lovesick // dreamnotfound

1.

"bye guys! bye!" george exclaimed, waving with both hands to the camera, signaling the end of his stream. he had been streaming for about two and a half hours now, messing around on the smp and talking to his friends on the discord voice channel. it was safe to say george was exhausted.  he absolutely adored streaming because it meant he could communicate with his fans and talk to his friends, but it drained the energy out of him. its not like george even had much energy to begin with. 

he sighed as he ended the stream, closed minecraft and sat back in his chair. he wished that he could muster up the energy to stream for longer, but he simply couldn't. he felt faint. he always felt faint. after all, he didn't eat as much as he needed to. he couldn't bring himself to. the feeling of being full absolutely scared george. to him, it was the worst feeling in the world. it screamed "you are a failure" and "you don't actually have an eating disorder. you're faking it. see? you ate. you ate to the point you became full. if you actually had an eating disorder, you wouldn't let yourself get to this point. you're a failure at your own eating disorder." 

of course, george ate when he needed to. when he was so hungry to the point that it was all he could think about. when he knew that if he didn't get at least something worth nutritional value inside of him, he would pass out. but, even then, it takes so much out of him to bring himself to eat. he ate, despite the voices in his head screaming at him to stop, that he would gain weight, that he was worthless. despite the fear of looking at the number on the scale afterward, knowing that it would increase when he so desperately just wanted it to drop and drop and drop, and eventually drop to nothing. 

sometimes, george was so hungry and so devoid of food that he would devour everything in sight. he would sit in his kitchen, ripping through the pantry and the fridge to find something, anything, that he could stuff in his mouth. he would eat so much food in such little time, even the nastiest things you could possibly think of. sometimes, when he couldn't find anything in his line of sight to consume, he would rummage through the trash bin to find remains of things he's already eaten before. he knew it was gross, he knew it was unsanitary and absolutely disgusting, but during such horrible episodes, he didn't care. all he cared about in the moment was food, food, food, literally anything he could eat, he would. 

after these episodes, though, he would sit and cry. the voices in his head yelled and screamed at him that he was a failure, that he couldn't even starve himself properly, that he was disgusting and a pig. he would sit and wonder how he let himself get to that point. he would cry because he knew that he destroyed his progress, that any weight he lost he would gain back in a day, and that he would have to somehow get rid of that weight that he worked so hard to get rid of in the first place. eventually, he would make his way to the bathroom, and dispel of the contents in his stomach, so much so that sometimes he would even vomit up blood. there were calluses on his knuckles from the amount of times he did this to himself, and his teeth were yellow and eroded from the acid in his stomach. he knew it was damaging his body, but he didn't care. all he cared about was being skinny, and he would go to great lengths to achieve that.

all george wanted was to be dainty, fragile, light as a feather. he wanted to see his bones protrude from his body. he wanted to be able to see and feel his hipbones, his ribs, his collarbones. he wanted to see a gap between his thighs and to be able to fit his hands around them. he wanted to fit in size xs everything. he wanted his bmi to be dangerously low, he wanted his friends to be able to see how much weight he has lost and be slightly concerned, because to him, that meant he was doing something right. to him, being called a skeleton would mean everything. despite the fact that sometimes his friends would call him skinny, when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was fat, fat fat. he would grip onto the fat on his stomach, his arms, his thighs, and be disgusted with himself. when he weighed himself, he never thought it was good enough. although the number on the scale told him that he lost weight, when he saw himself, he couldn't see it. all he saw was ugliness, fatness, disgustingness. he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied with himself. when that was? he didn't know. all he knew was that he had so much work to do. george was in love with being sick. 

an alert sounded. george glanced down at his phone, noticing it was a message from dream. his best friend. 

george unlocked his phone and opened his messages.

1 new message

dream: tonight's stream was so fun!! i missed you gogy :) 

george couldn't help but get that familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering around rapidly in his stomach that he got whenever dream texted him things like this. he knew that it was wrong, that dream was straight, but he couldn't help but ponder the 'what if's. what if dream wasn't actually straight? what if their constant flirting wasn't a joke? what if, george thought, dream somehow liked him back? but, even if he did like him, which george didn't think would happen in a million years, surely after finding out the horrors that lived deep inside of george's mind, he would run far, far away and not look back. george shook that thought out of his head and began typing out a response.

george: i missed you too dream :) 

george glanced at the time. 2 am. he got up from his chair and walked over to his bed, plugged in his phone, and noticed that his stomach growled, but he simply ignored it. in fact, it brought him great satisfaction when his stomach growled, because it meant that he was, in fact, doing something right. that his stomach was empty and he loved the feeling. he walked over to his closet, brought out the scale hidden in the depths within, and stripped himself of everything he was wearing. although he hated looking at his naked body, he didn't want the weight of the clothes to contribute to the number on the scale. warily, he stepped on, eagerly anticipating the number that was to come. he read it. he weighed more than he did this morning. he sighed in defeat and put the scale back in the closet before putting his clothes back on. he knew that weighing himself at night would only disappoint him, because everyone knows that you weigh less in the morning than you do at night. but he couldn't help himself. he weighed himself constantly. he was obsessed with knowing how much he weighed at all times. 

eventually, george was laying in his bed. running through his mind were scenarios, scenarios of him and dream meeting up, dream confessing his feelings for george, george and dream kissing and cuddling, and more. but also running through his mind was thoughts that he needed to keep losing weight. that he needed to look sickly, otherwise he wasn't good enough. he needed to be skinny in order to be loved.

george drifted off into a dreamless slumber.