Ce n'est Pas la Passion, Mais la Avidité - 1st Cup

*When Love is no longer our first priority, and suffers is our definite delinquent authority...

Chapter One
"No Coffee"

Life on Earth, nowadays-there's nowhere worth living on.
People said life is cruel, but something you really have to endure.
Once you give up, there's no turning back. You'll get pushed aside onto the garbage end and eventually have less reason to survive. That's how it works-that's how our world works.

This day and age, having a baby when you are about sixteen is normal, or so you, called "common thing". Even twelve years old can drive without license and miraculously not being arrested. It's an era when you can have free sex as much as you like, big tattoos on your back or all over you allowed when you reach ten, and being fourteen, but actually can consume drugs without any harm.
So much twisted human desires which caused havoc.

Failsworth today is the same-busy morning, lots of activities and familiar scent of coffee mixed with dusty air. The sky which people prefer to call it blue but actually grayish had a lot of clouds hanging over.
I was sitting comfortably in the subway, which was heading to the school I'd attend. This was the fourth time moving, but no one actually counts anyway.
I am used to be tossed around, here and there, now and then. Not because of my bad luck but mostly got in troubles.
True. Being seventeen and troublesome is actually fun.

When adults tell you "No" you will spontaneously do the otherwise.
That is just natural.

"Excuse me," Someone says. For the first time in hours, I have to look up and switch attention from my notes to the stranger.
I examine his very look-an old man with lousy suit, sweaty hands and inconvenient look. I give him one blood-shot glare, frowning as I ask, "What?"

"If you don't mind, please move your bag a little-it's getting in the way," He said, moving my bag slightly with his oddly shaky hands and hasty movements whilst trying to have a seat next to mine.
This is one suspicious act-there are plenty of seats, and there aren't so much people in this bus either, then why does he have to choose one beside me?
Must be a pick-pocket, or pervert for worse.
I lift my hand up, "Sorry, sir. But it's inconvenient for me to sit...next to you," I bowed my head a little to show my gratitude, "And sorry for being rude,"

It happens several times too, sexual harassment in public transportation. No matter how capable you are, in this fierce, big, non-metropolitan country named Lancashire, you could never be at ease.
And then the old man says, "Bitch," which had me looking up for the second time.
I gave him a finger and said, "Screw off," and back to reading my book after he left, cursing his fucking mouth off until he finally gets out of the bus.

Those are all examples of reality that never stop telling us; life isn't that easy.
It's either you control it, or you'll get controlled by it-same goes as money. Something always get in the way, it's either good things or bad things. That's why...

Life is about struggles, the question is, are you, or are you not willing to grit your teeth and survive till the day when you can control your life as what you please, and actually able to have more power, more definite authority in your own life...beside your self-greed, or money itself.

Sometimes you just have to open your eyes to see, and to live carefree, so that you can see as much of life as like the way I see it.

Being in college isn't actually that bad-I thought.
I just returned to my hometown in Lancashire after visiting my family member who had moved to New York, USA. Wonder why I chose not to stay with them lot?
It's because I hate it there.

I hate the new image of "perfect family" that I will never get used to.
After the death of my Mom, my father remarried a widow from our neighborhood. I felt so aggravated and lost, because it hadn't past half a month after my Mom's funeral, even knowing that her grave's soil hasn't yet dried out, regardless to all those...he started dating again.
Sure being a loyal kid, I objected that kind of marriage. But do adults listen us-the labile, hot-tempered teenager that sure meant to rebel against them?
The absolute answer is, no.

Because I was not familiar with the new image of "Mom" in that house, I ran. My little brother, of course, stuck in that devastating hell named "fake-happiness". Until now, I lived alone and supported my whole life all by myself...
But not today, not now and not here, either.
Getting out of the bus, I stood proud in front of The Edge Hill University. The kind of place I can never afford-not even with my lifetime work salary. Thing is, that my uncle actually works here. But as agreement for the huge amount of money he loss for my sake, I must work hard both in my study and agreed to work part-time as a librarian...on Monday, a generous cleaning lady on Tuesday...Main hall organizing in Thursday...wait, isn't it on Friday?!
I scratch my head which itches so badly, "Hell, this is troublesome,"
And with a single, yet long, heavy sigh, I step forward and begin to walk in towards whatever awaits me.

Meanwhile I was walking so lightly, I feel like puking, gross, I know.
This is the cause of drinking too much last night. I should have stop drinking too much beer. The hangover clearly stands out too, sheesh! The teachers will definitely spot it straightaway and blackmail me for sure.
Calm down.

You own your life they are not to control it.
You do as you please they are not to rule it.
So go ahead lift your head, before all your positive determination fade.

I close my eyes and sigh, opening both of them I say, "Well, if Deyn is about to fuck their heads, then be it,"

"Welcome to Edge Hill University, Ms. Hollins, we anticipated your arrival since we've all heard about you from your uncle," Mrs. Ashton said, "It's rare to have a new face in autumn, but still...refreshing," I nodded lazily at her statement. This is just one slight courtesy you will have in your first day at university, and then the day onwards, they won't go easy on you.
Teachers are all the same-acting mighty and politely nauseating.
And I know what she meant by refreshing-who knows my very look might get caught in her radar, thought that I'm sort of rebellious kind-hm.

Despite that, my new school seems okay.
Not at all freaky all-brick structure like I imagine it would (except the front building-I can't help it. All schools and universities in UK seem to be that way). And not at all super boring and old-fashioned like I thought it should. As I had seen on its website, the main road to main building though, did resemble St Helen's Road in Ormskirk, and the original Main Building and landscaped gardens combine with state-of-the-art teaching and learning facilities, which shows a unique place to study-I quote.
As I got in the Hall, I winced. It reminds me of ancient stories from those stupid romance Novels. Even the front yard is actually cool, yet this much I can't take.

The business department seems sharp and modern, but I had no interest attending that kind of profession. I'd attend either "performing arts" department, English or history or...Social and Psychological Sciences will do.
Ignoring the teacher's blab, I could hear the deceptively normal sound of people voices, laugh and chatter. The students here are surprisingly active. It's a normal upfront, until you see what they're capable with once they're out this building.
But as the teacher said, my appearance seems to not being expected. Because I also notice-besides the fact that the students here are all super flashy-boys and girls, freshman and sophomore they all have one thing in common; their eyes all linger with obvious curiosity on me.

"You go and walk around with that weird hairstyle that's why," Megan says, "You look completely masculine, that makes them all wondering whether to consider you as a male or female,"

Megan is my best friend since middle school. I know almost everything about her and same goes the otherwise.
Like what she mentioned about me, I absolutely looked like a dude.
My hair is blond. I have a strong jaw and tall figure. But in contrary of Megan, my skin is pale while hers is olive-tanned.
And my hair is extremely short. I had these annoying freckles on my nose up to my cheek bones.
I wished I had big boobies, not a flat one.
In short, I am a total minus as a girl.
I rested my hand on the partition inside my locker, my brows made a deep frown as I grunted, "Man, I feel like throwing up,"

Megan takes a step backwards and wrinkled her nose, "Figures. You have obvious hangover, there,"
Because I lived alone, no one really cares if I drunk. Last night, because of absolute frustration I drink and choked smokes-because I still could recall the last day in USA, when I found out not once my father had visited Mom's grave, because there has grown coarse grasses and dry flowers that I've put it there almost two years ago.
Neil said never once he's allowed to go visit Mom's grave, even just to clean it every once a month. Not even allowed us to visit our Mom's grave, what a despicable hag.
"I need some caffeine," I wail, made pitiful stare while holding on my grumbling stomach, "And I'm starving too,"

I admit my dressing style is quite unique.
I said UNIQUE, not weird.
"And they haven't yet seen me in my leather pants, with gold-colored boots," I grumble, feeling ill at ease due to the stares that's been laid on me. Not in the hall, not in classes even in cafeteria as well-what the hell is wrong with these fellas keep gawking at me, it's not like I have a pointy head or snakes curling around my neck. And I haven't gone too far as to bald my head, yet-not in this short period of time, though I have planned on doing it since last month.
"I actually admire your leather pants," Megan says, giggling.
I rolled my eyes at what she's said, "Sure you do," I said sarcastically.

The cafeteria seems cool.
Not like one from high school which looks pretty much like a pig pen, this one looks glorious as if in family restaurant. But for the menu order, still you have to wait and stand quietly in line.
"I want cappelini lunch packet D, frosted Burberry and pure foie grass with mushroom sauce," Megan says, "And mineral water, please,"
The kitchen lady smiles at Megan, "You look stunning as usual, beau femme,"
Megan blushes, "Thank you, Mrs. Urrielle,"
I give her a look.
The usual Megan would say "Of course I do" because she has a major attitude problem-you know narcissist, yeah that.

"What do you want to eat, Deyn?" Megan perked up, clinging half her weight on my shoulder as I grimace, "I would have consommé soup and a cup of espresso, please,"
The kitchen lady frowns, and thus, so do I, "You didn't have espresso?" I asked, astonished, "Then what about café au lait?"

"We don't serve those kinds of drinks," The lady said, clueless.
I gawked at her and cleared my throat, "Tastes different from its look," I complimented, "Fine, instant coffee will do-I just need some caffeine,"

"Why would you want coffee so bad? It's not good for your brain, you know,"
I turn to glare at this little perky girl lining before me, her eyes were big, and somehow she reminds me of those annoying Barbies with light brown eyes and long curly light brown hair, "WHY would you care, kidd?" I manage to smile through my gritted teeth.

"I would have earl gray tea, Mrs. Urrielle with honey," She ignored me.
"Tch, what the hell is that?!" I mumble, offended.

"Here you go, little miss,"
My mouth drops, "HOW COME you don't have coffee then?!"
"Like I said, Blond Gorilla too much caffeine will destroy your brain cells," She, the annoying Barbie, smirks, "Now, please excuse me,"

My lips twitches, I just really wanted to scold her-just once.
I don't even know her, how dare she talks to me like that?!

"Oh, have a good meal, princess SHORTIE!!" I shouted just for everyone to hear. The shortie turns around and smiles, "You too, Blond Gorilla!"
I give her a finger while she pokes out her tongue.
"Crazy kid," I ran my fingers through my hair, and turn back at the kitchen lady, "Seriously, Mrs. Urine, you really don't have any?"

Megan dodges my arm, and I'm like "Shut up!"
"First of all, my name is not urine, it's URRIELLE and I don't have any of your orders, so please move out from the line, the others are waiting,"

I raised my brows and thought-how rude.
"Yeah, so where would I find it, exactly?" I step out of the line and walk while dragging my feet lazily, "Don't tell me we only can have it out of this building, down the hill,"

"There is an instant coffee, you don't have to worry," Megan assures.
My eyes lit up, "Where?"

"At convenient market-only we have to walk a bit...it's near the dorm"
"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME EARLIER!!"
***
"So right after this, you uncle will bring you to the edge hill's west library?" Megan asks, with her mouth full of dry shrimp.
I nod.
"I never heard of that before,"

"Of course you didn't-you aren't the type of person who'd casually lay your fingers on books without a grim," I retort.

We walk along the corridor, talking about stuff.
"Have you been to Squires lately?" Megan asks.
I shook my head, "How would I? I just returned last night,"

Squires is one of famous nightclubs in Lancashire. Megan and I used to hang out there a lot.
"Then we should celebrate your arrival! I will invite some people too-let us have a welcome party!"
Yes. Megan really likes to party while I'm not.

"Do as you please,"
I saw girls crowding in front of my class. I frown.
I approach the spot and peek at what they're fussing about. Megan comes behind me, curious as well.
I glanced at her and whisper, "What are they bitching about?"
Her eyes widen, "Bitch?" and then she laughs, "Now that's your new vocab, huh?"
She tiptoes to have a better look and gasps, "What?" I ask.

"You must see him, you must see him!" Megan gushes in excitement.
I frown, "Who?"

"A hottie, hunkie," She winks at me and motions me to have a look as she pushes the crowding girls aside.

There sitting a guy, one with droopy eyes. His hair is the same color as mine, and our eyes are the same color of blue.
But in this proximity I could tell, something's wrong with him-lack of lustrous.
Talking with someone through the phone, his jaded shoulders as he smiles...look tired.
And somehow, I feel rather sad watching him.
Because I know that expression, a feeling of being chained, and all I can say is...
"He's not a hunk, he's a CUTIE!"

Author's note;

I made this story in such a hurry, for you who wants to read If Only Chapter Twenty Seven wait until Friday-because I had a deadline schedule on Wednesday.
And thanks for reading my new story-though I won't post it regularly because I still have "If Only" to work on, but I really, really want to publish this story soon-with even more miserable grammar-so yeah.

Thanks a bunch *smooch

"Pour me a coffee pot, or tequila shot-touch those dots and make me feel hot!"
**Deyn Hollins.