He didn't have to eat, but he always showed up to the dinner table. Not because Geoff, or anyone else, for that matter, had told him to, but because he wanted to, since it was a family expectation and he wanted to know what that felt like, for once.
Sometimes, sitting around food could make him feel slightly nauseated, especially when he hadn't eaten for longer periods of time, but Geoff was always there to hold his hand and touch his thigh and whisper to him to talk him down, talk him through it.
Geoff's parents always made sure that food was available to Awsten. It was inevitable for them to not find out about some of the boy's abnormalities and inconsistencies, so when he decided to open up to them about some things, they really did appreciate it. He couldn't bring himself to mention the abuse from his parents, but he felt as if it weren't relevant or important, at least, for them to know that.
Tonight wasn't going to be any different. He wasn't particularly hungry, and he was honestly quite fearful that his lips were swollen and red and worn-down for making-out with his boyfriend for a little over an hour, but he still showed up to dinner, his fingers tangled with Geoff's, a lopsided smile prying on the corners of his mouth as he chewed on his bottom lip.
Daylight was his favourite time of the twenty-four-hour cycle that he had to live through as a recurrence. The sun setting always saturated him in small, translucent drops of tar, the ones that caused the tingling in his fingers and tightening in his chest, trapping his breathing. Nighttime scared him. It was the time that he was the most susceptible to fear and bad decisions. It was the time that he was alone. That's why sunset was just there to prepare him.
He kept to himself most of the time, and nobody in Geoff's family really pushed on the matter. Awsten appreciated that. Especially since nobody commented on what he was eating, or when, or how much. His boyfriend was the only one to push, just a little nudge in the right direction. It was never a pressure that condensed him until he had no other option. It was always a choice, and he found himself choosing to do what he hated more than he expected, all out of this obsession that he had with the boy who was still holding his hand.
They always sat together at the dinner table, too, and holding hands was accepted, which was rather comforting and in a way, discomforting, all because judgement was an adversary that was going to pry on him, no matter where he was.
"You feel like eating, bub?" Geoff leaned over and whispered to Awsten as they sat down at their usual spot, hands still clasped together, neither suggesting the want to let go.
"Maybe, just a little bit..." indecision was another problem that would need to be dealt with, at some point, which did tie in as a branch of the fear of judgement. That fear that his decisions would not make the approval of others, and therefore result in social suicide in the very limited source of people that he actually trusted.
He let Geoff put small amounts of food on his plate as he sat and stared at it. What had been figured out by the older boy was that he would always fake favour of salad over other foods -his guess was calorie count and content - which lead to a plain, green-leaf garden salad being placed on the table every night. Awsten really appreciated that, and since he wasn't the only one who was expected to eat it, there was no extra pressure.
And dinner never became this sacred ceremony of saying grace and elevated distress that was caused by the consciousness of being shamed as he was forced to think about what people had to go through to make sure that the food on his plate was made available to him. It was peaceful and scintillating and undisturbed.
He waited for his boyfriend to start eating before hesitantly picking up his fork, feeling Geoff squeeze his hand slightly. It was quite liberating, actually, knowing that he was making this decision for himself and not for the satisfaction of others; and the first few times, it did feel like that, but now that he knew that he was going to get the 'I'm so disappointed in you' speech, he really was able to make the decision, in some ways.
He was extra careful to chew slowly, too, when he finally found the nerve to eat. A salad was not supposed to be cut up past how it was served, but it was part of a ritualistic habit; chew excessively and cut things up so small that it barely needed to be digested.
"It makes me so proud every time that you choose to eat, Awsie. I love you."
He felt sick.
YOU ARE READING
Serendipitous (Gawsten)
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] An apathetic boy with colourblindness and too many problems serendipitously meets a boy who may be able to help him feel all of the colours he'd never seen.
