"it seemed like you put on some weight, huh? need to lose that before the comeback. don't want the fans calling you fat."
the words swirled around his head as he stared into the full length mirror, his favorite shirt on. didn't it used to be baggier? when'd it get so tight? his eyes were filling with tears and he felt sick to his stomach, like he could vomit right here even though he hadn't eaten anything all day. all he did was drink water and he still felt ugly, fat and full. it was disgusting. he was fucking disgusting. when did he get like this?
he lifted his shirt, looking at his belly as he felt hot saliva rush into his mouth. fuck. he was gonna puke. maybe all that forcing a finger down his throat actually worked. he had hunched down over the toilet, repeatedly sticking his finger down his throat until he gagged so hard he started crying but nothing came up. nothing ever did. it just meant he didn't try hard enough to get everything out of his stomach and into the toilet. he always felt super sick afterwards and maybe finally he was going to puke up every disgusting thing his body had consumed the day prior. or maybe it'd just be liquid, the water from a few minutes ago.
god. oh god. he was actually going to be sick. he rushed out of his room towards the bathroom, bumping harshly into wonwoo as he basically ran down the hall, mouth filling with saliva as he tried to hide his slight gagging. his stomach was turning and his head was spinning even worse with horrible thoughts.
chan got to the bathroom, quickly locking and closing the door before he fell to his knees, wincing at the tile hitting bone, as he gagged hard, finally throwing up. it burned and was liquid and he sat there for a few more moments, throwing up the liquid and then dry heaving as nothing else would come out of his body.
his head hit the toilet bowl, and he flushed it right as hot, salty tears started falling. he sobbed quietly on the bathroom floor, gagging slightly still as his stomach was still super upset.
it was what he wanted so why did he still feel so bad?
was it not enough?
he needed more. it wasn't enough. he was still gross and disgusting and fat and ugly.
"chan? are you okay?"
no. he wasn't. would he ever be?