Holy shit why did I decide to start this during exams...


Coffee

"Just coffee. Black - like my soul."

— City of Bones

I thought I was cured, but apparently not. Sleep wasn't the issue anymore, waking up to clammy hands and nausea was the new thing. Today I threw up. I woke up to another one of those nightmares (that I could never remember), and suddenly, yesterday's dinner was waiting for me to let it out. I ran to the bathroom, and was bent over for a solid ten minutes. I felt pregnant.

I don't know man, something was seriously wrong with my body lately. From insomnia to this, it had to be something pretty serious, but when I went to Erwin for answers, he told me it was probably because of the drugs my one night stand spiked me with. He said after a few days it should go away. That was complete, utter bullshit because motherfucker it had been a week and I still felt like throwing up every morning. I was taking a sick day for the third time already; if this kept up I was going to end up in intensive care. I sighed. I just wanted it to go away already. Why couldn't it just fucking go away already?

I was sitting at a table outside a cafe. Tuesdays were quiet, it was nice not being around people, of course that didn't mean I wanted to be a friendless asshole, I still valued companionship, it was part of being human. Now was just a good time to be alone, else I throw up on someone's face, I wouldn't mind if it was Hanji, or Erwin for shits and giggles.

I lit a smoke. It's been a few years since I quit, but I bought a pack yesterday because I thought I deserved it. More like needed it. I started in high school because I was curious. Stupid decision, but when you're young you do stupid things, like fucking every girl in your year for example. No I was just kidding, I didn't really.

Anyway, every time took a puff I got this really nice buzz in my head, it was a damn good feeling. I missed it. It wouldn't become a habit again I swear. Just until I was better, you know, I wasn't proud of voluntarily destroying my lungs. Nobody would judge me for it, actually a lot of people just expected me to be a heavy smoker. Professor you look like a smoker. Do you smoke, Professor? I bet you go through 3 packs a day Levi. Hey give me a lighter... was only a sample of the shit I got every day.

I never understood how you could just look like one, did it mean I looked like a douchebag? Hanji had told me so on a number of occasions, I tend to ignore the crap she gave me but she could be right for once.

The morning waitress had come to my table, supposedly annoyed with the fact I still hadn't ordered anything. I didn't bother looking at her, but I might as well get her out of my hair and order.

"It really was you," she suddenly muttered. I glanced up, and was momentarily taken aback. It could be a coincidence, it probably was a coincidence, but for her to work in the only cafe I went out of my way to buy coffee from was too much of a coincidence. She looked different with the whole t-shirt and short-shorts getup, petite but had a decent pair of legs. I didn't think she would remember me.

"Guy from the elevator that gave me a dirty after trying to hit on me," I could hear the scorn in her voice. And I was not hitting on her that day, to think she even came to that conclusion. I don't even remember giving her a dirty.

"That's a bold assumption," I said.

She scoffs, and I wasn't sure if she was insulted or amused. "Well, what'll it be?"

"Short black," I said flatly.

"Anything else?"

"To be left alone." She rolled her eyes, and I noticed her name badge. It read Petra – a common name for common girl. I watched her as she went behind the counter. My usual barista stepped aside and let her work the coffee machine, and then I realised she was making my short black today. My fucking short black. I really hated it when they did that. Like, thanks for asking if an amateur could fuck up my order in which I'm paying you for. I observed her like a hawk, made sure she didn't spit in it.

She came back with my coffee, and I think she realized I was watching her because she had this smirk on her face. Shit.

I pressed my cig in the ashtray. Like usual, I took a bag of sugar from the saucer, ripped the top off, poured it in and stirred. I tilted the cup left and right just to show her I didn't trust it.

"Oh my god, really?" I heard her say.

I took the cup to my lips, and then I noticed Petra was still standing there.

"Yes?" I inquired.

"You know," she started. "Coffee, it says a lot about the kind of person you are."

I guess she decided to ignore my 'to be left alone' request. Both bold and inconsiderate. I continued sipping, and to my surprise it was really damn good, exactly how I liked it. And really how hard was it to make coffee? I say that but very rarely did I appreciate it this much. I think she knew, because now her smirk had grown into something insidious. Well, I would never say it to her face.

"Short black. You're straightforward, serious and like to do things as you please. You don't really like to fuck around and you've got a temper," she continued, "then there's the sugar, you didn't ask for it directly because you've got a stubborn pride and a reputation to keep, but it's in there and still a part of you, that sweet, sugary side the girls want a taste of. In my opinion that's pretty fucking gross, but to each their own I guess."

For her to swear gave me this very alien feeling. That church-girl image was completely destroyed.

She gave me this AMIRIGHT look, and at that moment I was just dying to shoot her down. "If you believe in that bullshit then yeah by all means, you're right Petra." And I was careful to enunciate her name. I was being an asshole.

Instead of taking my coffee and dumping it over my head, she gave me a mildly annoyed look. I was pretty impressed, most women would get the message by now that I wanted them to piss off. Okay fine, I didn't really want that, I just felt like being an asshole out of boredom. See? She was wrong about me not liking to fuck around.

She crossed her arms. "Do you take pleasure in being a pretentious dick to girls you don't even know?"

"No, I take pleasure in being a pretentious dick to waitresses that don't know how to let their customer's drink a fucking coffee in peace." That came out a little harsher than I wanted it to. Anything I said to her did, as a matter of fact, my mouth was just running on its own.

"Oh I'm so sorry for trying to be sociable like a normal human being. I thought you could use some company since you looked like an extreme loner on a Tuesday morning."

"You're full of assumptions aren't you?" I snidely remarked.

"You—"

"PETRA!" that short stocky barista yelled at her and put an end to our intense, sharp-tongue flirting. Petra gave me a dirty, and I ignored it, although secretly I really felt like smiling triumphantly.

But then she asked me before leaving. "Do I get a name?"

"Levi," I replied a little too fast.

"Huh. I was expecting something like Dick," she quipped, and left me to finish my drink.

I was surprised with myself. When did I start giving my name to random chicks so instantaneously like I was desperate for a fuck? I wanted to take that back so badly now. Jesus Christ what was it with this girl that got me so on edge. Sure she wasn't really my type, but if I wanted her usually I'd just go in for the kill. This time I wasn't even sure if I wanted her, and even if I did I kept fucking up.

Maybe I needed some advice, I don't know. Wait. No. Fuck that. Advice? What was I thinking? I was just going to finish this stupid coffee and go to work or something.

And then I noticed she was watching me from a distance. She looked away, embarrassed.

Yeah, this coffee was really good.