"Vince are you almost done in there? I've go to get to work as well you know!" Howard knocked on the door to the bathroom, which had been in use for the past 5 hours.
"Go away!" A muffled voice shouted back. "Shit! Thanks! Now I've burnt myself with the straightners!" A plug was viciously ripped from the socket and the door flew open, as Vince shoved past, nursing a raw burn mark on his arm. He was always so moody these days, but Howard couldn't to stick around. He had work to get to, at the local musical instrument store, but more importantly to see gorgeous Melinda…one of his co-workers, and more importantly, single. He daydreamed for a while longer then finally began the morning routine.
Vince was sat on the edge of the bed packing sandwiches into a crumpled plastic bag. It was what he did every morning, in a set routine, or actually, more of a ritual. Got up at the same time every single day, got washed, brushed his teeth, made the bed, made sure everything was in its correct place...the list went on. The bright posters on the wall were annoying him. Howard was annoying him. Why was everyone so bloody happy? Did they think he was happy, because he's always cracking jokes and taking the time to get dressed and obsess over his looks? Because that's what it was really. And compulsion to make sure everything was perfect, even though inside it wasn't. And that hurt like hell.
And then there was work. Stuck in a fabric warehouse. He thought it would be great at first, all that stuff he could use for customizing, all at a discount price, but the other workers, or 'colleagues' as the were meant to be called made his life hell, with cruel jibes, probably because he didn't fit in with the other blokey-blokes, who wore bland jeans and even blander t-shirts.
Sighing, he headed downstairs, after doing one last check of everything. The smell of toast and fatty burnt bacon wafted heavily through the air. Vince shuddered and went to take a seat at the table. Bollo was making some form of huge towering toast pile and Naboo was sat on the sofa with his girlfriend, who had apparently come to the flat really early…or maybe she stayed over. They were both to smitten to even notice his appearance.
A few minutes elapsed, in which he sat, sipping his drink slowly, trying to make some sense of his life. Howard soon joined him wordlessly sitting then staring intently trying to prove a point. He purposely ignored him until a slice of dry toast was pushed in front of him.
"Eat something! You used to have all sorts in the morning, now you just have that single cup of black coffee! You're starting to look like a human twig!"
"I'm not hungry. I never am at breakfast." Or at lunch...or tea he added silently, draining the cheap, white cup and trying to ignore the familiar hunger twinge in his stomach. His friend sighed, but smiled reassuringly as Vince took a bite of the bread and collected his stuff up, making his way through the door, and into the cold, dull winter air. Checking nobody was stood at the windows or looking, he shoved the rest of the slice into a hedge and wrapped the mouthful in a tissue, and upon seeing no litter bin, shoved it in his jacket pocket. And old woman walking her dog gave him a disdainful sniff. He scowled, adjusting the sleeves, wincing as the fabric grazed across the aforementioned burn, reading the times on the bus stop. Probably already missed the first one, so he'd have to wait for the next one, which was another half an hour away.
But it was all so easy to cover up; in public at least. Smiling and laughing and brushing off comments. If anyone outside home found out about him; freaky obsessions and appearance hang ups, he may as well go die. Or hideaway forever, like a hermit. The bus pulled in, all its suited up commuters staring as Vince boarded, some smirking to one another.
Right that's it. Should I continue it? Should I not? Well, obviously if I did carry it on, it wouldn't all be like this, but...meh, you get the idea. Reviews make me smile and give chocolates.