Instructions On How To Make Tea (Ereri AU)

Prologue

A/N: this is literally just a parody fanfiction which is also sort of cliché, but still funny. Also, there's lots of dark humour, so if you don't like these kind of jokes I wouldn't recommend you to read the book. Lol.

Eren's POV

The last time I felt annoyance for the temperature is when I visited my parents in the Middle East and couldn't stop sweating my balls off. Seriously, it's too bloody hot there, I thought I was going to get ebola-atic aids. I fainted in the middle of an open ceiling mall, the beach seemed like absolute utter hell, there wasn't enough water around, I almost died.

Still, no levels of heat can even compare to the one in the Ackerman's Café kitchen, rumours had it that one of the workers had a sun stroke and vomited all over his uniform, there is no sun in that room. Anyways, the manager not only did fire him, but made him strip in front of the entire staff for disrespecting clothing as high class as our uniform. To be honest, I have never experienced the hectic anxiety of cooking in there, I only took the orders off the counter and served them. That's how things always went.

Or so I thought.

Running into the staff room, I quickly shoved the rest of my half assed spoiled omelette down my throat. I never knew how to cook, even though, I work in a restaurant, ironic. I picked up the note and pen that laid beside my peers clothing on a wooden stool. The staff room was quite small and crowded, it was filled with lockers, unnecessary stools and a loud ass old air conditioner, not such a high class room for a high class restaurant. The walls were plain dirty concrete and the grounds were hard rock. What does the manager do with all the money given to him? Greedy son of a bitch.

As I was standing, too mesmerised by ugliness of the room, I hadn't noticed a pair of eyes glaring at none other than myself beside me. And when I did, I was immediately smacked in the face by a bunch of folded newspapers.

"What the fuck?!" I yelled. I rubbed my throbbing cheeks.

"Language, Arab boy, you're late." I knew he knew that I knew I was late, but still decided on stating the fact.

"I'm German! And I know that!" Setting my eyes upon the abusive asshole, I frowned. Fuck my life, why him? Why now? He smirked, noticing my sudden bad vibe.

"What? You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Arab boy?" He said. I rolled my eyes, he pisses me off.

"I'm German, Ackerman." I tried to sass, failing miserably.

"That doesn't answer my question." I gritted my teeth, give me a fucking break.

"You know, your height does not match your attitude." He let out a pathetic laugh, not even offended by my joke.

He walked off to the kitchen but not before saying, "Get to work, Arab boy." I was about to protest my nationality one more time when a sight of a boy caught my attention.

He was pretty.

He seemed to be sitting at one of our tables, he was clearly a customer, his hands were fiddling with the pages of a book he was holding, but his eyes seemed to be set on something else. Putting on my best seductive smile, I walk over to him. He immediately noticed me as he eyes my uniform, in a very weird manner. I didn't speak at first, I admired his rather foreign features, his eyes were huge, doll-like and blue. His oval face matched his blonde bow cut, he looked rather fragile and feminine.

"What can I get you, blue eyes?" He blushed, smiling faintly before looking up to meet my gaze. "Just some tea, with four spoons of s-sugar." I grinned. He really had a sweet tooth, didn't he? 'Tea w/ 4 spuns of shugar for rlly cute boi - table 15' I wrote down in my notes with the pen in my hand slightly shivering because of my shit eating uneasiness. "With milk?" The boy shook his head, causing his hair to slightly brush over his pink tainted cheeks as the boy grinned back at me with more enthusiasm. I blushed and felt my eyes go wide.