Problem is diet's not a big enough word
Title: Problem is diet's not a big enough word
Fandom: Bigbang
Pairings: none, ot5
Summary: Three weeks to go till debut and Seunghyun's back to square one
A/N: I wasn't able to find a beta for this so it's being posted un-betaed. If you have any suggestions for improvements they would be much appreciated. The title's taken from 4st 7lbs by The Manic Street Preachers
Also on AO3
WARNING: This fic comes with a serious eating disorder trigger warning, it contains detailed descriptions of binging and purging and self fat shaming.
The moment Seunghyun realises he’s going to have to lift up his shirt, live onstage in front of legions of squealing fans and have it recorded for posterity in a music video is the most vicious reality check he’s ever had to put up with.
Youngbae runs through the choreography slowly for Seunghyun’s benefit, somehow managing to make every pop of the hip and flick of the knee look as sharp as machinery. Seunghyun feels a familiar jealousy settle in his stomach coupled with an even more familiar nervous pressure reminiscent of how the kid who’s not so good at maths feels when the teacher goes over the problem one more time so they can get their head around it, when every other kid in the class understands and are all too well aware that the slow kid simply isn’t going to get the problem no matter how many times it’s laid out for them in all its component parts.
Seunghyun’s good at maths. Dancing on the other hand…
But it’s not the dance this time. It’s embarrassing and frustrating but he’s learned to deal with his two left feet and the late night solo rehearsals that never seem to do him any good and Jiyong finally snapping after three hours dancing the same routine and flying into a rage with him. It sucks but Seunghyun knows the drill - he can’t dance and everyone suffers as a result.
This is more than that though; this is an old anxiety that Seunghyun was sure he’d lost along with over half his bodyweight. Youngbae lifts his shirt, twists it up to reveal an expanse of perfect, muscle toned skin. By the time Seunghyun’s brain has moved on from that step Youngbae appears to be halfway through the choreography and it’s no longer clear how he wound up on the other side of the dance studio. Jiyong’s eyes are already narrowed in irritation.
“Start again Youngbae, he’s not paying attention.”
Seunghyun flashes an apologetic half-grin at Youngbae as he starts up the routine again. As always he has the patience of a saint and the stamina of a racehorse whilst Jiyong tries to appear aloof and Seungri and Daesung roll their eyes in bored exasperation, too familiar with Jiyong’s pathetic attempts at fighting dirty to believe it’ll actually work on their oldest hyeong. This is a dance that Seunghyun can remain blissfully passive in, yet still he winds up as the centre piece for the same show with a different tune every damn rehearsal.
When Youngbae lifts his shirt this time round, Seunghyun makes a conscious effort to take note of the steps that follow, but his mind is still half in some hideous alternate reality performance on Inkigayo where he has to perform in nothing but his boxers and once again he surfaces to find his bandmate on the other side of the room to where he lasts remembers him being. He feels Daesung stiffen a little beside him as they all tune into a shared sixth sense that lets them know when Jiyong is about to hulk out.
Seunghyun never thought it would be possible for such a tiny person to contain so much rage.
“Why don’t you guys go find Wheesung and do some vocal work for a couple of hours? I’ll walk this one through with Seunghyun-hyeong”
For a moment, Jiyong stares at Youngbae with so much fire in his eyes that Seunghyun’s more than a little surprised that Bigbang’s best dancer doesn’t go up in flames. A second later it’s gone, replaced by what their leader thinks passes for indifference but come across as a shoddy cover for fury.
“Rather you than me,” the human spitfire says, barely keeping the venom from his voice as he glares at Seunghyun. Seungri and Daesung give Jiyong a moment to seethe once he’s left the room before wishing Seunghyun luck and escaping the sweaty confines of the dance studio.
When the door finally shuts, Youngbae turns to look at Seunghyun, sitting against the wall with his chin resting on his knees and his arms hugging his legs close and sighs.
“What’s wrong hyeong?”
Seunghyun tries to say ‘nothing’ but instead winds up actually saying nothing, which is as sure a way to say ‘something’ as anything. He tries to hold Youngbae’s gaze but in all honesty it makes him feel weirdly like crying so he stops.
Youngbae drops to the floor and scoots along the polished wood so he can meet Seunghyun’s eyes more directly. They hold each other’s gaze for what feels like hours before the moment breaks and Seunghyun feels his nerve give out and the terrified sobs that have been barely kept at bay all morning wash over him. Youngbae moves, as smoothly as he does when dancing, to Seunghyun’s side so he can wrap an arm around him and let him cry it out on his shoulder.
Seunghyun lets himself wallow in self pity for ten minutes before he takes a long drag of air and pulls himself together. He stands, pulling Youngbae with him and without a word they start to work through the choreography. Seunghyun trips and hiccups his way through to the end, graceless and gormless, before they take it back to the top and run it through. For the first time in all of his pre-idol career, Seunghyun manages to remember every step the first time round.
When their two hours is up, Youngbae pats Seunghyun on the back, gives him a warm smile and leaves him to sort through his thoughts. He still says nothing and Seunghyun appreciates that. Youngbae knows what they all need emotionally and he never fails to deliver, Seunghyun can’t help but feel that as the oldest it should really be his job to soothe their fraying nerves but Youngbae fills the position so perfectly that he’s never bothered to challenge him for it.
Seunghyun stands alone in the dance studio and runs through the choreography one last time and when the dreaded moment arrives he takes care to only lift his sweater so his tshirt covers his stomach.
For now he is safe.
Not three days later and Lalala has worked its way into their regular cycle of rehearsals. The fact that Seunghyun remembers every step every time has made it a highlight of the other four’s schedule - Jiyong even throws him a compliment the afternoon after his intensive session with Youngbae. Seunghyun knows that he still sticks out like a sore thumb, his moves looking as forced as ever, but he appreciates the glorious half hour of every day that he spends free of the myriad of jokes and frustrations that revolve around the cold hard fact that he can’t dance.
Seunghyun wishes the thought of performing Lalala live didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach.
In rehearsals he finds he gets away with dropping his tshirt and lifting whatever he’s wearing over the top in imitation of the shirt flick more often than not. So far he’s only had to deal with Jiyong’s complaints that ‘they have to all do it properly’ once, and after only a couple of runs through he doesn’t seem to notice that Seunghyun’s back to his old tricks.
Those moments of exposed skin burn bright into Seunghyun’s memory though, troubling him more the more time passed between him laying them bare and no one commenting on the fact they haven’t seen his stomach since. He runs the few moments of visible belly over and over in his mind, trying to remember where everyone was looking at the time. Was Jiyong actually looking at his stomach or was he just checking that Seunghyun was dancing to his impeccable standards? Did he imagine Seungri’s eyes flicking to the side to gawp at him? Did Daesung really wrinkle his nose in disgust? Why is Seunghyun so sure that Youngbae is the only one who didn’t turn his head to judge?
His thoughts inevitably turn to the specifics of what was visible under his many layers. He pictures and repictures the flick of his wrist, the lift of his shirt, the flash of his skin. Sometimes he’s sure he barely showed his belly button and he can breathe steadily for a few minutes, until he begins to doubt his memory and somehow his recollection changes before his mind’s eye until he’s lifted his shirt high enough to show his nipples, his oversized skin, his stretch marks.
Only Jiyong knows that Seunghyun used to be fat.
For all his overblown rage and childish spite, Seunghyun trusts Jiyong to keep that particular secret.
Late that night, Seunghyun finds himself with Seungri in the parking lot outside, caught up in the kind of dance practice that only the maknae can facilitate. Little Seunghyun (a name now shed almost entirely) isn’t the best dancer, or the best singer or the best rapper in Bigbang, but he’s far and away the best teacher and whilst Seunghyun trusts Youngbae to walk him through the steps with borderline obsessive precision, he knows that if he ever wants to make his body look even half natural then it’s Seungri’s less than careful hand that’s going to guide him there.
Seunghyun tries not to think about what would have happened had Seungri been cut from the group - a prospect that had come dangerously close to a reality not two months previously. He’d be lying if he said that he’d ever got on with the youngest as well as he had with Hyunseung, but their lost member had lacked the boundless enthusiasm that had become vital to getting the five of them through the day.
Seungri knows when to crack a joke and when to slow down. He knows when to let you make your own mistakes and he knows when to cross boundaries, even when Seunghyun has no idea that boundaries even existed. Seungri knows when to turn a blind eye to your mistakes and most importantly he knows when to let you stop, which for someone so terrible at throwing in the towel themselves feels like nothing short of a miracle.
They run through VIP and mess it up on purpose. Seunghyun laughs first but Seungri laughs longest as he deliberately trips over feet too confident to do so by themselves. They flash their best smiles at each other before the maknae suggests they run through Lalala, he says it as an afterthought but qualifies that they won’t need to go through it for long because Seunghyun’s pretty good at it anyway.
Seunghyun’s good at pretending he does exactly what everyone else does now. With no one but Seungri to mess up in front of he feels his body move through the well worn steps more smoothly than he would ever be able to in the company of the other members, but he knows that that’s all Seungri’s easy manner and infectious laughter - his own efforts have nothing to do with it.
He puts his feet in the right place on every beat, grabs his butt with a smile on his face and even manages to make one or two of the sharp hip-pops in the choreography look like something he might be good at. Seungri is relaxed and free flowing beside him and even though it’s the middle of the night in a scuzzy carpark Seunghyun feels like an idol for the first time. When they’re done there’s a beat before they fall into an embrace that feels just a shade different from the normal invasions of personal space that they all subject each other to throughout the day and for the first time the two Seunghyun’s see how they can fit together as friends.
They head back inside, knowing that the others will still be in the recording studio laying down the last few notes for their upcoming album, and it’s only when they cross the threshold of the YG building that Seungri says anything about Seunghyun’s dancing.
“You never lift your shirt up hyeong!” he halflaughs and Seunghyun feels a nervousness that is entirely inappropriate for the situation creep into his gut.
“What?”
“In Lalala, we’re all supposed to lift up our shirts but you never do, you just pick up another layer.”
Seungri’s mood is still light despite Seunghyun’s rapidly deteriorating one. His eyes are still sparkling from within his eyesmile and his limbs are as loose as when dancing.
“So what?” Seunghyun counters with more of a snap to his voice that he intended. Seungri starts for the briefest second before his smile reforms as something that Seunghyun hasn’t seen before. His eyes warm beneath monstrous dark circles and his smile becomes less about how much fun he’s having and more about reassurance. There is so much of Youngbae’s nurturing calm in the maknae at that moment that Seunghyun forgets that he’s the hyeong in this equation.
“I know it can feel like YG runs your entire life hyeong, but they can’t actually make you do anything that you don’t want to - you get the final say.”
Seunghyun watches Seungri trot off down the hall, mumbling something about wanting to put in another hour’s dance practice before he heads home to sleep. He feels more relaxed than he's been all week.
Five minutes later and he’s still standing in his personal ocean of calm as Daesung emerges from the elevator looking like shit. Seunghyun’s pretty sure Bigbang’s superstar singer hasn’t slept in 24 hours and jokingly offers him a piggyback back to the hostel. Daesung of course accepts the offer and before Seunghyun can let his bluff be called he’s saddled with his friend’s weight, walking through the pleasant summer night.
“Are you out of breath already hyeong?” Daesung asks, his voice sleepy
“I told you! I can’t be physically fit; if I was there would be nothing else for anyone to be the best at!”
Daesung smiles his smile that you can hear from a thousand miles away; as he does every time Seunghyun cracks one of his never ending list of same old shitty jokes.
“You seem happier tonight hyeong; you were so serious at practice this morning, no, yesterday morning. I was worried the pressure was getting to you.”
Seunghyun shrugs noncommittally, but keeps smiling as they wander through the streets of Seoul. Daesung slowly relaxes as they go, so that by the time they make it back to their empty home he’s already fallen asleep.
Seunghyun opens the door to Daesung and Youngbae’s room and tries to dump him on the bed. His attempts are rendered unsuccessful when the suddenly not so sleepy Daesung refuses to let go.
“You’re nice tonight, stay here,” Daesung mumbles into the arm of Seunghyun’s sweater.
Seunghyun has no idea how tonight is any different from any other night, but he stays, sleep coming more easily than he thought it would with Daesung holding his arm in a vicelike grip.
In the morning Seunghyun is the first in the house to wake. He sits in the kitchen and wonders how long he should wait before waking anyone else up. Seungri solves that problem by stumbling into view not ten minutes before the alarm that he sets every morning goes off. The maknae nods sleepily to acknowledge the other’s existence before he sets off on his mission to annoy the rest of his hyeongs into waking up.
“Seungri,” Seunghyun feels himself say, though he doesn’t really feel like he’s driving his body anymore. Seungri raises his eyebrows and looks at him like he’s still asleep and stands with his hand on Jiyong’s bedroom door, his morning routine put on pause rather than stopped.
Seunghyun’s body is put back in his control at precisely the wrong moment and the awkward seconds in which he doesn’t know what to say tick by. Seungri begins to move back towards the door by the time the words have come unstuck and Seunghyun works out what it was he’d wanted to say.
“Thanks,” he calls, too loud for this early in the morning on so little sleep.
Seungri fixes him with the same warm smile Seunghyun had seen for the first time last night. It’s just for a moment, but it’s there.
Five minutes later and everyone is groggily shovelling breakfast into their mouths in preparation for another too-long day. The picture looks the same as any other morning, but Seunghyun feels a shift in their dynamic, in Seungri’s favour.
Seunghyun smiles and plods off to get dressed.
They have been dancing for five hours and Seunghyun can’t move anymore. Jiyong is having a bad day and taking it out on all of them, the corners of his mouth increasingly downturned and his brow getting more imposing by the second. The rest of them had known a storm was coming since the get go, but the anticipation makes it feel like they’re already battering against the gale force winds of Kwon Jiyong’s fury.
He slumps in the corner and runs his hands through his hair, before telling Daesung, Youngbae and Seungri to beat it. Seunghyun stares at Jiyong from across the room and finds himself stuck in that complicated position of being older than his leader and also being his subordinate. He’s grateful that YG didn’t make him take the wheel, but it's frustrating that it can make something as simple as talking to someone who you’ve known for too long to live without unnecessarily complicated.
“We’re debuting in three weeks time,” Jiyong says from between fingers pulled across his face.
“I know”
“You need to improve your dance”
“I’m trying”
“Stop trying and just do it.” Jiyong isn’t leading with any of his usual tricks. Seunghyun suspects this might just be the hurricane he’s spent the past five hours hoping to avoid, but there is none of his leader’s usual ire in his words. He doesn’t even shout.
Seunghyun moves to sit next to Jiyong who doesn’t get up and leave, which is a good sign. “What if I can’t improve my dancing?”
“Then we’re all fucked.” Jiyong sighs and lets his shoulders fall. Seunghyun suddenly catches up to the fact that he is being let in on one of Jiyong’s weak moments and that he is being treated with a level of trust that hasn’t been present between them since they were middle school kids. He wonders why Youngbae isn’t sitting in his place.
Youngbae is Jiyong’s best friend and his most trusted confidant, and Jiyong has just sent him out of the room so he can talk to Seunghyun instead.
“You’re the oldest you know,” Jiyong says in a voice betraying no hint of any emotion, “You’re the one who’s supposed to step up and help me out when I can’t hold things together by myself but you can’t fucking dance and that’s the whole problem and you’re not supposed to be the problem you’re supposed to be the solution.”
Jiyong turns to look at him with moody eyes. “You just can’t fucking dance.”
“I’m sorry Ji,” Seunghyun says before he has time to remember that he doesn’t call him ‘Ji’ anymore. Ji was the friend of a fat little boy who’s name Seunghyun can’t remember and who’s face has changed so much that the image of him he has committed to memory is all but useless.
Jiyong glares daggers at him “only Youngbae gets to call me that,” he snaps, “don’t try to pretend you know me Seunghyun.”
Seunghyun thinks Jiyong has things the wrong way round, because despite his many talents he’s still the petulant little boy who was friends with the fat kid and always worked out how to get things to play out to his own impeccable standards, whilst Seunghyun feels like he has put an ocean between his six year old self and the man child he has become. He knows Jiyong like he knows the smell of his mum’s home cooking, over time it changes in subtle and barely noticeable ways, but it’s always unmistakable and intrinsically linked with memories of being too young to care about anything beyond trying to talk your way out of another day of school. Jiyong is part of an ever expanding stretch of nostalgia that branches off into Seunghyun’ past, and though there are large gaps that he is absent from he remains so frozen in character that it can feel like he never left.
And Jiyong must be a mind reader because he rises to Seunghyun’s challenge with that seemingly effortless flare that characterises his every action.
“You keep a notepad by your bed where you write down any words you find that you don’t understand when you read, the dictionary you use to define them is stashed in the same box under your bed that you keep your porn in. You get antsy when your toothbrush isn’t on the right hand side of the sink or when someone puts the cereal back in the wrong order or when someone leaves your pyjama trousers under that ratty old nightshirt you wear and not the other way round and you pretend you’re fine with it until you think no one’s looking. You never wear anything new when you can wear clothes that still smell like home. People think you’re cool because you’re handsome but there’s nothing cool about you at all.”
Jiyong rattles off the list slowly and deliberately, not looking at Seunghyun as he goes onto list favourite TV shows from when he was a kid, the name of the first girl he’d gotten to second base with, those two weeks Seunghyun was grounded for getting into a fight he didn’t start.
Seunghyun soon realises that he has nothing like this to offer Jiyong. Everything he knows about his leader is in relation to himself or so blindingly obvious a first day trainee could tell you the same thing. Jiyong has catalogued the years and kept them safe for just such a moment as this. It doesn’t matter how well Choi Seunghyun knows Kwon Jiyong, because Kwon Jiyong knows Choi Seunghyun a thousand times better without even trying.
Finally, when Jiyong has talked his way through nigh on all the life they ever shared together, he turns his face to Seunghyun and glares at him, hard. He’s still angry and this is still his petty revenge.
“You used to be the greatest tub of lard I ever laid eyes on. Then you got your act together and somehow you got into YG, but you’re terrified that someone will leak a photo or that Youngbae will remember that fat guy who could really rap and work out that that was you.”
Seunghyun holds Jiyong’s gaze steady, but his pulse is racing. Jiyong has stopped playing games and has moved in for the kill.
“And now you’ve been given choreography in which you have to lift your shirt for two fucking seconds and you won’t do it because you’re terrified that fat little Seunghyun’s going to come tumbling out from under there and eat you up.”
Seunghyun stumbles to his feet, his heart thumping a mile a minute. He gets to the door and manages a strangled “fuck you Ji” before running to the nearest MacDonald’s.
Four BigMacs, a litre of Coke and an indefinable number of French fries later and Seunghyun is vomiting noisily into a bin on the street corner outside the Macdonald’s two blocks away from the YG building. He hadn’t realised how small his stomach had become, how far his appetite had been hindered by the constant attentions of his diet plan. Retching for what feels like the hundredth time he internally curses the irony that despite starving himself into the music industry’s ridiculously high standards he can’t manage to hold down the food that he’s been craving for almost two years.
Coming up it all tastes much the same as going down, except going down it tasted worryingly like panic, and now it’s coming back up Seunghyun feels relieved. He wants to cram his body full of crap like this because crap like this is what his body likes. He craves it, lies awake at night contemplating sneaking out to grab a fucking pizza, but he also doesn’t want that crap anywhere near him. His career depends on fatty food being kept as far away from him as possible, despite the rigorous dance training and extended sessions at the gym there isn’t enough room in his waistband to compensate for it.
Those glorious moments when Hwang-ssabu allows for a chocolate bar or when someone sneaks a bucket of fried chicken into the dorm have always felt like a little pocket of heaven that never opens wide enough. Yet allowing himself to pig out like he’s been so sure he’s really wanted to makes him feel like shit and Seunghyun wants to break something because of all the injustices that idoldom has dealt him the fact that he can’t even enjoy food anymore is definitely the one that stings most.
There’s nothing left in his stomach but a growing sense of dread. Seunghyun stares at the undigested burgers sitting at the bottom of the bin and tries to feel repulsed, but it’s no good.
He wants more.
Seunghyun fumbles for his wallet as he stumbles into the GS25 across the road. He grabs as much chocolate, crisps, cake and soda as he can, bundling them into flimsy supermarket plastic bags that do little to hide his shame, then he sets off back to the hostel.
He is unsurprised yet still relieved to find that no one is at home. He shoves his hand indiscriminately into the nearest shopping bag; tears open the wrapper of some cheap chocolate and downs the lot in less than thirty seconds. He repeats the process over and over, barely registering taste, texture or brand as he fills himself with all the food that has haunted his wildest dreams. He eats until long after he can eat no more, until he’s sure his stomach will burst. Seunghyun doesn’t stop until he feels the bile rising once again in his throat.
He throws down the half eaten pack of crisps and clears the mercifully short distance between himself and the bathroom. He heaves until his body can handle the amount of food left in it, at which point he sticks his fingers down his throat and heaves until there’s nothing else left to regurgitate. He rests his head on the toilet bowl, eyes watering from the burning down his oesophagus and sobs helplessly.
Seunghyun finds that he hates Jiyong more than he hates his own love of shitty food. He hates Jiyong because he always deals ten times what it dished out to him - for better or worse, and because in a world where everyone’s armed with sharp sticks he always manages to score the glass tipped arrow. Most of all, Seunghyun hates Jiyong because he’s so skinny and self confident and charismatic and motivated and he’s never needed to work for it, everything good came naturally to him and everything good came at a price for Seunghyun.
Sticks and stones, Seunghyun’s once so very fat ass.
By the time Daesung walks through the door, the first one home after what was apparently a nightmarish day featuring the Jiyong rage to end all Jiyong rages, Seunghyun has thrown the rest of his junk food in the garbage. Daesung is halfway through ranting about some move or other that Jiyong was convinced he was out of sync on, leading to almost half an hour spent being scolded, before he stops mid sentence and furrows his brows in worry.
“Hyeong what’s wrong?”
Seunghyun’s face is blank as he shakes his head and feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. And he’s so fucking sick of crying.
Daesung comes over to the couch where he’s sat and folds himself around Seunghyun, rocking slightly backwards and forwards.
“Not such a good day today.” It’s not a question. But Seunghyun still nods his head
“Jiyong…”
“Oh hyeong,” Daesung mumbles into his shoulder as Seunghyun continues his war against tears. Something leaves a wet, salty streak down his cheek and he realises he’s losing that battle.
They sit like that for a long time - Daesung wrapped around Seunghyun and rocking him ever so gently backwards and forwards, humming tuneless songs under his breath. Seunghyun is reminded of the other night when he crashed in Daesung’s bed and slept like a log even though it was far too hot to be sharing body heat like that. He’d really love to sleep right now, but unfortunately his schedule isn’t going to catch up on itself.
“What did you mean when you said I was nice?” Seunghyun asks suddenly, fighting against Daesung so that he uncurls himself from his body and ceases the rocking motion that’s held them in stasis for so long.
“When did I say that?”
“A few days ago, you said I was ‘nice tonight’ and then you made me share your bed.”
Daesung shrugs, “everyone’s nice sometimes hyeong.”
Seunghyun sighs and smiles warmly at his dongsaeng. “Not everyone Daesung, you’re nice all the time!”
Daesung giggles and Seunghyun starts to tickle him. By the time Jiyong and Youngbae walk through the door they’re in full on tickle fight mode with Seunghyun knocking over furniture as he tries to catch up to his opponent.
Jiyong and Youngbae watch on in bemusement until Seunghyun literally trips over his own feet and Jiyong’s mood suddenly darkens and he barks out something about having to take care of their bodies because they have to be in top condition for when they debut three weeks from now. Seunghyun expects him to ask for a private word at some point in the evening only to take him outside and give him a verbal bollocking, but he says nothing.
In fact, Jiyong ignores Seunghyun all evening. Seunghyun doesn’t feel snubbed or brushed off, he feels like he’s very deliberately being given space and he is grateful beyond all imagining. In the next few days, he doesn’t even get called up to see the boss for one his famous scoldings, which is unusual because Seunghyun missed almost a whole day of training so close to debut.
It takes him three days to realise that Jiyong must have covered for him. It’s completely out of character, so Seunghyun just chalks it up to Daesung being right - everyone is nice sometimes.
With two week to go before debut, Seunghyun finds himself alone in the hostel with his head down the toilet and his fingers down his throat once again. When he runs outside to dispose of the evidence of an hour spent stuffing himself to maximum capacity he swears he can feel his old enormous gut determining his gait, like a phantom limb.
When the boss watches them perform Lalala he notices that Seunghyun doesn’t lift his shirt up and he likes it, says it was a shame he didn’t do that in the MV. YG thinks that they can make Seunghyun’s affinity to layered clothes his ‘thing’. Seunghyun feels more relaxed than he has done since the night Seungri gave him that much needed yet unheeded advice.
With five days to go before debut, Seunghyun is back in the YG parking lot with Seungri for what will be their last rehearsal together as non-idols.
“Just think hyeong, if all goes well in a few weeks time we’ll get to complain about how we can’t practice out here anymore because we’d just get mobbed by our fans!” Seungri says as he enthusiastically bounces through some of his own choreography to an American song that Seunghyun has never heard before and doesn’t much care for.
Seungri pops and locks and spins his way over to Seunghyun until he’s standing right under the older boy’s nose. “I need to talk to you seriously for a moment hyeong, ok?”
“Ok?” Seunghyun responds, unsettled by something in the maknae’s tone.
“Over the past couple of weeks the trash outback has been pretty weird, there’s loads of half eaten junk food in there and that doesn’t make sense because no one in our house eats junk food and that’s our bin.”
Seunghyun goes white as a sheet. Of course Seungri would notice a thing like that! Why did they have to have such an attentive little shit for a maknae? Anybody else would just assume some fucker was throwing his crap in with their crap, but Seungri would have seen it piling up, more being added every few days and he would have - has - put two and two together and come out with four.
“Listen Seungri, I…”
“I don’t need an explanation or anything hyeong, it’s just that Daesung likes home cooking and Youngbae eats whatever Hwang-ssabu tells him to and Jiyong would rather die than go up a jean size and I know it’s not me and I know you like crappy food but that’s really quite a lot of crappy food” Seungri’s black rimmed eyes look concerned as he infiltrates Seunghyun’s personal space.
“If you’re worried about debut then don’t be, I won’t put any weight on or anything, we’ll be fine, just forget about it.”
Seungri shifts awkwardly from foot to foot and his words come out in a rush, “hyeong, I know you haven’t been putting in any extra time at the gym or anything and I know that crappy food makes you happy when you’re stressed but we really need to be at our best right now so do you think you could hold up till we’ve finished our first round of promotions?”
“You really don’t need to worry,” Seunghyun’s grin feels so fake as he tries to laugh Seungri off, “I’ve got a system, think I might actually lose weight”
Seungri sighs, “hyeong I don’t think this is something to joke about. You barely leave the dorm except for schedule and it’s not like we have that much time spare any….”
“Look, I said I’ve got this and I’ve got this and can you please mind your own fucking business?” and Seunghyun realises a moment too late that his tone is all off and his voice is too loud and he definitely sounds like he has something to hide.
Seungri snaps, sharp as a whip, “Seunghyun, what are you doing?”
Seunghyun nearly slaps him in surprised
“You just called me…”
“Answer me!”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a rude little shit who doesn’t deserve any answers from me,” Seunghyun retorts.
“I don’t give a shit if I’m a little shit, what are you doing Seunghyun?” Seungri’s voice is loud enough now to attract attention and Seunghyun knows it’s only a matter of time before he’ll be saved by the curiosity of someone coming to see what all the racket is about.
“You can’t make me answer you, I get the final say, remember?” Seunghyun imitates Seungri and watches in sick satisfaction as the maknae’s face darkens with rage for just a second. He supposes this is how Jiyong feels when he’s poking people with his glass tipped arrow.
Seungri composes himself only seconds later and says in a trembling voice, “you know that doesn’t get you out of anything unless you commit to it, right?” he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, pressing his hands together over his lips like he’s praying for a moment, and then turns on his heels.
Seungri runs off into the building, convincing the stylist noona sent out to see what all the noise was about that there’s really nothing wrong and he just got a little overexcited.
Seunghyun thinks about Seunri’s little mantra and wonders where the maknae learned to live by it. Anyone who knows anything about Lee Seunghyun knows that he didn’t make it back into YG from elimination because the boss picked him, he made his way back in because he didn’t give the boss any option but to let him back. Hyunseng surrendered himself to the will of the company, let himself be powerless in the face of what he was probably naïve enough to call destiny and he failed while Seungri took the kingdom from the Emperor without so much as moving him from his throne.
The urge to binge rises with Seunghyun’s helpless jealousy over Seungri’s self motivation. He figures the others can manage without him for a few hours while he sees to his own needs.
And anyway, Seunghyun figures as he blindly grabs the biggest bottle of Fanta in his line of sight, this is him taking control of his body. He’s having his cake and eating it, literally! He’s not letting YG or Jiyong or even good old fashioned biology tell him that he can’t eat all this shit without gaining weight, he’s getting the final say in what goes in and out of his body. He’s doing everything Seungri does and he should feel free and happy and most of all not fat.
So why does he feel so much like he’s shackled himself to a sinking ship while the rest of Bigbang sail away in the last four lifeboats?
Seunghyun gets home and rips off the packaging of a honey pastry. He’s shoved half of it into his mouth before he realises with a sickening dread that he is not alone this afternoon.
Jiyong is sitting at the dining room table, eyeing Seunghyun and his usual horde of shopping bags warily.
Seunghyun stares at him for a full minute, sugar smeared round his mouth, debating whether to continue or to try out some of the freshly prepared excuses his brain is now supplying him with.
The temptation of the food proves too great and before he knows how he got there he’s sitting at the other end of the table, gorging himself while Jiyong watches in stunned silence.
After maybe five minutes, Jiyong stops being silent and starts getting worried. At one point he tries to clear some of the remaining food off the table and Seunghyun nearly punches him, when he moves from worry to anger and tries to hold Seunghyun’s arms down so that he can’t use them to shovel food into his mouth, Jiyong does feel Seunghyun’s fist in his gut, leaving him winded on the floor long enough for Seunghyun to shut himself in the bathroom and begin the process of forcing his food out of his mouth.
Jiyong pounds on the door and screams and shouts and threatens to call the others and have them come over a see what Seunghyun is doing to himself, but it’s a threat he never makes good on. When Seunghyun emerges from the bathroom, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Jiyong is wide eyed and shaking.
Seunghyun says nothing, pushes past Jiyong and starts gathering up the shameful pile of empty wrappers on the table. He finds a half eaten chocolate bar and holds it out to Jiyong.
“You want some?”
Jiyong stares at the gaudy red wrapper, his breath visibly quickening and after a few beats he can’t keep his gaze straight. Seunghyun watches him carefully try not to focus his eyes on any one point for too long until he gives up and knocks the chocolate out of Seunghyun’s hand to drag him to the couch.
“How often do you do this hyeong?” he chokes around his breath.
Seunghyun doesn’t answer.
“Why do you do this hyeong?”
Seunghyun doesn’t answer.
“Was it that shit I said about you the other week on that day you went home early?” Jiyong barely gets the words out around nervous half sobs threatening to tumble into hysterics. Seunghyun’s honestly amazed that Jiyong even remembers what he said that morning, yet alone that it would bother him enough to be the first cause he’d think of for Seunghyun’s binging. Then again, it could just be typical Jiyong assuming that the world revolves around him.
“It didn’t help.” Seunghyun mumbles, Jiyong responds with a questioning hiccup.
Seunghyun breathes deep, lets his insecurities bubble to the top of his stew of emotional fuckery and lets them do the talking. “You were right about everything Jiyong. I’m a terrified fat sack of shit pretending to be a charisma fuelled pretty boy and I’m too much of a coward to even commit to the role.”
“You think I see you like that? You fucker! You…” Jiyong slams his fist against the arm of the couch. If he wasn’t still shaking with exasperated sobs and if he wasn’t to pathetically pintsized it might have been an impressive gesture. “Why do you have to be so fucking sensitive?”
“Why do you have to be such a dick?” Seunghyun knows Jiyong isn’t to blame for his binging, nor his purging. He’s just a trigger that shouldn’t have gone off and if Seunghyun had actually dealt with his weight issues in a sensible and healthy manner rather than starving himself skinny the gun would never have been cocked.
Jiyong manages to hold his gaze steady for a few seconds, choosing his words; Seunghyun can practically see him sharpening his verbal glass tipped arrow. “I’m a dick because I’ve been a trainee with YG for 6 years and before that I was a trainee with SM. I’m a dick because I’ve been put on YG tracks since I was thirteen years old and there’s still no guarantee that I’m going to make it with Bigbang. You may have noticed that a couple of months back I was being told there was a pretty good chance I wasn’t going to make it into this group at all. I’m a dick because YG was going to let me debut as a duo with my best friend and the only guy who I honestly believe has put as much effort into getting to debut as I have, only to be told they were re-hashing the line up to include a bunch of bozos none of whom had been with the company for even three years. I’m a dick because if you fuck this up for me because you can’t dance or because you can’t get over the fact that YG wouldn’t take you when you were fat then I’m never going to stop wondering what I could have done to change things because I’m your fucking leader and at the end of the day if we go south it’s all on my head. Most of all I’m a dick because I know that I’m such a little shit that the only thing that ever gets through to me is arseholery”
Jiyong looks Seunghyun in the eye with a gaze that passes through all his insecurities, “and I’m sorry that sometimes I forget that other people aren’t like me and that you can’t beat them into the shape that suits you best and I’m sorry that sometimes I forget my shape isn’t the only mould out there.” Jiyong closes his eyes, sighs deep and manages a smile through his shuddering breaths, “and most of all I’m sorry for whatever part of this,” He gestures to Seunghyun, then the food wrappers on the table, “is my fault, but I can’t be sorry for long because getting this fixed is more important than working out how we got here right now.”
Jiyong falls to his knees in front of Seunghyun and pauses to let his pulse slow. His breath is still hitching unflatteringly on every second exhale, but his eyes are calm. “So you need to tell me how you need to deal with this, because the only way I know doesn’t work with you. If you need to go talk to a psychiatrist or someone then you tell me, if you need to readjust your diet plan so there’s more room for shitty food in reasonable quantities then you tell me, and if you can handle this by yourself then you tell me. But know this, if I ever find you sticking your fingers down your throat again, I’m not going to have any choice but to go higher, and it won’t just be me and your manager involved anymore. If we can’t find a way to stop this you’re not going to leave me with any choice but to tell YG because honestly this is out of my league, and if you think I’m a dick then he’ll rip you apart.”
Seunghyun debates telling Jiyong to go fuck himself, just to see the look on his face, but after an age spent staring each other down, he finally gives in.
“This was a slip up, I can handle it myself.”
Jiyong nods brusquely, “You’re sure?”
Seunghyun pulls Jiyong into a tight embrace, made awkward by Jiyong still kneeling on the floor, “I’m sure.” A moment later he follows with, “You’re a really great leader Ji.”
Seunghyun can hear the smile in Jiyong’s voice as he responds “I know,” and he doesn’t get so much as a prod in the ribs for shortening the little leader’s name.
There’s a smile on Seunghyun’s face as Jiyong leaves, claiming a need to supervise proceedings over at the YG building. No one can make him do anything he doesn’t want to, not YG nor Jiyong nor the winking mascots on his favourite fast foods. He runs to his room and digs through the rubbish under his bed until he finds two old photos.
He grabs his coat, walks out the door and follows Jiyong’s footsteps to the YG building, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he prepares to have the final say.
Seunghyun walks into the dance studio where the other four members are moving more fluidly than he ever will and for the first time he feels completely ok with that, because not being able to dance is going to be his thing, along with not being able to sing, never taking any of his clothes off and being a really damn good rapper. He knows his role and he plays it well.
He points to the couple of management types observing the rehearsal from afar, “out!” he says, and they leave without even asking why.
There is an air of tension clouding the room and Seunghyun suspects that he has been the subject of a fair few ‘private’ conversations over the past couple of weeks. For a second he wonders if they’ve all worked out his not so little secret, until he remembers that the number of dance rehearsals he’s been missing must be quite a worry to them all so close to debut and he remembers that Jiyong probably isn’t the only one thinking that if Bigbang doesn’t make it then they’re done for.
“I have something you all need to see,” Seunghyun says, taking care to meet every other set of eyes in the room. He sticks his hand in his trouser pocket and pulls out the two photos he’s taken from under his bed.
“This one,” he says, holding up a photo of a chubby high-schooler, “is me when I was 16.” He hands the photo to Daesung who gawks at it, glancing between the real Seunghyun and the fat kid he’s just discovered, he passes the photo to Youngbae who nods, smiles and passes it to Seungri, whose eyes pop a little before he quickly presses it into Jiyongs hands, who stares blankly at it for all of two seconds before giving it back to Seunghyun, who holds up the second photo.
“This is me two years ago, when I first auditioned for YG,” this photo does the rounds to similar effect, though the surprise is more heartfelt. Loosing that much weight so fast is not a well documented phenomenon.
When the photo makes its way back to him, Seunghyun continues, “I was told Yang Goon wouldn’t take me because I was too fat, even though he thought I was one of the most talented rappers he’d ever seen. I went home and started to exercise like crazy, I ate less and less until I was starving myself and in the end I lost twenty kilos in forty days. When I auditioned for the second time I was practically hallucinating with hunger, but I passed the bar and now I’m here.” There is total silence in the dance studio. Daesung, Youngbae and Seungri all state at him with careful, recalculating looks.
“Shall we take it from the top?” Jiyong asks his voice and face both emotionless.
“What are we practicing?” Seunghyun asks as the tension dissipates and the others move into their standard dance positions.
“Lalala,” Youngbae says, beaming. Seunghyun catches a wink from him in the mirror.
Seunghyun smiles and breaks into his less than elegant interpretation of the routine. He feels the weight of fat-Seunghyun finally leave him for good, and though he knows this probably isn’t the end of his weight issues he suspects it’s the beginning of the end and there’s a satisfaction in that. The secret was a bigger problem than the thing itself and though Seunghyun feels like a fool for gorging himself sick right now he feels a sense of pride as he grabs his demon by its horns and he thinks that the next time he’s eyeing up the sweets in some corner shop he’ll be able to catch himself before he falls. The only question left to answer is whether or not he’ll utilise his new found power.
Seungri’s advice floats through his mind once again - they cannot make him do anything he doesn’t want to, the choice is always his - and he finally gets it. Seunghyun can be completely in control and still do things that he doesn’t want to do, as long as he remembers that the only person who will ever let him do those things is himself, and sometimes he’s going to pick the hard route because in his heart of hearts he knows it’s for the best, and sometimes he’s going to play it easy because life’s too short. But he’s always going to make that decision for himself.
When the five of them return to the hostel at five thirty in the morning, Seunghyun has enough time to mentally thank Seungri for being a little shit and Jiyong for being a dick before he lets sleep carry him into his final days of trainee life.
Three years later and Seunghyun feels like he rules the world.
He used to slip up every now and then. To be honest, he’s not entirely convinced he’ll never have a ‘fat’ day ever again, but right now it seems safe to say that his demon is dead and burning in hell and he hasn’t forced himself over a toilet bowl in over six months. He is at peace with fat-Seunghyun who has managed to become a part of his past rather than a blot on his memory and Bigbang are no longer given choreography that accentuates his sub-par skills. He fills his niche with flare and people think he’s gorgeous, even if they do call him ‘bingu’.
Youngbae bursts into the new dorm, a look of panic on his face that Seunghyun knows well.
“You ok?” Seunghyun asks, and it still feels weird to be the one asking that question rather than working out how best not to answer it. Youngbae shakes his head very fast.
“You wanna talk about it?” Seunghyun says, standing up. Youngbae shakes his head again, so Seunghyun goes for the only option available to him and opens his arms wide to receive.
When Youngbae’s breathing has calmed and they’re just standing in the dorm, alone, because Bigbang are nothing if not convenient with their personal freak-outs, Seunghyun mutters into the top of his head “I know it can feel like YG runs your entire life, but they can’t actually make you do anything that you don’t want to - you get the final say.”
“How did you work that one out?” Youngbae mutters, unconvinced.
Seunghyun shrugs, “it worked for Seungri,” then he steps away from Youngbae, smiles, and leaves him to his thoughts.
Pulling up his hood and covering his face with a scarf, Seunghyun mumbles to himself about how annoying it is that he can’t even cross the river without being mobbed by fans otherwise. He steps out into the chilly Seoul winter and lights up, watching the smoke mingle with his steaming breath, then he strolls off down the road to MacDonald’s for a burger.
It tastes like bread and beef and pickles, Seunghyun has long forgotten the taste of shame.
Fandom: Bigbang
Pairings: none, ot5
Summary: Three weeks to go till debut and Seunghyun's back to square one
A/N: I wasn't able to find a beta for this so it's being posted un-betaed. If you have any suggestions for improvements they would be much appreciated. The title's taken from 4st 7lbs by The Manic Street Preachers
Also on AO3
WARNING: This fic comes with a serious eating disorder trigger warning, it contains detailed descriptions of binging and purging and self fat shaming.
The moment Seunghyun realises he’s going to have to lift up his shirt, live onstage in front of legions of squealing fans and have it recorded for posterity in a music video is the most vicious reality check he’s ever had to put up with.
Youngbae runs through the choreography slowly for Seunghyun’s benefit, somehow managing to make every pop of the hip and flick of the knee look as sharp as machinery. Seunghyun feels a familiar jealousy settle in his stomach coupled with an even more familiar nervous pressure reminiscent of how the kid who’s not so good at maths feels when the teacher goes over the problem one more time so they can get their head around it, when every other kid in the class understands and are all too well aware that the slow kid simply isn’t going to get the problem no matter how many times it’s laid out for them in all its component parts.
Seunghyun’s good at maths. Dancing on the other hand…
But it’s not the dance this time. It’s embarrassing and frustrating but he’s learned to deal with his two left feet and the late night solo rehearsals that never seem to do him any good and Jiyong finally snapping after three hours dancing the same routine and flying into a rage with him. It sucks but Seunghyun knows the drill - he can’t dance and everyone suffers as a result.
This is more than that though; this is an old anxiety that Seunghyun was sure he’d lost along with over half his bodyweight. Youngbae lifts his shirt, twists it up to reveal an expanse of perfect, muscle toned skin. By the time Seunghyun’s brain has moved on from that step Youngbae appears to be halfway through the choreography and it’s no longer clear how he wound up on the other side of the dance studio. Jiyong’s eyes are already narrowed in irritation.
“Start again Youngbae, he’s not paying attention.”
Seunghyun flashes an apologetic half-grin at Youngbae as he starts up the routine again. As always he has the patience of a saint and the stamina of a racehorse whilst Jiyong tries to appear aloof and Seungri and Daesung roll their eyes in bored exasperation, too familiar with Jiyong’s pathetic attempts at fighting dirty to believe it’ll actually work on their oldest hyeong. This is a dance that Seunghyun can remain blissfully passive in, yet still he winds up as the centre piece for the same show with a different tune every damn rehearsal.
When Youngbae lifts his shirt this time round, Seunghyun makes a conscious effort to take note of the steps that follow, but his mind is still half in some hideous alternate reality performance on Inkigayo where he has to perform in nothing but his boxers and once again he surfaces to find his bandmate on the other side of the room to where he lasts remembers him being. He feels Daesung stiffen a little beside him as they all tune into a shared sixth sense that lets them know when Jiyong is about to hulk out.
Seunghyun never thought it would be possible for such a tiny person to contain so much rage.
“Why don’t you guys go find Wheesung and do some vocal work for a couple of hours? I’ll walk this one through with Seunghyun-hyeong”
For a moment, Jiyong stares at Youngbae with so much fire in his eyes that Seunghyun’s more than a little surprised that Bigbang’s best dancer doesn’t go up in flames. A second later it’s gone, replaced by what their leader thinks passes for indifference but come across as a shoddy cover for fury.
“Rather you than me,” the human spitfire says, barely keeping the venom from his voice as he glares at Seunghyun. Seungri and Daesung give Jiyong a moment to seethe once he’s left the room before wishing Seunghyun luck and escaping the sweaty confines of the dance studio.
When the door finally shuts, Youngbae turns to look at Seunghyun, sitting against the wall with his chin resting on his knees and his arms hugging his legs close and sighs.
“What’s wrong hyeong?”
Seunghyun tries to say ‘nothing’ but instead winds up actually saying nothing, which is as sure a way to say ‘something’ as anything. He tries to hold Youngbae’s gaze but in all honesty it makes him feel weirdly like crying so he stops.
Youngbae drops to the floor and scoots along the polished wood so he can meet Seunghyun’s eyes more directly. They hold each other’s gaze for what feels like hours before the moment breaks and Seunghyun feels his nerve give out and the terrified sobs that have been barely kept at bay all morning wash over him. Youngbae moves, as smoothly as he does when dancing, to Seunghyun’s side so he can wrap an arm around him and let him cry it out on his shoulder.
Seunghyun lets himself wallow in self pity for ten minutes before he takes a long drag of air and pulls himself together. He stands, pulling Youngbae with him and without a word they start to work through the choreography. Seunghyun trips and hiccups his way through to the end, graceless and gormless, before they take it back to the top and run it through. For the first time in all of his pre-idol career, Seunghyun manages to remember every step the first time round.
When their two hours is up, Youngbae pats Seunghyun on the back, gives him a warm smile and leaves him to sort through his thoughts. He still says nothing and Seunghyun appreciates that. Youngbae knows what they all need emotionally and he never fails to deliver, Seunghyun can’t help but feel that as the oldest it should really be his job to soothe their fraying nerves but Youngbae fills the position so perfectly that he’s never bothered to challenge him for it.
Seunghyun stands alone in the dance studio and runs through the choreography one last time and when the dreaded moment arrives he takes care to only lift his sweater so his tshirt covers his stomach.
For now he is safe.
Not three days later and Lalala has worked its way into their regular cycle of rehearsals. The fact that Seunghyun remembers every step every time has made it a highlight of the other four’s schedule - Jiyong even throws him a compliment the afternoon after his intensive session with Youngbae. Seunghyun knows that he still sticks out like a sore thumb, his moves looking as forced as ever, but he appreciates the glorious half hour of every day that he spends free of the myriad of jokes and frustrations that revolve around the cold hard fact that he can’t dance.
Seunghyun wishes the thought of performing Lalala live didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach.
In rehearsals he finds he gets away with dropping his tshirt and lifting whatever he’s wearing over the top in imitation of the shirt flick more often than not. So far he’s only had to deal with Jiyong’s complaints that ‘they have to all do it properly’ once, and after only a couple of runs through he doesn’t seem to notice that Seunghyun’s back to his old tricks.
Those moments of exposed skin burn bright into Seunghyun’s memory though, troubling him more the more time passed between him laying them bare and no one commenting on the fact they haven’t seen his stomach since. He runs the few moments of visible belly over and over in his mind, trying to remember where everyone was looking at the time. Was Jiyong actually looking at his stomach or was he just checking that Seunghyun was dancing to his impeccable standards? Did he imagine Seungri’s eyes flicking to the side to gawp at him? Did Daesung really wrinkle his nose in disgust? Why is Seunghyun so sure that Youngbae is the only one who didn’t turn his head to judge?
His thoughts inevitably turn to the specifics of what was visible under his many layers. He pictures and repictures the flick of his wrist, the lift of his shirt, the flash of his skin. Sometimes he’s sure he barely showed his belly button and he can breathe steadily for a few minutes, until he begins to doubt his memory and somehow his recollection changes before his mind’s eye until he’s lifted his shirt high enough to show his nipples, his oversized skin, his stretch marks.
Only Jiyong knows that Seunghyun used to be fat.
For all his overblown rage and childish spite, Seunghyun trusts Jiyong to keep that particular secret.
Late that night, Seunghyun finds himself with Seungri in the parking lot outside, caught up in the kind of dance practice that only the maknae can facilitate. Little Seunghyun (a name now shed almost entirely) isn’t the best dancer, or the best singer or the best rapper in Bigbang, but he’s far and away the best teacher and whilst Seunghyun trusts Youngbae to walk him through the steps with borderline obsessive precision, he knows that if he ever wants to make his body look even half natural then it’s Seungri’s less than careful hand that’s going to guide him there.
Seunghyun tries not to think about what would have happened had Seungri been cut from the group - a prospect that had come dangerously close to a reality not two months previously. He’d be lying if he said that he’d ever got on with the youngest as well as he had with Hyunseung, but their lost member had lacked the boundless enthusiasm that had become vital to getting the five of them through the day.
Seungri knows when to crack a joke and when to slow down. He knows when to let you make your own mistakes and he knows when to cross boundaries, even when Seunghyun has no idea that boundaries even existed. Seungri knows when to turn a blind eye to your mistakes and most importantly he knows when to let you stop, which for someone so terrible at throwing in the towel themselves feels like nothing short of a miracle.
They run through VIP and mess it up on purpose. Seunghyun laughs first but Seungri laughs longest as he deliberately trips over feet too confident to do so by themselves. They flash their best smiles at each other before the maknae suggests they run through Lalala, he says it as an afterthought but qualifies that they won’t need to go through it for long because Seunghyun’s pretty good at it anyway.
Seunghyun’s good at pretending he does exactly what everyone else does now. With no one but Seungri to mess up in front of he feels his body move through the well worn steps more smoothly than he would ever be able to in the company of the other members, but he knows that that’s all Seungri’s easy manner and infectious laughter - his own efforts have nothing to do with it.
He puts his feet in the right place on every beat, grabs his butt with a smile on his face and even manages to make one or two of the sharp hip-pops in the choreography look like something he might be good at. Seungri is relaxed and free flowing beside him and even though it’s the middle of the night in a scuzzy carpark Seunghyun feels like an idol for the first time. When they’re done there’s a beat before they fall into an embrace that feels just a shade different from the normal invasions of personal space that they all subject each other to throughout the day and for the first time the two Seunghyun’s see how they can fit together as friends.
They head back inside, knowing that the others will still be in the recording studio laying down the last few notes for their upcoming album, and it’s only when they cross the threshold of the YG building that Seungri says anything about Seunghyun’s dancing.
“You never lift your shirt up hyeong!” he halflaughs and Seunghyun feels a nervousness that is entirely inappropriate for the situation creep into his gut.
“What?”
“In Lalala, we’re all supposed to lift up our shirts but you never do, you just pick up another layer.”
Seungri’s mood is still light despite Seunghyun’s rapidly deteriorating one. His eyes are still sparkling from within his eyesmile and his limbs are as loose as when dancing.
“So what?” Seunghyun counters with more of a snap to his voice that he intended. Seungri starts for the briefest second before his smile reforms as something that Seunghyun hasn’t seen before. His eyes warm beneath monstrous dark circles and his smile becomes less about how much fun he’s having and more about reassurance. There is so much of Youngbae’s nurturing calm in the maknae at that moment that Seunghyun forgets that he’s the hyeong in this equation.
“I know it can feel like YG runs your entire life hyeong, but they can’t actually make you do anything that you don’t want to - you get the final say.”
Seunghyun watches Seungri trot off down the hall, mumbling something about wanting to put in another hour’s dance practice before he heads home to sleep. He feels more relaxed than he's been all week.
Five minutes later and he’s still standing in his personal ocean of calm as Daesung emerges from the elevator looking like shit. Seunghyun’s pretty sure Bigbang’s superstar singer hasn’t slept in 24 hours and jokingly offers him a piggyback back to the hostel. Daesung of course accepts the offer and before Seunghyun can let his bluff be called he’s saddled with his friend’s weight, walking through the pleasant summer night.
“Are you out of breath already hyeong?” Daesung asks, his voice sleepy
“I told you! I can’t be physically fit; if I was there would be nothing else for anyone to be the best at!”
Daesung smiles his smile that you can hear from a thousand miles away; as he does every time Seunghyun cracks one of his never ending list of same old shitty jokes.
“You seem happier tonight hyeong; you were so serious at practice this morning, no, yesterday morning. I was worried the pressure was getting to you.”
Seunghyun shrugs noncommittally, but keeps smiling as they wander through the streets of Seoul. Daesung slowly relaxes as they go, so that by the time they make it back to their empty home he’s already fallen asleep.
Seunghyun opens the door to Daesung and Youngbae’s room and tries to dump him on the bed. His attempts are rendered unsuccessful when the suddenly not so sleepy Daesung refuses to let go.
“You’re nice tonight, stay here,” Daesung mumbles into the arm of Seunghyun’s sweater.
Seunghyun has no idea how tonight is any different from any other night, but he stays, sleep coming more easily than he thought it would with Daesung holding his arm in a vicelike grip.
In the morning Seunghyun is the first in the house to wake. He sits in the kitchen and wonders how long he should wait before waking anyone else up. Seungri solves that problem by stumbling into view not ten minutes before the alarm that he sets every morning goes off. The maknae nods sleepily to acknowledge the other’s existence before he sets off on his mission to annoy the rest of his hyeongs into waking up.
“Seungri,” Seunghyun feels himself say, though he doesn’t really feel like he’s driving his body anymore. Seungri raises his eyebrows and looks at him like he’s still asleep and stands with his hand on Jiyong’s bedroom door, his morning routine put on pause rather than stopped.
Seunghyun’s body is put back in his control at precisely the wrong moment and the awkward seconds in which he doesn’t know what to say tick by. Seungri begins to move back towards the door by the time the words have come unstuck and Seunghyun works out what it was he’d wanted to say.
“Thanks,” he calls, too loud for this early in the morning on so little sleep.
Seungri fixes him with the same warm smile Seunghyun had seen for the first time last night. It’s just for a moment, but it’s there.
Five minutes later and everyone is groggily shovelling breakfast into their mouths in preparation for another too-long day. The picture looks the same as any other morning, but Seunghyun feels a shift in their dynamic, in Seungri’s favour.
Seunghyun smiles and plods off to get dressed.
They have been dancing for five hours and Seunghyun can’t move anymore. Jiyong is having a bad day and taking it out on all of them, the corners of his mouth increasingly downturned and his brow getting more imposing by the second. The rest of them had known a storm was coming since the get go, but the anticipation makes it feel like they’re already battering against the gale force winds of Kwon Jiyong’s fury.
He slumps in the corner and runs his hands through his hair, before telling Daesung, Youngbae and Seungri to beat it. Seunghyun stares at Jiyong from across the room and finds himself stuck in that complicated position of being older than his leader and also being his subordinate. He’s grateful that YG didn’t make him take the wheel, but it's frustrating that it can make something as simple as talking to someone who you’ve known for too long to live without unnecessarily complicated.
“We’re debuting in three weeks time,” Jiyong says from between fingers pulled across his face.
“I know”
“You need to improve your dance”
“I’m trying”
“Stop trying and just do it.” Jiyong isn’t leading with any of his usual tricks. Seunghyun suspects this might just be the hurricane he’s spent the past five hours hoping to avoid, but there is none of his leader’s usual ire in his words. He doesn’t even shout.
Seunghyun moves to sit next to Jiyong who doesn’t get up and leave, which is a good sign. “What if I can’t improve my dancing?”
“Then we’re all fucked.” Jiyong sighs and lets his shoulders fall. Seunghyun suddenly catches up to the fact that he is being let in on one of Jiyong’s weak moments and that he is being treated with a level of trust that hasn’t been present between them since they were middle school kids. He wonders why Youngbae isn’t sitting in his place.
Youngbae is Jiyong’s best friend and his most trusted confidant, and Jiyong has just sent him out of the room so he can talk to Seunghyun instead.
“You’re the oldest you know,” Jiyong says in a voice betraying no hint of any emotion, “You’re the one who’s supposed to step up and help me out when I can’t hold things together by myself but you can’t fucking dance and that’s the whole problem and you’re not supposed to be the problem you’re supposed to be the solution.”
Jiyong turns to look at him with moody eyes. “You just can’t fucking dance.”
“I’m sorry Ji,” Seunghyun says before he has time to remember that he doesn’t call him ‘Ji’ anymore. Ji was the friend of a fat little boy who’s name Seunghyun can’t remember and who’s face has changed so much that the image of him he has committed to memory is all but useless.
Jiyong glares daggers at him “only Youngbae gets to call me that,” he snaps, “don’t try to pretend you know me Seunghyun.”
Seunghyun thinks Jiyong has things the wrong way round, because despite his many talents he’s still the petulant little boy who was friends with the fat kid and always worked out how to get things to play out to his own impeccable standards, whilst Seunghyun feels like he has put an ocean between his six year old self and the man child he has become. He knows Jiyong like he knows the smell of his mum’s home cooking, over time it changes in subtle and barely noticeable ways, but it’s always unmistakable and intrinsically linked with memories of being too young to care about anything beyond trying to talk your way out of another day of school. Jiyong is part of an ever expanding stretch of nostalgia that branches off into Seunghyun’ past, and though there are large gaps that he is absent from he remains so frozen in character that it can feel like he never left.
And Jiyong must be a mind reader because he rises to Seunghyun’s challenge with that seemingly effortless flare that characterises his every action.
“You keep a notepad by your bed where you write down any words you find that you don’t understand when you read, the dictionary you use to define them is stashed in the same box under your bed that you keep your porn in. You get antsy when your toothbrush isn’t on the right hand side of the sink or when someone puts the cereal back in the wrong order or when someone leaves your pyjama trousers under that ratty old nightshirt you wear and not the other way round and you pretend you’re fine with it until you think no one’s looking. You never wear anything new when you can wear clothes that still smell like home. People think you’re cool because you’re handsome but there’s nothing cool about you at all.”
Jiyong rattles off the list slowly and deliberately, not looking at Seunghyun as he goes onto list favourite TV shows from when he was a kid, the name of the first girl he’d gotten to second base with, those two weeks Seunghyun was grounded for getting into a fight he didn’t start.
Seunghyun soon realises that he has nothing like this to offer Jiyong. Everything he knows about his leader is in relation to himself or so blindingly obvious a first day trainee could tell you the same thing. Jiyong has catalogued the years and kept them safe for just such a moment as this. It doesn’t matter how well Choi Seunghyun knows Kwon Jiyong, because Kwon Jiyong knows Choi Seunghyun a thousand times better without even trying.
Finally, when Jiyong has talked his way through nigh on all the life they ever shared together, he turns his face to Seunghyun and glares at him, hard. He’s still angry and this is still his petty revenge.
“You used to be the greatest tub of lard I ever laid eyes on. Then you got your act together and somehow you got into YG, but you’re terrified that someone will leak a photo or that Youngbae will remember that fat guy who could really rap and work out that that was you.”
Seunghyun holds Jiyong’s gaze steady, but his pulse is racing. Jiyong has stopped playing games and has moved in for the kill.
“And now you’ve been given choreography in which you have to lift your shirt for two fucking seconds and you won’t do it because you’re terrified that fat little Seunghyun’s going to come tumbling out from under there and eat you up.”
Seunghyun stumbles to his feet, his heart thumping a mile a minute. He gets to the door and manages a strangled “fuck you Ji” before running to the nearest MacDonald’s.
Four BigMacs, a litre of Coke and an indefinable number of French fries later and Seunghyun is vomiting noisily into a bin on the street corner outside the Macdonald’s two blocks away from the YG building. He hadn’t realised how small his stomach had become, how far his appetite had been hindered by the constant attentions of his diet plan. Retching for what feels like the hundredth time he internally curses the irony that despite starving himself into the music industry’s ridiculously high standards he can’t manage to hold down the food that he’s been craving for almost two years.
Coming up it all tastes much the same as going down, except going down it tasted worryingly like panic, and now it’s coming back up Seunghyun feels relieved. He wants to cram his body full of crap like this because crap like this is what his body likes. He craves it, lies awake at night contemplating sneaking out to grab a fucking pizza, but he also doesn’t want that crap anywhere near him. His career depends on fatty food being kept as far away from him as possible, despite the rigorous dance training and extended sessions at the gym there isn’t enough room in his waistband to compensate for it.
Those glorious moments when Hwang-ssabu allows for a chocolate bar or when someone sneaks a bucket of fried chicken into the dorm have always felt like a little pocket of heaven that never opens wide enough. Yet allowing himself to pig out like he’s been so sure he’s really wanted to makes him feel like shit and Seunghyun wants to break something because of all the injustices that idoldom has dealt him the fact that he can’t even enjoy food anymore is definitely the one that stings most.
There’s nothing left in his stomach but a growing sense of dread. Seunghyun stares at the undigested burgers sitting at the bottom of the bin and tries to feel repulsed, but it’s no good.
He wants more.
Seunghyun fumbles for his wallet as he stumbles into the GS25 across the road. He grabs as much chocolate, crisps, cake and soda as he can, bundling them into flimsy supermarket plastic bags that do little to hide his shame, then he sets off back to the hostel.
He is unsurprised yet still relieved to find that no one is at home. He shoves his hand indiscriminately into the nearest shopping bag; tears open the wrapper of some cheap chocolate and downs the lot in less than thirty seconds. He repeats the process over and over, barely registering taste, texture or brand as he fills himself with all the food that has haunted his wildest dreams. He eats until long after he can eat no more, until he’s sure his stomach will burst. Seunghyun doesn’t stop until he feels the bile rising once again in his throat.
He throws down the half eaten pack of crisps and clears the mercifully short distance between himself and the bathroom. He heaves until his body can handle the amount of food left in it, at which point he sticks his fingers down his throat and heaves until there’s nothing else left to regurgitate. He rests his head on the toilet bowl, eyes watering from the burning down his oesophagus and sobs helplessly.
Seunghyun finds that he hates Jiyong more than he hates his own love of shitty food. He hates Jiyong because he always deals ten times what it dished out to him - for better or worse, and because in a world where everyone’s armed with sharp sticks he always manages to score the glass tipped arrow. Most of all, Seunghyun hates Jiyong because he’s so skinny and self confident and charismatic and motivated and he’s never needed to work for it, everything good came naturally to him and everything good came at a price for Seunghyun.
Sticks and stones, Seunghyun’s once so very fat ass.
By the time Daesung walks through the door, the first one home after what was apparently a nightmarish day featuring the Jiyong rage to end all Jiyong rages, Seunghyun has thrown the rest of his junk food in the garbage. Daesung is halfway through ranting about some move or other that Jiyong was convinced he was out of sync on, leading to almost half an hour spent being scolded, before he stops mid sentence and furrows his brows in worry.
“Hyeong what’s wrong?”
Seunghyun’s face is blank as he shakes his head and feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. And he’s so fucking sick of crying.
Daesung comes over to the couch where he’s sat and folds himself around Seunghyun, rocking slightly backwards and forwards.
“Not such a good day today.” It’s not a question. But Seunghyun still nods his head
“Jiyong…”
“Oh hyeong,” Daesung mumbles into his shoulder as Seunghyun continues his war against tears. Something leaves a wet, salty streak down his cheek and he realises he’s losing that battle.
They sit like that for a long time - Daesung wrapped around Seunghyun and rocking him ever so gently backwards and forwards, humming tuneless songs under his breath. Seunghyun is reminded of the other night when he crashed in Daesung’s bed and slept like a log even though it was far too hot to be sharing body heat like that. He’d really love to sleep right now, but unfortunately his schedule isn’t going to catch up on itself.
“What did you mean when you said I was nice?” Seunghyun asks suddenly, fighting against Daesung so that he uncurls himself from his body and ceases the rocking motion that’s held them in stasis for so long.
“When did I say that?”
“A few days ago, you said I was ‘nice tonight’ and then you made me share your bed.”
Daesung shrugs, “everyone’s nice sometimes hyeong.”
Seunghyun sighs and smiles warmly at his dongsaeng. “Not everyone Daesung, you’re nice all the time!”
Daesung giggles and Seunghyun starts to tickle him. By the time Jiyong and Youngbae walk through the door they’re in full on tickle fight mode with Seunghyun knocking over furniture as he tries to catch up to his opponent.
Jiyong and Youngbae watch on in bemusement until Seunghyun literally trips over his own feet and Jiyong’s mood suddenly darkens and he barks out something about having to take care of their bodies because they have to be in top condition for when they debut three weeks from now. Seunghyun expects him to ask for a private word at some point in the evening only to take him outside and give him a verbal bollocking, but he says nothing.
In fact, Jiyong ignores Seunghyun all evening. Seunghyun doesn’t feel snubbed or brushed off, he feels like he’s very deliberately being given space and he is grateful beyond all imagining. In the next few days, he doesn’t even get called up to see the boss for one his famous scoldings, which is unusual because Seunghyun missed almost a whole day of training so close to debut.
It takes him three days to realise that Jiyong must have covered for him. It’s completely out of character, so Seunghyun just chalks it up to Daesung being right - everyone is nice sometimes.
With two week to go before debut, Seunghyun finds himself alone in the hostel with his head down the toilet and his fingers down his throat once again. When he runs outside to dispose of the evidence of an hour spent stuffing himself to maximum capacity he swears he can feel his old enormous gut determining his gait, like a phantom limb.
When the boss watches them perform Lalala he notices that Seunghyun doesn’t lift his shirt up and he likes it, says it was a shame he didn’t do that in the MV. YG thinks that they can make Seunghyun’s affinity to layered clothes his ‘thing’. Seunghyun feels more relaxed than he has done since the night Seungri gave him that much needed yet unheeded advice.
With five days to go before debut, Seunghyun is back in the YG parking lot with Seungri for what will be their last rehearsal together as non-idols.
“Just think hyeong, if all goes well in a few weeks time we’ll get to complain about how we can’t practice out here anymore because we’d just get mobbed by our fans!” Seungri says as he enthusiastically bounces through some of his own choreography to an American song that Seunghyun has never heard before and doesn’t much care for.
Seungri pops and locks and spins his way over to Seunghyun until he’s standing right under the older boy’s nose. “I need to talk to you seriously for a moment hyeong, ok?”
“Ok?” Seunghyun responds, unsettled by something in the maknae’s tone.
“Over the past couple of weeks the trash outback has been pretty weird, there’s loads of half eaten junk food in there and that doesn’t make sense because no one in our house eats junk food and that’s our bin.”
Seunghyun goes white as a sheet. Of course Seungri would notice a thing like that! Why did they have to have such an attentive little shit for a maknae? Anybody else would just assume some fucker was throwing his crap in with their crap, but Seungri would have seen it piling up, more being added every few days and he would have - has - put two and two together and come out with four.
“Listen Seungri, I…”
“I don’t need an explanation or anything hyeong, it’s just that Daesung likes home cooking and Youngbae eats whatever Hwang-ssabu tells him to and Jiyong would rather die than go up a jean size and I know it’s not me and I know you like crappy food but that’s really quite a lot of crappy food” Seungri’s black rimmed eyes look concerned as he infiltrates Seunghyun’s personal space.
“If you’re worried about debut then don’t be, I won’t put any weight on or anything, we’ll be fine, just forget about it.”
Seungri shifts awkwardly from foot to foot and his words come out in a rush, “hyeong, I know you haven’t been putting in any extra time at the gym or anything and I know that crappy food makes you happy when you’re stressed but we really need to be at our best right now so do you think you could hold up till we’ve finished our first round of promotions?”
“You really don’t need to worry,” Seunghyun’s grin feels so fake as he tries to laugh Seungri off, “I’ve got a system, think I might actually lose weight”
Seungri sighs, “hyeong I don’t think this is something to joke about. You barely leave the dorm except for schedule and it’s not like we have that much time spare any….”
“Look, I said I’ve got this and I’ve got this and can you please mind your own fucking business?” and Seunghyun realises a moment too late that his tone is all off and his voice is too loud and he definitely sounds like he has something to hide.
Seungri snaps, sharp as a whip, “Seunghyun, what are you doing?”
Seunghyun nearly slaps him in surprised
“You just called me…”
“Answer me!”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a rude little shit who doesn’t deserve any answers from me,” Seunghyun retorts.
“I don’t give a shit if I’m a little shit, what are you doing Seunghyun?” Seungri’s voice is loud enough now to attract attention and Seunghyun knows it’s only a matter of time before he’ll be saved by the curiosity of someone coming to see what all the racket is about.
“You can’t make me answer you, I get the final say, remember?” Seunghyun imitates Seungri and watches in sick satisfaction as the maknae’s face darkens with rage for just a second. He supposes this is how Jiyong feels when he’s poking people with his glass tipped arrow.
Seungri composes himself only seconds later and says in a trembling voice, “you know that doesn’t get you out of anything unless you commit to it, right?” he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, pressing his hands together over his lips like he’s praying for a moment, and then turns on his heels.
Seungri runs off into the building, convincing the stylist noona sent out to see what all the noise was about that there’s really nothing wrong and he just got a little overexcited.
Seunghyun thinks about Seunri’s little mantra and wonders where the maknae learned to live by it. Anyone who knows anything about Lee Seunghyun knows that he didn’t make it back into YG from elimination because the boss picked him, he made his way back in because he didn’t give the boss any option but to let him back. Hyunseng surrendered himself to the will of the company, let himself be powerless in the face of what he was probably naïve enough to call destiny and he failed while Seungri took the kingdom from the Emperor without so much as moving him from his throne.
The urge to binge rises with Seunghyun’s helpless jealousy over Seungri’s self motivation. He figures the others can manage without him for a few hours while he sees to his own needs.
And anyway, Seunghyun figures as he blindly grabs the biggest bottle of Fanta in his line of sight, this is him taking control of his body. He’s having his cake and eating it, literally! He’s not letting YG or Jiyong or even good old fashioned biology tell him that he can’t eat all this shit without gaining weight, he’s getting the final say in what goes in and out of his body. He’s doing everything Seungri does and he should feel free and happy and most of all not fat.
So why does he feel so much like he’s shackled himself to a sinking ship while the rest of Bigbang sail away in the last four lifeboats?
Seunghyun gets home and rips off the packaging of a honey pastry. He’s shoved half of it into his mouth before he realises with a sickening dread that he is not alone this afternoon.
Jiyong is sitting at the dining room table, eyeing Seunghyun and his usual horde of shopping bags warily.
Seunghyun stares at him for a full minute, sugar smeared round his mouth, debating whether to continue or to try out some of the freshly prepared excuses his brain is now supplying him with.
The temptation of the food proves too great and before he knows how he got there he’s sitting at the other end of the table, gorging himself while Jiyong watches in stunned silence.
After maybe five minutes, Jiyong stops being silent and starts getting worried. At one point he tries to clear some of the remaining food off the table and Seunghyun nearly punches him, when he moves from worry to anger and tries to hold Seunghyun’s arms down so that he can’t use them to shovel food into his mouth, Jiyong does feel Seunghyun’s fist in his gut, leaving him winded on the floor long enough for Seunghyun to shut himself in the bathroom and begin the process of forcing his food out of his mouth.
Jiyong pounds on the door and screams and shouts and threatens to call the others and have them come over a see what Seunghyun is doing to himself, but it’s a threat he never makes good on. When Seunghyun emerges from the bathroom, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Jiyong is wide eyed and shaking.
Seunghyun says nothing, pushes past Jiyong and starts gathering up the shameful pile of empty wrappers on the table. He finds a half eaten chocolate bar and holds it out to Jiyong.
“You want some?”
Jiyong stares at the gaudy red wrapper, his breath visibly quickening and after a few beats he can’t keep his gaze straight. Seunghyun watches him carefully try not to focus his eyes on any one point for too long until he gives up and knocks the chocolate out of Seunghyun’s hand to drag him to the couch.
“How often do you do this hyeong?” he chokes around his breath.
Seunghyun doesn’t answer.
“Why do you do this hyeong?”
Seunghyun doesn’t answer.
“Was it that shit I said about you the other week on that day you went home early?” Jiyong barely gets the words out around nervous half sobs threatening to tumble into hysterics. Seunghyun’s honestly amazed that Jiyong even remembers what he said that morning, yet alone that it would bother him enough to be the first cause he’d think of for Seunghyun’s binging. Then again, it could just be typical Jiyong assuming that the world revolves around him.
“It didn’t help.” Seunghyun mumbles, Jiyong responds with a questioning hiccup.
Seunghyun breathes deep, lets his insecurities bubble to the top of his stew of emotional fuckery and lets them do the talking. “You were right about everything Jiyong. I’m a terrified fat sack of shit pretending to be a charisma fuelled pretty boy and I’m too much of a coward to even commit to the role.”
“You think I see you like that? You fucker! You…” Jiyong slams his fist against the arm of the couch. If he wasn’t still shaking with exasperated sobs and if he wasn’t to pathetically pintsized it might have been an impressive gesture. “Why do you have to be so fucking sensitive?”
“Why do you have to be such a dick?” Seunghyun knows Jiyong isn’t to blame for his binging, nor his purging. He’s just a trigger that shouldn’t have gone off and if Seunghyun had actually dealt with his weight issues in a sensible and healthy manner rather than starving himself skinny the gun would never have been cocked.
Jiyong manages to hold his gaze steady for a few seconds, choosing his words; Seunghyun can practically see him sharpening his verbal glass tipped arrow. “I’m a dick because I’ve been a trainee with YG for 6 years and before that I was a trainee with SM. I’m a dick because I’ve been put on YG tracks since I was thirteen years old and there’s still no guarantee that I’m going to make it with Bigbang. You may have noticed that a couple of months back I was being told there was a pretty good chance I wasn’t going to make it into this group at all. I’m a dick because YG was going to let me debut as a duo with my best friend and the only guy who I honestly believe has put as much effort into getting to debut as I have, only to be told they were re-hashing the line up to include a bunch of bozos none of whom had been with the company for even three years. I’m a dick because if you fuck this up for me because you can’t dance or because you can’t get over the fact that YG wouldn’t take you when you were fat then I’m never going to stop wondering what I could have done to change things because I’m your fucking leader and at the end of the day if we go south it’s all on my head. Most of all I’m a dick because I know that I’m such a little shit that the only thing that ever gets through to me is arseholery”
Jiyong looks Seunghyun in the eye with a gaze that passes through all his insecurities, “and I’m sorry that sometimes I forget that other people aren’t like me and that you can’t beat them into the shape that suits you best and I’m sorry that sometimes I forget my shape isn’t the only mould out there.” Jiyong closes his eyes, sighs deep and manages a smile through his shuddering breaths, “and most of all I’m sorry for whatever part of this,” He gestures to Seunghyun, then the food wrappers on the table, “is my fault, but I can’t be sorry for long because getting this fixed is more important than working out how we got here right now.”
Jiyong falls to his knees in front of Seunghyun and pauses to let his pulse slow. His breath is still hitching unflatteringly on every second exhale, but his eyes are calm. “So you need to tell me how you need to deal with this, because the only way I know doesn’t work with you. If you need to go talk to a psychiatrist or someone then you tell me, if you need to readjust your diet plan so there’s more room for shitty food in reasonable quantities then you tell me, and if you can handle this by yourself then you tell me. But know this, if I ever find you sticking your fingers down your throat again, I’m not going to have any choice but to go higher, and it won’t just be me and your manager involved anymore. If we can’t find a way to stop this you’re not going to leave me with any choice but to tell YG because honestly this is out of my league, and if you think I’m a dick then he’ll rip you apart.”
Seunghyun debates telling Jiyong to go fuck himself, just to see the look on his face, but after an age spent staring each other down, he finally gives in.
“This was a slip up, I can handle it myself.”
Jiyong nods brusquely, “You’re sure?”
Seunghyun pulls Jiyong into a tight embrace, made awkward by Jiyong still kneeling on the floor, “I’m sure.” A moment later he follows with, “You’re a really great leader Ji.”
Seunghyun can hear the smile in Jiyong’s voice as he responds “I know,” and he doesn’t get so much as a prod in the ribs for shortening the little leader’s name.
There’s a smile on Seunghyun’s face as Jiyong leaves, claiming a need to supervise proceedings over at the YG building. No one can make him do anything he doesn’t want to, not YG nor Jiyong nor the winking mascots on his favourite fast foods. He runs to his room and digs through the rubbish under his bed until he finds two old photos.
He grabs his coat, walks out the door and follows Jiyong’s footsteps to the YG building, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he prepares to have the final say.
Seunghyun walks into the dance studio where the other four members are moving more fluidly than he ever will and for the first time he feels completely ok with that, because not being able to dance is going to be his thing, along with not being able to sing, never taking any of his clothes off and being a really damn good rapper. He knows his role and he plays it well.
He points to the couple of management types observing the rehearsal from afar, “out!” he says, and they leave without even asking why.
There is an air of tension clouding the room and Seunghyun suspects that he has been the subject of a fair few ‘private’ conversations over the past couple of weeks. For a second he wonders if they’ve all worked out his not so little secret, until he remembers that the number of dance rehearsals he’s been missing must be quite a worry to them all so close to debut and he remembers that Jiyong probably isn’t the only one thinking that if Bigbang doesn’t make it then they’re done for.
“I have something you all need to see,” Seunghyun says, taking care to meet every other set of eyes in the room. He sticks his hand in his trouser pocket and pulls out the two photos he’s taken from under his bed.
“This one,” he says, holding up a photo of a chubby high-schooler, “is me when I was 16.” He hands the photo to Daesung who gawks at it, glancing between the real Seunghyun and the fat kid he’s just discovered, he passes the photo to Youngbae who nods, smiles and passes it to Seungri, whose eyes pop a little before he quickly presses it into Jiyongs hands, who stares blankly at it for all of two seconds before giving it back to Seunghyun, who holds up the second photo.
“This is me two years ago, when I first auditioned for YG,” this photo does the rounds to similar effect, though the surprise is more heartfelt. Loosing that much weight so fast is not a well documented phenomenon.
When the photo makes its way back to him, Seunghyun continues, “I was told Yang Goon wouldn’t take me because I was too fat, even though he thought I was one of the most talented rappers he’d ever seen. I went home and started to exercise like crazy, I ate less and less until I was starving myself and in the end I lost twenty kilos in forty days. When I auditioned for the second time I was practically hallucinating with hunger, but I passed the bar and now I’m here.” There is total silence in the dance studio. Daesung, Youngbae and Seungri all state at him with careful, recalculating looks.
“Shall we take it from the top?” Jiyong asks his voice and face both emotionless.
“What are we practicing?” Seunghyun asks as the tension dissipates and the others move into their standard dance positions.
“Lalala,” Youngbae says, beaming. Seunghyun catches a wink from him in the mirror.
Seunghyun smiles and breaks into his less than elegant interpretation of the routine. He feels the weight of fat-Seunghyun finally leave him for good, and though he knows this probably isn’t the end of his weight issues he suspects it’s the beginning of the end and there’s a satisfaction in that. The secret was a bigger problem than the thing itself and though Seunghyun feels like a fool for gorging himself sick right now he feels a sense of pride as he grabs his demon by its horns and he thinks that the next time he’s eyeing up the sweets in some corner shop he’ll be able to catch himself before he falls. The only question left to answer is whether or not he’ll utilise his new found power.
Seungri’s advice floats through his mind once again - they cannot make him do anything he doesn’t want to, the choice is always his - and he finally gets it. Seunghyun can be completely in control and still do things that he doesn’t want to do, as long as he remembers that the only person who will ever let him do those things is himself, and sometimes he’s going to pick the hard route because in his heart of hearts he knows it’s for the best, and sometimes he’s going to play it easy because life’s too short. But he’s always going to make that decision for himself.
When the five of them return to the hostel at five thirty in the morning, Seunghyun has enough time to mentally thank Seungri for being a little shit and Jiyong for being a dick before he lets sleep carry him into his final days of trainee life.
Three years later and Seunghyun feels like he rules the world.
He used to slip up every now and then. To be honest, he’s not entirely convinced he’ll never have a ‘fat’ day ever again, but right now it seems safe to say that his demon is dead and burning in hell and he hasn’t forced himself over a toilet bowl in over six months. He is at peace with fat-Seunghyun who has managed to become a part of his past rather than a blot on his memory and Bigbang are no longer given choreography that accentuates his sub-par skills. He fills his niche with flare and people think he’s gorgeous, even if they do call him ‘bingu’.
Youngbae bursts into the new dorm, a look of panic on his face that Seunghyun knows well.
“You ok?” Seunghyun asks, and it still feels weird to be the one asking that question rather than working out how best not to answer it. Youngbae shakes his head very fast.
“You wanna talk about it?” Seunghyun says, standing up. Youngbae shakes his head again, so Seunghyun goes for the only option available to him and opens his arms wide to receive.
When Youngbae’s breathing has calmed and they’re just standing in the dorm, alone, because Bigbang are nothing if not convenient with their personal freak-outs, Seunghyun mutters into the top of his head “I know it can feel like YG runs your entire life, but they can’t actually make you do anything that you don’t want to - you get the final say.”
“How did you work that one out?” Youngbae mutters, unconvinced.
Seunghyun shrugs, “it worked for Seungri,” then he steps away from Youngbae, smiles, and leaves him to his thoughts.
Pulling up his hood and covering his face with a scarf, Seunghyun mumbles to himself about how annoying it is that he can’t even cross the river without being mobbed by fans otherwise. He steps out into the chilly Seoul winter and lights up, watching the smoke mingle with his steaming breath, then he strolls off down the road to MacDonald’s for a burger.
It tastes like bread and beef and pickles, Seunghyun has long forgotten the taste of shame.