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Things were okay. Well they weren’t okay, okay, but things were… okay. Okay in the sense that George was relieved that his friends now knew about his Food Issues, Sapnap was happy that George was no longer jet lagged and was finally joining them more for movie nights, and Dream was grateful that George seemed to have found a new meal that was safe enough to consume. Safe enough to consume everyday. For every meal. But he wasn’t judging. He was just happy that his friend was eating regularly. Even if three egg sandwiches a day did seem a bit repetitive and maybe still not enough.
When Dream woke up there was a strange smell in the air. Eggs. Of course, it was eggs. It was a familiar smell at this point. Every morning – well, some would argue that it was never actually morning but it was morning to them – George would shuffle down the stairs of the – his – house, pop open the fridge, and begin his ritual of whisking together eggs and toasting a couple slices of bread. It was methodical and slightly meditative.
The bread – seedless and soft – sat on a skillet with a little butter, the edges slowly turning a warm golden brown with the help of the medium heat. The eggs sizzled on a separate pan, smaller, so that the eggs would fit perfectly onto the bread. The cheese was always last, added at the last minute possible to avoid droplets of congealed cheese that would make his sandwich inedible.
Congealed cheese might be worse than those ridiculous meatballs Sapnap forced him to try.
Dream wandered down the stairs to see George plating his masterpiece. One piece of toast on a plain white plate that was definitely too large for such a small meal, but it helped make it more manageable. Eggs covered in perfectly melted cheese were placed neatly on top, before another slice of toast covered it up. Dream would have thought it looked divine if he hadn’t seen it – or smelled it – every meal time for the past week.
At first he let George make him one too. Breakfast was always annoying to put together so who was he to turn down a perfectly made breakfast sandwich. Okay, well, he turned it down for lunch and dinner, but morning breakfast sandwiches were a welcome treat.
Eventually, however, he had to decline the lovely morning treat. He was very familiar with eating the same thing every day, but at least he would normally switch up the vegetables in his daily stir fry or throw in some weird meat he bought on a whim.
Of course, he understood George. Well, not quite understood – he’s not quite sure anyone can understand it unless they’re going through it themselves – but he could see why George was unable to break his routine. George needed the security of knowing that his meals were safe. And if having egg sandwiches for every meal kept George from hours hovering over a toilet, or from scratching himself raw during a panic attack, or from choosing to simply starve – then who was Dream to judge.
One thing was gnawing at him, however.
He’d learnt a lot about George and his habits. Some things were shared with him in quiet conversations, others by simple observance. One thing he knew was this specific cycle.
George finds a safe meal. George makes said meal anytime he needs to eat. Something goes wrong when George makes his safe meal: he’s out of a specific ingredient, a different brand was bought, something cooked slightly too long. George’s safe meal is no longer safe, and therefore, no longer an option.
Dream’s yet to witness this vicious cycle in person, but he’s seen his friend go through this for years. He hates himself a bit for not noticing the pattern earlier. Ever since George confided in him and Sapnap about his Food Issues, Dream has been replaying all their past conversations surrounding food.
He thinks of the time, a few months after he asked his friends to blow up with him, when George spent all their discord calls munching on cheeseburger happy meals. Dream and Sapnap lovingly made fun of him for it, and George played along. Eventually, they stopped joking about it. Not because of a joke gone too far, or because they feared that they made George uncomfortable, but because George eating happy meals was just normal. They practiced parkour and George would leave for a few minutes to retrieve his Happy Meal from whatever meal delivery service he was using, Dream and Sapnap would order pizza for their discord movie nights and George would have his Happy Meal, late night conversations about merch, visas, and manhunts were filled with laughter and Happy Meals. It made sense. McDonald’s was one of the only places open at strange hours and George was always awake and hungry at strange hours.
Dream wishes he had known sooner.
One movie night, the Happy Meal made no appearance. Sapnap made a joke about it. George shrugged it off saying “ there were pickles on it”. And that was that. Dream hates that he didn’t notice the absence of the Happy Meals. He wishes he had seen the way George shifted uncomfortably after a long day of recording as he and Sapnap gorged themselves on whatever food they were able to find at 2am. He wishes he had seen the way George started to wear a long shirt under his hoodie.
He wishes he had noticed sooner.
But at least he noticed now.
He noticed one morning that George put his cheese on his eggs a bit earlier than he normally did. He thought about saying something, but he knew it was too late. It’s not like George could take off the cheese. Sure, he could technically toss the cheesy eggs and start again, but he knew George wouldn’t be able to do that.
He noticed a drop of cheese that fell onto the white plate as George carefully put together his sandwich. He noticed the way the bread didn’t immediately stick to the gooey cheese, instead resting on top, slightly slipping to the side. He noticed that George noticed too.
He watched as George stepped back from the plate, eyeing the sandwich, well, more like glaring at the sandwich as if it offended him. Which, he supposed, it did.
He watched George’s jaw clench slightly, before drawing his lower lip between his teeth. It didn’t wobble. His eyes didn’t grow misty. He just stared at the sandwich, unblinking.
He watched as George grasped his hands together and slowly began wringing them. He watched as his chest began to move a little bit faster. He watched as George released his lip, unable to stop slight pants from escaping his lungs. He watched as George’s eyes grew slightly hazy – a look that was painfully familiar, reminding him of the squeaky chicken incident.
He knew he had to step in. So he did.
He slowly approached. He knew that George was likely aware of his presence. Even if he no longer joined him in eating a morning egg sandwich, the two of them normally still ate together in the morning.
He didn’t say anything. He did his best to ignore the man before him, who was slowly dissolving into a panic attack. He felt like he was maneuvering around a hurt animal. He stepped between George and the offending plate, back to his friend. He slid the plate off of the counter and scraped the contents into the garbage bin under the sink. He rinsed off the plate, making sure to scrub off the greasy yellow spot that had been left behind under the congealed cheese.
When he turned around, George was staring at the ground. He wasn’t wringing his hands, just holding them. Dream took that as a minor win. George’s cheeks were slightly pink, but his breathing had slowed. Another win.
Dream didn’t say anything as he opened up the cupboard to grab some cereal. He made himself a bowl – making sure to clean up any rough cereal crumbs and spilt milk – before plopping himself on the couch and turning on the TV. He opened up youtube and settled on a playlist of those Line Up videos. Mindless, but entertaining.
It took a bit of time, maybe half of the video he was watching, but eventually he felt another body sink into the couch beside him.
George was sitting just a few feet away, making sure the two of them didn’t brush against each other, with his knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting on his knees. He stared intently at the screen. His eyebrows were slightly raised as if he was concentrating very hard on simply watching the people move in front of him and not concentrating on anything else.
The two sat in near silence, Dream munching on his cereal while George kept focusing on not focusing on what had just happened.
The crunch of the cereal was comforting to George. He liked the satisfying way it sounded. Maybe he could try to eat a bowl of cereal later. With no milk. He didn’t like the slurping. In fact, the way that Dream was slightly slurping the milk off of his spoon was starting to make his heart race.
Dream noticed George start to adjust his body. Stretching out his back slightly, twisting his neck, gripping his legs just a little bit harder. He noticed him take the occasional glance at his bowl.
Dream put away his cereal bowl.