Weeaboo {Ereri}

XVIII/the last chapter.

(Draft one)

Three years ago

"Christ, look at this asshole." I snorted through a forkful of rice, pulling it away to cover my mouth. Petra rolled her eyes and smiled at me. "So you do still laugh."

"It's not my fault I'm emotionally constipated." I pointed the fork at her. "And I wasn't laughing. I was choking. On this unfunny situation." A piece of rice fell from the fork, and I licked my lips.

She gave a coy grin and looked back down at her pizza with amusement. "Don't even talk to me when you're wearing that attire." I patted down my Survey Corps jacket and gave her the bird. "You uneducated weeaboo."

"That is jargon."

Petra poked her pizza. She shrugged, lips raised. "Anyways, check her out." I peered to where she had begun gesturing. "What a fox."

"Stop." I gave her a stern face. "You're my token heterosexual friend. And she's okay looking, I guess." Petra chuckled. "I'm not gay, I hope you know."

She tilted a smile towards me. "Good. Now I know you're not totally off-limits."

"God, I can't stand you two. Just fuck already." We turned our heads. Upon seeing her, I slumped and closed my eyes, and Petra ran her tongue between her bottom lip and jaw, rolling her eyes. Some background information: this woman has been tormenting us since that day on the playground in fucking elementary school. It's been over two years since that day. She curled a lock of hair behind one ear and smiled with pity at me. "Golly me, sorry, I forgot you lost the ability to speak English after your mom committed. Hola."

Petra bit her lip and looked away, rubbing her face. "Was something funny, bitch?" The girl snapped, pushing her hand into Petra's head. I gasped and stood, and she gave me a low look.

"I'll kick your ass," I said, putting my hands on my hips to stop their shaking. "Fuck off. And my mom didn't commit suicide. And that was Spanish, you uncultured swine." Petra couldn't stifle a laugh that time.

She gave me an even look, and I glared back. Now my knees were shaking. You took sports training for a reason, Levi. "Oh, my bad." We were in the cafeteria, and a few tables had turned to look, murmuring with nervous laughs. The girl glanced around before reaching for Petra's milk. "You sure got me there." She picked it up and slowly tipped it over Petra's head.

I bit down on my tongue. Petra tensed, her eyes level with mine. The kid shook the carton a few times, letting it drip, and then dropped it. It bounced onto the floor. "Sorry..." She glowered at me. "It was an accident. Strawberry milk for strawberry hair."

The noise in the room had all merged together, and the floor spun. "I'll fucking kill you," I spat between clenched teeth, and I lurched past the table, reaching for her throat. She backed up, looking disgusted, and I punched her in the face instead.

We went down together. I... I didn't know. It felt like something had snapped inside of me. I shouldn't have gotten so out of line. It was just a childish insult anyways. But I couldn't stop, and tears filled my eyes. My legs were tangled somewhere next to hers, and she batted at my hands and pulled my hair and kicked me with her knees, but I kept punching. A crowd had formed around us, and all I could hear was my ragged breathing. There was blood on my hands.

And then hands were wrapping around my armpits, and I was being dragged away by a police officer. "You again," he breathed roughly into my ear as we walked away. "You need to control yourself, Ackerman." He was pulling my arms behind my back, snapping handcuffs on them. I craned my neck around and looked past the officer.