Guns and Cigarettes [Levi/Rivaille x OC]

Chapter 7: The Forsaken

A deep wheeze. Then a "...What?" in a grumpy lilt greeted me on the other side.

"Yo, short stack. It sounds like you're alive after all." It was pleasant to hear something from Levi after all this time, nevertheless my voice was tinged with sarcasm. There was so much of it, it practically seeped out of my tone and dripped onto the ground like honey. The scorn was hard to keep out of my lilt when I was talking to someone who wasn't exactly a silver-tongued, fast-talking salesman. "Have you decided the day of revelation to show your holier-than-thou face?"

"..."

"We have a prac report due in, like, thirty-six hours and I haven't seen you in a week."

"I ... I'll be back soon." His voice rattled on the other side, comparable to white noise.

"That's not good enough, Levi. It's worth a pretty big chunk of our grade –I don't know, something like ALL OF IT."

"Tch."

"That's all you have to say?!" The impatience in my tone was fanning cracks in my calm and collected façade. Beside me, a mental configuration of a little angel with my face taped on it endorsed its devil counterpart to go fuck that piece of shit up. It was disturbing to know that even the little celestial cherub was just as evil, perhaps even more than the imp. I've given him a whole week and he was still feeding me this bullshit sandwich. "That's it, mate. You're done."

Shambling and cackling on other side of the line immediately dissipated like a slit throat when I ruthlessly hung up on my lab partner. Speed dial was dragged up on my phone for another frequented number. Although, today I was making an exception from the promise I made to myself to stop calling them.

My nail beds were the focus of my attention as I listened to the dialing tone. Three rings this time, then a timid speech in its usual salutation.

"Hello...?"

"Armin, it's Hazel. Hazel Adler."

"Oh, Hazel, what's up?"

"Remember that favour you owe me? I'm collecting now."

_______________________________

My dark eyes repeatedly darted between the address imprinted on my screen, and the old, warn-out door that proudly claimed this slum residence. Its very presence was a sorry excuse in keeping the shit-stained world out. With closer inspection, I traced my fingertips in horror along the knife marks embedded in the door. With grooves like these, I'd expect this rag of a door to fall apart any minute.

This hell-hole is one of the most notorious neighborhoods on the map. God has deserted this place, like everything else.

I tapped my foot impatiently as I ferociously attacked the doorbell, my palm strategically covering the peek hole.

"Come on, you idiot, open the door." I muttered.

"Who is it?" The question oozed out in irritation. No doubt it was the right place. No one can simply replicate the same amount of contempt in three syllables.

"Jehovah's witness!"

Absolute silence from behind. Occasionally, a holler of a baby would pollute the yearned peace from a lower level, shredding apart the sky with its throaty screams, orchestrating a symphony of renewed barking from nearby hounds. My eye twitched to sounds of glass shattering around the corner in the distance, which I presumed would be another robbery or drunken fight. What a surprise ... who would've guessed?

And of course, the alleys loitered with the welcoming stench of urine and blood.

After what seems like the only patch of alive grass in town has grown taller than Levi himself, the door creaked open slightly. A dark splash of cobalt mixed in with the high seas of grey flashed when I caught hold of those same slanted eyes peering behind the crack of darkness. They looked especially dead today.