Comfort (Dream X GeorgeNotFound)

Food for Thought

George woke up to another rainy day. Well, he didn't really sleep at all. He had never had any trouble sleeping as a child - he was usually out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. But these days, he'd be lucky if he even managed to get a wink of sleep.

It was something he refused to acknowledge was serious. "So what if I have nightmares for a few days, end of the world," he thought. Soon those days turned to weeks, which turned to months and the restlessness slowly but surely started taking its toll on him.

Just another normal morning for him. He was laying down, face up staring at his ceiling, drenched in sweat. He had just been jolted awake from one of his nightly terrors. The pure, unfiltered fear he felt in his sleep was nothing like he had experienced before and he wondered what caused his torment.

He covered his face with his forearms and groaned. The soft rain against the glass of his bedroom window was doing very little to calm him. In fact, it was pulling on the last string that threatened to make him go insane. An outsider would be completely oblivious to how noisy the room felt in George's head. His aching body screamed and pleaded for rest and the world swirled all around him menacingly, forcing him to stay bound to his bed.

As much as he didn't want to leave the only source of soft comfort - his bed, he was risking losing his mind with every passing second he spent in the room. The gray, dull walls reminded him of the color palette of the cloudy sky that was making him go insane.

Eager to escape, he got up far too quickly. He instantly regretted the decision. His vision started spinning, blacking in and out. He doubled over, leaning on the wall with one hand and slowly lowering himself to the ground as he wondered what was happening to him.

That's right. He had only had a single, terribly unhealthy meal and hardly any water the last day. Not to mention the incredibly unbalanced diet he was feeding himself. Instant cup noodles, chips, crackers and pizza were quickly becoming his only food choices during the whole moving ordeal. It didn't help that he only knew how to cook the most basic things either, and even if he tried to make himself a healthy meal, he'd terribly fail and revert back to ordering fast food.

However, learning the hard way that he couldn't survive on that alone, he opted for going downstairs and eating at a local diner instead. At least it'd be healthier than whatever he had been eating before.

He slowly stood up and looked around his room for some clothes. Since he hadn't gotten around to getting a wardrobe yet, they were just strewn around all over the room. Not really caring about how he looked, he threw on a sweatshirt and jeans and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

By the time he got himself to look presentable enough to go outside, it was only lightly drizzling. He was halfway down the stairs when he tried to look at the time on his phone out of habit only to discover he had left it upstairs. While he was contemplating whether to retrieve his phone or keep going to get some food, an amazing smell hit his nose. It was sweet - "pancakes, probably," George thought.

Forgetting all about his phone, he exited the apartment building and stepped outside for the first time in days.

He was instantly greeted by a crowded street - something he wasn't used to in the suburbs. Back there, everyone knew each other. You couldn't escape if you wanted to. But here... George found himself easily blending into the bustling crowd. It was a new feeling. Exhilarating.

Though George wasn't exactly sure why he was so excited about everyone being too absorbed into their own thoughts to notice him. It was a weird sense of escapism.

He turned the corner and came across a quaint-looking diner. It seemed to be the source of the scent wafting through the air all around it. In other circumstances, he'd feel awkward to be eating out alone, but he felt way too hungry to care about that at that point and time.

After he sat down and ordered whatever food the scent was coming from, he reached for his phone again to pass the time while waiting, but he found an empty pocket instead. "Great going, George," he thought. "Couldn't you wait one more minute?"

Absentmindedly, he started tapping his fingers against the shiny table. From his seat at the window he could see the side alley between the diner and the building next to it. With nothing else to do, his thoughts started drifting towards the people he knew. Strangely enough, he didn't really miss the people back home. They never really held a special place in his heart quite like a special somebody. It was strange to think about - your family and relatives you've known for your whole life taking up less of your thoughts than a guy whose face you haven't even seen, let alone met in real life.

He imagined what it'd be like if Clay was sitting in the empty seat across from him right now... Or next to him. He'd probably hold George's arm and ask about his day and comfort him and tell him soothing words-
George realized that was a weird thing to think about, let alone realistic.

Even if Clay somehow phased through the fabric of reality, teleported over 4000 miles and plopped into the seat George was looking at, they were just friends. Friends didn't really act that way.
But that's all George wanted him to be - a friend. A friend that held him and helped him sleep at night and maybe occasionally gave him kisses... Uh oh.

George covered his face in embarrassment as if the people around him had heard his thoughts. He was most definitely blushing, too. If anyone was watching him, they'd think he was a lunatic.

He convinced himself it was just platonic. That's how he usually thinks about friends, right? Plus, he couldn't help but be curious about how his best friend looked. Would he have pretty eyes? Would he have strong arms that he'd wrap around George? Would he be bigger than him, so George could wear his oversized clothes in the mornings while they cooked together? Clay had mentioned he was a good cook... Would he cook for him occasionally?

He thought about how he'd hold George in his arms and tell him how much he meant to him and slowly lean in-

George forced himself to stop thinking about him that way. Even if they ended up meeting in real life, if he continued to think like this, he might've been disappointed with how Clay would actually treat him - like a friend. Because that's what they were - just friends.

A cup of steaming coffee was placed in front of him, followed by a stack of golden brown pancakes. He was in awe at how appetizing the food looked as he poured syrup all over it.

Quickly after he dug in, he forgot all about his previous thoughts. Surely, it was nothing. He was thinking nonsense because he was hungry and not in a good state, right?