Work Text:
Aureate beams of shining light snuck in through the slight cracks in the blinds, streaking the walls of the room with a gorgeous auburn glow. These same streaks of gentle, honey hued light cascaded across the closed eyelids of the island's beloved pizza boy, gingerly guiding him from his state of drowsiness. Nonetheless, the light against his eyes wasn't the only thing bringing the boy from his sleep. As he started to gain consciousness, the shrill and continuous beeping of his alarm was starting to make itself more and more known.
Elliot groaned, groggily reaching over in an attempt to silence the alarm clock's obnoxious chirping. However; his muscle memory failed him for what might have been the first time ever, and he shot his hand over at full velocity to silence the clock, only for his head to miss completely and smack the bottom of his wooden bedframe. Now, if he hadn't fully awake already, this was definitely what jolted poor Elliot to a state of sprightliness.
Sighing heavily, he lifted the weight of his top half upwards, planting his non injured hand behind him for support. With slightly aching fingers, he rubbed the rheum from around his eyes. He always disliked rubbing the crust away, the feeling always grossed him out to the point of his bones feeling tingly. Elliot was always convinced it was the worst part of waking up. But despite the hardships of awakening on this particular morning, Elliot remained his optimistic self, determined to make this day great.
With a smile and the promise of a new day, Elliot started doing the things necessary to get ready for work. With haste, he brushed through his hair, which was muddled and knotted from his sleep. The boy was sure to untangle every knot in the blonde, matted mess, with every brushed out knot slightly tugging at his scalp. As much as this was uncomfortable, he persisted, letting in a sharp inhale as the bristles forced the twisted hairs to part from one another. After the matter, he decided it would be best to take a shower to wash off the dross of the previous day, and condition his hair to make brushing it easier for the next day.
However, before he was able to commit himself to that, he felt a strong grumble in his stomach, and decided it would be best to treat himself to a warm breakfast first.
Elliot ransacked his kitchen in hopes of finding something palatable. Following the opening and closing of many, many cabinet doors, Elliot made up his mind on crispy toast and some sort of sweet fruit. He grabbed the bag of bread, untwisted the chipped green twist tie, and suspended the plastic bag in the air to let it spin open. He took two of the milk white bread slices out, and carefully dropped them into the toaster with a soft "clunk." While he waited for the bread to warm, Elliot picked up an orange off of his counter to eat along with it. As he dug his nail into the bright citrus fruit to make it less of a hassle to peel, the pungent and tart smell of it reached his nose, causing his nose to scrunch up slightly from the sharp fumes. The orange peel came off in large portions, and to Elliot's delight, some of the stringy pulp came along with it. As much as Elliot loved the taste of an orange, the process of making it accessible to eat was such a struggle.
Coincidentally, right as he finished his task, the toast jumped out from it's warm, metal home.
After his meal, Elliot hopped into the shower. The nature of the hot steam and water massaged the crevices of his skin, both cleansing him of the grime built up on his body, but also easing the built up tension in his muscles. With a shudder, he stepped out onto the cold tile, which felt strange as it contrasted against the warmth of his feet and his body.
Elliot reached over to grab a towel, and began drying off his coily, honeyed locks. He tussled his hair with the towel, letting the moisture from his hair dissipate and settle into the once dry crevices of the bulky, cotton sheet. Unfortunately, each squeeze let out a damp squelching sound, much to Elliot's dismay. Once his golden hair was dried to his liking, he tied the lengthier parts into a small ponytail. After what was far from his first try, he pulled his hair through the elastic band one final time. After he was satisfied with all the distinct angles of his ponytail in the mirror, Elliot smiled with triumph and moved on to brush his teeth.
He plucked his toothbrush from it's holder, as well as his toothpaste. With a flick of his thumb and a quiet "pop," the lid sprung open. The pizza boy squeezed a good amount of the minty paste onto the bristles of the brush, and started to scrub the built up plaque from his teeth away. The harsh minty flavor stung, just a little, but not enough to where it was impossible to get used to. After about a minute and thirty seconds of scouring his teeth with the soft bristles of his toothbrush, he spit the mentholated, yet grossly watered down toothpaste into the sink and down the drain.
Thereafter, when he took care of said necessary steps, the blonde set off to clock into his job, of which he loved so much. Contrary to the majority of the population, Elliot was ecstatic to show up everyday and work. He didn't have to work as much as he chose to, as his father was a very wealthy and successful man who owned many, many establishments. However, as convenient as it would be to mooch off of his dad, Elliot found pride in making his own income, and comfort in working at his father's business. Smiling, he grabbed his signature red visor from where it hung on the doorknob, carefully buttoning it around his head so it wouldn't fly off from the gusts of air caused by the speed of his bike.
So, with a happy smile, the click of the door closing behind him, and the jingle of his keys, he was on his way.