Actually, I Haven't Been Doing Well Lately

14

this will be the seating arrangement for this chapter.

                           Chan        Minho

            Seungmin                   Jisung

                     Felix                      Hyunjin

                Jeongin                   Changbin

---------------------------------

It's been three months since Minho found out. Three months and everything was slowly getting better. Chan was thinking about telling the rest of his members but decided against it. What they don't know, won't hurt them. Chan jinxed himself by saying that mantra over and over again.

V-live. That's how they found out. Stray Kids went live around dinner time in South Korea, so food was on the table and the camera was set to an angle where everyone was visible. "Ok going live in three, two, one..." and they were live. Chan started their signature greeting and everyone started to dig into their dinner.

It was thirty minutes in, when the hate started to sprout. Comments like 'Look at the way Chan eats.' to 'Why does Chan eat like that?' and 'Is it just me or has Chan gained some weight?' It was one of his habits to get overly excited about food (who wouldn't) and he was naturally a foodie (so am I).  Chan decided to brush it off for now.

The members are watching, so is Minho, so keep yourself in check.

"Ahh, I'm so full! Does anyone want the rest of mine?" Han said. Hyunjin was going to motion Jisung to just set it aside for later but was cut of by the sound of a snuffle. Chan, who looked like a kicked puppy, excused himself to the bathroom.

'Just give it to Chan, Hannie, he'll eat anything.' Minho read that comment just as Chan stumbled out of the room. But that wasn't all, for 'stays' were exclaiming how glad they were when Chan left in the comments. "Oh shit," He mumbled.

The other members took out their phones and looked at the comment section of the v-live. They saw a few mean comments; all they needed to see to get a gist of why Chan left so suddenly.  Minho ended the live with a quick goodnight and sprinted out of the room, in search for Chan.

———————
Chan stood in front of the mirror, shirt off and only in boxers. Am I really that fat? I always thought I was too skinny, so I tried to gain some muscle, but I failed it seems. Do I eat weird? Eat too much? Being a foodie is no excuse to eat so much though, is it. He scanned his body, seeing all of his flaws, nothing beautiful in his eyes.

Tears blurring his vision as broken sobs escaped his lips. He covered his mouth in order to muffle the cries, but the pain was insufferable. He thought it was getting better, but it hit like a tsunami just after three months. What would the members think of me, if they saw me like this? What would Minho think? They would think I'm weak, useless, and unprofessional.

His head hurt, everything hurt. He sat on the cold floor, leaning against the bed, and reached for the drawer. Blade. He needed something sharp. Something to distract himself with. Chan's breathing got heavier and heavier, as if the oxygen in the room wasn't enough. He felt as if he was choking on air. 

He knows he made a promise; he knows he shouldn't break it, but he can't help  it. The pain was too much. No matter how hard he tried he just wouldn't be good  enough.