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“Have I gained weight?”
Shuichi looked in the mirror, feeling uneasy. He pulled up his shirt to get a better look. The area around his stomach and hips was definitely fuller than he thought it was.
“How did that happen? I’ve been working out the same amount and I haven’t changed my diet,”
Shuichi turned to look at himself from the side. For some reason, he felt like if he got the right angle, his body would go back to how it was before. Another part of him felt sick and wished he would just drop the shirt and leave, but he couldn’t stop staring at his reflection.
“I’m not fat by any means, but…”
Shuichi poked at his stomach. It hurt somewhat, but he continued. He pinched little pockets of fat around his waist, feeling sick at how much he was able to hold. It’s not like he was aspiring to be curvy, that would just cause him dysphoria, but his hips and waist being the same size set off something in his brain.
“I should just go to bed, I’m only making things worse.”
Despite that, Shuichi continued to stare at himself. The nauseous feeling in his gut grew with each glance and prod at his body. He wished he could cry, but no tears formed, just a wet gloss over his eyes.
The thing that finally snapped Shuichi out of his trance was the quiet ringing of his phone from his bedroom. He quickly dropped his shirt and went to see who was calling. The closer he got to his room, the more grating the ringtone was on his ears. He tightened his hands into fists so tight that his nails nearly drew blood. The anger he was feeling at the sound was probably irrational, but that didn’t change anything.
When he finally picked up the phone, the caller ID read ‘Kichi ❤️’. As much as Shuichi loved Kokichi, he wasn’t really in the mood to talk to him. Even though it wasn’t a video call, Shuichi felt as if answering would let Kokichi see his gross body. He answered anyway.
“Hello?” Shuichi’s voice was shakier than he had hoped.
“Hi Shumai~!” At least Kokichi seemed to be in a good mood. “How are you doing?”
“Ah, I’m fine. You?”
Kokichi was silent for a moment, making Shuichi’s heart race, “C’mon, I thought you knew better than to try lying to me!”
“What?”
“You’re obviously upset, so what’s wrong?”
Shuichi hesitated. If he were to share what was on his mind, Kokichi would definitely try to help him. Shuichi hated feeling like this and yet… some part of him felt compelled to keep his feelings to himself.
“Saihara-chan?” Ah shit, not answering had only made Kokichi worry more.
“I’m fine, it’s just…” Shuichi took a deep breath to steady himself, “I’ve gained weight.”
“Hm? I hadn’t even noticed.”
Shuichi gripped his pants, he wished Kokichi would just talk to him seriously, “…Is that a lie?”
Kokichi gasped in mock offense, “I can’t believe my beloved would accuse me of lying about something so important!”
“Sorry, it’s just hard to believe.” Shuichi admitted. He had to stop himself from pulling at his fat rolls once again. As Shuichi looked down at his body, he noticed more flaws. His hands were abnormally small, his skin was sickeningly pale, and his nails were cracked and uneven from being bitten at.
Kokichi hummed in acknowledgment. A tense silence filled the air as both he and Shuichi were completely silent. Shuichi felt almost choked by the oppressive atmosphere, but his voice was missing at that moment.
“Do you want me to come over?” Kokichi suddenly asked.
“What?!” Shuichi blurted out in surprise, “Umm, sure, I mean.”
“Alright! Be there in five.” Before Shuichi could respond, Kokichi hung up the phone. Shuichi sat there still holding his phone to his ear stupidly as he processed what just happened.
Shuichi groaned and hugged his orca plushie. He wasn’t necessarily unhappy about Kokichi coming over, it was just very sudden. He didn’t want Kokichi seeing him when he looked like such a disaster, but he didn’t have time to make himself presentable before he would arrive.
Shuichi laid down as he waited for Kokichi. Yet, for whatever reason, Shuichi just couldn’t get comfortable. He rolled around in his bed, but nothing felt right. Something was always wrong, whether it was the way his arm pressed against his body, or the way his stomach pressed against the mattress. Frustration ate at him, he was a detective but he couldn’t even figure out something as simple as this.
Time seemed to slow down as Shuichi laid there, dreading the moment that Kokichi would see him. Were the changes in his body really not noticeable, or was it just a white lie? With Kokichi, it was impossible to know.
“Why am I like this?” Shuichi wondered, burying his face in the orca. A couple extra pounds shouldn’t be bothering him, yet here he was. Having a pathetic spiral in his dirty bed over the most inconsequential shit.
What kind of person forces their loved ones to go out of their way to comfort them whenever they feel the tiniest bit insecure? And what the hell was he even insecure about, an unnoticeable sliver of fat? He was a fucking idiot.
The nausea was back, pulling and twisting at Shuichi’s stomach again. The pain was infuriating. Whatever tears Shuichi was hoping would fall earlier were finally showing up, except now they were unwanted. Of fucking course Shuichi could only cry when he didn’t want to, as if anything could possibly go the way he wanted.
An involuntary shout escaped Shuichi. He threw his orca at the wall. He didn’t know why he did it, it was as if someone else briefly had control over him. Shuichi felt strangely satisfied at the loud smack it made when the plastic eyes collided with the wall. He wanted to feel that satisfaction more.
Shuichi grinned and wildly threw around whatever he could grab: his pillow, photographs, books, whatever he could get his hands on. Watching each of them break and fall apart was more addictive than Shuichi could’ve ever imagined.
“I’m fucking sick of this!” Shuichi shouted at no one. His pain had turned into blind rage, “I’m sick of feeling like shit all the time!”
The tears were coming out faster now, and Shuichi’s heart was impossible to calm. He continued tearing up his room, ignoring the reasonable part of his brain. All he did was knock things over, punch the walls, and wail his heart out.
What was this even about, again? Shuichi wasn’t sure. It couldn’t be just his body. No, it was a build up of something, but that something wasn’t a thing Shuichi could name.
Why was he so angry? What drove him this far?
As Shuichi's heart settled and he struggled to catch his breath, he looked around at the mess he’d created. He felt himself drift back into reality, before feeling sick at the sight of his belongings all broken and scattered for no reason.
What was the point of this? All he’d done was destroy the things he’d loved because of some infernal impulsiveness.
What a fucking waste.
…
Kokichi continued banging at Shuichi’s door, still to no response; his calls had gone unanswered as well. Was Shuichi okay? He had no way of knowing. Panic had long since set in, making Kokichi’s skin crawl.
He could pick the lock to the house if he really wanted, but that was a last resort. He didn’t want to invade Shuichi’s space for no reason.
Although, that was starting to seem more and more necessary…