Chapter Text
Elliot collapsed onto his couch and opened his phone; he scrolled mindlessly as his thoughts wandered. The black overhead fan spun round and round. Work was a blur for Elliot. Every day he wakes up at 7 am, gets ready, works, and comes home. Each and every day is the same thing. Over and over. It was mind-numbing. As much as the blond loved his job. It was just … boring. When he manned the register, the cook, the boxer, the delivery driver, the supplier. Just the same thing. After hours of doomscrooling he felt his eyelids grow heavy and he fell into an uneasy sleep. Dreams about work. He was used to it by now. Until… something was different than normal.
“Thank you, Ellinor,” the customer said. Elliot woke up in an instant, soaked in sweat. He sat up, gasping for air. His hands found his hair and pulled it roughly. Why. Why does this still happen. A grown “man” having a panic attack over a word.
Pathetic.
He glanced at the analog clock. 3:27. The pizza boy stumbled off the couch and into the bathroom. The light flicked on. He’d have to change the bulb—it was dim. Oh well. That wasn't the thing on his mind. He splashed his face with cool water, the drops landing onto the cold granite counter.
He stared at his reflection. A yellow Robloxian with messy hair and eye bags stared back. He hated it. Yet he couldn't look away. He saw every imperfection. Each mistake. Disgusting.
7 AM sleep was rough, to say the least. He got maybe 4 hours of sleep all night. But that's no excuse to skip out on work! Especially when they’re understaffed. The last time he even missed a day was when he fell off his moped and had to go to the hospital. And that was years ago. Lack of sleep is nothing for someone as devoted as him.
He stepped into the shower. The water ran down his body. Shampoo, rinse, conditioner, body wash, rinse. He got out and dried himself off. He put on his uniform and blow-dried his hair. Once he was 100% ready, he started his walk to the pizzeria. It was around 8:30 now. He still had to prepare the pizza place, though. Prep ingredients, boxes, turn everything on. It only took half an hour, so until they opened at 10, he could do whatever he pleased.
They opened. Yay. Elliot stood at the counter.
“Hello”
“Good afternoon”
“What can I get you?”
For what felt like hours. Just the same three phrases to each customer. But he said it with a smile and a wave to every single customer. That's just what he does.
Then at 7 pm, like clockwork, the rush hit. And like always, the understaffed kitchen was swamped. Elliot’s manager asked him to help the cooks—of course, the blond agreed. Why wouldn’t he? Eventually, all things, good and bad, must come to an end. The dinner rush slowed to a snail's pace. Who gets pizza at 11 pm anyway? Maybe college students. Who knows.
The day went by without much else to note. There was no C00lkidd today. That was pretty nice. But odds are he just got banned. I mean, it's been months since that red thing has done anything. All of Elliot’s coworkers left; he waved goodbye to each with his signature smile.
After he finished all the closing duties, he walked home—it was nearly midnight now. That's just what happens when you close on a Friday night. Stars shone brightly in the sky. Elliot occasionally glanced up at them. They were beautiful. Bright dots of white in the dark blue sky. His lips curved up into a small smile.
He soon arrived at his house. The door creaked open. He passed a few boxes, some opened and some still sealed. The man still had to finish unpacking since moving out of his dad’s house. Though he didn't really have the time for that. He walked into his bedroom and approached his dresser. Elliot grabbed some simple PJs and changed into them. His ribs were sore with a dull ache. He was used to it. Elliot lay in bed and, about 10 minutes later, fell asleep.