CERISIER

FIVE

Before anyone bothered checking and after Minseok was too baked to bother even putting out the quarter of a blunt that rested between his thumb and forefinger, smoke rising from the tip like a gateway chimney, everyone was passed out, asleep, or on their way there. Their minds were fogged with THC and the amount of alcohol that only a college jockey could consume. By twelve at night, only a couple of the young adults remained with their eyes peeled open, staring at what was likely not even there. Baekhyun, on the other hand, slouched on the couch, his socks and jacket long gone and eyes lined with red streaks of a green paint brush, was only on the idea of food. His stomach felt too empty suddenly, an overwhelming hunger took over his brain and all he could fathom was the idea of a feast.

His head was too ditzy and intoxicated to remember that no, no, you can't eat, you'll get fat. The starving boy, the deprived boy, the high boy, the broken boy, stood from the couch without a word, and with stumbling steps and a few almost-slips, he made it up the few stairs within only ten minutes and found himself in the kitchen.

His hands became greedy, grabbing whatever he could from the fridge. Then the freezer. Then the cupboards. Then the pantry. Cheese sticks, ice cream, left over birthday cake, granola bars, chips, his mouth was the greedy one now. It was as if his body was taken over by a ghost that had been starved in it's previous life; he was unable to halt the consuming urge of consumption. It was terrifying.

An hour had passed of eating and Baekhyun couldn't move. He couldn't think. Most of all, he couldn't believe what he had done. How could he let this happen to himself? Did he have no self control? He felt as if his life were over. His belly looked at least eight months pregnant due to the sheer volume of sustenance he had shoved down his throat and he was absolutely disgusted. Somehow eating had sobered him up just a tad to realize his actions, and how he wished he had consumed more than just a few beers.

Scattered footsteps made their way up the basement stairs, Minseok's yellow hair peeking from the door frame before he continued his way over to the new found friend he encountered in the nurses office. He sat at the kitchen table across from the younger boy, his eyes focused with a glassy look to them.

"Case of the munchies, huh?" he retorted, followed by one of his signature lighthearted chuckles. He grabbed a spare granola bar and began nibbling on a rasin he picked off.

Baekhyun didn't answer. He couldn't form a coherent word, not now. He could hardly face his friend; all that was racing through the boy's head was how much weight he's bound to gain, how all of his previous progress was now wasted and dead, how bloated his normally inverted stomach looked at the moment, how awfully disgusting he was, so gross, you're so fucking fat, you pig, with no control over your selfish mouth. Don't you want to be skinny, Baekhyun? Don't you know that pretty boys don't eat? Don't you understand the consequences of eating like an obese cow? You grotesque piece of garbage, you might as well-

Vomit coated his lap, the edge of the table and the poor tiled flooring that had once been decently vacuumed by an unwilling teenager. Baekhyun had puked all over himself and he wasn't stopping any time soon. He rushed for the garbage, Minseok swiftly standing up with a frightened noise of some degree leaving his throat as he thought of what to do to help.

"Fuck, I knew this would happen; first timers always puke," he muttered as he wetted a cloth that he had discovered in a cupboard, attempting to wipe down Baekhyun's front as the poor boy hacked up the contents of his strained stomach, tears running down along with the flood of acid.

He felt like dying; his stomach felt as if he had been punched an infinite number of times and his throat was scorched with acidic waste. He felt so helpless, like such a mess; he was so damn tired of it all. He hated going on like this, but he still wasn't skinny enou-

Minseok sighed a long, frustrated sigh, "we should call someone, you got a sibling or something you can call to pick you up? Kris is gonna fucking lynch my ass.."

Baekhyun had no siblings. He could no doubt not call his father to come retrieve him; he would without hesitation know exactly what had been going on just by looking at his son, nevermind smelling him. Sehun can't even drive yet, plus Baekhyun would need a hefty wad of luck to wake his younger friend from his slumber. Suddenly, the small lump in his pocket had resurfaced in his memory and he darted his hand to retrieve it, dialing the scribbled digits with no hesitation after his nausea had died down the smallest bit for him to keep down the barely digested food and to wipe off his lips.

It ringed a number of times, Baekhyun didn't blame him as it was extremely late at night and he didn't tag the man as a night owl judging from his job choice. When his deep, sleep laced voice answered the call, the student nearly began sobbing again.

"Mr. Park.." Baekhyun croaked, his words followed by a pitiful sniffle. Minseok stood beside the crouched boy in confusion; why would he be calling the school nurse of all people? How would he be in the first place, not to mention?

"Baekhyun?" Rustling could be heard over the line and the ill boy could almost see the man sitting up in his bed, inquiry and worry practically leaking from the speaker. "What's wrong?"

"Mr. Park.." As predicted, Baekhyun began crying once more as a worried teacher waited on the edge for what all the fuss was about. "Please come get me, please help me-"

Cough, hurl, splat.