Archive of Our Own

It started small. Slow. A remark about his pigeon-like eating habits. A joke about how he just ate everyone else’s leftovers. Mingyu berating him for stealing his ramen. Seungcheol yelling at him and Jihoon at one of the monthly meetings when they said they’d just eat what everyone else ordered.

So Vernon stopped grabbing unfinished drinks. He stopped nibbling at the others’ food. Stopped finishing off plates that the members couldn’t.

Then, at some point, he’d noticed the numbers on the scale start to drop.

Maybe that was when it really became a problem. He got addicted to that number, to watching it shrink. To seeing how small he could get it. He found himself in the bathroom multiple times a day, stripping to almost nothing to avoid the extra weight of his clothes as he stepped on the scale.

And with those shrinking numbers came shrinking portions. He took less food at group meals, stopped asking the others to share their breakfasts, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d ordered out when eating alone. Actually, he could barely remember the last time he’d eaten alone. Everything seemed more foggy recently.

On the plus side, he’d never been more hydrated in his life. He’d found these powders (zero calories, zero sugar, zero everything) that he could mix into his water to flavor it, and one day found himself well into the afternoon with nothing in his stomach but four bottles of flavored water. They’d become a staple in his dwindling diet.

And, so far, no one had noticed. It wasn’t much of a surprise, really; he lived in his beanie and hoodie and jeans, and if he was a little more tired than usual, well… so were they all. And he was quiet, so no one paid him much attention. It was easy not to when Seungkwan and Soonyoung were bickering all the time, or when Seokmin was singing constantly, or when Chan was pestering Jeonghan about something. Vernon just fell through the cracks.

And that was alright. He was happy with himself. He’d stopped stealing food and he weighed less now than he had in a while. That was good. That was really good.

Right?

—

Dance practice, yet again. Vernon used to love the long days in the practice room, despite all the exhaustion and stress. More recently, though, he’d been finding it harder to keep up. His memory of previous rehearsals was foggy, and he required far more review than he’d liked. It had become a habit now to record himself at the end of each practice so he could rewatch it before the next one. Anything to keep the moves fresh in his mind.

But that wasn’t all. He was getting tired more quickly. His legs gave out faster. His hands couldn’t hit the delicate motions with the required precision. With every day that passed, he felt more and more eyes on him, watching in silence as he stepped out of the formation to grab another swig of cherry-red flavored water.

No one said anything, though. So he tugged his sleeves over his hands and kept dancing.

—

“Why do you keep it so cold in here, hyung?” Vernon asked absently one day, sitting with his notebook in Jihoon’s studio.

Jihoon frowned. “It’s really hot in here. Are you alright?”

“Huh?” Vernon glanced up, suddenly very aware of his thick hoodie and jeans and Jihoon’s t-shirt and shorts. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. I was… making a joke. Trying to, I guess.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Jihoon turned back to his computer, but he was still frowning.

Vernon locked his eyes on his notebook. The cold chilled him from within.

—

“Let’s eat out tonight,” Soonyoung suggested brightly as they left the Going Seventeen set. “All thirteen of us. It’s been a while!”

“Good idea,” Mingyu agreed, the others all overlapping. Vernon didn’t add anything, but then again, he usually didn’t say much. He just plodded along, hands in his pockets, as the rest of the group decided on a restaurant.

He didn’t say much once they got there, either. He just sat with some level of dull curiosity, watching Seokmin stuff his mouth with rice and seaweed. He could feel hunger boiling in the pit of his stomach. But it didn’t bother him as much as it used to. In fact, he almost enjoyed it, maybe? At any rate, the thought of putting any of this food in his mouth was almost enough to make him sick. Even just the smell was overwhelming.

“Whoa, this is so good,” Seungkwan said, shaking his head. Vernon just nodded. He hadn’t even reached for his chopsticks.

“There’s so much food, I don’t think we can finish it,” Minghao said with a little laugh, but Jihoon waved his chopsticks dismissively.

“Nah, Vernon will eat everything once we’re done. Little pigeon.”

A sudden burn tore across his cheeks. “Actually, hyung,” he blurted before he could stop himself, “I’m not – not super hungry today.”

Immediately at least seven pairs of eyes landed on him.

“Vernon? Not hungry?” Jeonghan raised his eyebrows. Vernon forced himself to keep his chin up.

“Yeah, I ate before the shoot,” he lied.

“That was at least six hours ago, Vernon,” Wonwoo said slowly. “You should eat.”

He shrugged as casually as he could. “Maybe later, hyung. I’m just not hungry right now, alright?” But now everyone was looking at him. “I’m fine,” he insisted, meeting each member’s eyes one by one until they all returned to their food.

Slowly the chatter returned, but Vernon was painfully aware of the attention he suffered the rest of the night. No one spoke directly to him – Chan even asked Wonwoo to pass him a dish, even though it sat right in front of Vernon – but the attention was there nonetheless. It was suffocating, and when finally the bickering about the bill was over and the charge was settled, he was more than glad to escape into the cool night air outside.

And then, of course, they shuffled right into cars. Vernon headed for one of the two window seats in the middle, intending to sit alone, but a hand caught his elbow.

Seungcheol.

“Vernon-ah, sit with me in the back, hm?”

He steered Vernon into the back corner of the car. Vernon couldn’t very well refuse, not with the leader’s pressure on his arm, but his stomach churned. The pang of hunger didn’t feel so good anymore.

Seungcheol took up a lot of space. Not in a bad way, just by the nature of his height and muscle. And when Mingyu joined them in the back, folding himself into the corner with bags of takeout containers, Vernon felt suddenly so, so small.

The chill of the window drove Vernon into his leader’s warmth. Seungcheol put an arm around his shoulders, equal parts gentle and firm, and some part of Vernon’s mind took the night off. He felt foggy. Not tired, but foggy. He hadn’t eaten before the shoot, of course he hadn’t; he’d had a lot of water, though. But he hadn’t had any during dinner. When had he last eaten? He couldn’t remember. Yesterday? It must have been, but… what was yesterday? What happened yesterday? He couldn’t remember. Everything was foggy…

And somewhere in there, his head dropped onto Seungcheol’s chest, and he lost consciousness.

—

“Vernon-ah, we’re home. Wake up.”

Huh?

“Vernonie, come on.”

The words dragged him up, out of the darkness, and slowly he blinked awake. Everything hurt. His head pounded. The world sparkled and flashed before his eyes.

And his stomach.

Oh, his stomach. It burned.

“Hyung?” he whispered. It was all he could do to keep his voice from cracking. He couldn’t see. Everything blurred, swirled, blinded him. What was this under his hands? He curled his fingers – fabric. Someone’s shirt.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Seungcheol. Seungcheol’s shirt. “You fell asleep as soon as we got in the car. But we’re home now, alright?”

Vernon still couldn’t see. “Morning?”

“No, no, it’s almost 11,” Seungcheol assured. “Still nighttime. I was kidding.”

“Oh…”

“Let’s get you in bed, huh? You seem exhausted. Here.”

Strong arms lifted Vernon up, and with a series of small grunts, he felt himself being carried out of what must be the car. The cold air stung his bare cheeks like ice, and he trembled at the chill which stole through his body.

“Poor thing,” Seungcheol murmured, holding him tighter. “We’ll get you in bed soon. But listen to me, okay? Mingyu’s going to put all the leftovers in the fridge, and your name is on all those boxes. Okay? You better eat some of it for breakfast tomorrow.”

Vernon’s stomach rolled at the thought of food. He couldn’t tell if he liked it or not anymore. He shoved his face into Seungcheol’s chest.

“Vernon? Did you hear me?” His voice vibrated against Vernon’s cheek. He nodded slowly. “And do you promise to eat some leftovers for breakfast?”

Vernon hesitated. Then he nodded.

He lied.

“Okay, good. Thank you.”

The cold air gave way to something warm and familiar. They must be inside the house. Vernon’s head still pounded, but the fireworks in his eyes might have lessened…? He cracked one eye open.

He caught a glimpse of Jeonghan’s worried face before stars exploded again, and he burrowed into Seungcheol once more.

Hushed voices echoed, seeming to bounce around him – “Hansollie?” “What’s wrong?” “Is he asleep?” “He looks so small.” “That’s cause Coups-hyung is so big!”

A sudden shame washed over Vernon as he finally processed where he was. He was in Seungcheol’s arms, not just being held, but being carried through the house. Past everyone. Past all of his hyungs. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been held like this, much less paraded to his bedroom.

But when Seungcheol set him down on a mattress, it wasn’t the one he’d expected. Softer, more expensive sheets touched his cheek, and a familiar, husky cologne. The same one Seungcheol wore.

“Hyung,” he started, trying to open his eyes, but Seungcheol shushed him.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight, Hansol. Don’t argue. Can you change yourself, or do you want my help?”

Vernon forced his eyes open, sitting up and gritting his teeth as the world exploded. Don’t show it. Please, don’t show it. “I can change. I’m fine.”

“Mhm. Okay. Here.” He held out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. They definitely weren’t Vernon’s. They were Seungcheol’s, he realized as he took them. Oh. He became suddenly aware of the air on his feet, realizing that someone had taken off his shoes for him. Oh…

“I’ll…” Vernon gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

The short walk to the bathroom felt like a long walk of shame. The stars had started to fade, but the light still seemed so painfully bright, and Vernon had to fight for each step. His whole body ached. But finally he closed the door behind him, shut away Seungcheol’s intense stare, and nearly collapsed on the counter.

A nightlight was on – just enough to see by, but not quite enough to make his head pound. Finally he forced his feet to hold his weight again, and he tugged off his beanie, his hoodie, and his shirt. Then his jeans and socks.

Then he saw himself in the mirror.

His heart skipped a beat. He was skinny. Too skinny? His collarbones stuck out. Too much? His stomach was flat. Or was it caving in?

“Hansol?” Seungcheol called, and he desperately shoved the t-shirt and shorts on, fingers fumbling at every step.

“Coming, hyung,” he whispered. He couldn’t make himself any louder. He had to tighten the drawstring on the shorts a frustrating amount just to get them to stay on his tiny, bony hips. He didn’t have the energy to fold his old clothes, but he tried to shove them into a cohesive pile on the ground.

Finally he opened the door. Seungcheol’s shoulders dropped in visible relief as he beckoned Vernon over to the bed. The lights were off, at least, so Vernon managed to make it there without too much trouble.

“I’m fine, hyung,” he tried one more time, but Seungcheol shook his head.

“Sure, you are. Regardless, I want you to sleep with me tonight.”

“…I’ll get all sweaty.”

“I know. We’ll shower in the morning.”

Vernon sighed, out of excuses and energy. Seungcheol held the blankets open, and he crawled in, facing the wall.

The bed was comfy. So comfy. Seungcheol slipped under the covers behind him, and Vernon could have gone to sleep right then and there.

Then Seungcheol’s arm curled over his stomach, pulling Vernon against his chest, and a million things exploded at once.

Warmth. Fear. Comfort. Anxiety. Embarrassment. Exhaustion.

Tears.

Seungcheol’s nose grazed the back of Vernon’s neck. “Relax, Sollie,” he murmured. “Just sleep. You can worry in the morning.”

Vernon lay still and silent as he willed the tears away. Thankfully, only one fell, and the rest faded.

His head still throbbed. His body ached. And even with Seungcheol’s warmth and two blankets and all of it, he still almost trembled with cold.

Seungcheol’s thumb traced slow circles over his chest, right where his rib cage met his stomach. “Sleep,” he breathed, warm and low. “Just sleep. You’re alright.”

Somehow, Vernon did manage to fall asleep.

—

His eyes snapped open at some unearthly hour. Heavy arms curled around him, pinning him in place, and warmth blanketed him.

But his bones were cold. His head pounded.

And his stomach growled.

It wasn’t nice anymore. He didn’t like it. It didn’t feel good. It just hurt.

Dazedly he remembered the leftovers Seungcheol had mentioned. Food. I need food, he realized through the fog. Slowly, sluggishly, he wiggled away, out of Seungcheol’s arms, grimacing at the pain spearing his stomach. But he made it, almost tumbling onto the floor but catching himself and pausing.

Seungcheol snored softly.

Vernon dragged himself to his feet and slipped out of the room.

The hall was dark. He hugged the wall, half for direction and half for support, bare feet padding on the cold wood floor.

The kitchen felt ages away, but he finally made it. He grabbed the fridge door and yanked it open.

Light and stars exploded in his brain, and he gasped, flinching away, screwing his eyes shut. His pulse thundered in his ears.

But then the pain in his stomach overcame the pain in his head, and he reached for the stacks of leftovers with a sob.

Handful after handful of food disappeared into his mouth. He didn’t even bother with chopsticks. He grabbed at rice and beef and kimchi, hating the feeling of food on his hands but hating the stabbing in his gut even more.

One container empty. He moved onto the next one. Hot tears burned their way down his cheeks, salting the noodles he chewed too little and swallowed too much.

It didn’t take long before the pain in his stomach ceased.

But his hands didn’t stop. They couldn’t. He could almost feel his stomach stretching, and it made him sick to think of the numbers on the scale climbing with every bite. But he couldn’t stop. The pain returned, not stabbing anymore but screaming, dull and vivid and awful all at once.

But he couldn’t stop.

“Hansol?”

He choked. Coughed. Tried to breathe, but nothing came.

“Hansol!” Footsteps scrambled, then a heavy blow landed on his back. He coughed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Tears blurred his eyes. Strong arms wrapped around his stomach – “I’m sorry, Sol” – and then they tugged and he coughed and air filled his lungs and Vernon collapsed, trembling, into Seungcheol’s chest.

“Hyung,” he whispered. His voice scraped at his throat. He felt heavy. He felt sick.

“I’m here, Sollie.” And he was. Seungcheol hugged him close, rested his cheek on Vernon’s head, rocked him slowly back and forth.

Vernon cried. He clung to Seungcheol, unaware of the food on his hands or the tremors wracking his body, and cried into his chest – huge, heaving sobs that grated on Seungcheol’s ears and soaked his shirt clean through.

Seungcheol held him tightly, whispering “I’m here” over and over and over. What else could he say, when one of his youngest brothers lay a sobbing mess in his arms, covered in food and surrounded by half-eaten leftovers?

When he could feel every bone in Vernon’s body?

Finally Seungcheol asked. Not the big question, but a safer one. “What were you doing up, Sol?”

Vernon sniffled. Hid his face in Seungcheol’s neck. He was cold. So cold. “Eating,” he whispered, and the shame dripping from the word hit Seungcheol like a slap to the face.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, so, so carefully.

The small boy in his arms fell completely, scarily still.

“Sol?” Seungcheol prompted, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

“…It’s not supposed to be,” Vernon said, so quiet that Seungcheol could barely hear.

“But you feel like it is?”

Vernon seemed to shrink. “It is,” he whispered.

Seungcheol closed his eyes. This wasn’t the first time one of them had struggled with food – hell, it was almost expected in their line of work – but this was the first time he could feel someone’s ribs. “How long?” he asked, in as measured a tone as he could muster.

“I… I dunno. I don’t remember things anymore.”

“What?”

“I mean, now, stuff is just… a blur. I don’t… remember.”

“Do you remember when you stopped eating, though? How long ago it was?”

Vernon shrugged, a bony little shoulder jutting into Seungcheol’s chest. “…Months?”

The word punched Seungcheol in the gut. “Why?” he whispered, hugging Vernon’s tiny body closer. “What started it?”

Vernon squirmed in his grasp, but only for a moment before he fell limp again. “Pigeon,” he said, almost spat, and this punch hurt worse than the last.

“Oh, Sol, no,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “Please, no. We were joking. None of us were ever annoyed with you.”

“It felt like it.”

“We weren’t. Not really. Besides, that didn’t mean you had to stop eating altogether, did it? Did you really… was that all?”

Vernon shrugged again. Shifted. “For a bit. Then I…”

“Then you what?” Seungcheol prompted when the boy fell silent.

“Then I… saw the numbers. Shrinking. And I, I dunno, it was fun to count.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes. They should ban bathroom scales. And Mingyu’s food scale. All of the scales. Permanently. “So you stopped eating.”

A tiny nod. “And…”

And? There’s more?

“…I liked it.”

“Liked what, Sollie?”

He squirmed again, curling in on himself. “Liked… the feeling. Of my stomach. Being empty. I know it’s weird, I’m sorry, I just – I don’t know, it was – it felt – I don’t know. I don’t know!”

“Shh,” Seungcheol whispered, cupping Vernon’s head and cradling him close. “Shh. It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.” He brushed the boy’s bangs out of his face, careful. “Is that it?”

Vernon nodded, eyes downcast. Seungcheol exhaled.

“Okay. Thank you. And…” He hesitated. “What happened tonight?”

A broken sound erupted from Vernon’s mouth, something between a moan and a cry, and he hid in Seungcheol’s chest again, his trembling returning.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, voice raw and shaky. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Everything just, it all hurts, so much. I started and I couldn’t stop, and it, it got so scary – and then I couldn’t –” He sobbed again, hot tears burning through Seungcheol’s shirt, hiccuping breaths growing ever faster. “I couldn’t – I couldn’t breathe, hyung!”

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. You’re safe now, okay?” Seungcheol rubbed Vernon’s back, trying to help him straighten up even a bit. “You can breathe now. Slow and steady with me. Alright? In… out… in… out…”

Eventually, Vernon’s shuddering breaths slowed. He lay limp in Seungcheol’s arms again, tears glistening on his cheeks, while Seungcheol’s chest ached.

“I thought you felt lighter earlier,” he whispered into Vernon’s hair. “I should’ve asked you about it before I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay, hyung,” Vernon mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s okay.” Seungcheol closed his eyes. What do I even do now? How do I fix this?

“…Hyung?”

“Yes?” His eyes snapped open immediately. Vernon was staring at his hands. They were covered in bits of rice and the sticky residue of sauce.

“Can I… wash my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Here, let hyung help you.” Seungcheol gently helped Vernon to his feet, half carrying him, careful not to step on any of the takeout containers or spilled food, then guided him to the sink and kept a firm grasp on Vernon’s waist as the younger carefully washed his hands. Seungcheol couldn’t help but stare at Vernon’s arms. He’d always been lean, not very interested in bulking up the way Seungcheol and Mingyu did, but he wasn’t just lean anymore. He was skinny. Almost skin and bones.

Vernon turned the water off, and Seungcheol dragged his eyes back to Vernon’s face. Even his cheeks were more hollowed than they used to be, less soft and chubby. Seungcheol forced himself to smile, even just a little, to give the younger boy some semblance of comfort.

“Good job, Sol.” His voice didn’t crack. “Can you wait here while I clean up the floor?”

The boy’s ears reddened. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but Seungcheol shook his head.

“No more apologies tonight. I’m the one who didn’t notice this until now. Wait here.” And he hoisted Vernon onto the counter, making sure he was steady before he turned his attention to the leftovers. He picked up a few empty containers, brow furrowing. He remembered filling each container to the brim. How much had Vernon eaten?

He threw away the empty containers.

“Do you think you’ll want this later?” he asked, gesturing to the two unfinished containers, but Vernon shook his head, looking suddenly queasy.

“No,” he said, his eyes almost begging, and Seungcheol nodded quickly.

“Alright. I’ll just –”

“Toss it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Seungcheol glanced at him again and forgot to breathe for a moment.

Vernon sat there, looking so utterly small and exhausted and defeated. His hair, sweaty and messy, dangled in his eyes. His chin fell close to his chest. The t-shirt Seungcheol had given him hung from his shoulders, almost swallowing him, speckled with remnants of food. His collarbones stuck out, sharp and fragile. His elbows and knees seemed strangely large when compared with the stick-like thinness of his arms and legs.

“…Alright. Yeah. I’ll toss it.”

It took everything in him to focus on wiping the floor. Finally, he finished, rinsing his hands and drying them on his shirt. Only then did he give in, just for a moment, moving between Vernon’s legs and hugging him close, burying his face in Vernon’s chest. A frustrated scream tugged at his lips, but he swallowed it and pulled back, doing his best to smile up into Vernon’s glazed eyes.

“Let’s get you changed and in bed again, yeah?” he managed, helping Vernon off the counter. But the boy’s legs buckled as soon as they hit the floor, and Seungcheol swept him into his arms again, throat closing at the pain etched over Vernon’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he started back towards his bedroom. “Almost there.”

He set Vernon down on the edge of his bed, careful not to wake Wonwoo on the other side of the room, and dug out yet another pair of t-shirts from his drawers. He swapped his own quickly, tossing the dirty one in a corner for tomorrow Seungcheol to worry about, then turned to Vernon.

“Can I?” he asked. Vernon nodded, and Seungcheol stepped closer, gently taking the hem of the shirt and pulling it over the boy’s head. Vernon raised his arms in compliance and let them fall again as Seungcheol tossed the shirt on top of the other.

As Seungcheol turned back, new shirt in hand, he paused.

Vernon was frowning down at himself, a hand hovering over his stomach. His ribs were terrifyingly apparent, but at least there was a little softness to his stomach, Seungcheol thought with some relief.

But…

“What’s wrong?” he whispered. Vernon didn’t look up. “Sollie?”

Vernon shook his head, gingerly tapping his stomach. His face screwed up.

“Sollie, what is it?” Seungcheol knelt beside the bed.

“This…” He wrinkled his nose as he touched his stomach. “Wasn’t… like this.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It was smaller,” Vernon said slowly. His shoulders curled in. “When I went to sleep. Before I… ate. It was smaller.”

Something twisted inside Seungcheol’s chest. “You’re just bloated, Sollie,” he whispered, gently squeezing his knee. “That’s all.”

Vernon didn’t look convinced. He poked at his stomach, then winced.

“It hurts, hyung,” he pleaded. “Make it stop?”

Seungcheol wanted to scream. “I wish I could, Sollie,” he sighed, standing slowly. “Sleep is the best I can do for tonight. But tomorrow we can figure out how to fix it. All of it. Alright? Is that okay?”

The uncertain hesitation on Vernon’s face could have killed him. “Okay,” he whispered, and Seungcheol pulled him into a tight hug. Vernon began to shake again. His bare skin was worryingly cold. Slowly his hands came up around Seungcheol’s waist, first resting hesitantly, but then clinging to the back of his shirt with a sudden, wild desperation.

“Help,” he begged, his voice suddenly wrecked with tears. “Hyungie, help me. Please. I hate it. So much. It hurts, and I – I know I messed up, hyung,” he sobbed, fingers digging into Seungcheol’s back. Seungcheol just closed his eyes and held him, not trusting his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

He dissolved into tears, hanging onto Seungcheol like a lifeline.

It took a long time, but Seungcheol eventually coaxed Vernon into his shirt and back under the covers. And eventually Vernon’s trembling sobs subsided. Eventually, he succumbed to quiet, unconscious sleep. Seungcheol had a harder time, every slight movement reminding him how thin the boy in his arms was, but he managed at least an hour or two of sleep that night.

—

Vernon sat, staring at his hands where they twisted in his lap, his hoodie drawn up around his face. The rest of the living room watched him with a thick mix of anxiety, concern, and worry. Seungcheol stood behind him with folded arms.

“You can just say it, Vernon,” Joshua said softly. “Whatever it is. We’re a safe place.”

“It’s… hard.”

“Would it be easier to show them?” Seungcheol murmured, touching Vernon’s shoulder. He shifted uncomfortably.

“As long as you guys don’t… freak out,” he mumbled.

“Ya, we’re professionals,” Soonyoung said lightly. “We don’t freak out!”

“Shut up, hyung, you’re a professional at freaking out.” Seungkwan swatted him.

“Hey! Like you aren’t!” And Soonyoung swatted back.

“Both of you, be quiet,” Seungcheol ordered, but they were already bickering, poking at each other. Chan tried to step in, but that just made it worse, and Seungcheol rounded the couch to get at them as the chaos heightened.

“Hyung! Make him stop, he –”

“Hey, you started it, you little –”

“SHUT UP.”

Jihoon didn’t raise his voice often. Not like that. The fight stopped in its tracks, and everyone turned to where Jihoon’s attention was drawn.

To Vernon.

He’d pulled off his hoodie, leaving just a tank top that had fit perfectly just a few short months ago. Today, it looked at least three sizes too big.

Everything was suddenly very, very obvious.

“Oh,” Seungkwan whispered softly, bringing a hand to his mouth. Vernon didn’t look up, his chin pressed to his chest, his breathing labored. Seungcheol returned to his side and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the boy’s back. (He could feel Vernon’s spine.)

“That explains a lot,” Jeonghan said, crossing his arms. “Like why you didn’t eat last night.”

Vernon winced. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Wonwoo’s voice rang low and quiet. Vernon shifted his shoulders.

“Don’t mention… food. Right now. Please.” He’d all but freaked out when he woke up in the morning and his stomach still wasn’t as flat as he remembered. Seungcheol had spent a solid fifteen minutes talking him down, making him repeat over and over again that it’s healthy to have a little softness on my body, but he knew that Vernon was far from all the way there. He squeezed the boy’s shoulder.

“Alright, Sollie, we won’t,” Junhui said gently.

A quiet moment passed.

“Why?” Jihoon asked then, and all eyes turned to him. “Why did you feel the need to, y’know… starve yourself?”

Vernon swallowed. Seungcheol watched him. “I just… didn’t want to steal your food anymore. I know you guys didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t mind,” Mingyu said, cocking his head. But he shriveled at the empty look Vernon gave him.

“You yelled at me for eating your ramen,” he said, nearly monotone.

Mingyu paled. “I was kidding,” he mumbled, but Seungcheol could see that he knew it was no solid defense. He looked stricken, almost sick. “I didn’t… mean it.”

“We have been joking about it a lot,” Chan said quietly, shoulders curled in. He stole a small glance at Vernon, then dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Me, too,” Seungkwan added. The room filled with echoes, the other members promising the same, and then everything petered out to a still, strange silence.

Vernon slipped his hoodie back on.

“How can we help?” Minghao asked. Simple.

Vernon fidgeted for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just… help.”

“I have a couple ideas, if that’s okay?” Seungcheol waited for Vernon’s small nod before he sat down beside him. Vernon’s hand crept into his, squeezing hard, and he acknowledged it with a firm grasp as he turned to the members. “I vote we get rid of scales. Or at least limit them. They’re not healthy for any of us, really.”

He looked around. Everyone nodded, some more slowly than others, but that hesitation was exactly the reason he wanted the scales gone. This couldn’t happen again, to any of them.

“Alright. Good. Next, what do you think about making group meals regular again? Instead of everyone making their own stuff every day, we try to sit down and eat together. As often as we can manage. Would that help, Vernon? Having food already made?”

Vernon stared at his hand, squeezing Seungcheol’s to death. Then he nodded.

“Great. And is it okay if we check in on you throughout the day? To make sure you’ve eaten?”

Another nod.

“And can you promise to be honest with us?”

This time he hesitated. His knuckles shone white. Seungcheol could barely feel his hand anymore.

“Vernon,” he prompted, a hint of warning in his voice. “Can you promise to be honest?”

“Yes, hyung.” The words fell with a crumbling sort of sound, quiet and broken. Seungcheol leaned in and pressed a small kiss to Vernon’s hair.

“Thank you,” he breathed. Vernon made a little noise in response.

“So, no scales, group meals, and regular check-ins,” Jihoon summarized. Seungcheol nodded. “Alright. Sounds good to me.”

“We’re here for you, Sollie,” Jeonghan said softly, reaching to place a hand on Vernon’s knee. “It’s okay. We’ll help you through this. You’re not alone.”

Vernon crumbled.

—

The first day was loud. Not in volume, but in attention. Food kept appearing on his plate, and eyes tracked every bite he took. He barely ate anything, and quiet questions followed him the rest of the day. Snacks appeared on his bed. Mugs of tea were delivered to the couch where he sat. It was suffocating. He went to bed early.

The second day was… weird. Seungkwan walked in on Vernon getting dressed and blanched, staring at his stomach, as if he’d forgotten what had happened yesterday. Vernon almost broke down right there, his hands trembling so much that he couldn’t pull his shirt on, and Seungkwan backed out of the room. His footsteps hurried away down the hallway, and Vernon’s cheeks burned with shame.

Jihoon found him there, a few minutes later, a shivering pile on the floor. “Oh, Hansol,” he sighed, but with more care than pity as he unfolded the boy’s arms with warm hands. “It’s alright.” He helped Vernon into his shirt without another word, then sat next to him with an arm around his shoulder until the tremors ceased. Then he guided him downstairs, sat him on the kitchen counter, and made a portion and a half of fried rice. Vernon ate as much of the half portion as he could, which wasn’t much, but Jihoon smiled at him and it gave him the strength to keep it down.

The third day was dance practice. Vernon cloaked himself in sweats and a hoodie and a beanie, but he felt the eyes on him the entire time. Every time he stumbled, even if it was a genuine mistake and not just his knees giving out, hands surged to help him. He’d managed to eat a few bites of meat beforehand. Nothing else, though. He was lightheaded by the time they took a break, grabbing onto Mingyu’s sleeve as the world spun from just reaching for his water bottle. Mingyu, eyes wide in panic and concern, helped him sit down, and then fussed over him for ten minutes, until finally Minghao shooed him away and just sat beside Vernon, quiet but comforting, until the break was over.

They rotated through the showers after rehearsal, but all ended up back in the kitchen. Junhui beckoned Vernon over to the stove, talking to him as he cooked, and Vernon found himself focusing on his hyung more than the thick aroma of spiced meat.

Soonyoung swung by at some point, hoisting Vernon up and onto the counter with a playful smile. Vernon wrinkled his nose, but didn’t really mind, kicking his feet and continuing his conversation with Junhui (if Junhui’s constant chatter could be labeled a conversation). He offered Vernon a taste of the dish at one point, and Vernon accepted without thinking about it until the meat was already in his stomach.

Junhui’s smile was definitely a little triumphant, but Vernon didn’t mind.

—

The first relapse happened after only a week. He woke up late and had to hurry to get ready, and in the scramble to get out the door, he skipped breakfast. It wasn’t intentional, but no one noticed, and Vernon didn’t think twice about it.

But then the makeup artist commented on his crisp jawline and collarbones, praising them. He smiled, tracing their shape with his eyes in the mirror. They did look good, didn’t they? Sharper than I remember, she said, something in her voice impressed and proud.

And then during the interview, his stomach began to rumble. He glanced around to make sure that no one heard, but he was in the back, and the air conditioning was running. The interviewer was asking questions. He was safe.

Rumble. Grumble. The empty feeling returned, his stomach chewing at itself, and a little of the weight on Vernon’s shoulders shifted. It felt good again, this emptiness, this hunger. Maybe it fed his pride in tandem with the compliment to his jawline – yeah, I’m doing well. I’m thin, and it looks good, and this is proof of it. Yeah. This is good.

No one noticed until they were changing back into their street clothes, when his stomach growled. Loud enough that Joshua and Seokmin looked over, eyes wide.

“Vernon,” Joshua said slowly, “what have you had to eat today?”

Vernon opened his mouth, but as nothing and I ate breakfast clashed in his throat, he couldn’t answer. He swallowed instead, shrinking as Joshua’s watchful eyes filled with disappointment. “She said I looked good,” he whispered in some semblance of an excuse.

The disappointment mingled with anger, just for a moment.

“Vernonie,” Seokmin sighed, pulling him into a hug. Vernon closed his eyes and hugged back. “Let’s get changed, and then we’re getting whatever you want for lunch, alright?” Vernon nodded into his shoulder as Joshua’s hand cupped the back of his head.

They got McDonald’s after that. Dumb, but the first place Vernon could think of. Seokmin suggested eating inside, but Joshua vetoed it after seeing the hesitation written across Vernon’s face, so they ate in the car on the way back home.

Vernon ate his thin little burger. Then his fries. Then the chicken nugget Seokmin offered him. Then another. His stomach had stopped growling long ago, and he ate no longer from hunger, but from a quiet desire to appease, to live up to whatever his hyungs were expecting from him.

He barely made it into the bathroom at home before he vomited.

“Hyung!” he heard distantly, but blood rushed in his ears as he bent over the toilet, trembling. Another wave of discomfort hit his stomach. He gagged.

A hand brushed his shoulder, sending a tremor through his body.

“Hyung, are you alright?!” It was Chan, voice panicked, trying to rub shaky circles on his back. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Vernon just moaned, pressing his hands to his stomach. He could feel it, round and taunting, even beneath his bulky hoodie. His shoulders shook.

“Hyung, please – HYUNGS! VERNON’S SICK!” Chan cried. Vernon flinched at the noise, then his stomach rolled, and another wave of lunch pushed its way back up his throat.

Footsteps echoed, and then gentle hands pushed his hair out of his eyes, wiped his mouth, squeezed his hands. He couldn’t tell who. He didn’t want to know. He squeezed his eyes shut, only realizing he was crying when careful fingers brushed away his tears.

“Shh, Nonie, it’s okay,” Jeonghan’s gentle voice soothed, cold fingers caressing his cheeks. “Are you all done? Or is there more?”

But Vernon shook his head, leaning back into the warmth of whoever was behind him. Seungkwan, he realized, as the singer brushed at his hair. “I’m done,” he whispered, voice shaking. His mouth tasted horrid. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, Nonie,” Jeonghan scolded lightly. “You’re sure you’re done?” He nodded, limp. “Okay, lovely. I’m going to help you brush your teeth, then, okay? Let’s get that yucky taste out of your mouth.”

“Don’ wanna move,” he mumbled.

“I know, honey, but Seungkwan and Chan can help you stand, okay? You just have to lean on them. It’ll be okay.”

Lean on them. That didn’t seem so hard. So Vernon nodded, another tear escaping, and let himself be manhandled to his feet.

It was almost embarrassing, the ease with which they kept him standing. He could barely feel his own weight. He hung his head, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

“Open,” Jeonghan said with a gentle tap of the toothbrush on Vernon’s lips. He obediently dropped his jaw into Jeonghan’s waiting hand. “Thank you. Now just relax, okay? I’ll do all the work.”

The full shame and embarrassment hit the second time Jeonghan had him spit into the sink. He was a full adult man, and here he was, being held up by his brothers while his hyung brushed his teeth for him.

Another tear slipped out as Jeonghan guided a cup of water to his lips.

“Don’t drink, just rinse and spit,” he instructed, and Vernon obeyed. Jeonghan wiped the lone tear away. “You’re doing so well, Vernonie, so well,” he praised, and Vernon’s ears burned. A folded piece of toilet paper wiped the spit from his lips. “Do you need a bath? Would that help?”

He shook his head quickly. He didn’t want to look at his horrible body for longer than he had to. His horrible, skinny, pudgy, twiggy, bloated body –

“Okay, okay, no bath,” Jeonghan soothed, fingers carding through Vernon’s hair. He breathed out and leaned into the touch with a tiny shudder. “How about a change of clothes, then? Is there something that would be more comfy?”

Vernon shook his head again.

“Okay, got it. What would help, then?” Jeonghan’s palm smoothed over his forehead, gently tilting his head back, and Vernon let himself rest on Chan’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed at the long fingers combing through his hair. “Anything?”

He searched his thoughts for the right answer – or any answer, really – but he couldn’t think. The hands on his waist, his shoulders, were becoming ever more apparent to him. At least his mouth tasted more like mint than vomit now. A shudder tore down his spine, and Seungkwan shifted, pressing his cheek to Vernon’s shoulder.

“What’re you thinking, Vernonie?” Jeonghan whispered, but Vernon still didn’t have an answer. He just shook his head, infinitesimal but there, as his hands trembled against the counter. “Okay, that’s alright, shh,” Jeonghan soothed. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Just so we’re out of the bathroom. Is that okay?”

He nodded, and Seungkwan and Jeonghan fell away as Chan lifted him easily. So easily. Vernon’s cheeks burned with shame as he turned into the maknae’s chest, hiding from everything.

They set him on his bed, back against the headboard, pillows behind him and a blanket draped over him like a soft cocoon. And it helped, a bit; helped stay the feverish cold and hide the horrible thinness of his body. For a fleeting moment, he felt normal.

Then he looked up into his brothers’ watchful, worried eyes.

“Are you really sick, or is it something… else?” Seungkwan asked tremulously. Vernon swallowed.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear,” he whispered, hollow. Chan looked away. “I promise it wasn’t. I just – I just –” He closed his eyes.

“Just what, Nonie?” Jeonghan brushed his shoulder. “It’s okay. We want to know.”

Vernon forced a breath. Then another. His stomach felt empty, but not painful, not even in the good way. Just… empty. Gone. “I just… ate too much.”

“And your stomach didn’t like it?”

He shook his head.

“What did you eat that was too much? Can you tell me?”

“A McDonald’s burger. Fries. A couple chicken nuggets. A lemonade.”

“That’s it?” Chan whispered in shock. Seungkwan shushed him, but Vernon heard, and he shrank into his blanket cocoon.

“Thank you for telling us, Vernonie,” Jeonghan said soothingly, fondling Vernon’s hair. It was comforting, he had to admit. “This is good, though, hm? We’ve found a limit. You can’t eat that much right now. That’s okay. We’ll work up to that, yeah?”

Vernon nodded into his blanket.

“Good,” Jeonghan hummed. “Now, what would help right now? A movie? A nap? What’re you thinking?”

He tried to think, but his thoughts were cloudy. Clogged. “I don’t know.”

“Mm, that’s okay. Do you want us to stay here? Or would you prefer we get one of the others?”

No leave you alone option, Vernon noted, but that was okay. He didn’t really want to be alone, anyway. He tried to think, sifting through the members in his mind.

“Coups,” he murmured at last, feeling a little bad at picking favorites, but none of the three seemed to mind.

“Alright, honey, we’ll get Seungcheol-hyung for you,” Jeonghan cooed. “Channie?”

“On it.” And Chan scampered out of the room. 

Jeonghan played with his hair. Seungkwan held his hand through the blanket. No one spoke. The footsteps in the hall came like rain after a drought, and Seungcheol’s concerned eyes peering around the doorframe seemed heaven-sent. Vernon swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I’ve got it,” Seungcheol whispered to Jeonghan, low, and he and Seungkwan departed with a kiss to the hair and a squeeze to the hand.

Seungkwan tugged the door shut behind him.

Seungcheol stood at the foot of Vernon’s bed for a moment, thick brows drawn together, hands in his pockets. “Channie told me you threw up,” he said, softly. “Are you okay?”

Vernon choked back a small cry, but his shoulders trembled. “I didn’t mean to,” he managed.

But Seungcheol shook his head. “That’s not what I asked, Sollie.” He came around the bed and leaned in, tapping Vernon’s chin until he lifted his head and their eyes met. “Are you okay?”

“Hyung,” he whispered, because that was all he could do.

And then Seungcheol was there, warm and big and everywhere, holding him tightly, pressing him close, and Vernon shuddered and sobbed and broke.

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol whispered into his hair, soft breaths feathering across Vernon’s forehead. “Hyung’s here. You’re alright. You’re okay. Hyung’s got you.”

Vernon cried for a while. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. He cried until he had no tears left to cry, but still he sat there, small in Seungcheol’s arms. And Seungcheol waited, silent except for the occasional reassurance, and it was good. It was right. It was what Vernon needed.

After a long silence, filled only with Seungcheol’s quiet breathing, he finally had the strength to speak. He explained everything – skipping breakfast, the makeup artist’s comments, his stomach growling in the way he liked, then Joshua and Seokmin noticing and taking him to McDonald’s; eating his burger and fries and lemonade and chicken nuggets in an attempt to do the right thing, and then barely making it to the bathroom before he threw it all up again.

Then more came out, too: his hatred of his body, too thick and too thin at the same time. His prickling shame at the way he had to be held on his feet, at how Jeonghan had brushed his teeth for him, at how easily Chan picked him up and carried him out. How he couldn’t think anymore, his mind clouded and his stomach empty, and how he hated it, hated it, hated it –

The words drained him again, and he collapsed against Seungcheol’s chest, miserable and worn out.

Seungcheol just rubbed his back. His heartbeat pulsed against Vernon’s cheek, slow and comforting, and his steady breathing – the rise and fall of his chest – soon beckoned Vernon into the same pattern. His throat stopped burning.

“Thank you for telling me,” Seungcheol said at last, the low timbre of his voice vibrating under his skin. Vernon’s eyes fell shut. “I won’t hide that I’m upset. But I’m not mad,” he added quickly. “Just sad to see you hurting. It hurts me, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’d only hurt less if I didn’t care for you so much.”

A small blossom of warmth flowered beside the guilt settled deep in Vernon’s chest.

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome, Sol.”

Seungcheol gently massaged the back of Vernon’s neck, humming a low, thoughtful note.

“Jeonghan-hyung said –” Vernon swallowed and took another breath. “Said I found a limit. For… for food.”

“Oh?”

“Like… now I know not to eat that much.”

Seungcheol nodded, chin touching the top of Vernon’s head. “Jeonghan’s very smart. But make sure you don’t think in amounts or calories, okay, Sol? Just eat until you’re satisfied, and that’s enough. Don’t restrain or push yourself.”

“Okay, hyung.”

“Mm.”

They sat like that for a while longer. Seungcheol’s phone rang, and Vernon moved to pull away, but Seungcheol held him in place with a strong but gentle hand at his nape and answered the call right there. It was his older brother, asking him something about their parents’ anniversary, and Seungcheol answered easily, carrying on the conversation in a low voice that resonated through his chest in calming, soporific vibrations. Vernon felt his eyes drifting shut.

He didn’t remember getting changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and he didn’t remember getting under the sheets, but he woke up like that hours later. Seungcheol lay next to him, typing on his phone, and he looked up with a soft smile as soon as Vernon noticed him.

—

It wasn’t exactly easier after that. But it wasn’t harder, either. Vernon heard that Seungcheol had sat down with Joshua and Seokmin, to scold them for pushing too much food on him, but he hoped that it was just a rumor. It really wasn’t their fault, he told himself. It was his, for eating too much.

He tried to eat until he was full. Most days, he couldn’t even eat that much without feeling sick. But he did try, and they seemed to understand. He’d push his plate back, after spending an hour forcing down five bites, and Jihoon would glance at him for confirmation before taking the plate and finishing whatever Vernon couldn’t. That, funnily enough, made him feel better. Almost normal. He had to stop Soonyoung from scolding Jihoon over it, though. But Soonyoung apologized, cradling Vernon’s cheeks with a small pout, and he flushed and brushed it off.

Vernon didn’t throw up again.

But it wasn’t the last time he scared them.

—

Vernon sat on the couch in the living room, headphones on, scrolling through his phone, something unsettled somewhere. He couldn’t figure out what.

“Hyung, you almost ready?” Mingyu called, his voice bleeding through the headphones. Vernon scrunched his nose and was about to turn up the volume when Mingyu stepped into the living room, and he faltered.

Mingyu was in a tank top and shorts, clearly heading out to the gym. That was fine. That was normal.

Vernon just… hadn’t seen him like this in a while.

He was big. Tall. Broad. Muscular. In a way that made Vernon feel horribly small and weak.

“Coming, coming,” Jihoon said, and then he stepped out, too, and Vernon could have sunk into the couch. Another tank top. And Jihoon, Jihoon who was always smaller than everyone else, who they all made fun of for his height, was big. Just like Mingyu. But smaller.

But still bigger than Vernon. Tiny, shriveled Vernon.

“Wait,” he blurted, tugging his headphones off as the pair moved towards the door. “Can I… come with you?”

They stopped, looking at him with some surprise.

“We’re going to the gym,” Mingyu said slowly. Vernon nodded, a pit in his stomach.

“I know. I wanna… I wanna work out. With you.”

“Sure,” Jihoon said after a beat. “You wanna change? We’ll wait.”

And so ten minutes later, Vernon was trailing behind his hyungs, in a t-shirt and sweats because he’d looked at himself in shorts and nearly punched the mirror. Mingyu quietly handed him a water bottle, and he took it, realizing he’d forgotten to grab his usual one.

Vernon was no stranger to the gym, of course, but as he stepped inside now, he realized that it had been months since he worked out properly. No matter. That was fine. He just needed to get back into it, he told himself, popping his headphones back on as he readied the treadmill. He needed to stop being a skinny twig.

Music blared in his ears as he started walking. He’d always hated running, but he could walk for hours if he wanted. He’d done it a couple times before, just jamming out to his music and walking on the treadmill.

But six songs into his walk, the room seemed to tilt. Quickly he stopped the treadmill, steadying himself until the world stood straight again. Okay, no more walking. Machines, then?

“Vernon?” Jihoon called as he stepped off the treadmill, and he looked up. “You alright?”

“Yeah, hyung, fine.” His smile must have been convincing enough, because Jihoon turned back to spotting Mingyu.

Vernon settled onto a machine that he liked but forgot the name of, setting the weight at his usual and gripping the handholds. He pulled forward, and his arms gave out almost as soon as he tried. The weight slammed back down with a CLANG. Mingyu and Jihoon glanced over, and he flashed a quick, desperate smile, hoping they wouldn’t question it. Thankfully they just returned to their weights, and he abandoned the machine.

Weighted squats. Or sumo squats, or dumbbell squats, or whatever they were called. That was simple. Super easy. That couldn’t possibly go wrong. He grabbed his regular dumbbell and set it on the ground, then readied his stance and bent to pick it up.

Up… down. One. Barely. Vernon sucked in a breath and pushed himself up again.

Up… down. Two. He set the dumbbell on the ground for a moment, breathing heavily. The bright light from the windows sparkled in his eyes. He reached for the weight again.

Up… down. Three. He had to set it down again. The world was trying to spin. He gritted his teeth. I can do this. One more.

One more.

Up…

Down. Hard. His fingers gave out, the dumbbell fell with a CLANG, and Vernon went with it, like a puppet without strings.

The world spun. Sparkling light and overwhelming dark played musical chairs. A song still blared in his ears, but it seemed muffled, faded – somewhere in the distance someone shouted something. His name? Maybe? He didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. Didn’t care.

Something tugged at his head, and the music disappeared, and suddenly shoes squeaked and people breathed and voices spoke and it was so, so bright –

“VERNON!” Mingyu’s voice broke through the din, loud and panicked.

Then the black took over.

—

“Call Seungcheol,” Jihoon ordered, willing his hands not to shake as he tried to lay Vernon flat on his back. Thankfully the weight Vernon was lifting hadn’t fallen on him, but still, he’d hit the floor and wasn’t responding. Did they need an ambulance? He pressed his thumb to the inside of Vernon’s small wrist, hovered his cheek over Vernon’s parted lips – yes, okay, a pulse and a breath. He was alive, at the very least.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Mingyu whispered at his phone, pacing as it rang – once, twice.

Jihoon dug out his phone, googling rapidly. Elevate legs. Loosen tight clothing. If they don’t wake up within a minute, contact emergency services. He scooted closer, lifting Vernon’s legs onto his lap and hoping it’d be enough.

“Hyung!” Mingyu cried, voice washed with relief, and a little of the weight lifted from Jihoon’s shoulders. “Hyung, come quick – the gym – Vernon –”

How long had it been? A minute? Longer? Jihoon tugged at the drawstring on Vernon’s sweatpants, untying it despite the fumbling in his fingers.

“Vernon?” he called, gently shaking the boy’s shoulder. “Vernon? Can you hear me?”

“He’s not moving,” Mingyu said into the phone, his voice uncharacteristically high. Jihoon gritted his teeth, abandoning Vernon’s legs to crouch over his face again.

“Chwe Hansol, if you don’t wake up right now, Seungcheol is going to kill me and then himself,” Jihoon hissed, brushing Vernon’s hair off his forehead and tapping his cheek. “Please just wake up. Please. Please.”

His voice cracked. He wasn’t proud of it – his voice never cracked – but he’d gladly admit to it time and time again now because Vernon’s eyes opened.

“Sol!” Jihoon cried, the tension rushing out of his body. “Oh, thank God – are you okay? What happened?”

“Is he awake?! Hyung’s on his way!” Mingyu crashed to his knees on Vernon’s other side. “Vernonie, what happened?!”

Vernon didn’t answer. He stared past them, dazed, squinting slowly and turning his head away.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mingyu asked, turning to Jihoon, who shook his head.

“I don’t – Vernon? Hansol? What’s wrong?” Jihoon bent over him, his shadow falling over the boy’s face, and then the squinting eyes relaxed, just a bit. “Oh,” Jihoon breathed. “It’s the light. That’s what it is.”

The door burst open as Seungcheol ran in, eyes wild and chest heaving.

“He’s awake,” Jihoon said quickly, before he could ask, “but the light’s bothering him. He hasn’t said anything.”

“Vernon? Vernon, can you hear me?” Seungcheol knelt beside Vernon’s head, adding his shadow to the mix. “Here –” He found Vernon’s hand. “Squeeze my hand twice if you can hear me.”

Jihoon watched as Vernon’s fingers twitched – once – twice – in Seungcheol’s.

“Okay,” Seungcheol breathed, but he still frowned. “Can you speak? Can you sit up? What hurts?”

“You can close your eyes, Sol, it’s okay,” Jihoon added gently. “You’re safe. You can trust us.”

Vernon’s eyes closed, and something a little closer to peace came over his face.

“There you go,” Seungcheol murmured, squeezing his hand. “Can you speak?”

Vernon opened his mouth – took a shaky breath. Then: “Hyung…”

“Hyung’s here, Nonie,” Seungcheol promised. “Hyung’s here. It’s gonna be okay. Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think he did, at least not hard,” Jihoon said when Vernon didn’t answer. “He was trying to do squats with a dumbbell, and he seemed like he was doing well enough, so I didn’t say anything. But then I looked away for two seconds, and he dropped the weight and just… fell.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol muttered. “Okay. Okay. So it’s probably not a concussion. What has he eaten today?” He glanced between them, but Jihoon had been holed up all day, and Mingyu didn’t seem to know either. “Probably not enough,” Seungcheol decided.

“I gave him a water bottle,” Mingyu said, voice small, and Seungcheol managed to smile at him.

“Good job.” He drew in a breath. “I’m going to carry him back home. If it’s not a concussion, it’s probably just the lack of food and the physical exertion. It’ll be fine if we move him.”

Jihoon just nodded and sat back, praying that Seungcheol was right as he hoisted the limp, frail boy into his arms.

“You guys clean up and follow me,” he said.

Vernon’s thin limbs dangled in the air as Seungcheol carried him away.

—

The soft couch was a welcome change from the cold floor, but the light still pierced Vernon’s eyes, sending stars exploding across his vision. Seungcheol must have noticed, because with a soft click the bright white light faded into darkness.

Panic seized him for a moment, thinking that he was fading again, but when his eyes adjusted and he saw the familiar living room around him, he relaxed.

A warm hand found his. Seungcheol, frowning, peering down at him.

“Vernon? Are you okay?”

The words seemed to come through water. He tried to nod, but his body wouldn’t move. He had no strength left. A lump rose in his throat.

“Vernon, have you eaten today?”

He tried to nod again – because he had, he’d eaten half a bowl of rice for breakfast, and half a banana after that – but his body wouldn’t obey. His breath hitched, then quickened, and the lump in his throat grew into tears that spilled out, shaking his whole body as they came.

“Hyung,” he whimpered. The noise he made barely sounded like the word, but Seungcheol understood. He always did. He pulled Vernon into his arms, holding him tightly, and Vernon sobbed because it was all he could do.

Vernon lost the world around him for a bit. He knew only Seungcheol’s arms, his thick cologne, the softness of his hoodie and the firmness of his shoulder as he cried on it.

He felt so useless. So, so useless. He did the best he could, eating like he was supposed to, he was genuinely trying and yet he couldn’t even lift a stupid weight. Couldn’t walk on the treadmill for twenty minutes without getting winded and dizzy.

What had he done to himself?

Slowly, Vernon grew aware of hushed voices buzzing around him. He found he had the strength to pull his head up, and immediately wished he hadn’t. At least four of his hyungs hovered around him, all staring and concerned, and he buried his face in Seungcheol’s shoulder again, choking back another sob.

“Vernon? Vernon, honey, you’ve gotta eat something,” Jeonghan’s soothing voice said as his fingers combed through Vernon’s hair. He inhaled sharply as Jeonghan hit a tangle, and Jeonghan rushed to apologize, petting his head instead. “But please, Nonie, you need to eat.”

“I did,” he mumbled into Seungcheol’s shoulder. “I had breakfast.”

“It’s almost two,” Seungcheol said quietly. “You need lunch. If you really can’t eat, at least drink some water. Yeah?”

“…Fine. Water.”

“Thank you,” Seungcheol murmured. “Head up?” Vernon obeyed, quickly finding the mouth of a water bottle against his. He sipped at it, then as the cool water hit his tongue, he realized how thirsty he was, and he gulped more and more until the bottle crinkled in the grasp of whoever held it.

“Thirsty. Wow.” Mingyu, Vernon realized distantly. He just wrinkled his nose in response, hiding once more in Seungcheol’s shoulder. Seungcheol’s heavy, warm hand stroked his back.

“Are you feeling any better now?” Seungcheol asked.

No. He felt bloated, waterlogged. He thought he could hear the water sloshing around inside him. He was like a camel. A skinny, weird, incapable camel with a water hump.

A twisted laugh-cry burst out of him. He dug his fingers into Seungcheol’s shirt. This was so stupid. He was acting like a child, and why? Because he’d fainted? Because he wasn’t good enough anymore?

“Vernon, are you feeling any better?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Okay. Can you try eating something, please? Just a little bit?”

The last time he’d fainted, he’d gone to bed on an empty stomach and had devoured several meals’ worth of leftovers, Vernon remembered with a queasy shame. As much as he hated it, a few bites now would be far better than… that.

“Fine,” he huffed again. “Just a bit.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Junhui insisted on spoon-feeding Vernon bites of chicken and rice. He ate obediently, for a bit, but then the weight started to settle in his stomach, and he refused any more, pretending not to see Junhui’s crushed expression as he turned away.

“I’m feeling better,” he promised quietly, but he couldn’t meet Seungcheol’s eyes.

“Feeling better enough to talk about what just happened?”

Vernon closed his eyes. “Is there an option where we don’t?”

“Nope.”

He sighed. “Fine. We can… talk about it.”

“Thank you.” Seungcheol’s hand squeezed gently at the back of his neck for a moment, then moved away. Vernon tamped down the urge to chase after it. “Can you tell me what happened? From the beginning.”

The beginning? How far back? This morning? Vernon took a breath. “I was on the couch when hyung came in. He and Jihoon-hyung were going to the gym, so I asked to come.”

“Why?” Jeonghan asked. Vernon glanced up, caught a glimpse of Mingyu next to him, still sleeveless and still healthy and strong and –

His gaze fell back to his lap. “Because.”

“That’s not an answer, Vernon.” Seungcheol’s voice dripped of a low, almost dangerous warning. Vernon shifted uncomfortably. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Vernon mumbled. He could feel their eyes on him. He didn’t want their pity anymore. That was why he had gone to the gym in the first place, wasn’t it? To fix himself. To prove that he was fine. That he wasn’t fragile and delicate.

But he’d fainted.

So maybe he was.

And that grated him.

“I’m weak,” Vernon found himself saying, almost spitting the words out with an embarrassingly childlike anger. “I’m – I’m not like you guys anymore. I just wanted to fix it. I wanna be… big… again. Or at least normal.” A sudden lump rose in his throat. “I wanna be normal, hyung,” he whispered.

“Oh, Sollie,” Jeonghan whispered, and there was a pity in his voice that made Vernon’s skin crawl. He shrugged off Jeonghan’s hand.

“No, see, that’s what I mean,” Vernon blurted, scooting away from them all and staring at the ground. Someone’s slippers inched away. “Don’t – I don’t want your pity. I don’t want special treatment. I wanna be normal. I wish –” His voice cracked. “I wish you never found out.”

The silence that followed was torturous.

He should’ve said I wish I’d never stopped eating. He knew that’s what they wanted to hear. But he couldn’t say it, not without lying, because he still enjoyed that burn in his stomach when he hadn’t eaten for too long. He still loved seeing the numbers trickle away.

He just hated that they knew now. That they forced food down his throat. That they were always watching, checking, monitoring him like a child who couldn’t be trusted alone.

“I don’t,” Jihoon said at last, steady. “I’m glad we found out, because if it had gone on much longer, you might not be here today.”

Vernon’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t… thought of that.

“But I see what you mean,” Jihoon continued. “I might not understand it fully, but I get that you wanna be normal again. You want everything to go back to the way it used to be. Yeah?” Vernon nodded slowly. He couldn’t lift his head. “Yeah. Me, too. It’s not as if I like checking in on you all the time. I know you like it even less. But I do it because I love you, and I’m gonna continue to do it, because when I saw you collapse on the gym floor half an hour ago, I saw my life flash before my eyes and I – I would’ve given it all just to see you wake up.”

Vernon looked up as Jihoon’s voice wavered. Jihoon didn’t cry often, but now there were tears pooling in his eyes, and Vernon couldn’t look away.

“So, yeah, do I wish everything was normal? Hell, yeah. This isn’t easy for you or any of us.” The tears spilled over, trickling down Jihoon’s cheeks, but he almost didn’t notice them as he continued, eyes locked on Vernon’s. “But it hurts because we care. Because we love you. And nothing can go back to any sort of normal until, together, we help you learn to eat again.” Now he paused. Took a breath. Spoke again. “And I have to apologize to you. Because I was the one who said you could come to the gym with us – like you said, I wanted it to be normal – but then I didn’t realize that you were struggling. And maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have… fallen.”

“Hyung, no,” Vernon blurted, surprised by the thickness of his voice. “No, it’s – it’s not your fault. It’s okay. I should’ve stopped anyway. I should’ve realized what was happening, after the last time –”

“The last time?” Seungcheol interrupted suddenly, frowning. “Have you fallen before?”

Vernon froze. “Not… fallen. But, uh, passed out… yeah. That night in the car, when you carried me in. I think… I think I passed out. Not fell asleep.”

He braced himself for the loud scolding that was to come.

But it didn’t.

Vernon looked up to find Seungcheol looking just so utterly defeated. Exhausted. Broken. Shoulders slumped, head hung low, each breath seeming an effort.

Jihoon stood behind him, tears still rolling down his cheeks, a hand pressed to his mouth.

Jeonghan. Mingyu. Junhui. Seungkwan. Vernon looked up at all of them and saw nothing but pain.

He looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol said, husky and rough and exhausted. “I should’ve noticed then. I should’ve noticed before that ever happened. I don’t know how I didn’t.”

Vernon shifted uncomfortably. “It’s okay, hyung,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s not.” Seungkwan’s voice was watery. “There’s twelve of us. One of us should have noticed. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon echoed.

Then Mingyu – “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” Junhui.

“I’m sorry.” Jeonghan. “I know it doesn’t help, but I’m so sorry. We all are.”

“Thank you,” Vernon whispered, because he didn’t know what else to say. His throat felt tight. “I’m… I’m sorry, too. For… causing you all so much… pain.”

The silence roared in Vernon’s ears. He could’ve heard a pin drop, yet he couldn’t hear himself think.

“What now?” he whispered finally. He felt so small.

“Now…” Seungcheol took a deep breath and let it out again. “Now, we keep moving forward. We try. Just like we always do. And we trust that it’ll get better.”

“Will it?”

Seungcheol met his eyes – slowly, carefully. But determined.

“It will,” he said softly.

—

It did. It took a while, but it did get better.

There were little changes. Almost unnoticeable. Subtle tweaks in how they asked him if he’d eaten, how they placed an empty plate in front of him at dinner and let him serve himself, how they hugged him less like something fragile and more like Vernon, like himself, like they used to.

He ate three meals a day. Small meals, but meals nonetheless. And after a week, he went to the gym again – this time under Seungcheol’s strict guidance, starting him with weights that were almost embarrassingly small. But the last thing Vernon wanted was to collapse again, so he worked with the small weights until he was ready for the heavier ones.

And, eventually, his eating habits returned, leftover-stealing and all.

—

It was just another day, another meal, with all thirteen of them squished around the dining room table. Vernon sat between Joshua and Mingyu, dodging the tall rapper’s elbow here and there, but overall comfortable as he carefully ate the portion on his plate. He’d taken a little more than he’d really wanted, but to his surprise, he finished it all. Maybe it was the long morning of dance practice that left his stomach growling (he was allowed to participate as long as he took frequent breaks and told them if he felt dizzy), but in any case, he’d finished his plate and he was still a little hungry.

He glanced around. Joshua was eating the last of his rice. Mingyu, a pork bun in his hand, was embroiled in a rowdy discussion with Soonyoung and Seokmin.

Vernon didn’t even think about it. He just plucked the bun from Mingyu’s hand and took a bite.

Mingyu went silent. Then Seokmin and Soonyoung, and Joshua, and Seungcheol, and the rest of the table, all staring at him. Vernon stopped chewing, meeting the sudden spotlight with confusion.

Then his eyes drifted to the bun in his hand.

“Oh!” he blurted, scrambling to finish chewing and swallow so he didn’t choke. “I’m sorry, hyung – here –”

He tried to give the bun back, but Mingyu hugged him instead with such violence that the bun fell to the table.

“He’s back,” Mingyu cried, something like tears in his voice already. “Vernonie’s back!”

“Hyung?” Vernon managed through the faceful of hoodie and muscle he’d received. But he hugged him back, albeit a little awkwardly.

Joshua’s gentle hand brushed the back of his head, played with the hairs at the base of his neck. “You’re all good, Vernon. He’s just happy.”

“That was the first time I’ve seen pigeon-Non in a while,” Jeonghan said with a smile as Mingyu pulled away. Vernon glanced around to find everyone smiling at him, some more eager and some more sentimental, but all encouraging.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, ears warm. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, eat whatever you want,” Jihoon said, waving his chopsticks. “We were never annoyed at you for eating our leftovers before, like hell we’re gonna be annoyed now.”

“Here,” Mingyu said, picking up the pork bun from where it sat on the table and pressing it into Vernon’s hand. “Eat it. I mean, as long as you’re hungry!”

Vernon smiled sheepishly. He was hungry. So he took a little bite, then another, cheeks burning with a pleasant kind of embarrassment as his brothers watched him and smiled.