CERISIER

EIGHT

After a few minutes of bickering, Baekhyun was ordered to take a shower and was given a new set of clothing to wear while Chanyeol put his trashed garments into the wash before heading to the kitchen to cook a proper breakfast as he listened to the running water on the second floor of his condo. It was strange to use the products that the nurse smelled like daily, that Baekhyun had smelled on his coffee-stained sheets and whenever he strolled past or when he had so intimately pressed his nose to the man's shoulder, but Baekhyun didn't want to acknowledge that as he felt his hair get foamy and light with the masculine smelling shampoo, a stark difference from the cheap cherry blossom one he used as a staple.

Once the boy was out of the shower and into the steamy room, he took it upon himself to sneak some of the expensive looking whitening mouthwash that was looking down at him from the cupboard. As the minty liquid stung his cheeks, he began to dress into the pair of boxers and tee shirt the older man had left for him, the clothing dangled off of him as if he were a hanger. It was then that he realized the opaque difference between their body types: Chanyeol's being tall and more muscular while Baekhyun's was short and frail. It made the boy's cheeks turn pink in the hazy mirror but he blamed it on the hot shower he had just gotten out of, his drawings in the condensation gradually fading on the glass door.

He wandered around the sizeable indoors for a couple minutes, peeking into the office, the bedroom, and lastly the kitchen, only the tip of his nose inside of the doorway as he watched over the cooking giant. He nearly gagged when he smelled the cooking pancakes and bacon. Baekhyun couldn't help it. Just because of his little binge the night prior, he wasn't just going to give up on what he had lived for for so long, he couldn't give up now. He still had the dream of a beautiful, skinny, model-esque body with graceful thin limbs and a number on the scale that he could be proud of. Baekhyun just needed to work even harder now to make up for the damage he had caused in the past 12 hours.

The room was quiet even as Baekhyun​ entered and sat himself at the table, not including the squeak of the chair being dragged across the tiled floor and the constant drip of the coffee machine. The whole room was polluted with the stench of calories, but the young boy held strong with his head resting on his arms. The wooden table dug into his prominent elbows with the weight of his skull.

"How are you feeling?" the man questioned as he heard the pattering of bare feet and his guest settle into a dining chair. He was genuinely worried as he had witnessed first hand how sick Baekhyun was and it broke his heart to see how out of it he had been. The nurse secretly enjoyed it, enjoyed taking care of him and enjoyed the weight of the boy's head on his shoulder and the neediness he had witnessed. He ignored that thought, despite the wavy, uncertain feeling in his abdomen at the thought of the young boy.

"Want some breakfast?" Chanyeol offered, leaning on the marbled island with a shiny spatula adorning his grip. The student wasn't stupid, he knew this was a test and the nurse could practically see the gears turning in his guest's head, contemplating what to say in response.

Accepting wasn't a viable option but he knew that Mr. Park would say something about it if he declined his offer. The man could yell at him, remind him of the day Baekhyun had let loose in his office on the cold linoleum floor, say something of the embarrassment that was the night where he had puked his guts out after eating his weight in sweets and other treats. But strangely, despite all of this, as the senior looked up at the hopeful eyes of the nurse, as he remembered how the man had offered help, how he had opened his home to some scruffy burden of a high school student, Baekhyun didn't want to disappoint him.

But, the soreness of the boy's belly reminded him of how it had been stretched to capasity with sustenance, fat, calories, disgusting calories. Grotesque, heavy, ugly, calories. Calories he was meant to burn, to leave in the garbage, to avoid, to flush down the toilet. "No. Thank you though."

The bullish expression on the nurse's face faded quickly​, like spring shifting to winter with just a few syllables. Baekhyun didn't anticipate the caring, almost loving, almost maternal tone the man would use instead of the frustrated, disheartened words the boy was expecting. It was saddening, the little amount of hope Baekhyun held in his heart for Chanyeol. Part of him wanted to trust the only man that had noticed his problem, he wanted to believe that it would all be fine, but the voice in the back of his mind said otherwise. It said he was wrong.

"Please, Baek?" the man tried again, watching the boy stiffen at the nickname. He could see him breaking. He would strike again, he needed to. "Just a pancake, even?" The boys eyes darted to the simmering circles on the cast iron skillet, the smoke drifting to the ceiling, holding the delicious scent. He was curious of just how good a nurse's cooking could be..

Maybe the man could be right. Maybe it was time to let go, maybe everything he had told himself to be beautiful and strong could be false, maybe food wasn't his enemy and maybe he could fight off the iron grip his disorder held on him and he could fall into the warm embrace of the nurse who had caught him when he was in a hysteria of panic and distress instead of backing away and had sacrificed his sleep when Baekhyun was pathetically unwell. It seemed unlikely, in the young boy's mind, behaving like a normal person, eating what he felt like at the time and not worrying about the numbers that soaked into his tongue. It seemed too good to be true, but Baekhyun needed all of the good he could get.

The elder watched Baekhyun debate with himself for a few moments, decline crumbling off of his edges with each one of his words. To try again, was the only option. Chanyeol would get what he wanted, he would heal this boy, it was his responsibility as the only soul who knew about about the hardships he faced with the simple necessity of food.

"It sure would make me really happy if you tried some, y'know," the nurse persisted, flipping a pancake absent mindedly, the bacon already on a plate layered with a folded paper towel. The boy broke, shattered even, as he nodded his head in agreement, not even making eye contact as a grin spread across the elder's features. He was nearly ecstatic just from the single movement, just from the little progress his patient had made that day.

The two ate in silence. Baekhyun ended up taking longer to eat his single pancake than Chanyeol with his full stack and bacon to add on, but he didn't mind in the least, if the upturn of his budding lips every time the student took a tedious bite and the two accidentally locked eyes said anything.