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A/N: This is Levi's P.O.V.. I think I'm going to make one chapter Levi, one chapter Eren and so on. Enjoy! ^^

After 28 years of thoughtful living, I concluded that life is a hell of a shit loaded sack.

And no, don’t even think about saying that I don’t know anything – that 28 years are nothing when a human being can live up to 80 or more. That 28 year are nothing compared to the period of history; that 28 years don’t bring you the knowledge of an elderly person (“You’re young, you don’t know what you’re saying”, yeah, okay, do me a favor and shove it right up your ass, would you?). That twenty-eight years just aren’t enough to conclude anything at all. I’ve lived much more in 28 years than someone has in 60. I’ve seen both sides of the coin; I’ve seen heaven and hell on earth and I’ve seen how cruel the world is. I’m not ignorant like most people are; I do not believe in a lovey-dovey life because I know what reality is like, because I know that a happy life doesn’t exist. It’s all an illusion: people see what they want to see.

Everything is boring, everything is dull, everything is dirty, everything is gross, everything is the same day after day and simply not worth it. You’re just another one in a species of almost eight billion individuals, and no matter how much you try, no matter how big and influent your status in society is, you just don’t change the world. And if you do, it’s only a question of time until they forget whoever you were or someone else comes, stepping over your name as if stepping over a doormat. All in all, it sucks.

If any other person looked at me right now, watching as I unlocked my shining black BMW i8, they’d think it’s ironic for me to be complaining about life, to conclude that it’s a sack of shit. If they saw my current life style they’d think I’m insane for complaining about anything. But there’s the point: current is the key word. I may have a fucking awesome car, a five stars apartment, a golden credit card and a closet full of the finest Armani suits, but it wasn’t always like this. It’s not like I was born rich – because yes, I’m goddamn rich now, practically sitting over a mountain of cash – but I saw what I wished I had not seen; I saw the other side of the coin. The dark alleys and the dirty paths. I saw the underworld, where drugs are handled and used like water; where corruption is the way of dictation, where fights are constant and dead bodies are just dead bodies – there’s no funeral, no flowers and no one mourning your passage, you’re just dead. The sound of gunshots are so normal that no one turns around and cares about the victim. It’s just another dead body, a wallet more, a sack of cocaine or marijuana more. The package of cigarettes is a bonus.

And of course, there’s also sex. No one gives a damn about privacy and nobody could care less: moans and gasps are just as common as gunshots are; people fuck like the little rabbits they are and it just doesn’t stop. Sex is entertainment. Sex is a way to get what you want, suck a dick here, give a handjob there and if you’re lucky you might get two grams of coke. Either way you just win something (if not the drug, then the pleasure). In a dirty world like that, people do whatever they please and whatever it takes to get what they need. Heroin addicted are the worst, they’d kill cold-blood to get their doses, they’d humiliate themselves and sell their bodies to satisfy their necessity of more. I speak of own experience.

And even after 5 years of staying clean, I can’t help but feel dirty. I want to scrub, scrub and scrub myself raw, until my skin is red and blood is dyeing the shower floor, falling from angry scratches. I want to let go of my past and forget it all, but I can’t. When I remember all the things I did, all those things I was into and all those things I’d do anything for, I can’t help but feel dirty. My outside might actually look clean, but I feel rotten inside. And it’s not something like soap or even Windex could erase (because let’s be honest, Windex is fucking awesome), and sometimes I start wondering if even time could do anything to fix this. And then I see my mind wandering around, asking me if I need to be fixed. Do I? Don’t I have a great life now? Don’t I have an incredible job and money flowing out of my pockets? Didn’t I manage to stay clean for five years already? What could possible go wrong?

My fingers unconsciously tighten around the steering wheel, the knuckles on my hand getting white. I slightly shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that are currently making its way into my mind – I do not want to think about it. I cannot start thinking about it. Because one thing leads to another and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to handle it; I’ll want to get high again and forget about all these worries that surround me. There were times that I got very close to it, to simply abandon everything, and I’m never sure if it won’t happen again. And then I’m afraid to go back into my previous life style. And that’s the tiny line that bounds me to where I am and who I am right now: fear. Although I won’t admit it aloud, that’s exactly what it is, fear of being who I once was. I can’t just turn the tables and throw away the second chance Erwin had given me. I promised him I’d use it wisely.

And I planned to fulfill my word.

With a last shake of my head, I put my full attention into the road in front of me, eventually giving the navigator some glances to check if I’m on the right way – Erwin, big boss of our modeling agency, had arranged a meeting with me and a few coworkers on this fancy restaurant (Le Lac de Miroir, if I’m correct) to talk and have something to eat while we do so. At least that’s what he said. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s all about promotion and crap; I’ve already asked Erwin why the actual fuck my presence was needed there when he could take care of everything just perfectly. But being Erwin who he was, he simply put that half assed smile on his face and told me that the presence of the vice-president was important. I say that there are much more important things than spending the day I get to go home earlier on a fucking business meeting; god be damned, I honestly want nothing more than just sink down on scalding hot water that’ll be in my tub, lean my head back and relax on my own. Just me, me and myself. Was it so difficult to comprehend?

I continue driving with the low sound of one of my CDs playing on the background and before I even notice it, I had already parked my car. Oh, well, aren’t I especially focused today? Tch, fuck me sideways. A loud sigh escapes my lips and I turn my upper body to the backseats, picking my small business suitcase and suit jacket up. I give the dark blue tie I’m wearing a fast tug so it’s not wrinkled and slip myself into the black vest. I enter the restaurant on 6pm sharp, quickly finding the table where Scout Modeling Agency’s President is already sitting at, as well as some other workers, and I join them, taking the seat across from Erwin with a small nod, acknowledging everybody’s presence. They nod or wave or say a low ‘hello’ in return. We wait for another few minutes until no one’s missing and actually start doing something, at least until a waitress appears and asks us about our orders, to which I answer with what seems to be a rather popular dish. And one hour flows by and we don’t have shit done. I wipe my mouth and lean back on the chair, crossing my arms and putting an annoying expression on. Count half an hour more and everybody’s finished with eating – needless to say I’m almost standing up and walking out without a second glance back. But patience is a virtue, so I stay with my ass glued to the fucking chair and wait. And wait. They start talking about something completely random. And wait. They order dessert. And I wait. They talk about what clothes would suit our models the best for Summer Season, we being in winter currently. And I wait. The shit doesn’t go on. And my patience grows thin.

I lift my arms and rest my elbows on the table, while placing my chin on my interviewed hands, expression darkening considerably. “Would you dumb fucks actually start speaking about what we’re here for or would you rather spend the night? Last time I checked, this was a restaurant, not a hotel,” I say in a low tone that catches their attention. They shriek surprised and start taking all their papers out, much for my amusement, while Erwin sighs and mutters the usual ‘Language, Levi’.

I roll my eyes and lean back on the restaurant’s chair, comfortably crossing one leg over the other and staring at the eleven people sitting on the table. And as predicted, they talk about themselves and give reasons for why they should be promoted. Actually, all they do is boast about their hard work. Or so called hard work, because sitting on an office desk and type all day long is definitely, oh, so hard. Or maybe it’s hard when you have another ass instead of a brain and don’t have the decency of saving your reports after every 20 minutes, since our company is totally not situated on the most popular part of New York and blackouts can absolutely not happen every now and then. And of course there aren’t some little shitstains who don’t look at what they do and unintentionally kick their PC’s system unit and unintentionally unplug their wires. Of course things like this don’t happen. Because of course none of them are so dumb to the point of kicking their system unit. Of course not.

I let a loud sigh out and rub the bridge of my nose frustratingly, wishing nothing more than get the fuck out of this place. It’s already a rarity that I get to go out of work earlier, but having to spend my time on a damn meeting is pushing your luck too far. Erwin better be happy he’s my boss and I can’t simply tell him I’m not taking part on it. Because if it was otherwise, oh, god knows what I’d be doing now. Certainly not listening to a bunch of self promotions.

And so I pass the next one and a half hour signing papers that contain the profile of those Erwin chose to give promotion to. Fifteen minutes more and he’s giving us permission to leave so, yeah, congratu-fucking-lation everybody but I’m off.

I’m out of the restaurant and in my car sooner than anyone else, putting the key on the ignition and driving away. Finally, it was about time already. I turn the heater on maximum so my balls don’t fall off (seriously, what’s with this cold? It’s only November 5th…) and make my way through the now familiar route, eventually reaching my destination, Wall Rose street. I park my car neatly on its spot and get out, quickly shoving my hands in my pockets and my head further down on my scarf. Holy shit, it was cold. And the puddles of mud on the way weren’t helping in any way. Ugh, gross.

I was about to carefully avoid them and reach the elevator when I hear a door being slammed on the opposite side of the street followed suit by a loud shout. Wow, someone must be pissed.

But, naturally, I ignore it because, 1) It’s none of my business, 2) I want to take the fucking elevator so I can get the fuck away from this cold and 3) My bathtub is a million times more interesting and inviting than someone’s tantrum. And so I extend my arm and push the button, hoping it won’t take long to the doors to open. But luck is totally not by my side today and it takes fucking forever to the doors to open. Great. Just great, that’s exactly what I needed. I tap my foot unconsciously on the ground while waiting, and soon someone joins me by my side.

“No, Annie, you don’t get it! He’s terrible!”

I recognize the voice as being the one responsible for the slamming door and the shout. I glance at the person – girl – by the corner of my eyes. Short black hair, Asian complexion, red scarf and angry expression while talking on the phone. “No- Damn, Annie, listen to me! I’m coming up, ok?” a short pause, “-what? No, no, he’s still in class, thankfully. God knows how much he already has weighing on his shoulders, he doesn’t need to see me like this.”

The elevator’s doors open and I thank whatever mighty creature it’s up there for the warmth inside the cabin. I step inside and so does Angry Girl, both of us pressing our respective floor numbers.

“Yeah, I’m okay, it wasn’t as bad as last time,” her eyes fill with water, but nothing rolls down, thank god because sobbing people are really disgusting. “I-I don’t get it, Annie… I mean, he’s his own son! And it’s been like this since… - yeah, you know the story,” another short pause. “I don’t know how he handles it… It’s been only the second time for me, but he goes through this almost every day—What? No, not yet anyways.”

Okay, I admit, whoever this ‘he’ is, it’s turning my curiosity on.

“Yeah, okay. See ya,” she says. “Hm, love you too. Bye.”

I guess I must have been staring, because as soon as she clicked the ‘End Call’ button, her eyes bore into mine with an annoying expression. If I wasn’t already so pissed off because of the meeting, perhaps I wouldn’t have glared at her with some killer intent. Oops. She visibly tried to suppress flinching, but I didn’t miss the way her eyebrows knitted together. I’m quite sure she thought I was some kind of mafia boss. Wouldn’t be a complete lie either way. It’s in times like this that I’m glad for my poker face, nobody can get a glimpse of what’s going on in my mind. I sigh for the tenth time in the past two hours and break eye contact. I was irritated, annoyed and in a clearly bad mood, so excuse me and fuck you. Happily it didn’t take long to reach her floor and Angry Girl get out, leaving me alone in the elevator fucking finally.

A minute or two later the doors opened once again, this time to the last floor, where my apartment was suited. And literally only my apartment. It’s one of the benefits of owning the whole floor, suck it losers.

I unlock the door and step inside, already taking my trench coat off along with my suit jacket, hanging them carefully on the hooker. Home sweet fucking home.

Contently, I walk up to the kitchen island and place the car key on it, my wallet as well, and open the cupboard, taking a glass out and then to the pantry, taking a random red wine out. I pour some in the glass and make my way to the bathroom. I turn hot water open and take a sip of my drink while waiting the tub to fill up. When it’s almost full, I strip and enter the scalding water (not before neatly folding my clothes), and damn, it’s hot (duh, genius). But I make no move to turn cold water on. I need the burning water. I need it to wash me clean, to exterminate any hints of my past from me. If not from my mind than at least from my skin. I want to be clean. I want it to go the shit away, dammit. Some people may call this OCD, and I won’t deny the possibility, but it’s almost worse. It’s an addiction, a need to scrub it off. And for fucks sake, I know that soap and shampoo and wash lotion cannot erase the past, but they help to fool me. It’s a way to fool myself and gain control over my body. It makes me believe I’m actually clean. Not pure – never pure- but actually clean.

It’s only a temporary feeling, obviously – after a while the nightmares start haunting me again. But I’ve long learned to deal with them and fight them down, and with two baths per day, I could easily live through my shitty life. Or life problem, if you prefer, whatever. People go to therapy sessions and I go to bath session. It’s kind of ironic.

Anyways, I decided five years ago that I’d stop looking backwards and live on, so that’s what I’ll try to do. Or rather, that’s what I’m doing. Because say whatever you want, it’s not fucking easy to get out of drug addiction. It’s not easy to leave that lifestyle behind, where all you do is get high, fuck and get money. Actually it’s a lot better than most people have at. But it ends tragically and way too soon. Once in, difficulty out. Almost never out. It’s terrifying. Thrilling, yes, but definitely scary.

I’m just glad I managed to get out of it. Or at least I’m managing out of it.

I mentally shut myself up and continue with the so much needed relaxing bath, steam covering the mirrors surface and causing me to lean further inside the tub after taking a long sip of wine, water wetting me all up to the chin. My muscles loosen up and a satisfied grunt passes through my slightly parted lips.

Perfect.

I wake up to the incredibly loud sound of techno music. And when I say loud, I mean loud, the fucking alarm clock is even shaking. I swear loudly and send Hanji a ‘Fuck you’ message, because until yesterday in was the normal and annoying-but-not-as-annoying-as-techno-music beep, beep alarm; and Hanji is the only one whose mind is so fucked up to the point of waking up to the sound of this shit. And only Hanji enters and leaves my apartment as she pleases (don’t ask me, the woman has a spare key to everybody’s house. I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up tomorrow morning saying she was and secret agent for CIA). Not even two minutes later my cellphone vibrates and the screen is glowing with Hanji’s name.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:33am
Goooooood mooooorning to you too, grumpy bear~!!!

Ugh. Awfully happy as always.

Message Send: 6:34am
What’s your problem? What’s with this shitty music?

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:34am
What? You don’t like it?

Message Send: 6:34am
Fucking love it.

No, sarcasm was totally not my favorite way of communication. Especially not with some crazed woman named Hanji Zoe.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:35am
Ooohh, c’mon, Levi~ It’s pretty cool

Message Send: 6:35am
My ass is pretty cool. Go fuck yourself, Hanji

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:36am
Well, you do have a nice ass, that’s true…

I groan and rub my eyes. She’s impossible. Just completely and utterly impossible.

Message Send: 6:37am
Change my alarm tone once more and I’ll kill you.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:37am
Meh, you’re no fun...

Message Send: 6:38am
No shit, Sherlock.

I roll my eyes and place my phone on the nightstand, standing up and stretching my back and arms, making my bed close after. I take a quick shower and brush my teeth and hair. I walk to the closet with only a towel around my waist and chose another black suit for the day, accompanied by a white button up shirt and a royal blue tie. I put them on and spray a little bit of cologne on myself – reek of sweat is the last thing I need, really. Although in such a weather I doubt I’m going to sweat. But whatever.

I take my work suitcase along wallet and cellphone and walk out my apartment. While waiting for the elevator I see that Hanji texted me again. God, doesn’t she have something - anything - better to do? I check it anyway.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:03am
Leviiii, wanna grab some coffee at the Titan’s?

I blink confusedly for a brief second before answering.

Message Send: 7:04am
Hanji, the Titan’s has been closed for a whole year already. I’m not even sure if the building is still there.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:04am
They opened again! It’s been open for two weeks actually, I thought you knew…

Well, wasn’t that a pleasant surprise after all? I used to go every morning to the Titan’s to get a coffee before work, since they had the best coffee in the whole fucking city, despite the weird ass name. I have no idea why they closed, once their reputation was just incredible, but I’m not going to complain. I only hope the company didn’t change, because it’d suck if my coffee didn’t taste as my coffee.

Message Send: 7:06am
Sure, I’ll be there. Give me five minutes.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:06am
Great! I’ll see you there than~

I don’t give myself the trouble of answering back, so I put the deceiver on my inner pocket and walk out of the building. Once settled inside my car and with the heater on, I make a soft noise of amusement and drive off. Even though it’s been almost ten months since I took this way and drove through these streets it feels so welcoming and familiar that a small, almost unnoticeable smile paints my face and a warm feeling washes over me. It’s stupid, I know, but it’s been way too long. That coffee shop has a good part on my history. It’s also one of the reasons that helped me out of the underworld (but that’s a story for another time); and now that it was back, the strange feeling of home invades me. The owner of the shop was almost a motherly figure for me. A figure I never had.

So when I park my car near the shop, I can’t help but feel happy. It’s all too familiar. The big window on the front, the inner cozy place, the round wooden tables, the comfortable lighting and the sweet smell of fresh baked brownies and strong coffee. It was as if it had never been closed.

“Leviii!” I hear the also too familiar voice and before I can look around to search for her, I’m already being crushed on a breath taking hug. Literally breath taking.

“God, woman! Are you trying to choke me?” I hiss, pulling her off.

She grins and pushes her glasses up her nose. “I already paid for mine, so when you’re done, I’ll be right there,” she says enthusiastically (when was she not?) and points at a table in the corner of the shop. I nod and take my place on the line. As it’s pretty early on the morning, there’s almost nobody in the shop, and consequently only two people in front of me. I wait for about three minutes at the most and when the woman in the cashier says ‘Next’, I look up from my shoes and my face washed with recognition. And so does Angry Girl’s face.

Yep, the same girl I stared deadly at, yesterday. Fucking awesome.

I reset my usual stoic expression and before I get the chance to order, she snaps, “What the fuck are you doing here?” and glares at me full-force.

I raise an eyebrow. “Buying a puppy.” I deadpan and smirk inwardly as her expression darkens with annoyance. “Obviously buying coffee,” I suppress the need of adding ’brat’ on the end of the sentence.

“What do you want?” she spats, almost disgustingly.

“Rude, aren’t we?” I ask, eyebrow still raised. They used to have much more nicer baristas.

“Mikasa, this is a costumer, dammit! What’s wrong with you?” another voice says, and a boy shows up from the back. He’s got a mop of brown hair, and it sincerely looks as if he didn’t put any effort on combing it, tanned skin hidden beneath a long sleeved shirt and apron, defined jawline and damn— His eyes. I swear my breath stayed stuck in the middle of my throat as I looked into the big pair of the most gorgeous turquoise eyes I’ve ever seen. Not exactly green, but not exactly blue either. And the way they shone. Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I was not, absolutely not staring into his weird bright eyes.

For the second time in less than 12 hours, I’m glad for my poker face.

“Eren!” the girl – Mikasa – says, her own eyes lighting up and she sees him. “This man—”

“Did he disturb anyone in the shop?” the boy asks, cutting her off.

“Well, no, but—”

“Did he abuse of you?” Bright Eyes asks again, and I swore I could hear genuine worry behind the scolding.

“No—”

“Then why the heck were you acting like that?”

Angry Girl looks as if she wants to retort something but she sees something on the boy that makes her keep quiet. His angry expression softens and he pats her back. “Go use a fifteen minutes break, you need it.”

She glances at me and then at him before nodding and going to the back. Eren turns to me and smiles apologetically, almost nervously. “I’m sorry for the late and the way she acted, Sir. We’ve been ”

I only stare at him and he shifts clearly uncomfortable. “So, uhm, what would you want?”

“Black coffee. No cream and no sugar.”

“Anything else I could get you, Sir?”

“If I wanted anything else I’d say, brat.”

Bright Eyes laughs softly and nods. “Then that would be $1,50, Sir.”

I hand him the money and he turns to make the damn coffee. Happily there’s no one behind me, because I’m pretty sure they’d be pissed off by long wait.

I watch the kid (because, yes, he’s a kid; couldn’t be older than nineteen) as he prepares the coffee with surprisingly ease and contentment. As I wait for him to finish up, I notice that something about him is off. He looks somehow familiar. Actually, he looks damn familiar, because I swear I already saw the format of his eyes and shape of his face on another person. I saw those exact eyebrows on another person before. I search my brain and after a few moments I remember it. It’s no surprise he looks familiar. He looks sickening similar to her.

“Hey, kid,” I call after him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know a woman named Carla?”

He freezes in place and his hands tremble lightly, the pain and sadness that flashes in his eyes so evident that I almost regret asking. But within an eye blink, it’s all gone and he smiles a small smile at me and I wonder what the fuck just happened. “Yeah, I knew her.”

The past tense doesn’t pass unnoticed by me and my brows furrow together. “Mind telling me where she is?”

“Did you know her?” he asks instead, much for my irritation.

“Brat, I asked a question first.”

The boy looks as if he couldn’t care less. The little shit.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I need to stop doing so, seriously; it’s becoming an annoying habit. “She was an old friend,” I say anyway. “Now answer the damn question, where’s she?”

He hesitates, but answers anyways, “She passed away last year.”

My eyes widen for a friction of second and I don’t want to believe my ears. No. That’s not possible. It’s true that I didn’t know her so well, but she was the person who provided me shelter in the worst part of my life. She was the only friend I had back then, before Erwin or Hanji. She was the one who listened to my problems and the one to incentive me to let go of the drugs. She was almost the mother I never had, dammit.

I take a deep breath, no tears form in my eyes and my expression continues impassive but I feel like a hole has been opened inside of me. “How?” I ask lowly.

Eren looks away and I can’t read his eyes anymore. “Car accident,” he whispers and I nod. He handles me my coffee and steps back ready to attend the place behind the cashier, although there’s no one waiting to order. Before he can do so I speak again. “Oi, brat.”

His eyes sparkle with something I can’t really define. Annoyance? Amusement? A mix of it? Probably. “Yeah?”

“From where did you know Carla?”

He stops doing whatever the hell it is he was doing and looks at me. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel as if he’s not looking at me but through me.

“She was my mother.”

Of course.

That’s why they were fucking identical. I glance at him and nod curtly before walking away, where Hanji’s sitting, looking at me, or Eren or us, god knows what. But she was wearing that expression and shit, it’s never good when she’s looking like that.

I sit across her and make no mention to talk.

“Sooo… What was that there?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Bad for you, then.”

“Leviii, come oooonn~!! Tell me~!!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” because there really wasn’t. What did she want me to tell her? That the mother of some bright eyed kid I just met used to be one of closest friends and had died? No chance.

“It can’t be nothing! I saw the way you and Eren exchanged looks! What’s going on??”

“Hanji, shut up.”

“But it’s truth!! Do you guys know each other?”

“No.”

“Then what happened? Were you flirting with the boy?”

“God, shut the fuck up, shitty glasses.”

“You were, weren’t you?”

“I just met him, for fucks sake, Hanji. Besides he’s a kid. What the hell is your problem?”

“You didn’t deny it though!”

I run a hand through my hair, exasperated. It wasn’t even 8am and I was already pissed off. Today promises to be fabulous, I can see it. Hanji continues with her verbal diarrhea and I close my eyes, completely ignoring it and asking myself how I tolerated her in first place. I decide to take a sip of my coffee and try to calm my nerves down. The day had just begun after all. And so I do. As soon as the burning liquid touches my tongue my eyes fly open and I stare at the cup in my hand. Holy shit. This wasn’t my usual black coffee from the Titan’s. I remember saying that the coffee here is the best, but this isn’t my coffee. Holy damn shit. Somehow, in a way I’m utterly incapable of knowing, this coffee – this cup in my hand containing this caffeinated drink – is the best thing I ever drank. If I thought that the coffees I was used to were the best, than this was something godsend. The base was the same, but something there was different. Something had been added and it made it taste absolutely wonderful. I glance up from the cup and my eyes drift themselves to Eren, who’s behind the counter and looking right at me, a smile painting his features. The little fucking shit. He had put something in the coffee. And he knew I liked it. What the hell?

I narrow my eyes at him and somehow the brat only smiles wider, seeming entirely satisfied with my reaction.

The. Little. Shit.

Fuck him very much.

I make sure my expression in back to expressionless and stand up. Hanji looks at me curiously and I wave at her. “I’m off.”

“Oi, Levi! Wait for me!” she takes her purse and runs after me. “Hey, what’s with the sudden urge? Do you need to piss?”

I glare at her and open the café’s door. Before going out I throw a last look at the brat, who’s again looking at me, the smile still there. Fucker.

“See you at work, shitty glasses,” I say and walk up to my car. I can’t believe the kid had the audacity of looking so amused with himself. And I can’t believe I admitted that his coffee was literally the best thing I ever drunk and that I openly admitted it. Fucking kid.

He got himself a regular now. And the coffee better have the same taste tomorrow.

Because he was totally coming back.

:D (Big Grin) — Description
A/N: This is Levi's P.O.V.. I think I'm going to make one chapter Levi, one chapter Eren and so on. Enjoy! ^^

After 28 years of thoughtful living, I concluded that life is a hell of a shit loaded sack.

And no, don’t even think about saying that I don’t know anything – that 28 years are nothing when a human being can live up to 80 or more. That 28 year are nothing compared to the period of history; that 28 years don’t bring you the knowledge of an elderly person (“You’re young, you don’t know what you’re saying”, yeah, okay, do me a favor and shove it right up your ass, would you?). That twenty-eight years just aren’t enough to conclude anything at all. I’ve lived much more in 28 years than someone has in 60. I’ve seen both sides of the coin; I’ve seen heaven and hell on earth and I’ve seen how cruel the world is. I’m not ignorant like most people are; I do not believe in a lovey-dovey life because I know what reality is like, because I know that a happy life doesn’t exist. It’s all an illusion: people see what they want to see.

Everything is boring, everything is dull, everything is dirty, everything is gross, everything is the same day after day and simply not worth it. You’re just another one in a species of almost eight billion individuals, and no matter how much you try, no matter how big and influent your status in society is, you just don’t change the world. And if you do, it’s only a question of time until they forget whoever you were or someone else comes, stepping over your name as if stepping over a doormat. All in all, it sucks.

If any other person looked at me right now, watching as I unlocked my shining black BMW i8, they’d think it’s ironic for me to be complaining about life, to conclude that it’s a sack of shit. If they saw my current life style they’d think I’m insane for complaining about anything. But there’s the point: current is the key word. I may have a fucking awesome car, a five stars apartment, a golden credit card and a closet full of the finest Armani suits, but it wasn’t always like this. It’s not like I was born rich – because yes, I’m goddamn rich now, practically sitting over a mountain of cash – but I saw what I wished I had not seen; I saw the other side of the coin. The dark alleys and the dirty paths. I saw the underworld, where drugs are handled and used like water; where corruption is the way of dictation, where fights are constant and dead bodies are just dead bodies – there’s no funeral, no flowers and no one mourning your passage, you’re just dead. The sound of gunshots are so normal that no one turns around and cares about the victim. It’s just another dead body, a wallet more, a sack of cocaine or marijuana more. The package of cigarettes is a bonus.

And of course, there’s also sex. No one gives a damn about privacy and nobody could care less: moans and gasps are just as common as gunshots are; people fuck like the little rabbits they are and it just doesn’t stop. Sex is entertainment. Sex is a way to get what you want, suck a dick here, give a handjob there and if you’re lucky you might get two grams of coke. Either way you just win something (if not the drug, then the pleasure). In a dirty world like that, people do whatever they please and whatever it takes to get what they need. Heroin addicted are the worst, they’d kill cold-blood to get their doses, they’d humiliate themselves and sell their bodies to satisfy their necessity of more. I speak of own experience.

And even after 5 years of staying clean, I can’t help but feel dirty. I want to scrub, scrub and scrub myself raw, until my skin is red and blood is dyeing the shower floor, falling from angry scratches. I want to let go of my past and forget it all, but I can’t. When I remember all the things I did, all those things I was into and all those things I’d do anything for, I can’t help but feel dirty. My outside might actually look clean, but I feel rotten inside. And it’s not something like soap or even Windex could erase (because let’s be honest, Windex is fucking awesome), and sometimes I start wondering if even time could do anything to fix this. And then I see my mind wandering around, asking me if I need to be fixed. Do I? Don’t I have a great life now? Don’t I have an incredible job and money flowing out of my pockets? Didn’t I manage to stay clean for five years already? What could possible go wrong?

My fingers unconsciously tighten around the steering wheel, the knuckles on my hand getting white. I slightly shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that are currently making its way into my mind – I do not want to think about it. I cannot start thinking about it. Because one thing leads to another and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to handle it; I’ll want to get high again and forget about all these worries that surround me. There were times that I got very close to it, to simply abandon everything, and I’m never sure if it won’t happen again. And then I’m afraid to go back into my previous life style. And that’s the tiny line that bounds me to where I am and who I am right now: fear. Although I won’t admit it aloud, that’s exactly what it is, fear of being who I once was. I can’t just turn the tables and throw away the second chance Erwin had given me. I promised him I’d use it wisely.

And I planned to fulfill my word.

With a last shake of my head, I put my full attention into the road in front of me, eventually giving the navigator some glances to check if I’m on the right way – Erwin, big boss of our modeling agency, had arranged a meeting with me and a few coworkers on this fancy restaurant (Le Lac de Miroir, if I’m correct) to talk and have something to eat while we do so. At least that’s what he said. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s all about promotion and crap; I’ve already asked Erwin why the actual fuck my presence was needed there when he could take care of everything just perfectly. But being Erwin who he was, he simply put that half assed smile on his face and told me that the presence of the vice-president was important. I say that there are much more important things than spending the day I get to go home earlier on a fucking business meeting; god be damned, I honestly want nothing more than just sink down on scalding hot water that’ll be in my tub, lean my head back and relax on my own. Just me, me and myself. Was it so difficult to comprehend?

I continue driving with the low sound of one of my CDs playing on the background and before I even notice it, I had already parked my car. Oh, well, aren’t I especially focused today? Tch, fuck me sideways. A loud sigh escapes my lips and I turn my upper body to the backseats, picking my small business suitcase and suit jacket up. I give the dark blue tie I’m wearing a fast tug so it’s not wrinkled and slip myself into the black vest. I enter the restaurant on 6pm sharp, quickly finding the table where Scout Modeling Agency’s President is already sitting at, as well as some other workers, and I join them, taking the seat across from Erwin with a small nod, acknowledging everybody’s presence. They nod or wave or say a low ‘hello’ in return. We wait for another few minutes until no one’s missing and actually start doing something, at least until a waitress appears and asks us about our orders, to which I answer with what seems to be a rather popular dish. And one hour flows by and we don’t have shit done. I wipe my mouth and lean back on the chair, crossing my arms and putting an annoying expression on. Count half an hour more and everybody’s finished with eating – needless to say I’m almost standing up and walking out without a second glance back. But patience is a virtue, so I stay with my ass glued to the fucking chair and wait. And wait. They start talking about something completely random. And wait. They order dessert. And I wait. They talk about what clothes would suit our models the best for Summer Season, we being in winter currently. And I wait. The shit doesn’t go on. And my patience grows thin.

I lift my arms and rest my elbows on the table, while placing my chin on my interviewed hands, expression darkening considerably. “Would you dumb fucks actually start speaking about what we’re here for or would you rather spend the night? Last time I checked, this was a restaurant, not a hotel,” I say in a low tone that catches their attention. They shriek surprised and start taking all their papers out, much for my amusement, while Erwin sighs and mutters the usual ‘Language, Levi’.

I roll my eyes and lean back on the restaurant’s chair, comfortably crossing one leg over the other and staring at the eleven people sitting on the table. And as predicted, they talk about themselves and give reasons for why they should be promoted. Actually, all they do is boast about their hard work. Or so called hard work, because sitting on an office desk and type all day long is definitely, oh, so hard. Or maybe it’s hard when you have another ass instead of a brain and don’t have the decency of saving your reports after every 20 minutes, since our company is totally not situated on the most popular part of New York and blackouts can absolutely not happen every now and then. And of course there aren’t some little shitstains who don’t look at what they do and unintentionally kick their PC’s system unit and unintentionally unplug their wires. Of course things like this don’t happen. Because of course none of them are so dumb to the point of kicking their system unit. Of course not.

I let a loud sigh out and rub the bridge of my nose frustratingly, wishing nothing more than get the fuck out of this place. It’s already a rarity that I get to go out of work earlier, but having to spend my time on a damn meeting is pushing your luck too far. Erwin better be happy he’s my boss and I can’t simply tell him I’m not taking part on it. Because if it was otherwise, oh, god knows what I’d be doing now. Certainly not listening to a bunch of self promotions.

And so I pass the next one and a half hour signing papers that contain the profile of those Erwin chose to give promotion to. Fifteen minutes more and he’s giving us permission to leave so, yeah, congratu-fucking-lation everybody but I’m off.

I’m out of the restaurant and in my car sooner than anyone else, putting the key on the ignition and driving away. Finally, it was about time already. I turn the heater on maximum so my balls don’t fall off (seriously, what’s with this cold? It’s only November 5th…) and make my way through the now familiar route, eventually reaching my destination, Wall Rose street. I park my car neatly on its spot and get out, quickly shoving my hands in my pockets and my head further down on my scarf. Holy shit, it was cold. And the puddles of mud on the way weren’t helping in any way. Ugh, gross.

I was about to carefully avoid them and reach the elevator when I hear a door being slammed on the opposite side of the street followed suit by a loud shout. Wow, someone must be pissed.

But, naturally, I ignore it because, 1) It’s none of my business, 2) I want to take the fucking elevator so I can get the fuck away from this cold and 3) My bathtub is a million times more interesting and inviting than someone’s tantrum. And so I extend my arm and push the button, hoping it won’t take long to the doors to open. But luck is totally not by my side today and it takes fucking forever to the doors to open. Great. Just great, that’s exactly what I needed. I tap my foot unconsciously on the ground while waiting, and soon someone joins me by my side.

“No, Annie, you don’t get it! He’s terrible!”

I recognize the voice as being the one responsible for the slamming door and the shout. I glance at the person – girl – by the corner of my eyes. Short black hair, Asian complexion, red scarf and angry expression while talking on the phone. “No- Damn, Annie, listen to me! I’m coming up, ok?” a short pause, “-what? No, no, he’s still in class, thankfully. God knows how much he already has weighing on his shoulders, he doesn’t need to see me like this.”

The elevator’s doors open and I thank whatever mighty creature it’s up there for the warmth inside the cabin. I step inside and so does Angry Girl, both of us pressing our respective floor numbers.

“Yeah, I’m okay, it wasn’t as bad as last time,” her eyes fill with water, but nothing rolls down, thank god because sobbing people are really disgusting. “I-I don’t get it, Annie… I mean, he’s his own son! And it’s been like this since… - yeah, you know the story,” another short pause. “I don’t know how he handles it… It’s been only the second time for me, but he goes through this almost every day—What? No, not yet anyways.”

Okay, I admit, whoever this ‘he’ is, it’s turning my curiosity on.

“Yeah, okay. See ya,” she says. “Hm, love you too. Bye.”

I guess I must have been staring, because as soon as she clicked the ‘End Call’ button, her eyes bore into mine with an annoying expression. If I wasn’t already so pissed off because of the meeting, perhaps I wouldn’t have glared at her with some killer intent. Oops. She visibly tried to suppress flinching, but I didn’t miss the way her eyebrows knitted together. I’m quite sure she thought I was some kind of mafia boss. Wouldn’t be a complete lie either way. It’s in times like this that I’m glad for my poker face, nobody can get a glimpse of what’s going on in my mind. I sigh for the tenth time in the past two hours and break eye contact. I was irritated, annoyed and in a clearly bad mood, so excuse me and fuck you. Happily it didn’t take long to reach her floor and Angry Girl get out, leaving me alone in the elevator fucking finally.

A minute or two later the doors opened once again, this time to the last floor, where my apartment was suited. And literally only my apartment. It’s one of the benefits of owning the whole floor, suck it losers.

I unlock the door and step inside, already taking my trench coat off along with my suit jacket, hanging them carefully on the hooker. Home sweet fucking home.

Contently, I walk up to the kitchen island and place the car key on it, my wallet as well, and open the cupboard, taking a glass out and then to the pantry, taking a random red wine out. I pour some in the glass and make my way to the bathroom. I turn hot water open and take a sip of my drink while waiting the tub to fill up. When it’s almost full, I strip and enter the scalding water (not before neatly folding my clothes), and damn, it’s hot (duh, genius). But I make no move to turn cold water on. I need the burning water. I need it to wash me clean, to exterminate any hints of my past from me. If not from my mind than at least from my skin. I want to be clean. I want it to go the shit away, dammit. Some people may call this OCD, and I won’t deny the possibility, but it’s almost worse. It’s an addiction, a need to scrub it off. And for fucks sake, I know that soap and shampoo and wash lotion cannot erase the past, but they help to fool me. It’s a way to fool myself and gain control over my body. It makes me believe I’m actually clean. Not pure – never pure- but actually clean.

It’s only a temporary feeling, obviously – after a while the nightmares start haunting me again. But I’ve long learned to deal with them and fight them down, and with two baths per day, I could easily live through my shitty life. Or life problem, if you prefer, whatever. People go to therapy sessions and I go to bath session. It’s kind of ironic.

Anyways, I decided five years ago that I’d stop looking backwards and live on, so that’s what I’ll try to do. Or rather, that’s what I’m doing. Because say whatever you want, it’s not fucking easy to get out of drug addiction. It’s not easy to leave that lifestyle behind, where all you do is get high, fuck and get money. Actually it’s a lot better than most people have at. But it ends tragically and way too soon. Once in, difficulty out. Almost never out. It’s terrifying. Thrilling, yes, but definitely scary.

I’m just glad I managed to get out of it. Or at least I’m managing out of it.

I mentally shut myself up and continue with the so much needed relaxing bath, steam covering the mirrors surface and causing me to lean further inside the tub after taking a long sip of wine, water wetting me all up to the chin. My muscles loosen up and a satisfied grunt passes through my slightly parted lips.

Perfect.

I wake up to the incredibly loud sound of techno music. And when I say loud, I mean loud, the fucking alarm clock is even shaking. I swear loudly and send Hanji a ‘Fuck you’ message, because until yesterday in was the normal and annoying-but-not-as-annoying-as-techno-music beep, beep alarm; and Hanji is the only one whose mind is so fucked up to the point of waking up to the sound of this shit. And only Hanji enters and leaves my apartment as she pleases (don’t ask me, the woman has a spare key to everybody’s house. I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up tomorrow morning saying she was and secret agent for CIA). Not even two minutes later my cellphone vibrates and the screen is glowing with Hanji’s name.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:33am
Goooooood mooooorning to you too, grumpy bear~!!!

Ugh. Awfully happy as always.

Message Send: 6:34am
What’s your problem? What’s with this shitty music?

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:34am
What? You don’t like it?

Message Send: 6:34am
Fucking love it.

No, sarcasm was totally not my favorite way of communication. Especially not with some crazed woman named Hanji Zoe.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:35am
Ooohh, c’mon, Levi~ It’s pretty cool

Message Send: 6:35am
My ass is pretty cool. Go fuck yourself, Hanji

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:36am
Well, you do have a nice ass, that’s true…

I groan and rub my eyes. She’s impossible. Just completely and utterly impossible.

Message Send: 6:37am
Change my alarm tone once more and I’ll kill you.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:37am
Meh, you’re no fun...

Message Send: 6:38am
No shit, Sherlock.

I roll my eyes and place my phone on the nightstand, standing up and stretching my back and arms, making my bed close after. I take a quick shower and brush my teeth and hair. I walk to the closet with only a towel around my waist and chose another black suit for the day, accompanied by a white button up shirt and a royal blue tie. I put them on and spray a little bit of cologne on myself – reek of sweat is the last thing I need, really. Although in such a weather I doubt I’m going to sweat. But whatever.

I take my work suitcase along wallet and cellphone and walk out my apartment. While waiting for the elevator I see that Hanji texted me again. God, doesn’t she have something - anything - better to do? I check it anyway.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:03am
Leviiii, wanna grab some coffee at the Titan’s?

I blink confusedly for a brief second before answering.

Message Send: 7:04am
Hanji, the Titan’s has been closed for a whole year already. I’m not even sure if the building is still there.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:04am
They opened again! It’s been open for two weeks actually, I thought you knew…

Well, wasn’t that a pleasant surprise after all? I used to go every morning to the Titan’s to get a coffee before work, since they had the best coffee in the whole fucking city, despite the weird ass name. I have no idea why they closed, once their reputation was just incredible, but I’m not going to complain. I only hope the company didn’t change, because it’d suck if my coffee didn’t taste as my coffee.

Message Send: 7:06am
Sure, I’ll be there. Give me five minutes.

New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:06am
Great! I’ll see you there than~

I don’t give myself the trouble of answering back, so I put the deceiver on my inner pocket and walk out of the building. Once settled inside my car and with the heater on, I make a soft noise of amusement and drive off. Even though it’s been almost ten months since I took this way and drove through these streets it feels so welcoming and familiar that a small, almost unnoticeable smile paints my face and a warm feeling washes over me. It’s stupid, I know, but it’s been way too long. That coffee shop has a good part on my history. It’s also one of the reasons that helped me out of the underworld (but that’s a story for another time); and now that it was back, the strange feeling of home invades me. The owner of the shop was almost a motherly figure for me. A figure I never had.

So when I park my car near the shop, I can’t help but feel happy. It’s all too familiar. The big window on the front, the inner cozy place, the round wooden tables, the comfortable lighting and the sweet smell of fresh baked brownies and strong coffee. It was as if it had never been closed.

“Leviii!” I hear the also too familiar voice and before I can look around to search for her, I’m already being crushed on a breath taking hug. Literally breath taking.

“God, woman! Are you trying to choke me?” I hiss, pulling her off.

She grins and pushes her glasses up her nose. “I already paid for mine, so when you’re done, I’ll be right there,” she says enthusiastically (when was she not?) and points at a table in the corner of the shop. I nod and take my place on the line. As it’s pretty early on the morning, there’s almost nobody in the shop, and consequently only two people in front of me. I wait for about three minutes at the most and when the woman in the cashier says ‘Next’, I look up from my shoes and my face washed with recognition. And so does Angry Girl’s face.

Yep, the same girl I stared deadly at, yesterday. Fucking awesome.

I reset my usual stoic expression and before I get the chance to order, she snaps, “What the fuck are you doing here?” and glares at me full-force.

I raise an eyebrow. “Buying a puppy.” I deadpan and smirk inwardly as her expression darkens with annoyance. “Obviously buying coffee,” I suppress the need of adding ’brat’ on the end of the sentence.

“What do you want?” she spats, almost disgustingly.

“Rude, aren’t we?” I ask, eyebrow still raised. They used to have much more nicer baristas.

“Mikasa, this is a costumer, dammit! What’s wrong with you?” another voice says, and a boy shows up from the back. He’s got a mop of brown hair, and it sincerely looks as if he didn’t put any effort on combing it, tanned skin hidden beneath a long sleeved shirt and apron, defined jawline and damn— His eyes. I swear my breath stayed stuck in the middle of my throat as I looked into the big pair of the most gorgeous turquoise eyes I’ve ever seen. Not exactly green, but not exactly blue either. And the way they shone. Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I was not, absolutely not staring into his weird bright eyes.

For the second time in less than 12 hours, I’m glad for my poker face.

“Eren!” the girl – Mikasa – says, her own eyes lighting up and she sees him. “This man—”

“Did he disturb anyone in the shop?” the boy asks, cutting her off.

“Well, no, but—”

“Did he abuse of you?” Bright Eyes asks again, and I swore I could hear genuine worry behind the scolding.

“No—”

“Then why the heck were you acting like that?”

Angry Girl looks as if she wants to retort something but she sees something on the boy that makes her keep quiet. His angry expression softens and he pats her back. “Go use a fifteen minutes break, you need it.”

She glances at me and then at him before nodding and going to the back. Eren turns to me and smiles apologetically, almost nervously. “I’m sorry for the late and the way she acted, Sir. We’ve been ”

I only stare at him and he shifts clearly uncomfortable. “So, uhm, what would you want?”

“Black coffee. No cream and no sugar.”

“Anything else I could get you, Sir?”

“If I wanted anything else I’d say, brat.”

Bright Eyes laughs softly and nods. “Then that would be $1,50, Sir.”

I hand him the money and he turns to make the damn coffee. Happily there’s no one behind me, because I’m pretty sure they’d be pissed off by long wait.

I watch the kid (because, yes, he’s a kid; couldn’t be older than nineteen) as he prepares the coffee with surprisingly ease and contentment. As I wait for him to finish up, I notice that something about him is off. He looks somehow familiar. Actually, he looks damn familiar, because I swear I already saw the format of his eyes and shape of his face on another person. I saw those exact eyebrows on another person before. I search my brain and after a few moments I remember it. It’s no surprise he looks familiar. He looks sickening similar to her.

“Hey, kid,” I call after him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know a woman named Carla?”

He freezes in place and his hands tremble lightly, the pain and sadness that flashes in his eyes so evident that I almost regret asking. But within an eye blink, it’s all gone and he smiles a small smile at me and I wonder what the fuck just happened. “Yeah, I knew her.”

The past tense doesn’t pass unnoticed by me and my brows furrow together. “Mind telling me where she is?”

“Did you know her?” he asks instead, much for my irritation.

“Brat, I asked a question first.”

The boy looks as if he couldn’t care less. The little shit.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I need to stop doing so, seriously; it’s becoming an annoying habit. “She was an old friend,” I say anyway. “Now answer the damn question, where’s she?”

He hesitates, but answers anyways, “She passed away last year.”

My eyes widen for a friction of second and I don’t want to believe my ears. No. That’s not possible. It’s true that I didn’t know her so well, but she was the person who provided me shelter in the worst part of my life. She was the only friend I had back then, before Erwin or Hanji. She was the one who listened to my problems and the one to incentive me to let go of the drugs. She was almost the mother I never had, dammit.

I take a deep breath, no tears form in my eyes and my expression continues impassive but I feel like a hole has been opened inside of me. “How?” I ask lowly.

Eren looks away and I can’t read his eyes anymore. “Car accident,” he whispers and I nod. He handles me my coffee and steps back ready to attend the place behind the cashier, although there’s no one waiting to order. Before he can do so I speak again. “Oi, brat.”

His eyes sparkle with something I can’t really define. Annoyance? Amusement? A mix of it? Probably. “Yeah?”

“From where did you know Carla?”

He stops doing whatever the hell it is he was doing and looks at me. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel as if he’s not looking at me but through me.

“She was my mother.”

Of course.

That’s why they were fucking identical. I glance at him and nod curtly before walking away, where Hanji’s sitting, looking at me, or Eren or us, god knows what. But she was wearing that expression and shit, it’s never good when she’s looking like that.

I sit across her and make no mention to talk.

“Sooo… What was that there?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Bad for you, then.”

“Leviii, come oooonn~!! Tell me~!!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” because there really wasn’t. What did she want me to tell her? That the mother of some bright eyed kid I just met used to be one of closest friends and had died? No chance.

“It can’t be nothing! I saw the way you and Eren exchanged looks! What’s going on??”

“Hanji, shut up.”

“But it’s truth!! Do you guys know each other?”

“No.”

“Then what happened? Were you flirting with the boy?”

“God, shut the fuck up, shitty glasses.”

“You were, weren’t you?”

“I just met him, for fucks sake, Hanji. Besides he’s a kid. What the hell is your problem?”

“You didn’t deny it though!”

I run a hand through my hair, exasperated. It wasn’t even 8am and I was already pissed off. Today promises to be fabulous, I can see it. Hanji continues with her verbal diarrhea and I close my eyes, completely ignoring it and asking myself how I tolerated her in first place. I decide to take a sip of my coffee and try to calm my nerves down. The day had just begun after all. And so I do. As soon as the burning liquid touches my tongue my eyes fly open and I stare at the cup in my hand. Holy shit. This wasn’t my usual black coffee from the Titan’s. I remember saying that the coffee here is the best, but this isn’t my coffee. Holy damn shit. Somehow, in a way I’m utterly incapable of knowing, this coffee – this cup in my hand containing this caffeinated drink – is the best thing I ever drank. If I thought that the coffees I was used to were the best, than this was something godsend. The base was the same, but something there was different. Something had been added and it made it taste absolutely wonderful. I glance up from the cup and my eyes drift themselves to Eren, who’s behind the counter and looking right at me, a smile painting his features. The little fucking shit. He had put something in the coffee. And he knew I liked it. What the hell?

I narrow my eyes at him and somehow the brat only smiles wider, seeming entirely satisfied with my reaction.

The. Little. Shit.

Fuck him very much.

I make sure my expression in back to expressionless and stand up. Hanji looks at me curiously and I wave at her. “I’m off.”

“Oi, Levi! Wait for me!” she takes her purse and runs after me. “Hey, what’s with the sudden urge? Do you need to piss?”

I glare at her and open the café’s door. Before going out I throw a last look at the brat, who’s again looking at me, the smile still there. Fucker.

“See you at work, shitty glasses,” I say and walk up to my car. I can’t believe the kid had the audacity of looking so amused with himself. And I can’t believe I admitted that his coffee was literally the best thing I ever drunk and that I openly admitted it. Fucking kid.

He got himself a regular now. And the coffee better have the same taste tomorrow.

Because he was totally coming back.