Iridescent | Wesley Johnson [completed]

The Very Cliché Interview

I'm not American, nor have I ever been there, so if any kind of descriptions or such are a little wonky, that is why. English is also not my first language so please excuse any grammatical mistakes or just general confusion that might appear language-wise. This is also my very first proper fanfiction so please, give me opinions and ideas! Now, enjoy the first chapter. :)

With a shaking hand I pull the brush through my auburn hair before I leave my apartment, greeted by the chilly february morning. Instantly, my efforts go to waste as strands are lifted by the wind and dance around my face like a teasing fire. I sigh and pull a green beanie on, it doesn't matter if it ruins it even more.

"Great job. Awesome. Way to go Emelie. Just how I wanted to show up on a job interview." I mutter sarcastically as I board the bus, avoiding eye contact with everyone as I as swiftly as possible pick an empty seat in the back of it. Living with social awkwardness, ladies and gentlemen. This is also why I am terrified of this 'new job-new life' thing that's going on. Let me recap for you.

About a month ago, January eighteenth to be precise, a small mail made it's way down my mailbox. It was a notification from YouTube, telling me that the channel Smosh Games Alliance uploaded a new video. I was at the moment on the floor, having trouble breathing and wiping my tears away in a stinky, public bathroom. The video was titled 'NEW SMOSH MEMBER??' and as I sat there, yearning for any kind of comfort, I decided to watch it, not caring if someone walked in and saw me sitting there without headphones, crying and watching youtube. You see, I was at work. Not only was I insanely stressed, which is not very difficult for me to become thanks to my idiotic instabilities, but my boss, that absolutely disgusting pig, first verbally abused me, calling me a 'whore' and a 'naive idiot', and then touched me on the ass on his way out. It wasn't much, I know, but enough to push me and my insecurities over the edge.

The video talked about how Smosh was hiring a new person, similar as to when they hired Mari, and that all you'd have to do was send a mail with your name, past experiences, location and a short motivation, and you might be called to an interview. As you might expect, I wrote a mail, and a crappy one at that. It went somewhere among the lines of "I live close by and I have a really crappy job at a graphic design company where the most creative thing I get to do with my three year education is sort papers". Yep. I sounded pretty grumpy and snooty. You could definitely say, that when yet another mail came last week, calling me to an interview, I was practically hyperventilating. You see, I had a thing now that I haven't had in forever, and that is some proper hope and excitement.

So that's basically why I'm now on a cramped bus, ready to throw up but also not quite able to remove the little smile playing on my lips. I'm going to meet the Smosh-guys. I've been a fan for some time, about two years. I watch as the urban landscape flashes by outside the dirtied window, trying to make time pass faster, but of course, failing. Only when the bus stops a block away from the headquarters (that sounds almost as cool as it is) am I able to focus on something else than the churning of my stomach. Opening the GPS-app on my phone, because you haven't seen me navigate (I seriously got lost in eighth grade gym class. We were in a fifty yards big park with ten trees..), I excitedly type in 'Smosh Games' before smiling dumbly at it and erasing it. It's not going to be that easy. I find the mail and type in the address, before I start walking in the now warmer weather. The sun finally peeks out from behind a cloud, warming my shoulders to the point that I take my thin jacket off. I'm wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, which is basically the only kind of pants I have, and a fairly loose military green shirt tucked into them. A pair of red vans shelter my feet from the moist asphalt as I hurry between the tall buildings. I don't want to be late, and I swear, I had loads of time, but I'm somehow almost late anyway.

A rush of excitement and nauseating nervousness hits me as I look up on the tall building. All I can think of is that there's a lot of cool people in there. With a heavy breath and a determined 'fuck it' inside myself, I grab the handle to the glass doors and pull. Guess what? They didn't open. Sweat breaks through on my temples as I try again in panic. Pushing, pulling, twisting it. I'm going to be late. I only have ten minutes and I still have to find my way through the huge building. Tears push from behind my eyelids and I try my hardest to calm my shaky breathing. Was it all a prank? I knew it was too good to be true. My melancholic thoughts are interrupted by my hand sliding from the handle as the door carefully opens. I slowly look up to see a pair of curious eyes looking at me, chocolatey warm and instantly comforting.