geek | armin arlert

after everything

the fluorescent lights of the restroom hum above, one goes off and on each minute and the air smells like lemon disinfectant and number 2's. totally ew, definitely not anybody's first choice of sanctuary but it was all one had at a time like this.

inside a stall, youre sitting on the closed toilet lid, a layer of toilet paper between. it was a time of need, but god knows what's touched these seats. arms wrapped tightly around your knees, eyeliner is now smudged and in dire need of a retouch, and you've been juggling between the post, the comments, and armins texts for about ten minutes. finally groaning, then tossing the phone into your purse like it burned to hold.

it was just in that exact moment when the heavy door creaks open and your breath catches itself. sure it was a public restroom, but it was just your luck that somebody would happen to cluelessly waltz in on your crashout during first period. just hold your breath until they leave.

but a pair of heavy black work boots seem to stomp inside, clearly not the usual suspects, unless it was ymir or another raging lesbian. stopping just at the entrance, a mop sloshes into a bucket, and his janitor-senses are tingling enough to sense a presence inside.

"you planning to move in or are you gonna come out before your mascara finishes melting?" a gruff, low voice of a man speaks from the entrance of the bathroom, clearly needing the ok to come inside and begin working.

you jump, wiping the undeniably melting mascara with some toilet paper like a total loser with no backup plans. instantly planting your feet back down on the ground with a loud thump, hoping to catch the attention of the witness as to detour him from coming any closer. "are you even allowed in here? this is the GIRLS bathroom!"

just great, the janitor, of all people. you'd probably prefer the yearbook community come swamp you with questions than awkwardly make conversation with this guy. and he was totally gonna kick you out of your own makeshift pity party, can't a girl sulk in peace around here?

seriously, the halls were a no-go, class would be like a brat pack intervention, and now the bathrooms just been ransacked by mopey maintenance man.

"I'm allowed wherever there's a mess, and from the sound of it, there's plenty."

that made you roll your eyes, and he didn't even need to witness it to know, those janitor-senses had it covered. having somehow been on the same level of attitude as a teenage girl, a sarcastic thirty-whatever-year-old, it was game on.

youd gladly continue this sass marathon, "could you be any more insensitive? I'm being cyberbullied right now and you're acting like i dropped a soda can."

"cyberbullied?" a dry, hoarse chuckle escapes his lips, but just one. like it wasn't that funny, but stupid enough where it was for a split second, "kids these days. someone says you kissed the wrong person and the whole world ends."

"you know?" the stall door slams open as you rush out, revealing to him the ugly sight, a teenage socialist in tears. even more alarmed having known you were friends with his witch of a niece now, the school might have to worry about facing a terrible spell. on the other hand, how could he not know? mr. ackerman was definetly not on snap or insta, but cleaning the halls allowed for a lot of gossip, and this was thee topic. "of course you do..."

levi wasn't parental, far from nurturing, god knows how he ended up with a job in a school, but he did however need to clean the stalls. he sighed, tiredly, bluntly: "you wanna cry because high school kids act like high school kids? congratulations. that's the most high school thing I've heard today."

what is this guys problem? seriously, just because his life consisted of miserably scrubbing down toilets didn't mean everyone else wasn't allowed to be depressed once in a while. "i'm allowed to be upset."