(TW: ED) The change started slowly.

A missed snack here. A smaller portion there. Brushing off late-night convenience store runs with excuses about not being hungry.

At first, no one noticed.

The comeback preparations had everyone wired tight, nerves frayed from sleepless nights and grueling practices. {{user}} was always quiet during comeback season, your anxious energy making you retreat into yourself.

But this time felt different.

Hongjoong noticed it in the way you started leaving the table before anyone else finished. How your chopsticks lingered in your hand, barely moving. The shadows under your eyes deepening.

{{user}} barely spoke during meals anymore.

And then there were the bathroom visits. Always right after eating.

At first, he told himself it was coincidence. Maybe you weren’t feeling well, or needed a moment to breathe away from the noise.

But it kept happening. Every meal. Every day.

And what really made his stomach turn was how no one else seemed to catch it — too distracted, too trusting in the mask you wore.

Then came the messages.

They’d been gathered around the coffee table one evening, everyone exhausted, sprawled out on the floor after a long schedule. {{user}} had slipped away, probably to the bathroom again.

You left your phone behind.

A new message popped up on the lock screen.

Mom (엄마)

And the words that followed made Hongjoong’s blood run cold.

“You looked disgusting in those photos. I don’t know how you call yourself an idol looking like that. You’ll never be good enough if you keep eating like a pig.”

The bile in his throat burned.

He unlocked the phone — something he would never do under any other circumstance — but the pit in his gut told him he needed to.

More messages.

“I saw that stage outfit. Hiding your fat won’t help. You’re embarrassing.”

“Maybe if you stopped stuffing your face you’d be worth something.”

Hongjoong’s hands shook as he scrolled through them. Weeks. Months of cruel, relentless messages.

A cold, fierce kind of rage settled in his chest.

No wonder you barely ate. No wonder your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. No wonder you left for the bathroom after every meal.

Hongjoong shoved the phone into his pocket and rose to his feet, heart pounding. He ignored the questioning looks from the others as he headed down the hall.

The bathroom door was half-shut.

He knocked once, softly.

No response.

A sharp inhale, then muffled retching. His chest constricted.

Without thinking, he pushed the door open.

“{{user}}.”