Life Of A Fuck-Up

The two sides of a job, newsflash: they're both fucking horrible!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN [F-U#15]

"I can't see you."

"Well then, seems like you've lost your fucking eyesight when i was gone, Toll."

"Shut up. You said you were here, where are you?" He looked closer outside, eyes darting to everything.

"I never said that i was there, you fucker. I said that i was there."

"That doesn't make sense and you know it." He rolled his eyes at the laugh from the other line of the phone. "Just be quick and get yourself here." Sighing, the officer crept a hand up to the bridge of his nose and rubbed.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm almost there you fucking impatient child." He sighed once again. "Why are you even late? Let me guess, you created trouble again, haven't you?"

"Why the hell do you always suspect that i'm the one always causing the start of a fucking problem? Oh wait, don't answer that."

Tollimer rolled his eyes once more, questioning his life decisions then. He had called T.M right after he walked out, scanning the area with his diminished dull hope that he'll see the teenager in his yellow rags. He grimaced. Maybe he should have told the teen to clean up.

"T.M." Maybe he should.

"But i swear, I wasn't the one causing some fucking ruckus this time around! I was just minding my own ass business until-"

"-until you weren't." He finished. "T.M, what are you even wearing?" By the next reply he got, he guessed the question came out odd.

"What? That's an odd fucking question even for you, Tan-golf boy. Wait, are you spying on me right now?" The irritated officer heard shuffling clothes. "Guess not. Why?"

He looked up, taking a deep breath before blowing it all out. "You idiot. Why would i be spying on you? Just- just put some damn clothes on that makes you not atleast look like a rat picked up from the streets. And for the 'why' part, normally i wouldn't waste my energy caring if you arrive in your underwear with a rose clenched between your legs. But may i remind you that this meeting includes not only me, but the other officers plus the principal." He blew out in one breath, with gritted teeth, utterly done with the existence of one teenager whose purpose in life was (it seemed so) to make him lose his sanity.

Whatever was left of it, anyway.

And what was his evidence?

This.

"Language, Toll." He was silent for a minute, registering the other line's response to his supposed rant. "Was that the only thing you got out of that, T.M?" He asked, blinking his glare away to make way for exasperation. The only emotion that the brat seemed to constantly pull out of him.

T.M laughed. "Of course not, you bitch. Don't worry, I'm wearing a tad nicer clothes than my usual. And hey! My old-as-your-grandma hoodie is not so fucking bad!" He doubted it was nicer than what the brat wore everyday. But if he really was telling the truth, then it was a relief. However small of a reliever it was. Tollimer blew air out. "Good. Now all you need to do is come here. Where are you?"

"I'm at Thy Citadel. Pretty close to be honest. Just a little up west then i'll fucking see the academy. Will probably take me about ten minutes from here."

"Hm..."

"What? Fuck, I can practically see the glint in your eyes from over here. What do you want?" The whine from the brat nearly made Tollimer smile in viciousness. "Run."