five, provoke

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

...

You were sitting next to one of the most famous authors in the world.

You've read only a couple of his books, but just from those, it's clear he's talented and passionate in what he does. And it shows as he speaks, despite the smirks he throws your way that make you question whether or not Anonymous is a silly individual, that he cares about his work.

Jean and Anonymous- you still don't know his real name yet- spoke briefly, giving each other a handshake and mutual acknowledgment was really as far as it went before your best friend decided to find a seat closer to the stage and watch the performance. At the same time, you and the blond man beside you talked.

"I will be honest, I haven't been... feeling myself lately. I'm at a weird stage in my life right now where making art just doesn't come as easy as it usually would," you admit, peeking at him from behind your lashes sheepishly.

"We have all the time in the world," he responds, his thin pink lips sparkling in the dim lighting. "We're both indie. It's no rush."

"Still, I'd hate to keep you waiting, I mean," you huff nervously. "You're Anonymous. I practically dropped everything to come meet you."

His smile grows at your words, his eyes sliding and crashing with yours. "I was thrilled to see your response to the email I sent you. I love your art, it's no problem, really, I wouldn't want anything rushed after all."

You nod, "Of course. I won't rush it," you say, looking forward, giving him a view of your side profile and long, curly lashes. "So," you turn and look at him again, his ocean eyes on your face but not quite meeting your gaze. "What is it you have in mind?"

"It'll come to you," he says, but that only makes you feel more anxious. "just like the ending of my book will come to me."

"You haven't finished writing it yet?" you ask, genuinely shocked.

"To be honest..." he shifts in his seat slightly, his knee making contact with yours. He doesn't move it. "I'm pretty early in the book. But having you a part of it will bring me inspiration."

You laugh and look down, a genuine smile stretching across your lips. "This is so cool."

You only frown when you realize that nagging feeling hasn't left since you walked in. Behind the counter, he's still keeping a close eye on you, the bartender with a staring problem. You wonder what his deal is, but you try not to let it bother you. He hasn't asked if you wanted a drink, not that you do, but you'd think with how long you've been sitting here... he'd have offered you one by now. Or at least started up some conversation.

"Something troubling you?"

"What's your name?" you suddenly ask your blond companion.

His smirk widens, "Curious? Hm, I'm trying to decide whether I want to tell you now or prolong the suspense."

For some reason, you feel as if there's some double meaning behind his words... you think it has something to do with his book, but don't say anything about it. "Why would you prolong it?"

"What can I say? I love watching people squirm with anticipation. From the mysteriousness of it all. Besides, once you hear my name, you might be let down. You're probably expecting something amazing," he admits.

"That's understandable, but I don't mind what your real name is. I guess it'd just be cool to be one of the few people to know it," you smile. "Lucky few."

He seems to like your answer because, after a second, he opens his mouth, "Armin."

"Armin?" your smile widens. "Your name starts with an 'A', is that where you got the idea to put your books under the name Anonymous?"

"Well, honestly, that's just a bonus," his eyes flick to the stage as the singer holds a long note. "But I always wanted to be Anonymous. It's easier to create when no one knows who you are. You can make art, and people can't judge you from what you look like or anything, rather what you make."

"That's true it's a lot of pressure already, but being indie or anonymous makes it safer and more fun," This time, you turn to the stage to watch the singer prance across the stage in her black heels. She catches your stare, and you freeze, not knowing how to react.

The tip of her lip quirked up slightly as she sang into the mic. Her eyes fleeted elsewhere, but it didn't take long to realize her attention was now on your best friend. Your brows shot into your hairline as you watched her sway and twist down the stairs as she swiped her hand along the railing seductively, making certain onlookers wish that hand was on them.

Her lips had this... dark purple gloss slathered over them, and her dress had a sexy slit that revealed her long pale leg as she walked right up to Jean.

"That's The Scorpion," Armin chimes from beside you. "She's popular around here. Rarely see her leave the stage, though. Your friend must be pretty special."

You couldn't help but smirk, "Yeah, ... he is."

You didn't catch the way Armin's expression faltered at your response, but something slightly sinister flashed across his eyes before he caught himself. "Can you handle a drink?" He asks, and you look at him finally.

"Yes, but I think I'd rather stay sober tonight," you tell him, and he nods.

He shifts, but eventually, he says, "I'll be back. Bathroom," he chucks a thumb toward the bathrooms, and you wave him off, letting him know he's fine, and he walks off, disappearing into the crowd of people.

You snap up straight when you feel an ominous presence near you and whip your head forward the moment his palm hits the bar silently. You're staring straight up into forest green eyes that have been watching you this entire time.

You don't know where the confidence came from, maybe you're just in your natural element right now, but you snap before he gets the chance, "What's your problem?"

He stands straight, his stoic expression breaking into a smirk as he folds his arms across the width of his chest, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

You hate that his voice made you shiver, and you pray he didn't notice. He was dazzling, but he was creepy. Hot creepy, but still. Who stares like that?

You realize you haven't responded, so after hardening your glare at him, you say, "Answer my question first. If you think I'm cute, just say that. But with the way you were looking at me... I'm not sure if you wanna fuck me," you swallow softly. "Or if you want to murder me."

You can tell you surprised him with the way his eyes widen slightly. Still, his smirk grows wider, his teeth a pearly white, as he leans down on the bar like he owns the place and inevitably brings his face closer to yours, "My name's... Kruger, pretty," he tells you, making your heart skip a beat.

Shit... does he actually own the place?

"Kruger? As in Kruger's? So, what? You think telling me that is supposed to mean something to me?" Your mouth was flying, you couldn't seem to control it. There was just... something about this man that made you want to see his reactions. As if you just knew... he was a reactive person.

He chuckles lowly, his warm breath puffing out and fanning across your cheeks, or at least that's what you're using as an excuse for your already warm cheeks. You prayed you weren't blushing.

"Oh, baby, it will," he smirks, and you can't help but zero in on the action. His lips, ... they look so smooth.

"What do you mean?"

"I've told you my name...tell me yours," he says, and you forget that wasn't the answer you wanted in exchange for yours as you huff.

"Y/n," your eyes are narrowed low. But then you remember something. Isn't Anonym— Armin friends with this guy? "So you know Armin, then?"

He doesn't answer for a second, looking at you with low eyes. If you hadn't already caught glimpses of his eyes, you wouldn't know the color because of his long lashes.

Long ass lashes. Eye roll.

"Yeah," he says. "I know him."

If Armin is friends with him, ... maybe he's cool. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. You're not sure. You have this weird feeling about each of them, but you can't make heads or tails of it.

You didn't even notice Armin came back and was sitting on the stool beside you. "You've met Kruger," Armin says with a sigh. As he sits down their eyes meet for a second, but you think nothing of it.

"Yeah..." you mutter, still unsure of how to feel, and you glance over at Jean to see he's finally heading back toward you.

With him here, it's much more comforting. "You guys done talking?" He asks, meeting your eyes.

You glance at Armin, whose eyes you can't read, as he looks at you for a second. He must realize you're waiting for his decision, so he says, "Yeah. We're done for now."

You don't know why, but when you walk out of the bar, you feel...relieved in some way.

LilReaper_

Originally written 07.11-16.24

published 07.16.24

total words; 1580

short chapter, ik, but i had writer's block that i think stemmed mainly from being on my period 😗 so, ... yea