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Azul was lying awake in his bed. He didn’t know what time it was, but he knew he was hungry. This should have been expected since he had, “forgotten to eat dinner,” and, “was just so swamped with work, he simply didn’t have time”. He hadn’t really forgotten though, had he. He had seen the clock, knew it was a reasonable time to eat, and chose not too. Azul didn’t think the explanation had fooled Jade either, but he had been polite enough not to ask any questions beyond a single, “Are you sure?” Jade had a look in his eyes. Was it pity? Disgust? Boredom? All Azul knew was that he didn’t like it, it made him feel guilty.
But, whatever look Jade had been giving him didn’t really matter now. Not with the state he was in. Azul had been trying to sleep and was failing miserably. It was too hot, he kicked the blankets off. Too cold, he pulled an extra blanket over the blanket already on him. About to fall asleep? Azul would be hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. He was cold, sweating, and fully awake. And he was so hungry (he hadn’t mentioned to Jade that he was “working too hard” to eat lunch as well). He managed to get himself out of bed, after standing up too quickly and falling back on his bed again, and made his way to the kitchen. He had tea there, that’s probably all he needed.
Azul tieredly stumbled his way through the hallways of Octavinelle. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be out this late at night, but the housewarden decided that he literally ran his own business, why should he have to worry about something as trivial as a curfew? Once he got to the Mostro Lounge kitchen his eye landed on the kettle and he started to make his way over to it. He put some water in it, grabbed a tea bag, and went over to the fridge to grab a bit of milk for the tea. Only to have his eye catch on something else. It wasn’t anything big, just a small plate of wrapped up fries.
He remembered the people who had ordered them. It had been a couple that had unexpectedly needed to leave early. They had put up a huge fight when they were told that they would still have to pay for the food they’d ordered. Most of the workers had left by that point in the night so it had just been him, Jade, Floyd (he wasn’t actually working but he was there), and the last few employees. Floyd had insisted on packing them up in case he or Jade wanted them later. (This wasn’t an uncommon conversation by any means, food can get quite scarce in the Coral Sea at times. No one ever wasted food if it was at all salvageable)
But now Azul was faced with a dilemma. No one was actually expecting the food. Leftovers from the restaurant were usually either-
- Eaten by the closing staff
- Ruggie usually if he was working
- Reheated by the openers the next morning
- Tossed out later the next day
- Picked up by someone looking for a midnight snack
And Azul fit into that last category. He knew no one was looking for it, he was hungry, but the idea of food simply repulsed him. The idea of eating. Food was important and he knew it, in fact he enjoyed cooking, baking, food preparation, designing drinks, watching cooking shows; but the idea of putting food in himself was not something he wanted to think about. He was about to turn away, grab the milk for his tea and resign himself to waiting for the water to boil.
But, that was before his stomach growled. He let out a sigh. Well, he had skipped two meals today, it would be easier to fall asleep without his stomach bothering him. Anyways, a couple fries wouldn't hurt. He reached for the plate.
Some time later, really just two or three minutes later, he found that he had eaten much more than anticipated. The housewarden looked down and saw that he had nearly finished the whole plate. In reality the plate hadn’t been big, a small side order (he hadn’t even eaten that much, there were just spaces where he could see the bottom of the plate). But once Azul noticed- he found himself stuck. He had been mid-bite, he suddenly became aware of all of the seasonings, the salt, the oil. He suddenly felt greasy, sweaty, gross . He made a move to swallow the bite but it felt as if his throat was closing up, not wanting it to go down to his stomach. He forced it down and took a breath of air. He was nauseous. The air just smelled like food. He wanted to throw up.
He could feel his waist band getting tighter, he swore he could feel his cheeks being weighed down by fat, he noticed his thighs against the chair.
In reality, one cannot gain much weight from one side dish, even if they hadn’t skipped other meals throughout the day. But how was he supposed to know that at the moment? He could feel it and it felt real.
He stood up
his breaths were getting shorter
He threw the half eaten fry in the garbage.
his chest was getting tighter
He put the plastic wrap back on the plate.
his throat was was closing up
He put it back in the fridge
he felt dizzy
He poured the unboiled water down the sink drain.
he felt cold
He robotically wiped down the table he was using.
he felt hot
He walked towards the exit.
his eyes were having trouble focusing
He opened the door-
there was a lump in his throat
- he left the room-
he hoped it was the food trying to force itself out of his system
-he closed the door behind him-
he hoped that it would take the fat out of his body with it
-and started his walk back to his room.
he wanted to cry
It was a long, stumbling, journey back to the safety of his room. He never should have left. Azul could still feel his body betraying him and the hallway was spinning.
He was breathing too quickly and he wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.
Azul knew what he had to do.
He walked to the bathroom connected to his room. He hadn’t done this in a while. He could feel the sweat ( probably grease from all the food he had eaten ), he could feel the fat clinging to his body ( if he had long enough fingernails could he claw through his face and pull out the fat through sheer will? ), his throat was closing up and he was breathing too fast and those breaths were not giving him the oxygen he so desperately needed. But that didn’t matter now did it?
Azul Ashengrotto knelt down in front of the toilet. He saw his reflection in the water.
He never wanted to see that reflection again.
He opened his mouth, and forced the food from his body.
For a while he simply sat on the floor. He could feel tears in his eyes, but they refused to fall. He wouldn’t let them fall. So they didn’t. He simply sat there on the floor, shivering, back hurting as he leaned against a cabinet. He stared at floor tiles that were so bright they blinded him with the light reflected from his ceiling. The floor was cold. His vomit was still in the toilet. He didn't think had the energy to move, everything smelled horrid and his throat hurt.
It didn’t matter though, did it?
His head tilted downwards, he finally might get the sleep he was looking for after all.