Chapter Text
Jongho was having a good day, he wore his favorite black tracksuit, upon going out to the kitchen that morning he found that his Woyooungie hyung had made breakfast and it was really good. Now at the agency his vocal practice went smoothly and he was praised by his vocal teacher.
As he was coming out of the general vocal practice room he bid goodbye to the vocal trainer and contemplated between having a little break or going straight to his own room to practice a few more songs. He was happy and feeling incredibly good so he opted for the first one.
On his way to the lounge he crossed paths with a few staff and he bowed a bit his head while giving them a tiny smile, in his mind with appreciation for always working so hard and taking care of them.
When the boy arrived at the coffee station he picked up a paper cup and proceeded to pour the mixed coffee with some hot water. To be honest he preferred just ice americano on all his flavor but he had to manage with what he had. The brand that they used at KQ quarters was extremely sweet for his taste buds but for a day he could deal with it.
As he was seated on a loveseat sipping the oversweet drink he saw movement on the corner of his eye, turning his head the younger came face to face with the new stylist. She was carrying a bunch of clothes and was giving him a skeptical eye as she laid them down on the seat next to him. “Jongho-shi! fancy meeting you here” She said with what the boy would call a rather fake smile, if he picked up the sarcastic connotation he didn’t mind it much, to be honest he was a bit startled but he managed his expression quite well “Good afternoon ermmm” He hesitated for a second trying to remember her name but his thoughts were cut out fast as the black haired heard a tsking sound “Oh Hye Mi” She replayed dryly making emphasis on each syllable. “Ah, right Hyemi-shi” Jongho tried to laugh the awkwardness away. “Sorry, there’s so many people here so it gets confusing sometimes” he said a bit apologetic, his eyes on the pile of clothes.
“Do you need me for anything?” He asked politely. “Obviously yes, if not, I wouldn’t be here talking to you and wasting my time at this hour”. She said rudely.
The boy was stunned to say the least, he was looking at her with round eyes trying to process her words, a tiny bit of annoyance flashed for a moment but was soon replaced with concern.
Has he wronged her somehow?.
The new stylist proceeds to ramble about how hard she worked on getting the sponsor clothing but Jongho was too fat for any of it and that she had to do extra hours to go get new pieces just for him, basically she was fat shaming him, comparing him to his members, calling him a waste of time, telling him to lose weight and to stop stuffing his mouth with food like a pig. That if he continued like that, the only clothing that would fit him was going to be the elastic refrigerator pants the ajummas bought at the filthy market in the suburbs.
At that he snapped at her while rising from his seat, trying to maintain a cool and composed demeanor.
“Excuse me miss I am not fat, I am fit, I have muscles obviously my measurements may vary, I’m sorry about you having to go get new clothes just for me, but isn’t that your job?. I mean you can’t expect for everyone to have the same size, and even if I was fat that doesn't mean you get a say in it and neither do you have the right to insult me. People who weigh more can’t have a sense of fashion? Can’t be stylish? Can’t do their job?. Your weight doesn’t define what you can or can you not be. Your talent and your hard job does”.
He took a step closer to the wicked woman.
“You’re a stylist, I’m sure you have worked with enough body types to know that everyone is different and that makes the person unique. You fat shaming people won’t do good to anyone. You don’t know if they are happy the way they are, or if they had or are having a hard time”.
He took a calming breath “They could be in a complicated mental health situation, and you doing this could cause a lot of harm”. The younger one was looking at the woman calmly but the fire in his eyes and the trembling of his hands gave him slightly away.
He felt sick.
A pile of bile rose to his throat and he forcefully swallowed, pushing it down.
“I know you are mad at me for having to continue work after working hours but that is no excuse”. He took a step back and picked up his abandoned coffee heading to the bin. With one last disgusted glare he started walking towards the elevator barely holding himself mentally.
As he waited for the elevator to ding his mind was running so wild, time passed so fast that when he was aware of his surroundings he found himself in his room, seated on the floor, back pressed to the door.
A tight sensation sitting on his chest, tears glistening on his eyes ready to fall down. He was so dizzy that even breathing was hard.
A strong nausea tackled him so hard that he doubled over, going on his knees, one hand on the floor and the other clutching his chest. The heaving continued for a few minutes, his tears now running through his cheeks and chin. He tried a few breathing exercises as his mind was begging him to please take control. He couldn’t crumble like this, not at this moment, not when the possibilities of one of the members or managers opening the door was high.
He didn’t remember locking it.
Another strong fit and he was crouched in front of the little trash can he kept next to his desk, vomiting everything out.
Feeling anxious he steadied his breath and himself as fast as his body could tolerate. And tried to stand up and reach for the doorknob only for him to collapse again, crawling towards the door he put both his palms on it and tentatively reached for the lock. He felt sick, his head pounded like crazy, his mouth tasted awful, his chest hurted so much, he was choking on the mixture of air and mucus entering his airway, but at least his hyungs wouldn’t see him in this state, and more than he was willing to admit that bringed him a sense of security.
He couldn’t let them see him like this, so vulnerable, so broken. He was their strong and independent maknae and no one would take it from him, not that stupid woman, not his past shadows.
.
Roughly three hours have passed since the boy entered the studio, three hours of him trying to stabilize himself, of him fighting his past, of him praying to the universe that nobody has seen the stunt he pulled. A well deserved one, but one nonetheless.
He was still slumped on the floor, his body completely void of energy when his phone vibrated shortly and dinged with their group chat tone, signalling that it was probably time to go back to the dorms and call it a day. He was grateful, the only thought of sinking into his mattress bringing him comfort, he could rest and let go of himself totally in the realm of his dreams.
“Oh fuck” he grunted taking the device from his pocket, realizing that to be able to do that he would have to get up from his position, go down on the elevator, enter and share the van with his members and probably weigh a bunch of heavy looks and questions, because he knew he looked wrecked right now.
Scratch that.
Let’s be honest he looked like shit, who was he trying to kid?.
Unblocking the locker screen he touched the notification and opened the chat contemplating on how to respond. The one thing he wanted the most right now was his bed but he thought against it better and wrote a simple ‘Can't, have plans -emoji-’. He sighed and closed the yellow app. They knew he had a lot of friends and acquaintances so it was not uncommon for him to go out and grab a meal with them, but he would normally inform the members a few days prior because he had to work around their schedule. Not waiting for a response he put his phone on silent and tucked it away in his pocket, laying this time on his back he looked at the ceiling and blinked, the only source of light coming from the small window on the door, he had a small cloth covering it preventing the view from outside but little glimpses of light peeked through the folds of the fabric. From below in this angle it looked ridiculously majestic, like a halo, so he stretched his hand towards the gleam moving his fingers. Few seconds after a rapid knock broke the silence of the room.
Jongho retrieved his hand fast, cradling it against his chest holding his breath.
Without daring to make a single noise.