Levi's POV
I gave an annoyed sigh as I boarded the plane. There was a group of friends right behind me in the queue chatting way too loud for my taste. I just prayed to whoever was in charge up there that they were seated as far away from me as possible.
I made my way through the narrow aisle between the rows of light blue seats, looking for F5. I found it to be in an empty row and sat down on my middle seat and gazed out the window.
„Excuse me?" A male voice with a hint of a german accent asked shyly and I looked up.
Oh why have you forsaken me, I sent an angry thought upstairs while rolling my eyes. The brat that just dared to speak to me was one go the annoying chatterboxes I hoped to sit away from.
„Our seats are F4 and F6, could you let one of us through?"
„Tch" I huffed and got up, shuffling out of my seat and back into the aisle.
I took a look at the boy I will be sharing a row with. The boy wore a grey beanie, covering most of his slightly longer brown hair that was falling into his green eyes. I have to admit, he didn't look all too bad, quite good actually. Yet a look further down made me roll my eyes. Full on hipster. Beige chino and a very old washed out shirt of two hands forming a ‚k' each, probably an indie band, plus a pair of white converse that were not so white anymore to top the horrible look off. If I had to say which kind of people I disliked the most out of all, I'd say hipsters. Those wannabe retro brats that want to go against the flow but are to dumb to notice that they are mainstream as shit and their ‚different style' was the flow.
„Thank you" the boy smiled at me to which I responded with another „Tch" and turned my head away.
After the boy sat down and I just wanted to get back into my seat he cleared his throat.
„I'm really sorry to bother you, sir, but would you mind sitting on the end of the row so that me and her can sit next to each other?" He nodded into the direction of an asian looking girl standing behind me.
I moved my gaze towards her. She looked just as hipster as him. A nirvana crop top, probably DIYed, a red scarf, a waist high pair of cropped jeans and Doc Martins.
„You really should be sorry, brat", I hissed and let the black haired girl past me to sit down in my seat.
„Thank you so much, sir" The girl bowed her head and fastened her seatbelt.
„Tch" I made once more and sat down. I'm almost always in a bad mood but it has rarely ever been this bad.
I sighed audibly and glanced at the brats next to me, the girl leaning her head on the boys shoulder. Fucking lovebirds.
„Listen up you two" I started and they turned to look at me. „I already can't stand you brats and I believe you want this flight as pleasant and relaxing as I do so if you two start annoying me any more than you already do my mere existing, shit will go down. Got it?"
The boy stared at me in disbelief and fear and stuttered and „O-okay" and added a „We're not a couple you know so no need to worry."
„Oh thank god" I muttered sarcastically.
The journey was worse than I expected. The two brats next to me, whom I lovingly named ‚Scarf Cobain' and ‚Indie-ana K', kept on chatting with their friends like before. With the only difference that their friends were 5 rows ahead of us.
„Ey, Pferdefresse! Fang!" Indie-ana K yelled and threw a chocolate bar to the front where a blonde boy with a face like a horse turned around just in time for the chocolate bar to hit him right into the face. All of his friends started laughing, excluding Scarf Cobain who seemed to view them as childish and annoying as I did.
„Danke Arschloch" Horseface-guy yelled back at the still laughing Indie-ana K.
We took off only 20 minutes ago and I'm already pissed enough to open the planes emergency door and throw those brats right outside the exit into their certain deaths.
„Ey, Eren" Scarf Cobain nudged Indie-ana K in the ribs and nodded slightly towards me.
„Was denn, Mikasa?" Indiana K, obviously now called Eren, asked and looked over to me but seeing that I was giving him my infamous death stare he quickly looked away again.
„Phew, If looks could kill…" he muttered.
„They probably will" I grunted, finishing the line from Peter Grabriel's song ‚Games without Frontiers'.
„You know the song?" Indie-ana K aka Eren looked at me with surprise written all over his face.
„Uh, yeah? Duh?" I responded and sent him another death stare.
„You don't look like you listen to that kind of music" he shrugged and my eyes narrowed.
„Well yeah, I don't, it's a classic you gotta know, but what the fuck makes you think you could assume my taste in music just by looking at me?" I spat and my death stare intensified.
„Well I thought you were kind of into… you know… death metal?"
I think at this point I should tell you a bit about myself. The name is Levi. Levi Ackerman. I look like what most people would define as a punk. I have pitch black hair with an undercut that causes my hair to part at the top of my head and fall down to the sides. I have a piercing at my bottom lip (which I have currently switched with a safety pin) and three earrings on each ear. I also have a tattoo which I'm not quite fond of though. I got it done when I was drunk as shit and I can't remember a thing from that night. I just woke up with this tattoo on my chest the next morning. My friends refuse to tell me what happened so I bet they tricked me into it. Since it's too expensive to have it removed I now have to life with the Anarchy symbol forever injected into my skin right above my heart. It drives me mad whenever I see it, it's like dirt that will never go away, no matter how hard you scrub. I hate dirt. My black combat boots that I wear almost every day are always shining, the white shirt I was wearing that day underneath the red and black vest (right half is red, left half is black) on the plane was so clean it could blind you. The only thing I didn't care as much about were my jeans. Torn at several places, held together by mere willpower and several safety pins, I wonder how I got through the security check.
„Brat, if you think Death Metal looks like this", I made a hand motion down my body, „then you really are dumber than I thought."
„His name is Eren, not Brat!" Scarf Cobain joined the conversation, looking quite pissed off.
„I call him whatever the fuck I want to, got it, Scarf Cobain?" I snapped back at her.
„Scarf Cob- what?! Did you mother not teach you how to be polite you damn punk?" She hissed, trying not to make a scene.
That was when my patience reached my limits. I grabbed her by the scarf and pulled her face down towards mine (yes, I had to pull her down. I'm rather short and I hate it) and stared at her, trying my best to look intimidating.
„Listen up Scarf Cobain", I spat the words right into her face and slapped Eren's hand away as he tried to interfere, pushing him back into his seat. „Don't ever try to lecture me unless you want to go skydiving without a parachute within the next hour. So don't talk to me again, got it? Same goes to you, you little shit." I moved my eyes towards Indie-ana K who looked completely terrified.
„Yes, sir" Scarf Cobain muttered and ripped herself free from my grip.
„Lass ihn einfach in Ruhe, Mikasa" Indie-ana K (I think I should start calling them Eren and Mikasa but something inside of me refuses to be ‚nice' to them) whispered. I didn't speak German but it sounded like he tried to calm her down.
„Jetzt nimm ihn nicht auch noch in Schutz!" His friend seemed to argue but I couldn't be bothered to listen to those brats any longer.
I took out my headphones and put them on, switching to the only Metal song I had on my phone which I only listened to when I was really pissed off and couldn't let it out. So I let Oly Sykes scream ‚Go to hell for heavens sake' in my place.