Nicotine (Eremin)

Chapter 18

March

Armin's POV

        I was barely 50 miles into Indiana. I was running low on the money I got from Adam, so I decided to stick to walking for a few days and use the money on food. 

        It was warming up a little as I got further west, but it was still pretty cold. It wasn't snowing anymore, so I could walk faster than I was able to before. 

        I was still freezing my ass off in some Asian coffee shop. Considering my financial condition, I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, which happened to be a coconut bun. To try to save money, I'd been refilling the same plastic water bottle at public fountains. I filled it at a fountain at the back of the shop and sat at a long table near the back. The table was in front of a window, so I looked out at a sidewalk dotted with splotches of sunlight, and occasionally a person who walked over it. 

        The restaurant was fairly crowded, which was bad news for me. Whenever I was in a place full of people, I instantly became aware of the fact that I hadn't applied deodorant in a week or so. I just tried to sink into the corner as much as possible, and hoped no one walked within a 4 foot radius of me. 

        "Is it alright if I sit down? There's just no other open seats." a male voice asked from across the table. Oh god. 

        "Yeah, sure." I leaned back in my seat to give him room. He pulled out a phone and started scrolling. 

        He hadn't said anything else, and I was very aware of how bad I must have smelled. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what to say without sounding unimaginably awkward. Or, I could remain silent, and look like a jerk for not saying something. 

        There's also the chance that he was hoping that I didn't say anything, and I should just not bother him. 

        I probably would have kept over-thinking, but he interrupted my thoughts. 

        "You smoke, kid?" he asked. I was understandably surprised, and it must have showed, because I forgot to say anything for a while. 

        "What do you mean? Do I smell like smoke?" I asked, still self-conscious of the way I must have smelled. 

        "Well, do you know what nicotine does to your body?" he asked, still not looking up from his phone. 

        "Um, no, sir." 

        "If you try to stop smoking for a while, you feel okay, but after a while, getting your next smoke in is the only thing that occupies your thoughts, until there is nothing else you can physically do without needing your fix. Eventually, you'll need some substitute, or you get your nicotine back." he pushed up his coat sleeve, and showed me his arm, three nicotine patches stuck to his arm. 

        "Okay. Why are you telling me this?" he shut off his phone and leaned on his elbows. 

        "Well, take it from me. You look like you're trying to quit; like there's something missing, something that you have an addiction to." he pointed out. 

        "I'm probably just tired, Believe me, I don't smoke." 

        "So, is there something missing from your life? Eh, nevermind that's pretty personal. I'm just some guy that sat next to you in a coffee shop. But, hey, thanks for the seat." he smiled, grabbed his coffee, and got up to leave. 

        "No problem." I turned to say, but he was already gone. I turned back to my now empty table. 

        I tried to keep my mind focused on how I can get to California as fast as I could, but my mind drifted back to what that guy told me. 

        If nicotine was something that occupied your mind constantly, than was Eren like nicotine for me? Was it possible for a person to act in the same way as a drug?

        One thing was clear: if it was, than Eren was my nicotine.