breathing in snowflakes
breathing in snowflakes; luhan/minseok | pg-13 | ~2600wpairing: luhan/minseok
au | minseok's wasting away right before their very eyes.
warnings:[click]mentions of eating disorders
length: oneshot | 2578 words
minseok has always been luhan's favourite. the two of them, along with kris, are the 90-liners of the group, the older ones amongst the crop of fresh young faces. while kris is tall and looks his age, luhan and minseok were almost always mistaken as two of the youngest members, sometimes even being thought of as the maknaes. whenever that happened on shows or interviews, the two of them would always look over at the other, trade a conspiratorial smirk or wink before turning back to face the front. never mind the language barrier. never mind the fact that minseok's chinese was shitty at best and luhan's korean was still halting and uncertain.
"you don't need words to communicate," luhan would say in grammatically incorrect korean and minseok would laugh at him and help him out before dragging him out of the dorms to go play soccer. together they'd sprint up and down that small patch of grass, tackling each other and sliding around in mud, dreams as big and unbounded as the gray sky above.
that's all in the past, luhan thinks to himself bitterly. that was when minseok was still healthy enough to stand, to walk and smile at him as if luhan held the world in his hands and nothing less. the minseok of present day is much unlike the minseok of yesteryear and better days long gone; the minseok luhan sees nowadays is merely a shell of the person he used to be. it's almost as if minseok has evaporated into a wisp of smoke, intangible and wasted away into nothingness, too far gone to be recaptured and saved.
☆
luhan's problem, he feels, is that he keeps silent too long and too often. he keeps quiet when the fans tell minseok to lose weight, their chants of "oppa, you look chubbier today" ringing in his ears. minseok always takes those words with a nod, head and shoulders bowed and a glassy smile pasted on his face, as vapid as mist in the early morning. "i'm sorry, i'll do my best to lose weight."
luhan always looks over at him worriedly and on the occasion where they are lucky to be seated next to each other his hand always seeks minseok's, more often than not to provide a reassuring and comforting squeeze, to tell him that it's alright and the fans are just joking around. in the past, minseok used to squeeze back and luhan knew that it was okay, that minseok hadn't taken their words to heart. but later on minseok hadn't bothered to respond, hadn't even seemed to notice that luhan's hand was in his, just stared blankly ahead and dreamt of things luhan couldn't see.
(luhan stopped the hand-squeezing eventually because minseok's hands seemed too fragile, too frail, almost as if the bones of his fingers would snap if luhan placed even the slightest pressure on them.)
☆
thump. luhan jolts awake from his slumber (he’s always been a light sleeper), looking around the dorm room, but it’s dark and nobody seems to be stirring. getting to his feet (softly, so as not to wake his other roommates) he tiptoes to the door and opens it, padding to the living room in his socked feet because the light is still on and he’s suspicious. chancing a glance at the hallway clock, he notes that it’s 3.25 am, yet nobody should be awake since they didn’t have late schedules today. spotting a glimpse of a shadowy figure ahead, his heart quickens and he steps forward, only to see minseok glancing around furtively.
“minseok? what are you doing awake, i thought you went to sleep a few hours ago.” he’s dressed in shorts and a loose t-shirt, sweaty and panting as if he’d just come back from a run or from dance practice. luhan eyes him over slowly, wondering whether his friend has simply lost his mind.
minseok grins cheerfully, but the shadows under his eyes give him away. “it’s ok, i just went back down to the studio for some dance practice. our comeback is soon, and i haven’t really mastered the choreography yet, so…”
luhan frowns. “but you’re one of the best dancers we have, the choreographer was just praising you for the fact that you were able to catch on so quickly today…”
“it’s fine,” minseok insists, face still stretched into a smile that looks more like a grimace. “i just wanted to be sure. 别担心*,” he adds in chinese, and luhan acquisces.
“okay. let’s just go to bed, okay?”
☆
luhan keeps silent when he finds out that minseok is skipping meals. "don't tell manager-hyung, please," minseok had begged when he knew that luhan knew. and because minseok is luhan's favourite, he relents.
"ok. but just don't do it again, please? it's not healthy."
minseok smiles. luhan can't help noticing how thin his cheeks are now, the chubby cheeks of his baozi disappearing, the fat being used to sustain his body. when did he happen? how did he never notice?
"sure, luhan, sure. i won't do it again. i promise."
luhan doesn't need to look behind his back to know that minseok's crossing his fingers, but he gives minseok the benefit of the doubt and nods. perhaps this will all blow over soon, perhaps minseok will go back to eating regular meals and everything will go back to normal.
☆
of course, it doesn't. they have a close call when minseok nearly faints while learning the choreography for Growl, and luhan's world stops spinning for a moment when he sees minseok fall to his knees halfway through the dance break. his mind is a white flash of panic and nothing matters more than seeing minseok get back up, feet planted back on the ground, but he knows minseok hasn't been that steady in a long time and to be honest, he has no idea what to do. rushing over the moment their choreographer hits 'pause', he kneels at minseok's side, checking for bruises and injuries and gasps in horror when he realises minseok is so thin he can feel his hipbones through his shorts. he doesn't want to believe it either, but there they are - hard and solid, sharp angles so out of place when you think about how soft and squishy minseok used to be.
junmyeon runs over as well, face pale and phone in hand, ready to dial an ambulance if need be. fuck, luhan thinks, panic beginning to overtake his system and he feels like he can't fucking breathe. what happens if this is it? what's going to happen to minseok? it's all going to be my fault. and one, just one selfish thought: what's going to happen to me if he leaves?
"minseok," luhan calls softly, mouth by the unconscious boy's ear. "can you hear me?" gently pulling minseok into his lap, supporting his weight, once again hit by a fresh wave of shock and horror when he realises how light minseok is. minseok stirs, eyeballs moving behind his closed eyelids and luhan's heart gives a leap.
"mmmm," minseok murmurs, and the group of boys clustered around him gives a collective sigh of relief. "sorry, 'm just tired."
and hungry. the unspoken words remain just that - unspoken.
☆
it’s not too long more before the others start noticing as well. to be honest, the fainting incident had opened their eyes to unpleasant truths and things they didn’t really want to see, but now the veil has been stripped off their eyes and the cold hard facts presented before them. baekhyun and chanyeol often run up to minseok and tease him that he’s too skinny (“hyung, you should eat more, you look so weird like this”), but luhan sees that beyond the faux playfulness and mischief and notices that they’re really worried. junmyeon and kris often look at him anxiously, as if wanting to size up the problem before approaching minseok once and for all. jongdae and yixing have tried tempting him with both his favourite chinese and kroean foods, but minseok simply refuses everything with a weak laugh and furious waves of his small hands. meanwhile, luhan has tried everything, from enticing him with food to forcefeeding him to just talking, begging with him to stop killing himself.
minseok never listened, so luhan keeps quiet now because he knows that it won’t work.
☆
it all comes to an end one fine day. flashing red lights, wailing sirens, hysterical tears and sobs. luhan thinks that he’d never expected to have to rush his comatose bandmate to the hospital at 3 am on a winter night, but here they are, all six of EXO-M, faces drawn and haggard in the dim light of the chinese ambulance on the way to a hospital somewhere in china. this wasn’t in the job description, he thinks to himself wryly and chokes back a sound, something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh-turned-sob. don’t die, minseok, please don’t die. we still have dreams to catch and songs to sing and the world to travel. please.
they’re pale with fear and worry but minseok is paler than any of them, almost as white as the falling snow outside, pristine and unsullied by human activity. yet the veins on his wrist stand out, greenish-blue like the sea against the dead white of snow, protruding three-dimensional figures on a blank sheet of white paper. luhan’s heart hurts but he keeps silent as zitao cries for his hyung, biting his lip and watching the bright lights of beijing fly by.
how ironic it is that he’s finally home, where he’s always wanted to be ever since debut, and his best friend is here but isn’t awake to share it with him.
☆
junmyeon is crying when he calls. kris picks up the call and puts him on speaker, tiredly gesturing at the four other members to gather round so they don’t disturb the rest of the patients in the hospital. luhan jerks awake from where he was leaning on yixing’s shoulder, caught between sleep and consciousness. he’s been having that nightmare again, the one where minseok has become nothing but a spectre watching them in the dead of night. shaking himself awake, he forces himself to focus on junmyeon, junmyeon’s muffled voice and hysterical words.
“how-how did this happen? i-we never knew it was anorexia, never knew it was this bad, we all thought it was just stress. luhan, luhan, you were his best friend, did he ever show any signs that it was….”
“i -” here comes the dreaded silence again, except this time guilt is holding his tongue in a deadlock as unbreakable as the one gripping his heart, shortening his breath and making him lightheaded.
“he couldn’t have known,” sehun chimes in, muttering into the phone. “minseok-hyung hid it well, we thought he was either working out or under stress because of our comeback. leave luhan-hyung alone, hyung.”
luhan doesn’t know whether to cry or be grateful to sehun.
☆
somehow, the doctors manage to save minseok. severe malnutrition, they said. thank god he got to the hospital in time. they’ve inserted an IV drip in him to give him all the nutrients he needs, because right now minseok is still refusing food and luhan wants to storm up to him and fucking scream in his face. wake up, you nearly died, why the fuck are you still refusing to eat? but he knows that it will be, as always, futile; so he restrains himself to sitting by minseok’s bedside and watching him sleep.
minseok’s face is sunken, arms and legs as thin as bones. luhan thinks that if he tried, he could wrap his thumb and index finger around minseok’s wrists. he cringes at his limbs, all skin and bones and muscle from when he was preparing for comeback and playing soccer. all muscle, no fat. none. at. all.
suddenly, as luhan loses himself in his own brooding, stormy thoughts, minseok stirs. just a minute movement, hands moving across the standard blue blanket of the hospital, mouth twitching downward, but luhan knows he’s awake. softly, he draws back, giving minseok space to open his eyes and get used to the fact that there’s a presence by his bedside.
“hey,” minseok croaks, not more than a whisper, and luhan just really wants to cry because minseok is awake and alive and speaking. it doesn’t matter that he’s too weak to even sit up, because minseok is real and there.
“hey yourself,” luhan smiles back. “how are you feeling?”
“mmm,” minseok hums nonchalantly. “i haven’t eaten anything today, are you proud of me?”
“no,” luhan’s horrified. “you’re in hospital, you were just hospitalised for malnutrition due to anorexia, and you’re asking if… god, minseok, why?” his voice is rising in a crescendo and the nurses are looking in warningly as if to tell him to shut up or get lost, but luhan doesn’t really care at this point. he’s looking at minseok, whose eyes have lost the life they used to have, so small and vulnerable in his hospital bed.
“i just. i just wanted to do it for the fans,” minseok rasps out, smile gone as fast as it had appeared. “they always said i was too chubby, and now… now i’m not anymore, right? i lost weight, i’ve become skinnier, would they be happy with me now?”
“minseok…” luhan’s crying now, tears of distress and worry all culminating together and rolling down his face rapidly. “you don’t need to be skinny to be beautiful, did you know? there was nothing wrong with you, there were infinitely more fans who loved you for who you were back then, their favourite xiumin whose cheeks were squishy and adorable. not this xiumin, you’re just a shadow of your former self now, did you know…?”
“i…” the word seems to hang forever in the silence that falls between them. “i just wanted to make them happy.”
“they’d be even happier to know that you’re healthy, that you’re happy… please, don’t do this to yourself anymore? please, stop… just for me? all i wanted to see was you, healthy and happy. just like the minseok i used to know. please?” desperation is making luhan’s voice crack and honestly, if minseok still says no, he won’t have any idea what to do anymore. he will truly, truly be at his wits’ end.
the silence drags on. luhan can almost see the gears in minseok’s mind turning, whirring, spinning before he opens his mouth.
“...ok. i’ll try. but you have to help me, because i don’t fucking know how to stop.”
luhan can’t control the dazzling smile that spreads across his face. even though they’re in a hospital he jumps out of his chair and does a celebratory dance across the room, whooping and throwing his head back and laughing. it doesn’t matter if minseok doesn’t recover miraculously. it doesn’t matter how tough the journey ahead is. all that matters is that minseok has acknowledged that he has a problem, and he’s going to do something about it. bounding over back to the bedside where minseok is watching with a fond smile on his face, luhan gently takes minseok’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers together.
“promise?”
“promise.”
luhan squeezes their hands together ever-so-gently, because he knows that minseok will be strong enough to take it. not now, but in the future, he will.
end