Chapter Text
I wake up with my arms draped across my mattress, face smushed into a pillow. “Mmm… what time is it?” I mumble to myself. Reaching for my phone, a fearful expression paints itself on my face. I’m gonna be late! There’s an interview in 20 minutes, one for a job at a local pizza place. Scrambling for my glasses, I roll out of bed. My hair is severely messed up since I forgot to shower last night. “Geez, nothing’s washed,” I grumble to myself. Out of my three (barely clean) shirts, I pick a plain one that has a baseball team on it. I have no clue why I bought it, since I don’t actually watch sports, but many people enjoy them– it shouldn’t be a bad choice.
Pouring myself a bowl of plain (boring, non-sugary) cereal, I flick on the television. It opens with the news; a robbery happened in the town over. Not unusual for an area like this. Finishing my half-assed breakfast, I grab my wallet, phone, and keys. I’m going to be 5 minutes late… maybe it’s like a doctor's appointment, where they don’t care enough if you’re late? Definitely not.
—
After a short, traffic-filled drive, I arrived at the restaurant. Fazbear’s– some children’s place. Chuck-e-cheese but with more lawsuits, basically. So, why would I apply here? Uh… I want money. Yup, that’s the only reason!
I push open the door and waltz in. There are already so many kids here at 9 am; it’s loud. The noise is giving me a slight headache. I find a worker, “Pardon– I’m here for an interview. Where should I go?”
They grin at me, “Yeah, just down that hall to the left. Employee break room. You should see someone in a leather jacket.” They have long black hair and a sweet demeanor– they’d be fun to work with. I thank them and follow the instructions, heading down the hallway. Entering, I glance over the room and find the guy they mentioned. He has dirty blonde hair (emphasis on the dirty), the back grown out into a semi-mullet. His glasses have thick-appearing lenses, implying that he has less than great eyesight. Me too, man.
“Hey, are you here for the job?”
“Yeah, the names Y/N.” I shake his hand and go to sit across from him.
The interviewer grins, “Mine’s Scott. I’m a floor worker here; our boss was meant to meet you, but he’s out sick, so I’ll be asking you the questions instead.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
He proceeds to ask me a series of questions, average interview-related things; job history, job experience, contact information, do I even like pizza, why I want to work here. That kind of stuff. I think the whole ordeal went well if you ignore me forgetting my phone number twice. After everything, I bid farewell to him and head out. I pass the long-haired worker and wave toward him, receiving one back.
—
“Oh, I’m finally home.” my roommate groans as they push past the living room. “How’d your day go?”
I swallow a bite of a granola bar, “Ah, it went well. That interview was today– I was almost late, but besides that it was good.”
They perk up and rush to sit next to me on the couch. “The interview!” they squealed, “When are they gonna call you? Do you think you got the job? How–”
“Kenneth,” I cut them off, “Calm down. I think they’ll call me sometime next week. Until they do, I have zero ideas what’ll happen.”
“Oh. Okay,” they quiet their tone, “hopefully you get it, though!”
“And why is that? What, are you fed up with me being a squatter?” I joke, knowing that isn’t the reason. They’re just happy for me, happy that I’m getting back into working after so long. The reason being, my mental illness had gotten pretty rough a few months back. Wasn't able to do much due to it, so I stuck around with Kenny as they assisted me in getting better. Now, I feel as if I can work. Truly hoping that's the case!
“Heyy, you know that’s not why…” they continue on, ranting about being happy for me and such.
After the conversation dies down, the clock hits 9:00, and I get up to brush my teeth. While doing so, one of my cats, Derby, rubs up against my ankle. He’s a short-haired Bengal with bright green eyes. I found him in a shelter and immediately fell in love; he’s been helping me while stuck at home. I lean down to pet his soft fur and he tilts his head to lick my hand. I murmur sweet words, picking him up and carrying him to my room.
I change into a tank top and shorts after placing the cat on my bed. I then lay under my comforter, clicking off my bedside table lamp. Derby rests his head against my side, purring.