Creeaakkakak.
I nearly fall out of my seat, and whip back to see which door made that noise.
"I'm armed, come at me, bitch!" I snap, and grab the closest pen I can find. Silence. I let out a huff, and resume scrolling through the university forums about Mr Rivaille on my phone.
8:29 PM 1/04/172 Bossard, Auruo
Petra Ral, if you laugh, you lose.
8:32 PM 1/04/172 Gin, Erd
Auruo, you'd better delete it. Now.
Below Auruo's comment was a video link. I tap on it with anticipation, and the link redirects me to his page on SocialMelon. I press play, and sit closer on the edge of my chair.
"Once upon a time, there was a man called Levi," A man's voice, presumably Auruo's, narrates, and ends the sentence with a snicker.
"He had many fan girls," He drones on. "And one of them was exceptionally bad at making Levi's coffee."
A picture of a ginger haired woman holding a Thermos pops up, her amber eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
"And because we all know Petra's forgetful, let's switch to something more interesting."
Suddenly, Levi's face among with Petra's and a few others I didn't know, show up.
"I want to sleep with one of my students tonight, so don't touch him," Levi says with an apathetic voice.
"Levi!" Petra wails. "You can't sleep with him, he's only a child!"
"So what's the matter?" He retorts.
"But you'll be a criminal!"
"I don't care!" Icona Pop sings as Levi opens his mouth to speak.
"And this is why, Petra, you'll always be a virgin," Auruo's voice speaks again as the scene fades. The classic TV static appears, buzzes, and disappears. A man with Levi's face photoshopped on him starts singing whilst cleaning a table, "This is why I'm hot, this is why I'm hot, this is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot."
A bystander throws him a can of air freshener, the man catches it like a boss, and starts spraying it in the room, muttering, "Waka waka waka."
"What the hell?" Connie whispers behind me, and I immediately sit down properly. "What are you watching?"
"Stuff, aren't you supposed to be asleep?" I ask, and look back.
He rubs his eyes slowly, groans, and walks out of my room. "Says the person who goes to uni."
I sigh, and decide to text Mr Rivaille.
Hey, are you awake? And may I call you Levi?
Ping!
That's a completely redundant question. At least you used proper English, most brats use 'could' instead of 'may'.
I blink a few times. Finally, someone noticed.
Well, someone posted-
I pause, wondering whether I should tell him or not.
Well, someone posted a video of you.
On SocialMelon?
Yep.
Interesting.
I fantasize the moment where Levi throws a shitstorm at Auruo, but my elation quickly ends as I remember my...detention. I leave my phone on the desk, and decide to take a rest.
"Lunch break?" Marco asks. "Just the two of you?"
"Sounds kinky," He cheerfully grins, as we walk to his classroom.
"Sh-shut up," I mutter, and blush instantly. Mental note, girl, you need to stop blushing. Marco shrugs and enters his classroom. I let out an exasperated huff and stride further down the hallway. A bunch of girls shoot a few suspicious glares, and start muttering excitedly.
"Is it the girl from the article?"
"Shh, yes!"
"Why is she the 'infamous' bachelorette? There's se-"
Wow. Bacherlorette. What a big word for her.
"I got ninety-nine problems but the bitch ain't one," I scowl loudly, and enter my bustling, chatty classroom. I dump my bag on the back row, next to the window. I tap the desk with my index finger three times, and it begins to hum with life as a keyboard along with a screen flickers like a white flame underneath the surface. I start writing the first few lines of a waffy fanfiction, I mean, no-one's going to look at me anyway, they're too busy talking with each other. After I finish my fifth sentence, I peer at the clock. 10:37 AM. So much for Bridgeport University's teachers being punctual and strict.
The door slams open, and I eye the figure warily. The noise levels drop from seventy decibels to twenty in a fraction of a second.
No way. I groan inwardly. I can't believe my rotten luck. What'd I do to Karma?
He stiffly walks to his desk, and I look down. I'm invisible, I swear, I'm invi-
His deliciously low voice barks, "Fortner!"
I cringe, and decide to stay silent.
"Nice seeing you again," He mutters, and the class starts chattering and throws strange looks at me. Honestly, if I could die, now is the right moment.
Why does my substitute teacher have to be him? Out of all the teachers...
"Unfortunately, I'm your substitute teacher, as you've noticed already. However, I have no idea what to fucking do, even with these notes, so is there anyone responsible enough to be the teacher?"
His silence is greeted by a stony silence. I bet everyone's asking for a free period.
"Right," He sighs. "A shitty free period for all of you."
Someone give this man a cookie.
Lunch break. Awkward silence at the sixth floor. I fidget on my seat uncomfortably.
"Uh...um..." I mumble, and shift around.
"Levi," He sighs, holds the rim of his cup with his fingertips and takes a sip of tea.
"Well, what do you want to talk about?" I ask.
"Have you lived in Bridgeport for your entire life?" He absent-mindedly probes.
"Yes."
Great, now a teacher wants to stalk me.
"Hmm, have the Watchmen sent you anything strange?"
"Huh? Uh, no. Why?"
His icy eyes seem to flash with relief, and he dismisses me with a wave of a hand, ignoring my question. I stand, push the chair in, and exit from his office gladly.
I twist a lock of hair with my index finger. Why would he ask if the Watchmen sent me anything? I pull the left sleeve of my turtleneck up, and check my arm.
00 : 12 : 09 : 17 : 49
I scowl, feeling like a liability. The sooner I go to work, the less I'll have to act like a beggar and debts I owe. The bus shudders to a halt, the doors hiss open, and I walk out, heading to my apartment. I ponder about tonight's dinner as the elevator slowly ascends to the eighth floor. Bacon pasta topped with tomato sauce with an abundant amount of side dishes? My stomach grumbles with impatience. A sigh escapes from my lips as I exit the elevator, take the keys from my pocket, and enter.
I shut the door, and lock it.
I check for any signs of living, but no-one's back home yet. I flop on the couch, barely able to reach the neon blue sphere, and tap it, scanning the list of red letters coursing past the sphere.
17 DEATHS IN CARAWAY TODAY. VICTIMS WERE ROBBED OF THEIR -
"Not this shit again," I groan, and throw the sphere away in disdain. Haven't the Watchmen found the murderers yet? Honestly, it seems like they don't even care, and Caraway...
Isn't that four hours away from Bridgeport by train?
My insides seem to freeze, but I shake my head. Bridgeport? It's a middle class timezone, far from the likes of Dayton. I mean, sure, New Greenwich folks want to be immortal, and bribe the Watchmen for some extra time, but they usually run out of time because of gambling and such. I don't see why they would ask the Watchmen to actually murder people for their 'immortality', right?
I decide to make shaker pancakes, to distract myself, and see a pile of dirty dishes from today's breakfast. Gods. I roll my sleeves up, and prepare myself.
Infidel dirt, I grimly think as I rub the dishes with a blue sponge. I swear, why didn't Sasha buy a dishwasher instead? It'd save me from the wrath of dry, cracked hands. I might not care about my beauty as much as other girls, but I do have some sense. After I finish drying the forks with the cloth, I place the utensils and dishes where they belong.
What was I going to do again...?
"Let's not think today," I mumble, and stretch. "Text some people, do some homework, eat, and sleep."
I dry my hands, reach for my phone, and start texting a page long discursive essay to Mikasa about why she should ask Eren out.
A/N: Yay! Chapter Four done! Thank you xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx for favouriting! Short Author Note today, sorry! I got some English homework to finish now. :3 Enjoy!
