my AP test is TOMORROW agh
i really should be preparing
here's some more book tho
TW: eating disorder/anorexia, disordered thinking, body dysmorphia, body shaming, twisted thinking, mention of drunkenness
Previously...
Dream sighed. He couldn't force George to talk to him, but he needed to know that the brunette was okay. That he was alive, living and breathing and healthy. But he couldn't know unless George wanted him to. That was one of the downsides to living in a different country than your best friend.
Dream sat down on his bed, back hunched. He was so worried for George. Anything could be going on. Or maybe nothing was going on. Dream didn't know.
But he would. He would find out what was going on because he cared. George wouldn't be able to hide from him forever. Dream wouldn't let him.
3rd Person P.O.V.
George groaned, brow furrowing. His world felt fuzzy and muted, faint sounds swirling around his head like a whirlpool until they drained out the bottom. He felt lost, confused, and unsure.
George opened his eyes slowly, immediately groaning at the sudden sensory intake. He blinked sluggishly, features contorted from the dull pains that stabbed along his stomach and across his forehead.
"What the fuck...?" He mumbled to himself, finally taking in his surroundings. He was in his bed, the lights off but with a few dismal streams of England sun pushing past his curtains. George moved his arm, feeling it hit a small object. His phone!
Memories started to flood back to the young man. He remembered being on call with Dream... but he couldn't quite recall how he ended up like this. Maybe Dream would know?
No. George wouldn't want to bother Dream with that. It didn't even matter, plus Dream probably didn't know. And George wouldn't want to worry him.
The brunette picked up his phone, glancing at the screen. The muted colors seemed to blur before his eyes, in a way that was familiar but at that same time new and confusing.
That's how things seemed to be lately, George thought. Confusing. Sighing, George opened his texts, seeing multiple missed messages from the past few hours.
Dream: george?
sent 2:36 am
Dream: hey you said you would call back, no pressure but I need to talk to you
sent 3:49 am
Dream: seriously george
sent 4:03 am
Dream: hello?
sent 5:28 am
Dream: george please answer my texts or call back, I'm worried about you
sent 6:41 am
George grimaced. So much for not worrying Dream. He called the blond, tentatively pressing the phone to his ear.
"Hello?!" Dream greeted nervously.
"Hey," George murmured.
"Oh thank god, George!" Dream gasped. "Where have you been? What happened? Why did it take so long for you to call back? I've been worried sick!" George huffed softly, the small motion taking much more effort than he'd like to admit.
"You don't need to worry abou' me, Dream," George scoffed half-heartedly. "I'm an adult. I can take care 'f myself jus' fine." His words slurred together just the slightest bit, barely enough to be noticeable unless you were really paying attention. But of course, Dream noticed.
"George, I'm just worried. You haven't been acting like yourself lately," he responded, a twinge of nerves in his voice.
"'T's fine, Dre'm," George mumbled. Dream hesitated for a moment, and you could practically hear the frown in his voice when he spoke up again.
"George, are you drunk?"
"Wha'?" George's answer was slow, which did nothing to convince the blond. "No. 'M jus' tired."
"George..." Dream faltered. "Please don't lie to me..."
"'M not lying!" George insisted, growing frustrated. "'M not drunk, 'kay?"
"Have you had enough to drink? To eat?" Dream pressed further, questioning the brunette. George cringed internally at the question, closing his eyes.
"Dream. Stop. 'M fine. Just... really tired." Dream sighed, feeling defeated.
"Yeah... okay. I'm tired too. It's really late here, actually." The blond paused, but George didn't say anything to fill the silence. "Can I call you in the morning?"
"Mhm."
"Will you pick up?" Dream pressed, the slightest hint of agitation staining his voice.
"Mhm. I'll try."
"Good. Thank you." Dream took a slow breath. "Be safe. I love you."
"Bye, Dream," George mumbled, hanging up. As soon as he was done with his call, the brunette curled up into a tight ball, knees brought up to his chest as he hugged his legs. He felt so small... yet so large, so big. It was a contradictory feeling, one of weakness but also disgust. George hated himself, he hated his body and he hated his mind. He hated his appearance and his mannerisms, he hated his voice and his size and his-
George's stomach growled loudly, practically screaming for any type of nutrition. But George wasn't having any of that. Instead, he angrily shushed his stomach, mumbling at it to "shut up." Of course, it didn't help any. His hunger would not be quelled so easily.
Neither would the pain that came along with his extreme eating habits. George's stomach ached and cramped painfully, twisting horribly with no warning whatsoever. It was awful, maybe one or two steps down from agony. But George tried his best to ignore it. What else could he do? The only other option was to eat... and he just wasn't feeling up to it.
The brunette whimpered softly, internally cursing himself for being so pathetic. Really, what was a little hunger? He could do it. He could go longer, push himself further. George would prove that he was capable of handling himself.
Plus he would lose more weight. He would be thinner, no more pudgy rolls or squishy thighs. He would have a sharper jawline and defined cheekbones, no more babyface.
What George didn't consider, however, was the negative surface effects. Duller, pale skin, dark eyebags, brittle nails, even hair loss... George completely overlooked these symptoms. All that mattered to him was the positive of what he was doing, as incomprehensible and messed up as it was. He was lost in the cycle, swept away so far that he would never be able to swim back to shore.
George couldn't see that. He was only focused on his deadly goal. He was far too lost.
mhm yeah
new chapter out whenever I bother to upload it
