Chapter Text
I wake up slowly to the sound of knocking on my bedroom door. I groan loudly before throwing my covers off me- and subsequently onto the floor- and stumble my way to the door. I crack the door open just enough to stick out my head.
"What do you want?" I nearly growl out in annoyance of being woken up. My best friend and roommate merely chuckles at me before giving me an actual reply.
"It's noon and I was wondering if you want lunch or brunch. You can tell me about your new job while we eat!"
We make eye contact, deep green clashing with aqua blue, before I state, "Naomi, you know I couldn't care less about what we eat. Surprise me or just choose what you would prefer. Now, I'm going to take a shower, so go make whatever you want."
She nods, chuckling in obvious humor, her aqua eyes sparkling before walking down the short hallway and into the small kitchen. I flip her off behind her back, and close my door. Though, thinking back to her comment about telling her my new job makes a lump for in my throat. It won't be pretty at all once she knows. I can only hope that we don't get into some screaming match.
Don't get me wrong, I love her. She is basically a sister to me, but she is way too cheerful, with a temper from hell and a short ass fuse to match. I have no idea what's wrong with her, but she is almost always hyper, and I can barely deal with her some days, especially when I just wake up. It doesn't help that she's the one who woke me up in the first place today. Of course, we do have very different schedules now, but I still don't know how she is (almost) constantly happy, and I stand firm to my opinion about her being overly-cheerful. Though, the two of us aren't too different. I also have quite the temper, but the main difference between us is that I don't have a naturally cheerful disposition like her. I'm much quieter in comparison, and instead of happiness I tend to stay anxious. It just sucks that we butt heads so often, seeing as Naomi is the one person that I feel I can truly be anxiety free around. Most of our fights are little squabbles here and there, but occasionally one of us will say something to the other that just rubs us the wrong way, and we will end up screaming and crying. Sometimes we make up right away, but there can be times where we just separate from each other and not talk for a couple days until we have time to talk rationally with each other.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, and staying true to my earlier words, I make my bed and swiftly gather my things to get ready to shower. Once I'm prepared, I grab my favorite towel and trek across the hallway to our shared bathroom.
The hot water soothes my muscles that are stiff from sleeping six hours. The water rinses off any sweat or grime that may be on me, and helps to wake me up so I don't look like a zombie all day. I scrub my body raw, not ready at all for the day ahead of me.
I take my time shampooing and conditioning my hair, not excited at all to have to tell Naomi about my new job. Focusing on my hair helps the rising anxiety, keeping me just distracted enough that I don't start freaking out.
It is, after, one of the few things that I am vane about. Ever since I was little, I have loved my thick, curly, white blonde hair. I got my hair color from my late father. At least, that's what my mom says. The few memories I have of my dad are foggy, and I can barely remember his eye color (hazel), much less his hair. I take my mom's word for it though seeing as she has dark brown hair, almost to the point of it being black.
I get all of my other features from my mom, except my eye shape. My petite body type, eyes, and facial features are all from my mom.
My eyes, being dark green, are the only other things on me that I take pride in.
I'm shaken from my thoughts of hair and eye color as the water temperature suddenly drops from hot to cold as fuck. I quickly finish cleaning and rinsing myself, and turn off the shower. The cold air and tile floors make me shiver as I cover my wet body with my fluffy black towel.
I secure the towel around my midsection and pad across the hallway and to my room. Stepping into the room, I shut the door behind me with my foot. Stripping myself of my towel, I walk to my bed, where I had my clothes for the day laid out. The pair of black shorts that go down to my fingertips and a lavender colored tank top are my favorite comfy clothes, and with how work went last night, I just want to be covered in comfort items The last layer I put on is my lavender and dark green plaid shirt over the tank top. A pair of ankle length socks the same dark green as my shirt finish off the outfit.
After clothing myself, I walk to my nightstand where my silver hairbrush sits. I pick up the brush and brush my long hair, not giving it a chance to dry and curl (and, by extension, knot up).
Putting my drying hair into a tight French braid, I feel my stomach growl.
"Well, time for food, I guess. I wonder what Naomi made?" I ask lowly to myself before shrugging, "Oh, well. I'll find out soon enough anyway." I continue muttering to myself as I make my way down the hallway and to the kitchen where I find Naomi standing in front of the stove, cooking. On a plate next to her is a stack of french toast, so I no longer wonder what we're having. Brunch, apparently.
My entrance must have been silent because when I speak, Naomi jumps and gives a startled squeak before whirling around to glare at me.
"Hey, you want me to set the table? Also, do you know what time it is?"
Naomi's glare doesn't phase me as she holds a hand to her chest, like I had caused her actual pain by scaring her. I only raise an eyebrow at her while she mutters about "ungrateful heathens who think they can scare me when I cook for them", before raising her voice to a more normal level to speak me.
"Yes, please set up the table," she says, turning around and checking the time on the stove clock, "It is currently 12:17. Anymore questions? Or can I get back to cooking?" Naomi says impatiently.
"Gee, you're so fucking cheerful, y'know that?" I deadpan with a blank expression. Her switch in attitude barely even registers to me, she's most likely just hangry anyways.
Naomi only ignores me in favor of finishing our brunch. I roll my eyes and set the table, wondering why exactly she is so grumpy. As Naomi carries the plate of food to the table, I get us both a glass of apple juice to go with our food. Naomi nods in thanks and separates the stack of french toast evenly onto two plates.
As we eat, Naomi restarts the conversation, "So, how was your first night of work?" I groan internally at her chosen topic before answering.
"It was...not what I expected." I say in order to avoid actually answering her.
Naomi nods before speaking once again, through bites of her food, "What's the job? You never told me."
I wince slightly, imagining her reaction when I tell her. I quickly finish my brunch and chug the rest of my apple juice, moving to the sink to clean my dishes. I know her reaction is gonna be explosive, and I would rather not have dirty dishes sitting in front of me that could get damaged.
I clear my throat before finally responding, "Well, I am a nightguard... at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria." I state with fake boldness, waiting for her reaction.
Naomi's face goes slack, before being replaced with outrage.
"Why the hell would you work there?! You know what happened to me, us! You know how I feel about that place! Why would you choose to willingly work there?!"
I'm silent throughout her mini rant before responding after she quiets down, "Yes, I know what happened. We were both there. You know I feel the same, but I need a job, and they are the only one's who wanted to hire me!" I exclaim waiting for her reply.
Naomi huffs before saying something that has me standing straight and glaring for all I'm worth, "Guess you don't care about what happened. If you did, you wouldn't even consider working there." She says in a cold tone, flinching a bit at my glare.
I don't bother to say anything else as I pivot on my foot and stalk silently to my room, seething at the audacity of her to say that I don't care anymore.
When I get to my room, I slam the door with enough force to shake the doorframe. I grab my phone and put it on the charger as I search for my music, and turn it up as loud as it can go. I go back and lock my door before walking to my bed and flopping down.
I spend the rest of my day seething at Naomi's words, and angry cleaning. I don't come out of my bedroom until I know she's gone for work, and when I do it's to continue cleaning the rest of the apartment. I also spend my time remembering memories I would rather forget forever. I don't cry. I ran out of tears for that day long ago, but I still feel the lingering emptiness and depression that comes with the memories. I just wish Naomi could see it from my point of view sometimes, but what I wish for even more is to apologize to her and act like nothing happened.