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George never explained to Sapnap and Dream why it took him so long to apply for his visa in the beginning. The other two boys playfully called him lazy and were — he’s sure — secretly upset at him. He let them think that. He let them think that because he didn’t want to explain that he was just too tired and so incredibly overwhelmed.
His body ached and his head spun as he stared at the visa application on his computer — or tried to. This was his fifth attempt this week, but his eyes couldn’t focus on the words. There was far too much legal jargon for him to comprehend on his own, let alone in the state he was in, so his trusty second monitor became devoted to dictionary.law.com, a legal terms search engine that would have been a great help if he could just focus.
If he’s being honest, even the question of which visa he should be applying for confused him. He desperately wished he could simply ask Siri if he should be applying for a work visa? Or was he trying to immigrate? What is the difference between a nonimmigrant visa and an immigrant visa? Sure, the categories offered explanations and examples to help explain what each visa was for, but, surprisingly, none of the categories said “I just want to live with my friends and make some youtube videos”.
He supposed he was trying to go for employment, but the employment visas all had words like “extraordinary ability” and “advanced degree” and somehow he felt that screaming into a microphone while chasing a green man was none of those things.
“Unskilled worker” sounded like it fit, technically. Sapnap would surely confirm that. However, George was worried that it wouldn’t seem like he was advocating enough for himself. If he applied as an “unskilled worker” would he be denied instantly? What if he applied as a “skilled worker” — a job that needs two years of experience, he does code things for videos, and he did go to school for that, and technically he has three years of experience — and was denied because his profession “wasn’t real”?
George groaned into his hands. This was far too overwhelming. He wished that Sapnap and Dream had stayed on discord with him instead of going to bed because “ it’s five in the morning, George ” and “ I swear to god, if Dream doesn’t get his beauty sleep he’ll, like, turn off my internet or something ” “ I can’t just turn off your internet, you nimrod ” “ You’d find a way, fucko ”.
His stomach growled loudly at him.
Right.
The whole reason he was in this mess.
Well. Kind of.
The agent he had been working with throughout the process had brought up his medical history almost immediately. He had passed his health check. Technically. However, his agent was convinced that without a plan in place from his doctor, George would be denied his visa “ for a mental disorder with associated harmful behaviour ”. What a joke.
The most frustrating thing was that George was told that if his medical history was just slightly more… well, historical, it wouldn’t be an issue. But unfortunately, a hospitalisation and treatment for malnutrition less than a year ago was much too recent for the U.S. government.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if a previous — and definitely incorrect — diagnosis from his adolescence was the only reason he couldn’t see and be with the people he loved most. So about a month ago, he pulled himself together and reached out to his primary doctor — not that the doctor really knew George, he avoided doctors visits at all cost — and swallowed his pride as he asked for a meal plan.
He would get the meal plan and all would be well. The visa office, or whoever it was that decided if people could be happy — God, maybe, or Satan, who knows — would see that he had a plan from a real doctor and that he was committed to his health and wellness and they would approve the visa. It would be fine. It’s not like he had to follow the meal plan exactly . He just had to show that he was trying.
Which he was.
His stomach growled again.
He was trying.
He glanced over at his long forgotten meal plan. It was in a simple manila envelope on his desk. Well, under his desk. He had shoved it under after a week of following it and deciding that he’d rather just stick to what he’d been doing: eating the same meal every day, for every meal, until he grew tired of it, then moving on to the next meal. It had been working, and he was eating, so who was he to change it up now. After all, the only thing that mattered was that he had a doctor's note proving that he had a plan.
His phone pinged from where it was resting on his desk, reminding him of a stream commitment to Quackity he had in five hours.
George rubbed at his eyes and shut off his monitor. Tomorrow. He’d work on this tomorrow. Right now he needed to sleep or he wouldn’t be able to come up with funny prompts or pictures or whatever he needed to do for whatever weird stream Quackity had planned.
George slept through the stream.
He woke up, still tired, of course, and checked his phone. He’d been asleep for fifteen hours. And had so many missed discord messages. And a few calls from Dream. Fuck.
It was one in the morning. He’d be awake. It was only eight in Florida. God, he wished they were in closer time zones. Or the same time zone.
Instead of calling Dream back or responding to any messages or apologizing to Quackity for sleeping through his stream (again), George switched on his desk light and booted up his computer.
He was met with the migraine-inducing glare of the USCIS page and his legal translator. Fifteen hours later and he felt just as confused and maybe even more tired.
His discord pinged. He had forgotten that he left it open last night so it showed that he was online. He didn’t want to check, but also, checking discord sounded infinitely better than staring down the visa categories for the hundredth time.
Dream: hey idiot ik ur awake
He didn’t want to be awake. He wanted to crawl back into his bed, under his warm covers, and fall asleep. He wanted to wake up feeling well rested. He wanted to wake up to his visa application being already complete, to it being approved, to a packed up apartment, to a text from an uber driver who was going to take him to the airport to his new life.
Dream: answer ur phone
Dream: or at least hop in vc
Cautiously, George checked what channel Dream was in. It was his, Dream, and Sapnap’s private vc, “the boys”. He pulled his legs up under him, hand moving his mouse to hover over the vc channel. He clicked to join.
It was quiet for a bit. Dreams' mic was turned up enough to hear soft clicks from his keyboard. He must have forgotten to turn down his sensitivity , George thought.
“Hey.”
It was casual. Dream was clearly focused on whatever he was doing. That’s good. He wasn’t mad at George. He just wanted to hang out. George could just hang out.
“How’s the visa stuff going?”
“
How’s the visa stuff going?”
George huffed. Dream had no idea how complicated it was. No idea about all the hoops George was jumping through just so he could uproot his entire life to be with him and Sapnap.
“George!”
Speaking of.
“Sapnap!” George was good at faking his energy at this point, especially with his camera off.
“Is Dream nagging about the visa shit again?”
“Hey! I’m not
nagging
. I mean — well, a little I just—“
“Want me to get here as soon as possible. I know. It’s okay.”
They all paused. More clicking filled the void.
“Uhmmm… so what are you guys do-“
“I actually looked more into it.”
Sapnap and George started at the same time.
“Really?”
George hated how hopeful Dream sounded. What if this was all for nothing. What if they work on this so much and no matter how much time or money they throw at this issue he gets denied. What if he makes them all miserable? What if they resent him for it?
“Yeah, I think… umm… I think that I have the best chance at an O-1 visa. Or, like, and O-1A? I think it’s called? It’s for… one second let me look it up.”
George pulls up his other tab.
“It’s for… oh it’s actually O-1B. It’s for ‘Individuals with an extraordinary ability in the arts or extraordinary achievement in motion picture or television industry’. So… so I just have to prove that I’m extraordinary and also that I can’t do my job in not America. So… I dunno, that might be difficult.”
“Well, George, as your sponsor I don’t think that should be too difficult.”
“Maybe the extraordinary part, to be fair.”
“SAPNAP.”