Orphans | Larry

11

LOUIS POV

I threw my phone across the room as if that would cancel the persistent noise of the alarm.

It didn't of course.

A groan slipped from my lips, as I struggled to make my way across the room to where my phone continued to lay, and continued to ring,  pouting as if anyone could see me.

I swiped my finger across the screen in order to stop the alarm, checking the time as I did so, as well as inspecting any damage I may have caused the screen. Then again, it was already shattered from all of the accidental drops that I seemed prone to, so I shrugged it off.

It was 11:00am. I forced out a sarcastic laugh similar to that of an insane person as I realised that I would actually have to change my sleeping schedule. No more 2pm lie-ins for me.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I set the phone back down on my bedside table. I looked around my room, sighing as I took in the view of half finished plates of food and dirty clothes that had yet to be washed. It was honestly quite a disgusting sight, yet both Liam and Zayn had grown used to my untidy ways and therefore, the mess didn't bother me. Besides, they were the only visitors I ever had.

I padded over to my wardrobe, tossing aside the majority of my clothes and fishing out a random white button-up which I would pair with some black jeans. I decided to play it safe for the interview. Even though Zayn had mentioned that there wasn't really a dress code, I realised that first impressions mattered, and I really needed this job.

I took the outfit with me to the bathroom and hung it to the side for later.

I made my way back towards the kitchen, tripping on a miscellaneous object, "Fuck-Shit-Cunt!" I blurted as I regained my composure, a light blush spreading up my cheeks, relieved that no one was around to see me stack it.

I once again ran my hand through my hair, pulling it away from my eyes, which in turn reminded me that I was overdue a haircut. My stomach created an inhumane noise within itself, urging me to pick up the pase on the breakfast making.

I decided on pancakes, and therefore made a beeline to the fridge to get out the eggs and milk. As I opened the fridge door, I both mentally and physically facepalmed. There was nothing other than a couple of condiments inside, the empty reflection of the fridge mocking me.

I slammed the door a little harder than intended, what was left of the contents inside rattling in disagreement.

I pondered for a few minutes on what I should eat, as I searched the cabinets surrounding the area. The best I could find was a half-empty box of cereal, but it would do.

A noise of annoyance left my lips, remembering that there was no milk from when I'd checked the fridge earlier. Everything seemed to be going wrong and for some particular reason I doubted that this would be the extent of it.

I grabbed one of the few remaining bowls from the shelf, knowing that the rest of them were scattered around my room. I realised that I'd have to get my act - both literally and figuratively - cleaned up, if I wanted to even begin to take life seriously.

Clean environment, clean mind, right?

With that, I made a mental note to clean up the place when I finished work; that was if I even got the job in the first place.

I placed the bowl on the counter, not wanting to waste the little time I had left in sitting down at the table and enjoying it. I grabbed a spoon from the drawer that was situated by the sink and poured the remaining amount of cereal into the bowl.