The Little Titan Cafe [ErenxLevi]

Chapter 9- Saturday night

Welcome to the Little Titan Café!Today's special: Heart Problems

It was a Saturday night at the Little Titan Café, the shop somewhat crowded with students from SU. There'd be no studying or working on homework tonight, simply because they were all in high spirits. Then again it was a Saturday night so homework was the last thing on their minds. But that didn't explain to one particular patron why a bunch of college students were at a café, celebrating from the looks of it. Normal college students would be out at a bar, getting hammered, plastered, drunk – whatever the hell kids called it – not sipping a macchiato and pumpkin lattes.

Levi downed half of his black coffee in one go, relishing in the scorching heat. He was tempted to grab his things and leave. There was no way he'd be getting any work done in this atmosphere. Truthfully, he should have turned around the moment he saw the amount of people inside of the store, but then he spotted the stupid brat's face and his feet had brought him inside before he knew it.

As if on queue, said stupid brat suddenly appeared, looking haggard from all the orders he and his coworker had to deal with. Despite that, he grinned at Levi as he finally caught a break, "Sorry about all the customers."

"Is it normally like this on a Saturday?"

"For the most part, yeah," Eren nodded. "But most of the people here are from SU's women's volleyball team. They're celebrating making it through regionals."

That would explain why most of the customers were women.

"One of my best friends is on the team. Oh, by the way, I haven't finished the book yet, but," Eren paused in thought, "I love it so far. It's just that..."

Levi quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know how to explain it exactly, but it seemed like something changed for Rivaille halfway through?" When all he received was Levi's blank stare, Eren scratched his cheek, glancing away shyly, "Almost like something good happened?"

"Who knows," Levi said.

"I'm guessing you're not very close with any of your friends."

"Not really."

"What's he like?" Eren asked with hero-worship in his eyes. It pissed Levi off, irrationally so, because he was worshipping a faceless man. Sort of. Faceless in the aspect that Rivaille didn't exist, but Levi did. He'd never felt the desire to confess to his alias before. Ever. Until now.

But he didn't. "Rivaille's an old pervert."

"I highly doubt that."

"You're not the one who knows him," Levi pointed out, taking another large gulp of his coffee, suddenly wishing he was at a bar instead. That was where old perverts like him belonged. At a bar. Drowning in alcohol. Not at a café where an innocent-looking barista served you night after night with foolish optimism.

He could see the thoughts flashing across those eyes – green, but not quite green; blue, but not quite blue; turquoise: a body of water without all of the impurities – frustration, denial, the protest that formed in his mind that was caught behind pursed lips. Eren couldn't argue against Levi because what he said was true. He only knew the words on paper, not the person who wrote them. But were they really that much different? The writer and the story? The artist and their drawings? Sure, you could draw and write something completely radical of who you were as a person, but if you looked close enough, you could usually find the little hints of the creator; footprints of their personality.

Eren wanted to say all of that to Levi, but what was the point? In the end, Levi was right. His shoulders sagged with the breath he released, "Well, for an old pervert, he's a great writer."