In The Depths

Loneliness is like a deep dark void, with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. As much as I try, I just get deeper into the depths of loneliness, and into the depths of my soul. I just want to get out. I don't deserve this.

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9. Late

The sputter of the shower water hitting the floor wakes me from my slumber. A hazy fog of forgetfulness clouds my thoughts, awoken by one remembrance:

I’m at Harry’s house.

I smile, resting my head back down on the soft pillow which smells of him. The whole scene of last night floods into my brain. I remember the sweet look on his face as he fell asleep. I remember the kiss I lay ever so gently on his cheek. I’m in pure bliss as I lay here, thinking of nobody other than Harry.

Now I remember that I have work today.

And I’m late.

“Harry!” I yell, as I scramble out of bed, still in my clothing from yesterday. I guess it would make due, being I don’t have my work uniform.

“What?” His voice is muffled by the noise of the water.

“I have to get to work!” I shove my feet into my shoes.

“What? But I made you breakfast!”

“I’ll eat in the car!”

“You didn’t bring your car.”

I cuss, throwing on my jacket. I look at the time: 9:00. Work started ten minutes ago. “I’ll eat in the cab!”

“I hope the cabbie likes the smell of bacon.”

I huff, saying my goodbyes, and running downstairs. I grab the strips of bacon off the counter top and run outside.

The cool wind greets me with a hug. I shiver, biting the crisp bacon as I call the cab company. “Chef,” I mumble between chews. “Nice.”

I arrive to work in ten minutes. As I run in through the double doors, my boss is waiting for me.

My boss, what a character. He’s a tall man with crazy biceps, always stretching out his suit in an unflattering way. His olive skin goes GREAT with his balding-blonde hair. (And by great, and mean terrible.) I don’t think he has ever smiled in his life. Seriously, I think that man wears pins on his chin to keep his mouth facing downwards.

“Louis,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “How are you?”

I swallow, looking up at his massive frame. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I got caught up in the rush of things and I didn’t-”

He put a finger to his tan lips, telling me to shut up in the nicest way possible. “We all make mistakes, kid. Just don’t make that mistake again.”

I’m about to respond, but the sound of singing cuts me off. The cast is rehearsing for Annie, and apparently now is their rehearsal time. I make eye contact with one of the cast members, and he smirks.

“I won’t, sir.” I bow my head, avoiding eye contact with the cast to spare embarrassment.

“Good, now go clean the bathrooms.”

You would think the restrooms of a fancy theater would be clean and tidy and overall welcoming. That’s wrong in all ways. When you walk in the loo here, it’s like stepping into the ghetto. A ghetto that smells like utter shit.

I breath through my mouth as I step in, trying to keep my eyes off the clogged toilet. Is our food that we serve really that bad? Dried soap clings to the sink, crusting up. My nose is crusting up.

Ten minutes later, I’m still cleaning. Seriously, this place is uncleanable. The toilet is still clogged, staring up at me. Trust me, I would do anything not to unclog it.

As I scrub the floor with a breaking mop, I hear tap-tapping on the window.

“Ignore it, Louis. This crap won’t clean itself,” I mutter under my breath.

Tap tap.

I scrub harder.

TAP TAP!

Groaning, I make my way to the musky window. A familiar body stands outside, smiling a grin of white teeth. A large pair of glasses sits upon his nose, and a blonde mop of hair sleeps on his head.

‘”Will!?” I sputter, opening the window with a heave. “What the actual HELL are you doing here?” I’m totally surprised to see this kid.

“Harry told me to come get you.” He bites a piece of red licorice, chewing slowly.

“How did you know I was here?”

“He told me.”

“Couldn’t he get me himself?” I would be killed if my boss caught me talking to somebody during work. I know: harsh.

“He’s a lazy boy.”

“How did you know I would be in the restroom?”

“I assumed you drank some of my home made beer last night. Trust me, I was on the toilet for hours!” He made a grand gesture with his hand. “There was like paprika in there or something that just triggers-”

“Okay! Alright, man. I don’t need an update on your poop flow, god.” I pull a hand back through my thick hair, sighing. “Do you need to tell me something important?”

“Yeah. Harry said some drama friend of his was holding auditions for Les Mis. You should try out, brother.”

I am silent for a moment, thinking of this opportunity. “How did Harry know I like acting?”

“Well, one: You acted that you were not gay. Two: You work at a musical theater.” Will bit off another piece.

“Oh, um. I can’t go now, though.”

“Why?”

“I’m working, obviously.” I glance at my watch, afraid that Mr. Biceps would walk in. “Can I come later?”

“Fine. It’s at six o’clock.” Will stares at me in the eyes. “Be there.”

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