He turned his back to Eli, silently making his coffee. It was degrading to be serving someone he had beat up so many times. As he was dumping the sugar in Eli’s paper coffee cup he realized exactly how much sugar he asked for. With that much sugar in a coffee, it wasn’t surprising that Eli had so much energy to put in to annoying people.
Fitz leaned on the counter and set the coffee in front of Eli. “You know, if you have a problem with me, I can always get someone else to serve you next time,” he said. When he started his job there he was told some of the customers would have a problem with him working there, and there had only been a few issues so far. All of those issues involved Eli and his friends.
He needed the job, for the money, and for proof that he was better off outside the detention centre. “Don’t fuck this up for me, too,” he said, as firmly as he could, without sounding like he was making a threat. It was hard not say whatever he wanted, and not have to worry about it.”
Eli couldn’t help but laugh. It was a hollow, unamused sound. Fitz always brought out that side of him. “Fuck this up for you? Like everything was my fault to begin with. You bullied your way out of school. You bullied my best friend; you bullied me.” He dropped the money he owed onto the counter, eyes never leaving those blues he hated. “You’re the kind of person that made my life horrible from the get-go. You’re the kind of person that made me revolt against bullies like you, Fitz. Don’t blame me.”
His eyes found the paper cup briefly, wondering whether or not Fitz tried to fuck with it, then moved back to his face. He didn’t trust him, but he liked having the opportunity to piss him off by making the bastard make his coffee for him. He wanted that satisfaction of telling someone he hated what to do and not getting punched in the face for it, or kicked in the nards. He liked pissing Fitz off.
“If you have someone to blame, blame yourself. Blame the fact that you have absolutely nothing good going for you so you have to take it out on everyone else who has the slightest flaw in their life. The way I choose to dress, the way Adam is fighting to become who he should have been in the first place — who I see him as.” He picked up the cup and took a cautious sip from the raised lid. He pulled it away from his lips but didn’t place it back down. “Get over whatever fucked up hatred you have for yourself and leave us with our own problems alone.”
He turned to leave. Part, if not most, of what he said was about himself, too, because he hated himself so much by this point that he had no right to be lecturing someone like he was Fitz. But he needed to hear it as much as the bastard did. He needed the wake up call his meds wouldn’t provide him because he knew it wouldn’t help him at all. He needed Fitz’s forgiveness as much as everyone else’s. He just didn’t expect it so easy because his pride got in the way. And that would be his downfall.
With his hand on the door handle, not turning back, Eli said, “And thanks for the coffee,” before the door shut with a ‘click’ behind him.
reblogged from badassmarkfitzgerald
originally posted by corruptiveli
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