[
←] His morning has started...fairly early, compared to most. Completely against his will, too. As it always was. At least, since he had entered Highschool that is. His internal clock loved to believe that he was indeed, a morning person, when that was about the exact opposite of his case. He could curse himself, or the day-- he instead chose to curse all the grueling months of early morning practice he had taught himself-- no,
forced himself to get up and endure. Even after they were over, they were still haunting him. How troublesome. A thud sounded, as he gave a turn in the wrong direction, and the cold surface of hardwood flooring accepted the back of his head with open arms, and a cringe worthy '
crack.'
A fellow good morning to you to, Japan.
Legs falling to his side, his body followed through as he pushed his upper half to sit upright, swaying slightly on the spot where he sat, as his squinted eyes focused in on the darkness of his room, taking a few moments to mentally collect himself for the day ahead. A roll of his shoulders, and his head falling to the side to accommodate the crack of stiff joints and bones. A hand moving up to rub at the area, before rough and calloused fingers ran through ebony locks, tangled from previous nights sleep.
"..."
He really did not want to get up.
Even then, it's not like he could fall back to sleep anyway.
"..."
Guess he's getting up.
Standing upright, slowly, he brought himself to an unsteady stature, hand trailing along the smooth, cool paint of the wall, as he made his way to his door, and gently pushed it open with his toes, a 'creak' from old door hinges sounding through the quiet household. He never fully closed it, there was no reason to. At least he didn't see the reason. Quiet yawning as the free hand that wasn't keeping him stable against the wall found place under his shirt, idly scratching along the solid structure of his abdomen. Mmm...where was he going again? Oh, wait, right, shower.
...Shower.
Wandering off farther down the hall, he opened another door on the side as he turned into it, a quiet click as he closed it behind him.
And the sound of running water.
.
.
.
Dressing was one of the more simpler points of his day, considering he barely knew how to really go about it. Dressing was one thing, but, properly was something challenging to him. This happened so often though, that mismatched clothing had really become a style for him. No one questioned it- at least not to his face, and he preferred it that way. At least he could work it in a way others would probably have trouble. What a hot mess he was. One hand working at buttoning up his school shirt, the other, pulling his pants up past his hips as he awkwardly hopped out of the bathroom on one leg. Why he insisted on multitasking when there was no point to it was beyond even his own comprehension. He had managed to get it done, either way. Guess that was all that mattered, right?
Past the point of fumbling with his clothing, a toothbrush worked its way back and forth in Daryls mouth, as his shoeless feet took heavy, sauntered steps along the flooring from the living room to the kitchen. Removing the brush from his mouth to spit foam into the sink, before returning back to his mouth for a few final brushes. Turning the sink on with the lift of a handle one he was done, he washed his brush off, and placed the newly cleaned, yet wet object onto the counter by the sink, turning it off.
The helping placed out for him on the opposite counter, quickly cleaned from its plate as he ate quickly, appetite slowly becoming satisfied with each flavorful bite. Grayson was always a good cook-- ironic, seeing as his mother could barely make a tray of ice. Don't tell her he said that, though. Once finished, he placed his emptied plate into the sink with a mumbled 'thanks' in his friend/roommates direction-- turning it on again for a fraction of a second to wash what few crumbs remained from the surface of it, before switching it off again. Daryl liked to believe that doing that properly cleaned it. He was misinformed.
.
.
.
Even with the generous amount of time he had in the morning, he still was always in a frenzied rush to leave on time-- or early, he never kept track of the actual time. He timed himself based on events that happened through the morning, and now, Grayson was his dependent on letting him know what time they left. Knowing the other, they were probably fairly early-- but, you can never be too safe, right?
"Yeah, i'm coming. Hold up, will ya?"
Sliding his feet into his own school shoes, he brought the back of his foot up at arms length, a finger fishing its way into the back of his shoe to properly adjust his heel to fit the shoes own heel. He did this with both shoes, before grabbing his jacket from it's spot on the floor by the coat hanger [he always seemed to miss that,] one arm sliding into a sleeve, the other following through. He didn't wear a hat, he barely needed his coat, due to his body temperature always seeming to be a bit higher and more tolerant then it should, but, it was always nice to have on hand, in the slim chance that he actually did get cold. Or it rained. Though, he always found rain refreshing, he couldn't understand how some people hated it.
Eye's trailing from his feet up to meet Graysons own gaze-- through thick lenses.
Ugh, glasses.
He needed those.
"..."
One day, he'll get contacts.
One day.
Leaning over to pick up his bookbag, he slung it over his shoulder before grabbing his gym bag, and slinging it over the other with a grunt. Slouching with a tired sigh, he gave another yawn, before bringing his Thermos to his lips, and tipping it back to take a gracious sip of the coffee that filled it. The bitter flavor assaulting his tongue, causing him to grimace and shake his head.
God he hated this shit.
Shit in a fucking thermos, that's what he's drinking.
Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, he reached his free hand in, before pulling his phone out and turning it on. A message from Jacie? This early.
God dammit Jacie.
The text itself was already giving him a headache. That was four to many exclamation points in one sentence.
He worked quickly at typing out a reply.
"Hell if I know, I don't think mines mentioned much about it. Guess i'll ask, though. I'll get back to you when I have an answer, alright?"
Before turning the bright light of his phone off, and dropping it back into his pocket.
"Cmon, let's go before I go back to bed."
It was another busy morning for Kenji as he finished putting on his siblings shoes to take them to school and daycare. Everyone who knew him, loved greeting the siblings every week day morning to see them off. Since their parents were away, Kenji had to take care of the younger ones during their time away from home. Holding the twins in his arms, while Sayuri and Yumi walked on either side of him.
