Vigilante | ✔

Part VIII: Exiled From Continuity

If there was one thing that Eli did not expect, it was to actually miss Matthew.

Of course, he still saw him every now and then, but his visits to the coffee shop were not as numerous as before. Not to mention, when he was actually around, he didn't really talk to Eli. It was actually pretty weird to not have the man practically stalking him.

But it was beyond insane to miss said stalker. Eli was starting to think he needed therapy — something for which he blamed Matthew entirely.

At the moment, the very man he was thinking of was sitting at his usual table, sipping a cup of coffee while he read the newspaper. It was the first time in days that Matthew had shown up at the place, and he hadn't said a word to Eli that didn't have to do with how he liked his coffee. If that hadn't been what Eli had wanted all along, he would have flipped a table.

Of course it was what Eli wanted. Or at least, he'd thought so. He'd lost count of the times he'd asked Matthew to leave him alone, and now, the man was actually doing that. The problem was, it pissed Eli off.

He couldn't help but glare as Matthew walked out of the shop.

"What's up with you giving Matthew the evil eye?" Michael asked, brow raised in a questioning look.

"Nothing, I wasn't giving him the evil eye. This is how I always look," Eli said, turning away from Michael and going to wipe the tables.

"Well, you do have a funny face." That, of course, got Michael a glare. "But seriously, what'd he do to piss you off?"

"Nothing," Eli said, because it was true. Matthew hadn't done anything except what Eli had been asking him to do for months. Eli was perfectly aware of this and it just served to make him even more annoyed — this time with himself. "I'm just having a bad day," he added when he received an unconvinced look from Michael.

He seemed to believe that, at least. Eli supposed that was thanks to the truly crappy days he'd had in the past, most of which Michael had heard about.

"Well, stop glaring at our customers. We don't want to be that-shop-with-the-surly-redhead," Michael said. Eli reminded himself that Michael was his boss and punching him would not be productive to his goal of earning money.

He still accidentally sprayed whipped cream on the back of his head while preparing a drink. Michael didn't comment on the fact that Eli's face was completely devoid of anything that could be considered an apologetic expression. Or that his aim was off by three feet and the wrong direction.

Sometimes, Eli enjoyed working with Michael.

Not that he wasn't glad when the day was over and he was able to go home. He just wished his life was a bit less dull, just enough that he would appreciate the parts not having to do with work or school.

You had a creepy, third-rate superhero stalker and you call your life boring, Eli thought. He tried not to think of how that wasn't a part of his life anymore.

As soon as he got home, he dropped his bag without a care of where it landed, and trudged to the couch. The springs on the old piece of furniture creaked as the redhead let himself fall onto it. He grabbed the TV remote that lay just within reach on his coffee table and switched on the television, thinking he could watch something before he tortured his brain with more studying.

The first image that flashed on the screen was of the last man he wanted to see. Eli couldn't help but groan as Vigilante appeared — just a shadowy silhouette between the buildings. He didn't bother to listen to whatever story the brunette reporter was spouting this time. It wasn't like they wouldn't repeat it about a thousand times until they had something new. More importantly, it didn't concern Eli.