so hard for Jimin to say no to his hyung. Too many excuses would bring about prying questions, not to mention a frown on the oldest's face. But often the food was not "diet-friendly" even if he only took one serving. If he didn't know that Jin loved him, Jimin would think he was trying to fatten him up out of spite. 

After a couple of days of eating dinner at home and watching the scale numbers plateau, Jimin went back to the forums looking for a solution. 

Jimin never thought he would resort to throwing up. Bulimia was something only idols like IU went through, those who had way more pressure and fame to live up to. Not that Jimin had bulimia. He had read articles on eating disorders and his eating habits didn't quite match up with the American DSM-V criteria. Bulimia required binging episodes and he never let himself get over 500 calories a meal. And anorexia required an underweight status that he hadn't reached yet. So no, Jimin did not have an eating disorder. 

That's what he told himself as he knelt on the hard tile for the first time. He wasn't purging, he was correcting a mistake. He would only have to do this the couple of times he couldn't get away from the others. 

It took him a half-hour and the shower running to get rid of a bowl of rice. He gagged repeatedly around the fingers in his throat, but his stomach refused to let go. Tears prickled the corner of his eyes, but he refused to give up. Pushing on his stomach, his throat finally opened up and expelled the food. Toilet water splashed back into his face and his hand was covered in vomit, but Jimin felt victorious. He could make his body do what he wanted. It was his to control, his to shape. 

Two weeks and countless Naver searches later, he could get rid of a whole meal in under five minutes. Eating in front of his brothers no longer triggered anxiety attacks. Knowing that the tightness in a full stomach was a temporary issue eased his nerves. Dinner was now a time for poking Namjoon's dimples when he talked about his latest project. Jimin could now focus on teasing Taehyung's latest fashion choices, instead of trying to calculate calories in his head. Jin's food tasted better and went down as easy as it came back up.

It had been ages since Jimin felt content, but his numbers had looked good that morning and his stomach no longer growled loudly in between meals. If he turned at the right angle in the wall mirror, he could see a little progress in his face and arms.

Dancing had once again become his safe place. With the extra kilos off, it was like he was flying instead of jumping. Practice hadn't even started and Jimin was already in his dancer's headspace. Each kick, pop and lock were done with precision. His body moved just how he wanted and nothing else mattered but the tingly high he felt in his brain. 

Jungkook and Taehyung whistled in appreciation from their corner. Even Hoseok stopped his stretching to watch Jimin's warm-up, giving him an approving nod. 

The anxious voice in his head grew smaller, appearing less frequently. It was replaced by a more helpful voice, urging him to lessen his portions, practice longer, become perfect. 

As long as Jimin listened to that voice, he had this. His body was under his control.

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Jimin soon learned that every ana site came with a warning. Turn back now if you are new to this. Don't fall into this rabbit hole. These results come at a price. Don't let this become a problem. 

But Jimin started with a problem, a big one. He couldn't afford to stay the same size. He had fans to please; he couldn't let Army down with unsettling looks and sloppy movements. He had the members to keep up with. They were all so perfect in looks and talents, effortlessly remaining beautiful and excelling at their specialties.  Jimin seriously needed to get at their level. He could not be the weak link in this group.

Even before his diet, he'd seen what people were writing in fan cafes.

Mochi Jimin had lost his muscles. Cute Jimin had such chubby cheeks. Fat Jimin was a burden on his members. 

Jimin didn't know his weight at the start of his diet. Exact numbers were not something their company pushed for anymore. As long as they looked healthy and had the energy to dance, the managers let the members control their own diets and exercise. When they were rookies, they lived off of plain chicken breasts and kimchi; maybe if they looked a certain way more people would watch them. But the strict rules went away as they became more popular. Therefore Jimin hadn't needed to own a scale for the past couple of years and only saw his weight at the quarterly health checkups.

Obviously, BigHit had become too lax with Jimin. So shopping it was. 

Jimin hoped his black hat and mask combo was inconspicuous enough. Or was it obvious he was an idol in disguise? But who was going to recognize him at four in the morning? It was too early to be going to a convenience store, but he couldn't risk interference from the other members. There would be too many questions--why didn't he want to use the company scale? How many times was he planning on weighing himself? How could he have let himself gain so much? Just thinking about being caught before making any real progress made his breath quicken and skin hurt. So really, the only option was to be up before the stars disappeared and take the train to the emart24 that was two stations away from the dorm.

There were a couple of blue-collar workers dozing in the train carriage, but it was mostly empty. An old auntie had decided to sit right next to him, two garbage bags bursting with cardboard at her feet. He watched her wrinkled hands as she pulled out a tangerine from her rucksack and started peeling. There was something comforting in the deliberate way she peeled back the skin in one piece, humming an old folk song under her breath. Jimin closed his eyes to the melody and the aroma of citrus. When he opened them fifteen minutes later she was gone, but a small tangerine sat neatly on a flowered handkerchief where the auntie once was. 

Jimin pocketed the items and exited the train. He would keep the handkerchief in the front pocket of his bag, taking it out when he was anxious to run his fingers over the delicate embroidery. It also provided a good place to hide food that he slipt from the table. The tangerine would go to sit on his window sill. For a week he watched as the sun reflected off its shiny orange skin, until it shriveled and got thrown away by Hoseok.

The night before, Jimin had researched dozens of different scales--digital, glass, metal, some that also measured fat and water weight. But there he was in an emart24 at four-thirty in the morning staring at the only scale on the shelf. Jimin was an idiot. Who the hell bought a scale at a convenience store? A desperate person. And Jimin was desperately trying to be low-key about the whole thing. He picked up the rather small analog scale, hugging it to his chest. 

He also grabbed a couple of protein shakes and a candy bar to seem less suspicious; still, he couldn't raise his eyes to look at the cashier. His cheeks were burning under his mask. He knew what he looked like. A fat lonely person who knew he was fat and lonely. He paid with cash and put everything in his backpack. 

A few rays of sunlight began to peek out from behind the buildings as he stepped back onto the train.

He was 67 kg. 

Jimin gagged when he first saw those numbers. He knew he'd gained a bit since debut, even after he had lost his muscles. But this was an impossible number. He couldn't bring himself to blame the comments on SNS. They were only pointing out the truth.

Jimin needed to stop being so blind. He needed to see himself as Army saw him. That night, curled up in his bed and surrounded by his favourite plushies, Jimin queued up a playlist of last year's shows on his laptop. When he was reaching for the play button, a body jumped on his. 

"Are you having a movie night, Jiminie?" Taehyung said excitedly, bouncing on Jimin's sore legs.

Jimin's groan was more out of frustration at the interruption than the sudden movements. He could put on a movie for Tae, but his anxiety was increasing in volume, urging him to check their performances.

"I miss being on stage and seeing Army, so I was going to watch some concerts." That was close enough to the truth. It had been a while since he's seen his fans in person. He could also try to see their faces and gauge their reactions to him.

Shit, when did he become so self-obsessed? Looking at his body every time he passed a reflective surface. Touching himself when he was sure no one was looking. Searching his pictures on Naver. He didn't even like looking at himself, but he couldn't bring himself to look away, the way you couldn't close your eyes while passing a car accident. It was horrible to look at but morbid curiosity won out in the end. 

With his best friend oblivious to his motives, Jimin analyzed every angle of his body--the way his arms jiggled while waving at Army, his stomach bulged as he bowed towards the stands, his body looking so much bigger when dancing next to the rest of the members.

How could Army cheer for his formless blob on stage? Anyone could see that he was lacking so much next to his brothers. Honestly, their shows should have come with a trigger warning against him. 

Tears spilled without his permission. Was he ever going to fix this?

"Aigoo, Jiminie," Jimin felt Taehyung's hand rub up and down his back. "Are you missing Army that bad?"

Jimin nodded, not trusting his lips to not spill the truth if he opened them, letting his body do the lying for him. He let Taehyung rearrange their positions so that his back was to the younger's chest, arms around his middle. 

"Let's put on something else, ok. Do you want to watch Ms. Granny again?"

Jimin didn't deserve Taehyung. But he couldn't bring himself to let go. 

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Jimin didn’t throw up on the weekends, giving his teeth a break and trying to boost his metabolism. On practice days he gave himself a limit of 900 calories a day with purging. On weekends he let himself have 1200 without purging. He was seeing results from his diet; after a month he was at 63 kg and his members were beginning to notice.

“You're looking sexier Jimin,” Hoseok joked as he eyed the shortest member in the practice room mirrors. It was just the two of them, dripping sweat after hours of dancing. 

“Keep your mind on the choreo, pervert.” Jimin rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his grin. 

“I’m serious! You look a little more mature. Is it the jawline?" Hoseok circles Jimin, pretending to inspect him. “Have you lost weight?”

Jimin froze at the last question. Had Hoseok noticed the diet? Logically, he knew that it wasn’t the healthiest plan to follow, but it was what he needed. His mind was racing to come up with a response to his hyung. But when he turned to answer, Hoseok was already leaning over the stereo to start the next song. It had been a rhetorical question then, but Jimin’s heart was still racing. He needed to be more careful. He knew that he needed to lose weight fast, but his brothers were worriers, especially when it came to each other’s health. One cough could send them into a panic about the plague. He just needed to hide his progress a little longer.

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Another month and Jimin was at 58 kg. He was only having one anxiety attack a week—he hadn’t felt this calm since before the HYYH campaign. But as the numbers went down, he wasn't seeing the decrease reflected in the mirror. He still took up too much space, he thought. His legs were still flabby and his cheeks stubbornly remained puffy. He wasn’t able to purge every day anymore. Recordings for the new album had begun and he couldn’t afford to ruin it with a sore throat. So he compensated by adding an extra hour of exercise before bed. But the scale had been stuck at 57.6 kg for the past five days and his anxiety was slowly creeping back. He tried burying it under extra miles on the treadmill and an extra sweater worn over two shirts.

Jimin knew the others were beginning to notice his odd behaviour. He knew that his eating habits were at least being scrutinized by Seokjin, who liked to make sure his boys were well-fed. Jimin kept telling him that he was just too nervous about comebacks to eat much. But then the oldest hyung started only making Jimin’s favourite foods to help, making him feel extremely guilty. Then Seokjin caught on that he was trying to eat healthier and changed his cooking to accommodate the younger. This only made Jimin feel more embarrassed at having his eating habits watched. It was as if Seokjin was telling him that he did need to lose weight.

If Jungkook noticed anything, it was probably that Jimin was grumpier than ever. Before he had the energy to engage with the maknae’s prank wars and dance battles, but now he was just tired all the time. And easily irritated. One sarcastic comment or playful punch from him was enough to sour his mood for the whole day. He suspected that Jungkook was slowly beginning to keep his distance. Some days he cried in the shower about the fact that he hadn’t had any cuddles from the maknae in days—other times he said good riddance, that he needed to focus only on bettering himself instead of on his childish antics.

For as tired as Jimin was during the day, he could not make himself fall asleep at night. He tried to pretend and keep his breathing even throughout the night, but Hoseok seemed to catch onto his insomnia, even though the older didn’t press him about it. Hoseok would just climb into his bed after particularly hard rehearsals and wrap his arms around him. He never said anything but he did rub circles on Jimin’s thighs. The first time his hyung did this, Jimin flinched, and immediately the hand was pulled back. He had thought that Hoseok was pointing out the fat on his legs and when he realized it was his attempt at comfort, he felt guilty. He grabbed the hand and put it back on his thigh. Hoseok let out a breath he seemed to have been holding and pulled Jimin closer so that his back was to his chest. Hyung never mentioned their sleeping arrangement in the mornings and Jimin acted like this was normal.

Of course his soulmate Taehyung had noticed something was wrong, but he hadn’t pushed Jimin to tell him anything yet. Like Hoseok, his ways of comforting Jimin were mostly physical. Wrapping his arms around him while watching a Studio Ghibli film, patting his leg during English interviews, and most recently, holding his hand at all times, even when the cameras were on. They had always been touchy-feely in a platonic kind of way, but now it seemed that Taehyung was even more attached to Jimin, if that were possible to say. At first, Jimin was not comfortable with all the attention he was getting from his best friend—torn between wishing Taehyung would notice his turmoil and wanting to keep his embarrassing problems with his weight a secret. But Taehyung wasn’t going to force him to talk, so Jimin tried to relax in his arms.

Jimin spent the most time avoiding Yoongi and Namjoon though, which was hard to do when they shared a dorm. If anyone was going to figure out what he was doing, it would be those two. They were the most insightful, having dealt with their own forms of anxiety and depression. And while the rappers felt comfortable enough to reveal their feelings in their music, Jimin was too afraid to admit to himself that he had any other problem besides his predicament with his weight. If he was lucky, Namjoon would remain oblivious—as the leader, he would force Jimin to stop his diet if he thought it was for the good of the group. But there was no way he could hide from Yoongi if the older suspected something was wrong. One indication that he was having a bad day and Yoongi would not stop until he found out exactly what it was and how to solve it. So Jimin kept himself busy. Staying in the practice room extra hours while the others left for the afternoon. Never sitting next to the two during meals and car rides. He was still his friendly self, or at least he hoped he was, but he wouldn’t let his hyungs get close to him. He couldn’t bear to drag them down with his trivialness when they had had it much worse in the past. He wasn’t going to become a burden.

Chapter Text

Wings was unlike anything they had ever done before. It was supposed to be a deeper continuation of the HYYH universe. All the members had spent hours with Bang PD and the rest of the staff as they fleshed out character profiles and story arcs. It was like writing a novel, at the same time as making music, learning new dance routines, and shooting multiple teasers and music videos. The quality was higher meaning that the stakes were higher. If they could make this work…

Jimin didn’t want to raise his hopes too high. He would love for the album to be a hit, but he was more nervous at how Army would receive it. He needed to show them his dedication. He needed to show them something that would portray his sincerity.

Sincerity. Honesty. The truth. What was Jimin’s truth? Every day there seemed to be a new excuse falling from his lips.

“I’ll finish practicing soon.”

“I already ate before rehearsals.”

“I’m too tired to eat right now.”

Even his smile seemed like a lie.

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The white walls of the BigHit computer room were starting to give Jimin a headache. Each member had been tasked with writing a solo song that would highlight their particular character’s struggle. This was his first time as a composer and lyricist, and Jimin wanted everything to be perfect. He had been listening to the basic track given to him for the past hour, but no matter how hard he glared at the screen the composition remained unchanged. How did his rapline hyungs do this? he thought as he laid his head on his arms with a groan.

"Having a hard time?”

Jimin shot up at the voice; he hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Oh, hey Yoongi-hyung.” He willed his heart to slow down. Lately, it seemed like everything made his heart race and he couldn’t afford to let his hyung become suspicious at his reaction. He guessed that he couldn’t avoid Yoongi forever and pulled over a chair for him. He pressed play and had him listen to the simple beats that were supposed to turn into his masterpiece.

“This piece is actually pretty complicated to begin with.” Yoongi’s eyes were focused on the screen in front of him. “You see this one part where it goes from minor scale to major and back to minor? That’s your climax into the chorus. Whatever phrase you want emphasized should go there.” The rapper starts making some adjustments in the program. “It would sound cool if you started with some strings. Your character has a pretty mysterious past, right? It could add to that tone.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped; he could actually hear the music coming together in his head. Maybe if he repeated the major key twice in the chorus and have layered background vocals…

“Thank you, hyung.” Yoongi was brought out of his producer mode by Jimin’s serious tone. “Your help means a lot to me. I’m glad now I have something more concrete to work with.”

“Hey, no worries, kid. How about the lyrics? Have you thought of a theme or story you want to tell?” Yoongi noticed Jimin’s smile deflate a little at his questions. They let a silence settle between them—Jimin disappointed at his skills as a creator and Yoongi trying to figure out a way to reassure his dongsaeng.

“Can you keep a secret?” Yoongi asked out of the blue. Jimin tilted his head in confusion. If anything, he expected Yoongi to ask about his secret. “You know how I’ve been working on my mixtape?”

“The great Agust D, right?” It was no secret to anyone in the company how much Yoongi wanted to release something that was his. Jimin heard the title track a couple of weeks ago. He was awed at how confident his hyung was, not caring to censor the attacks on his rivals. Where was his own confidence? It was just another thing that set him apart from the rest of his brothers.

“Yeah, well, I think I finished it. There’s, uh there’s this one song I want you to hear…”

“Ah congratulations hyung!” Jimin smiled brightly at the rapper whose ears were turning red. “Of course I’ll listen to it.”

“I’ve only shown it to Namjoon, so, uh, here it is.” Yoongi pulled out his phone, handed his earphones over, and pressed play.

… 거라고 shit

There’s a heavy silence that follows the last note of the song. Jimin looked up, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“Hyun—”

“I have a meeting with PD-nim to go to.” Yoongi quickly got up and headed for the door. “Hopefully, that gave you some inspiration for your lyrics.”

Jimin wanted to reach out to him, to grab his hand, to hold him close. He didn’t know how to feel, but he knew that he wanted to be the one to comfort his hyung. But he’s reluctant to break this barrier that Yoongi had around him like a blanket.

He’s confused. Yoongi basically just told him he had wanted to kill himself at some point in his life and now he’s leaving him to process this new information on his own. What did he expect Jimin to do right now? Give him some words of encouragement? Is there even an easy way to say, I’m sorry you wanted to hurt yourself, I feel that way too sometimes, let’s never talk about this again? Maybe that’s what Yoongi was trying to do with him right now, Jimin realized with a start.

Yoongi paused at the door, still not turning around to look at Jimin. “Let me know if you need any help, seriously.”

They both know he wasn’t talking about the song.

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Jimin couldn’t sleep, even with Hoseok’s soft snores and the gentle circles he’s unconsciously rubbing on the smaller’s arm. Yoongi’s song continued to play in his head hours after their time together.

He knows He knows He Knows He knows He knows He Knows He knows He knows He Knows

He hasn't stopped this chant since then.

But now it was 1 am and Jimin needed to sleep before his full day of schedules. He wiggled in Hoseok’s arms until he was facing the window. He kept his eyes closed tight, trying to reason with his mind to calm down.

There’s a possibility Yoongi didn’t know about his particular diet…habits. Jimin’s just been down lately and the others have begun to notice. That’s why I’m trapped in my own bed by this hyung, Jimin inwardly laughed to himself. Hoseok snored in agreement.

The more he thought about it the more he was able to rationalise Yoongi’s behaviour. His hyung would have immediately tried to put a stop to his diet if he knew. No, he just thought that Jimin was like him, depressed. Which, Jimin was a little sad if he thought about it, but only when the numbers on the scale were wrong or if he couldn’t sneak away after a heavy meal.

He knew about his hyung’s struggle with depression and anxiety, saw him after his first panic attack before a show, gave him a hug before his counselling appointment, always had a smile ready for him. What he didn’t know was how bad it actually was.

Guilt began to fill in his gut. Here was Jimin, making everyone worry over his small upsets and mistake, when the others had bigger difficulties to overcome. Here was Jimin, the attention-whore making everyone fuss over him while others needed the comfort more. Here was Jimin, lying to everyone and still being a burden while Yoongi was revealing his true struggles growing stronger because of it.

Jimin squirmed some more until he was out of his hyung’s arms. He carefully got out of bed and crept out of the room.

Lately vanilla ice cream has become a safe food for Jimin. Not the cheap convenient store kind, but the gourmet foreign brands. They have a separate freezer in the kitchen just for frozen desserts and his was hidden at the very bottom. This week’s was Haagen Daz vanilla bean. Quietly grabbing the gallon and a spoon, Jimin began digging into the frozen treat. He didn’t stop eating until his stomach hurts, which was surprisingly fast. He looked down to see that he’s barely eaten a cup of ice cream. But his stomach was screaming for him to expel it.

Another recent event was that Jimin's stomach hurt every time he got full and he got full very fast. It was as if his body could sense his discomfort with food and was just as eager as his mind to get rid of it. With a small groan, he put the ice cream back and headed to the bathroom.

There was only one solution for this.

Ten minutes later he slid back into Hoseok’s arms, head and stomach emptier.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Unexpectantly, Jimin was given inspiration from Yoongi. Once again, he was in awe of his hyung’s confidence and sincerity in showing the dark side of his heart. Maybe Jimin could reveal a bit of his dark soul as well. If people began to ask questions, he could fall back onto the HYYH character, put the burden on some alter ego that has nothing to do with the real him.

When all he did was lie, he could at least admit that he was a liar.

Chapter Text

Jimin was the only one in BigHit’s artist lounge. It's noon on a Saturday and he’s finally allowing himself his first meal of the day: 16 oz. of ice water.

The last time he ate was noon the previous day; he’s finished his twelve-hour fast.

His fingers shook a little as he unscrewed his water flask, but that just means his fast was working, right? The too cold water hurt his teeth and throat going down but he ignored the feeling.

Jimin hugged himself; someone must have turned up the air con. He put on a thick brown sweater that actually belonged to Namjoon. He buried his face into his sweater paws and inhaled deeply. There’s a comforting scent to his leader, like cedar and coffee, like their dorm.

Everyone was sort of doing their own thing. Namjoon was in one of the conference rooms on the phone with a UK magazine. Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jungkook were together in a practice room working on their solos. Yoongi and Jin had left for lunch an hour ago.

They had invited Jimin, but he knew they were going to some western-style buffet. He shuddered thinking about the calories they were about to consume. He told them that he was planning on buying something later.

That later was now.

Logically Jimin knew he had to eat. He had spent most of the morning working out and dancing, all on an empty stomach. He deserved it, didn’t he? Six hours into his day and more practice to come, he should really eat something.

He was craving something with rice.

Should he cave and get convenience store kimbap? Or go to the café near the train station?

The black jacket Jimin pulled on also belonged to another member, Jungkook. Was this a sign of loneliness, surrounding yourself with the smells of others? A black cap and mask completed the undercover idol look.

He let his manager know he’s headed out to eat.

He walked a block when he caught a glimpse of himself in a shop window. He stared back at his reflection then through into the interior, It’s a cat-themed bakery, with plush brown sofas and soft lights. On the counter, there’s a glass display case filled with cat-shaped pastries and bread. Jimin’s mouth started to water.

He startled when the cashier waved at him, motioning for him to step inside. He blushed and forced his legs to carry him away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

The bells on the door rung lightly when he reached his destination. He discovered Goodbye, Stranger a couple of weeks ago and it quickly became his favourite place. Most of the items were vegan or gluten-free, which Jimin had read was supposedly healthier.

He walked to the counter and looked up to the menu board, the calories listed after each item.

Soo-A was working again. She was also from Busan, the same age as Jimin, but was finishing her degree in sports medicine at SNU. Soo-A was everything Jimin was not—ambitious, confident, skinny. But she was so friendly, always smiling at him with full cheeks, that he pushed his jealousy aside.

She had to know by now who he was, but she treated him like a normal person, never asking about his career or the other members.

Jimin gave her a small smile and ordered a tofu kimbap and water (425 kcal).

“I see you're branching out from your usual," she joked. His usual being just a Green Goddess smoothie (300 kcal).

“I'm being adventurous today.”

And he was—this meal was 125 calories more than his usual order. Her comment gave him a spike of anxiety, but he laughed to cover it.

They chatted a bit about her upcoming exam and about a stationery store they both loved back home.

Jimin found a seat near the window. He decided to actually enjoy his break instead of rushing back to the office. He had heard that mindful eating was better for losing weight.

He stared out the window. There was the life he could have had. Children held in their mother’s arms. A group of teenagers, right out of school, licking ice cream cones. Couples wearing matching outfits.

This was the most relaxed he’s felt in a long time. The best he’s felt while eating. He’ll let the guilt consume him later.