Hobi sat alone at his lunch table, staring at his paper bag that lay unopened in front of him. Usually, he had Wonpil to make lunch go by faster, but Wonpil wasn't at school that day, and every minute that Hobi was stuck felt like a minute that he wasn't allowed to breathe.

When can I leave?

He was startled into looking up when three other boys sat down at his lunch table.

"You're from Wonpil's party," Hobi said, his voice slightly uneven because he hadn't used it much. He didn't have anyone to talk to besides Wonpil.

"Yeah," one of them answered, grinning.

Hobi didn't smile back. He didn't know if he was supposed to. "Um...this is my table," he said weakly. He didn't trust their smiles. Not without Wonpil there to protect him from social engagement that he didn't understand or want.

"We're just here to keep you company," the boy said, smiling, but Hobi didn't smile back. "It's okay," the boy added after a long moment of tension.

"What's okay?"

"What everyone says."

"What does everyone say?"

"It doesn't matter since they're all lies."

"What's all lies?"

"You know, about you having an eating disorder," the boy said, his tone never wavering in its cheerfulness.

Hobi remained silent.

"Like I said, it's okay," the boy went on, smiling encouragingly. "Since they're not true, right? You're normal. I just wish more people would understand that, don't you?"

Hobi remained silent.

"I think maybe they just need to, you know, see it happen and they'll realize that they're all lies too, you know?" he said, gesturing before taking a large bite out of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A large glob of jelly plummeted from the sandwich and onto the lunch table.

Hobi wanted to throw up.

"Just one bite. That's all it would take," the kid continued, not even noticing the jelly even though it was all Hobi could stare at. "Then everybody would realize how stupid they've been. They'd like you. They'd want to be friends with you."

Hobi wanted- needed Wonpil right then. He couldn't tell truth from lie, good intention from bad intention, safety from danger.

I need Wonpil.

"Wonpil would want you to eat," the boy said.

And that was it.

Hobi's shaking fingers skittered across the top fold of the brown paper bag as he fumbled to open it. Holding the bag carefully so he wouldn't have to touch any of the food, he carefully dumped it out in front of him.

A peanut butter sandwich, no jelly.

An apple.

A juice box.

And a note.

Hobi slowly took hold of the note between his right index finger and thumb, careful not to touch or look at the food for too long.

Then he read the note.

Hobi -

I helped Dad make your lunch today! Sorry I couldn't put a cookie in. I tried but Dad told me that the apple was healthier and I wasn't supposed to spoil you or your teeth would rot because Dad says you don't do a very good job of flossing but he just told me not to tell you that he said that so pretend I didn't write it because I'm writing in pen and I can't erase it and if I scratch it out this will look very messy and I'll have to restart.

Have a great day at school!

Hope your sandwich is extra tasty because I made it!

-Love,

Jimin

PS- DAD SED I HAVE TO PRAKTISE MY ENGRISH SO THIS IS I TRING TO DO IT. 100% :)

Hobi blinked before holding the note closer to his chest so the other boys wouldn't be able to see Jimin's words. He smiled at Jimin's attempt to use English (to be honest, Hobi wasn't that much better) before folding the note card in two and then in two again before slipping it into his pocket.

Then he stared at the sandwich.

He was going to eat it.

Not for the boys.

Not for himself.

Not for Wonpil.

But for Jimin.

For Jimin, who hadn't made him a sandwich in 5 years or ever, who had made this one special, just for him, today of all days.

Because some miles away, Jimin was probably sitting in the kitchen, eating his own lunch, alone, just like Hobi, only he would be waiting anxiously, wondering if Hobi had liked it, wondering if Hobi had gotten his note and if he'd read it, wondering wondering wondering-

Hobi refused to let him down.

He could deal with letting his classmates down, letting himself down, letting Wonpil down.

But he couldn't handle letting Jimin down.

He unwrapped the sandwich, and before any of the boys could say a word or make a joke or say something that would corrupt his reason for doing it, Hobi took a bite.

He swallowed.

And he smiled, because he was eating a sandwich that his precious little brother had made just for him.

***

When Hobi finished throwing up, he knelt there in front of the toilet, his chest heaving up and down, his skin clammy and his stomach turbulent.

And in his right hand, he clutched a note card folded twice over.

It wasn't Wonpil rubbing his back and telling him that it would be okay and that the other kids who had laughed at him as he had run out of the cafeteria didn't matter.

It wasn't Wonpil, but it was close, and that was good enough for Hobi.

Given the way his stomach was being violent jerked to and fro, he should have regretted taking that bite.

But he didn't.

The only thing he regretted was that he hadn't been able to finish the sandwich.

And that Wonpil hadn't been there to see him eat.