Xander awoke to the tragically displeasing noises of car horns just outside and attempted to dig his face out of the unfamiliar mess of bedsheets it was buried in. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and held his arm outstretched in attempts to block out the sun that was making every lethal attempt to blind him from the window just a few feet away. He sat up and looked around. "Where the hell..?" he thought to himself as he tried to get his bearings. His head was pounding, and the room smelled like sweat and old pizza. Realizing the unconscious body that was next to him, he made an effort to get out of bed slowly so as to not wake the person and delicately searched the ocean of sheets for his iPhone. He reached down and produced the phone from one of his pants pockets on the floor and looked at the time. "10:36 AM" it read. He groaned silently and got dressed before tiptoeing over to the other side of the bed to get a look at the stranger whom had the pleasure of his company the night before; it was one of his producers.
Making an attempt to recollect the evening before, Xander recalled taking Miles, one of the producers of the play he was currently working on, out to the bar. Miles wasn't the most attractive man, but the guy had connections, and Xander had his sights set on a more prominent role than just "Boy with Bucket". He could barely stand the smell anymore.. if there was one thing he hated, it was greasy food. He made careful effort not to make any noise as he slipped on his jeans and t shirt, then his jacket. He slipped into the bathroom and stole a can of hairspray and bottle of Listerine before silently leaving through the door. He spritzed and gargled as he made his way out of the apartment complex and adjusted his clothes to look at least somewhat presentable. The walk of shame wasn't Xander's preferred activity, but the apartment was dead this morning so its not like it mattered anyway. He made his way back to his place a good dozen or so blocks away.
As he walked in the door, he took a deep breath in and inhaled the delicious aroma of the bouquet of wilted white roses on the coffee table. "Ah, home sweet home." he smiled, a feeling of elation overcoming him as he threw down his bag and plopped himself on the couch. He was glad to be back at his own clean abode. Xander's apartment was always prim and spotless, and he always kept flowers - or at the very least, potpourri - around to make sure the place smelled delightful. He hated gross smells, it would instantly ruin his mood. He hadn't been home in a few days, however. He had been doing a lot of "work" recently (or so he calls it) trying to network his way into the role he had been wanting. It was exhausting. He didn't exactly expect others to pity him for it, but the way he looked at it, having to deal with people to get what you want was a job completely in itself.
He rested just a moment before deciding to make himself a cup of coffee. His head was still pounding, so he pulled a small travel-sized bottle of hair of the dog out of the fridge and mixed some into his coffee, along with two spoonfuls of sugar and just a drop of soy milk. He plucked the bouquet of wilted roses out of their vase and was careful not to drop any petals on the floor as he tossed them in the trash. "I'll have to get more of those this afternoon" he said to himself. He then walked over to the door, where a massive pile of several days' worth of bills and letters had been awaiting him next to the mail slot. He sorted through it all expertly. "Junk, junk, junk, I'll keep you, junk, junk, fancy red letter, junk. Wait a minute.." he paused and took a closer look at the red envelope he was holding. "What the heck are YOU?" the dainty little envelope had Xander's name elegantly written across the front in black ink, and a fancy old-style wax seal on the back. "Who even sends letters like this anymore? Must have cost a fortune.." He tore into it with complete disregard for the note's integrity and read. His mouth nearly dropped to the floor. "Wh-what...? Is this some kind of joke..!?" he immediately got angry and tossed the letter aside. "Who the heck could have sent this? Does somebody know..?"
He was of course referring to his 'powers'... the ones he had never told anybody about, and didn't think anybody had ever taken upon themselves to discover. "That's impossible," he thought. "nobody is THAT observant.. and besides, who would actually be deluded enough to believe I have magical powers? You can't just accuse somebody of having magical powers just because they know how to get their way. You know what? I'm insulted.. I deserve more credit than this asshole prankster is willing to give me." Finishing up his coffee and trashing the pile of junk letters, he hopped into the shower not even bothering to dispose of the fancy letter that now lay on the floor, although the message replayed through his brain the entire time. After he got dressed, he went to leave for the marketplace downtown but stopped to take another look at the letter. As he came more to his senses, he began to realize it couldn't be a prank.. that there had to be some level of legitimacy to this. A school in Japan for the "gifted"? What the actual hell? But still.. he couldn't shake this internal feeling.. it was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, since he was a kid. It was like destiny was calling him, like the universe was directly speaking to him and telling him what he needed to do. He could never silence that voice, when it called....
"Ughhh..... am I really doing this?" he thought to himself for a brief moment, as he entertained the idea of packing his bags and going. He looked over to his calendar on the wall... he looked at the multiple days ahead that were marked with black sharpie,
'Audition @ Wessley Theater, 2:30pm, Thursday'
'Audition @ Cobalt Theater, 11:00am, Friday'
'Sleep with director of 'Hairspray' to get Link'
he sighed again.
Next thing he knew, he was heading out the door with his bags over his shoulders. He turned to look at his apartment one last time... he didn't know how long he'd be gone, but he did know he'd miss it. His sanctuary. He nearly thought he'd shed a tear, before laughing and remembering he 'doesn't have feelings'. He locked the door behind him and walked up to the cab. The driver was sitting in the driver seat talking on the phone. "Uhh.. excuse me," he started, the driver seemingly uninterested or just deliberately ignoring him. can you help me with my bags?" Still nothing. He walked over to the driver side window and made eye contact with the driver. He smiled and the energy around him began to feel warm. "Pretty please?" his eyes sparkled and he grinned devilishly. The cab driver then stopped immediately with talking on the phone and got out of the cab, taking each of Xander's bags to the trunk and neatly loading them in. "How kind, thank you!" he remarked to the driver in a disgustingly polite voice, trying desperately to hold back from laughter. He hopped in the backseat and sent a text to his mom:
]-Going to Japan for a few weeks. Text you when I'm back. Love you!-[
Next stop, the airport!