Before Us [Wriolette]

Chapter 7: Cleaning

Having hung up on Sigewinne for this matter, Wriothesley was less than happy about what it was. "Let me get this straight, you called me out here..." you could hear the disappointment in his voice, "Because a pair of handcuffs went missing?" His tone of voice wasn't angry, but he was in disbelief over his subordinates' lack of courtesy.

"Y-you see, boss, uhm, Chevereuse was requesting them for use in an unrelated project and-" "And you cant find them?" Wriothesley interrupted. He already knew the answer. "Yes, uh, its just that you were the last one who had them and we weren't sure where you left them," the man finished weakly. The unimpressed glare Wriothesley gave the two was enough for them to shrink into themselves. "I suppose that in your rush to ask me you didn't search at all, then." The answer he got, or lack thereof, told him what he needed to know. With a sigh, he added, "Check the chamber. It's the last place I used them." And with that, he turned around and headed home.

Kicking his shoes to the side as he strode into his apartment, Wriothesley made a beeline towards the kitchen for a plastic bag. His plan was simple: collect anything that would provoke a negative emotional reaction (in this case specifically items relating to his ex) and throw them away. Simple. Reliable. By now he had figured out that it got easier every time. The first time he tried this decluttering technique, he found it hard to let go of all the items he was attached to. There had been some breakups that were messy and heartbreaking, but fortunately this was not one of them. Wriothesley had known that he and Rachelle wouldn't work out, but he hadn't decided how to break it off. This cleaning routine both distracts him in the present and allows him to feel comfortable and happy within his own home in the future. To say it put his mind at ease was not entirely true, but it certainly took a weight off his shoulders.

While he was clearing out his junk, he came across a bottle of Feejee (sue me not). This lone bottle of water reminded him that he needed to grab that fancy bottle of Acqua di Cristallo. It wasn't really that important right now seeing as he had three days to touch a bottle of water that he owned, but it was something to keep in mind. Refocusing, he spaced out for several minutes as he cleaned. Wandering blankly as he decluttered. The only thoughts that drifted through his mind were excerpts of random (mostly bad) songs that he had heard at any point throughout the day. One of the songs that echoed in the vast expanses of his mind was "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys. Like most people in the world, he only knows 5 words from the song and all of them are "sabotage"    ...    still a good song, though.

Silently rocking  out to imaginary guitars and drums as the word "sabotage" is repeated (he doesn't know any other lines) he concludes his cleaning and tosses what's necessary. Before he can collapse onto his bed, however, he sets an alarm. As you may recall, he agreed to work at the cafe for a week. His training is tomorrow, but they were kind enough to clarify over text that the day of training will count towards his total days working there. Assuming he completes the training successfully, he will most likely work as a waiter. Not that he has an issue with this necessarily, but he would like to avoid his professor outside of class as much as possible. Its' not that he has anything against the other, it's just generally strange to see a teacher outside of school.

 As he drifts to sleep and his eyelids get heavier, the less his problems of tomorrow weigh on his mind and the  more he focuses on the current moment. Completely relaxed, he feels the arms of sleep hold him.

Unfortunately, it feels like two seconds later that he wakes up to his blaring alarm tearing through his eardrums at 6am. The better the sleep he has, the worse the mood hes in when he wakes up. As he slept like a baby last night, he woke up on the opposite end of the scale. Turning off his alarm and dreading not paying a sum of cash to get a calm alarm, he wills himself out of bed, on his feet and into the kitchen to make something that would cheer him up. Opening the cabinet, he saw hoards of something that would do the trick. Tea. Shelves and shelves of it. Cheap and expensive, black teas, green tea, all of the tea you could imagine. On days when he woke up tired and irritable, a cup of this would make him as 'cheerful and bright' as usual.

Throwing on a white tee-shirt covered in a black trench coat, he loosened the waistband on his semiformal pants. Wriothesley brushed through his hair with his hand and tried to push down some of the wild hair on the side that resembled wolf ears. There must be something with the way he sleeps, because no matter how hard he tries, the shape stays. At one point he tried using hair gel to stick it down but it sprung back up as soon as he took his hand off. Honestly, if he was to duct tape it down, it might stay down but there's also a 50% chance that they will tear through the tape. The only solution for this issue would be to get a buzz cut but those look nasty and he would prefer to look like a wolf than a 15 year old from a 90's movie. 

He gathered his things, unplugged his phone and started for the cafe. "I wonder if I can get a free tea during breaks..."

***Please comment on anything! it would be really motivating to know that the people reading my middle of the night "ok, but what if this happened"s have souls! Thank you for reading this far and let me know if you want me to add anything/anyone.***