Food has become his enemy. He feels like a fugitive, running away from the police. Every time. Everyday. Every time he sees it his stomach clenches unpleasantly and he can barely control the urge to retch and retch everything up. Everyday when he wakes up he skips past the kitchen afraid to walk in, because no one would stop him. No one would stop him from reaching in and grabbing something and putting it in his mouth. Nothing would stop him.

He wishes he was strong. He wishes he could give up temptation, that he didn't say yes to the voice in his head telling him that he needs it - that food is essential and that not eating is worse for him than eating.

And here he sits. It isn't raining. Rain is too good for him, really. But instead there is ice. Ice comes down and hangs on the power lines, forcing them to topple down and crash, almost predictably. Ice causes people to stay inside, not brave enough to come out of their cracker box houses and face the it, because they are afraid. Afraid of ice, afraid of nature, afraid of death...

Yamapi runs a hand across his chest. There is no longer the feeling of leanness, of being thin, of being healthy. Instead there is muscle and fat and flesh and skin. Things that no one wants. He rubs again, trying to fight the urge to scratch it, to dig his nails in until the fat is gone - disappeared forever. "I look good, right?" He mumbles, mostly to himself, but Jin overhears.

Something flashes in Jin's eyes. Hurt, disappointment - and Yamapi wants to punch him. He wants Jin to understand. That this - this what Yamapi is is not normal, is not good. That regular people aren't built like him - that regular people aren't fat.

He wishes Jin wasn't there. That they could stop being friends. That Jin could stop caring about him quite so much. Yamapi doesn't need it nor does he want it. He has a mother.

"You look fantastic." Jin says as though Yamapi had been talking to him, and then he takes his hand and runs it through Yamapi's hair. Hair that is too thick now, and too shinny. And Yamapi remembers how it used to be. How merely touching it would cause pieces to fall to the ground, and how hairdressers would tsk and chide and tell him to eat better. Didn't they know that he was? That he'd stopped eating junk food and fat, and just started not?

He rubs Yamapi's fat, and Yamapi shivers. Jin shouldn't be doing this - it's nasty, disgusting. Yamapi is nasty. Yamapi is disgusting. Didn't Jin know that? "You look fantastic." Jin says over again, as though Yamapi is magically going to believe him.

Yamapi digs his nails into Jin's back. Why can't Yamapi be like Jin? Jin is perfect. His face isn't round, his checks aren't plush. His arms don't have fat hanging off them..."I look okay?" Yamapi burrows his face into Jin's shoulder, remembering when they were younger.

He remembers when it was the three of them: him, Jin and Toma. There were others too; faces in the crowd, some were friends and others mere acquaintances. But mainly it is just the trio, in his mind. He sees Jin, biting his lips, a worried expression on his face. Toma; smiling, reveling those dimples while pushing a fork full of food down his mouth and promising a reward if he swallowed.

Another image flashes - one of Toma and he, late at night, sweaty and sticky, holding each other. Toma whispering 'beautiful' and 'sexy' and 'perfect' in his ear, causing Yamapi to shiver. It makes him remember the subtle connotation of 'thin' behind them - that is almost lost as Toma trails a hand down his abdomen. Almost but not quite.

Toma now was a different story. Toma telling him they'd have to wait. That his play was taking up too much time, and that that day that Pi wanted him wasn't good - could they please reschedule? Toma kissing him quickly, as though he really didn't want to. But who would? Who would want to kiss someone like him?

Jin throws compliments at him, and Yamapi wants him to stop. He wishes Jin wouldn't lie, wishes Jin would just tell him. Tell that he needs to stop getting bigger - needs to cut back.

Why? He wants to ask Jin - why do you care? You liked me better when I was thin. When I was thin you used to call. When I was thin you would come over. Now - now you don't.

Fantastic. Amazing. Wonderful. Words Yamapi can't help but scoff at, as he stares at Jin. Jin takes this as Yamapi believes, as if I just keep saying this then he'll stop being so weak. If I keep complimenting him, he'll become stronger. Yamapi pulls back, but Jin takes his hands and pushes Yamapi's face, back where it was.

"You look fantastic." Jin repeats.

Yamapi shudders, finding the word curiously strange and contrived. Jin is just lying, playing with him. He doesn't mean it. He never means anything he says.

Jin bits his lower lip, and murmurs, "Fantastic" again, even though he knows Yamapi won't believe him.

"Fantastic." Yamapi reverberates, finding the lie bitter on his tongue. The strange taste makes him smile slightly, and he drops his hand from his stomach. He hates making Jin worry. Jin has enough to worry about now. "Maybe just okay?"

"Okay. You look okay. You look good." Jin nods and Yamapi knows he wants Yamapi to agree. To think that he does. So Jin can stop worrying.

"Good." Yamapi doesn't try to playact this word. It's too hard. He says it dully, hoping Jin won't become maudlin, and wishing Jin would stop lying
.
What he needs is the truth. Doesn't Jin realize that? Doesn't Jin know - know that lying makes it worse? That lying pulls them further and further apart?

Yamapi turns. He needs a mirror. A mirror doesn't lie. A mirror tells you like it is. It shows the real you. You can trust a mirror - you can't trust a person.

Jin stops him, pulling him closer. "No mirrors," he commands. "You don't need one. I am yours right now, okay? That one is lying, you look good. You look good."

Yamapi stops breathing. He wants to yell. Tell Jin to stop it. Stop denying him the truth. Stop making him feel so inferior. Just stop caring. Yamapi'll be all right.

"Good." Yamapi says, taking a breath and exhaling softly.

Maybe he doesn't look so bad. Maybe it's good. Maybe he'll be healthier, have more energy. Maybe his days as a Johnny are over, maybe it's time to just be there for Toma, support him for once. Maybe - Yamapi licks his lips and starts to open his mouth. His cell phone rings.

Yamapi laughs, albeit, shakily, and looks at the caller I.D. Kamenashi.

"Hello?" Yamapi says, using his happy voice.

"I was just calling, 'cause we haven't hung out...You know. I haven't had dinner yet, and I just wanted to know if you were hungry, maybe some ramen?"

Is he hungry? No, he isn't. It's way past hunger. He aches. Feels the void, in his stomach, a constant rumble that over time he's learned to enjoy. The feeling that nothing is there - that nothing is working against you - making you fat - making you filthy.

"I can't eat right now, Kame." Yamapi says into the phone, with a cheery mask. He can't. He's enjoying the emptiness too much. Yamapi starts to reach down again, again to trace his ribs but Jin's hand catches him.

"Guess not, you're getting a little fat, no?" Kamenashi laughs and Yamapi feels Jin's words fall away quickly.

It's true. He is. He's fat. He's a pig; a filthy, disgusting, revolting pig. And stupid. He was stupid to believe that muscular wasn't just another word for obese. Dumb, to believe that those muscles were more than just bulk of fat - of nastiness.

"I know." Yamapi agrees. "Let's make plans for later this week? Ramen it is, but not tonight. Thursday?"

Yamapi is already making plans to get out of it. He'll say that drama shooting ran late - that something went wrong with the camera. Or perhaps that the photographer showed up late for the photoshoot, he was supposed to do that day.

Kame laughs and agrees, hanging up the phone with a goodbye full of mirth and happiness, blissfully unaware.

Yamapi screams, a sound he hopes releases all his emotions and then throws his cell phone at the wall. He hopes it breaks; smashes into a million pieces, a mere fragment of what it used to be. He screams words; words of anger that he doesn't even know the meaning to. But Yamapi supposes that the only word he does know right now is fat.

Fat, fat, fat. The words ensnare him and before he knows it he's tearing his nails into his skin. Fat. The word pounds in his head, harmonizing with the pounding of blood in his ears. He can't think, he can't breathe, all he knows is that this is wrong - he's not right. He's not right.

"Please leave, Jin. I have to get some stuff cleaned." Yamapi says. And Jin's eyes stare back at him in rapid disbelief.

But it's the truth. Yamapi does have cleaning to do. He has to clean himself. Make himself not so nasty anymore. Make himself not so dirty.

Jin tries to grab a hold of him. Tries to take him in his arms and Yamapi screams, "let go" as loud as he can manage. He doesn't want Jin there - he doesn't want Jin to see him when he's like this - so broken. Jin finally catches him. He holds him, and cradles him, even when his shouts turn into sobs.

Yamapi sobs and sobs, tears rolling down his face, and he starts to feel Jin's tears too. Jin's tears fall, as he wraps his hands even tigher around Yamapi, as the sobs continue to come. Damn it, he can't be strong.

They lay there for a while - until Jin pulls out his cell phone.

"What - what are you doing?" Yamapi asks, his voice clogging at the words. Jin's probably going to call an ambulance; have Yamapi commited.

"Calling Toma." Jin says, and dials the number. 


::

Bulima and anorexia - not fun peeps!

Anyway, I will go back to being :D tomorrow. But right now I bask in D:.