Prologue - Exactly midnight.

Farlan Church and Isobel Magnolia, freshly married, died at exactly midnight according to the coroner's report. Levi wondered over and over how he had come up with such a precise time.

They had been hit by a drunk driver—a hit and run, so they'd never caught the culprit—and had died instantly. Levi was grateful for that.

He'd had to identify the bodies of his best friends, his only friends, and it had been the second most disturbing thing that had ever happened to Levi in his life. The first had been watching his mother die. They had been driving their tiny, shiny new Prius that Farlan had been so proud of and that Isobel had picked out. Levi remembered that it had been bright blue, Isobel's favorite color. The other car had been big, probably a late model, full-sized pick-up truck the police had said. The bodies had been almost unrecognizable.

Levi had gone home from the morgue and showered in water so hot he almost couldn't stand it and cried in the shower. Then he'd cleaned his apartment, taking the curtains down and washing them, scrubbing the baseboards. He paused periodically to wash his hands, drink a cup of tea, and wash his hands again. Then he kept cleaning.

Chapter 1 - Could be worse

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Yeah? Fuck off." Levi leaned, scowling, on the bar across from the lean woman with the short brown hair. She knocked back her current whisky shot and slammed the glass back onto the bar, almost breaking it. Unperturbed, Levi refilled it.

"You're an asshole, Ackerman, and a stupid one. Harley's are the only way to go."

Levi dried a glass and glowered at her.

Ymir tossed back the new shot and Levi noted that it was her fourth. Ymir was a healthy drinker. She could throw back shots like a linebacker for such a scrawny chick. But she was a mean drunk and so Levi was counting.

"Some 'motorcycle enthusiast' you are," she said and belched. She had used air quotes. Levi hated air quotes. He stayed quiet and poured her number five.

Abruptly she brayed out a laugh. "God, you're so cute when you scowl—which is all the time." She devolved into giggles. "For a guy, anyway."

"Did I say fuck off? If not then fuck off," Levi growled.

Two other customers approached the bar and Levi went over to make their drinks. One of them wanted something fancy and Levi busied himself making it, lost in his own thoughts, forgetting Ymir.

Levi wasn't a people person, which was odd for a bartender. He didn't hate them but he found them tiresome. And filthy. Besides, he had something on his mind, had had something on his mind for weeks, and just wasn't in the mood.

He puttered around the bar, wiping where the two customers had been, refilling the cherries, cutting limes and lemons. His mind wandered.

It wasn't long before Ymir was ready for another shot.

"You'd better slow down there, Ymir. This is your sixth."

"Fuck it. I'm in a bad mood."

"Aren't you always?"

Again the laugh. "You too, Buckaroo." She toasted him but sipped the next drink, gaze wandering around the bar room.

"Jesus, that chick is cute. Don't you think she's cute?" She rather rudely and obviously indicated the petite blonde who was the apparent recipient of the fancy drink. Levi looked dutifully and shrugged. He liked tall people.

"Hey," Ymir slurred, leaning heavily on the bar—she was getting drunk—"How come you and I never hooked up?"

"Uhm, because you're gay as shit?"

"Oh, yeah, right. You'd … you'd look really cute in a short skirt, though, with thigh-highs."

Levi scoffed. "And let you ream my ass with a giant dildo? You know I like doing the fucking."

Ymir's face screwed up like she'd smelled something bad. "Eww, man penis. Nasty. Say, I think I'll try a martini; dirty, vodka, extra olives."

"You think that's wise?" Levi drawled. He'd spent more than one night in the ladies room while Ymir puked up her guts.

"Fuck it! Bring it on! I'm still sober and haven't had any pussy in days!"

Levi sighed and made the drink.

Ymir staggered out after 11:00 and Levi had to come out from behind the bar and stop her long enough to use her phone to call her an Uber. She had been pissed at that. Now it was late—or early—depending on how you looked at it, but Levi didn't look at anything but the clock. It was 1:21 and the bar closed at 2. Levi was exhausted waiting.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself.

The Happy Hangover bar was in a run-down area that perched on the border between the poor people's sad neighborhood and the lower-middle-class area where most of the off-campus students and general minimum-wage-earners lived. It wasn't a nice bar, it was old and quite battered, but it was solid and big and convenient. They got a large crowd every night, from your basic boozers to the random office worker. Most of the people were college students and young marrieds, though. Late on a Friday night, as it was, there was a preponderance of kids, drunk kids and that was what was there tonight.

Levi looked up as voices were raised.

There was a college football game coming up and the rival teams' fans were clustered around the two pool tables being drunk and loud and low-key aggressive.

Because of the types of crowds who frequented on Friday and Saturday nights they had two bouncers, Reiner, a big, solid bulk of a blond man, and Connie, a small but wiry scrapper who went to Sina Tech. Both were keeping a close eye out on the college crew.

Most weekend nights ended with an altercation and Levi was often called upon to help break up fights and toss out miscreants. He hated it, hated touching other people's sweaty flesh, but it was his job and he was strong.

Levi looked at the clock; 1:38.

The crowd was getting rowdy.

The kids playing pool and drinking were from the two rival colleges U. of Trost (Go Tigers!) and Sina Tech (which the U of T kids sneeringly call "East Wall Dental College" as an insult.) The U of T bastards in their gaggingly ugly orange jerseys were by far the worst offenders. Sina Tech was right there in the neighborhood and so had a sense of pride of place, whereas U of T was in the more affluent upper-middle-class neighborhood across the canal. They acted annoyingly entitled as a matter of course.

Levi triple checked that the glasses were clean and put away and wiped the entire bar down for the tenth time. He was so ready for closing. After closing, he still had to gather up all the dirty glasses, wash them, and help mop the floor. Now if these fucking kids could hold off on any violence for a few more minutes …

There was a shout and the sound of a pool cue splintering. Levi sighed.

As if on command the few regulars and older patrons at the scattered tables began to get up and move toward the door. Levi slipped out from behind the bar as Reiner and Connie closed in on the crowd.

It was fifteen minutes after closing and another splintered pool cue and several broken glasses later when they finally got everybody shoved out the door. Reiner locked the heavy oak door with a click and leaned on it.

"Boy, what a bunch of fuckheads. Connie, you need to get your Sina crowd under control."

"I'm not in charge of the whole student body just cuz I go there, dumbass." He rubbed his buzzed hair. "Those Trost guys are ten times as bad." he walked a broken chair toward the back door. "Besides, it could be worse."

Levi was already picking up dirty glasses and shards of broken glass into a bus pan. "They're both full of assholes," he growled. "And what could be worse? There's blood on the pool table. I'll never get that out."

For several quiet minutes, the three of them tidied up and cleaned and rearranged and righted furniture. Abruptly Levi hissed, snatching his hand back to his chest.

"You OK?" Reiner asked.

Levi seemed frozen, looking down at his hand. "Cut my glove …"

Levi wore synthetic surgical-grade gloves at all times while at work. His co-workers had no idea that he wore them all the time, any time he was outside his apartment.

A large piece of a beer glass had slipped between his fingers and sliced open the glove on his right hand—right across his palm—and his hand with it. It wasn't too deep, probably not enough for stitches, but Levi seemed to not know what to do. He just crouched there next to a pool table, staring at the cut which welled blood down his wrist.

Connie, who was new, glanced uneasily at Reiner.

"Does he have a thing about blood?" he whispered.

Reiner shook his head firmly. "He'll be OK, just let him alone. Levi? Levi, why don't you go wash that? Get you a new glove. I'll finish up here."

Levi seemed to snap out of his torpor then. "Yeah … yeah. Wash … I'll be right back. He hefted the bus pan of glasses and disappeared behind the bar.

Connie stared after him then looked at Reiner. "What the hell?"

Reiner shrugged his big shoulders and tapped one forefinger against his temple. "Brain thing, I think."

Levi appeared shortly with fresh gloves and began scrubbing up the glasses and putting them away as if nothing had happened.

Levi was exhausted by the time he got off but couldn't bother dwelling on the bar fight. Instead, his mind wandered of its own accord to Farlan and Isobel. He didn't want to think about it, had tried to avoid it during work, but his brain seemed intent on torturing him. The whole thing made him feel incredibly, achingly sad, and alone. He didn't have anyone now. He hurried to get to his apartment. He needed to wash his hands.