CHAPTER 1
Author note: Hi! This is actually the first fanfiction I've ever written, and I'm interested to see how it goes. Eruri is my favourite ship from Shingeki no Kyojin, and I really wanted to write something for it. Any feedback, good or bad, would be highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!
Erwin awoke in his study, the morning sunshine filtering through the large windows which offered a spectacular view of the city of London, the skyscrapers reflecting the amber glow of the sunrise. He was bent over his desk, his face pressed against the cold, hard surface. It was not unusual for him to wake up under such circumstances; he had lost count of the number of times he had stayed up during the night to continue his writing, coffee being his motivator, only stopping to rest when he passed out from sheer exhaustion right where he sat.
Erwin glanced at the clock on the wall above him, curious about the time. It was only 7:14am. It was a couple of hours earlier than the time he normally got up at, but he had heard a loud bang from somewhere in his apartment that had caused him to wake.
He lifted his head to find that the sheets of paper before him, which he had been working on that night with fierce determination, had been his- unintentionally- improvised pillow, and had rough creases through them. With a groan, Erwin tried to smooth them away with his hand while mentally asking himself why he still wasn't using a laptop for his work. The truth was that he had always preferred to write with paper and a pen, although his editor had insisted it would be easier to type. So long as he was able to write the original manuscripts on paper, his laptop would remain abandoned somewhere in the mess of his study.
The door behind him creaked slightly, and he turned to find himself under the stern glare of his editor and close friend, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Named Hanji Zoë, she had worked as Erwin's editor for half a decade, and had quickly become someone he trusted above most others. Her presence in his penthouse apartment in the early hours of the morning was not unexpected; learning that he was more accustomed to sleeping at his desk than in his bed when busy working on a project, which had caused him to miss not one, but three important meetings in the past due to his exhaustion, Hanji had thoroughly insisted on receiving a key to his place so she could ensure he was awake before any events of importance. It also allowed her to pick up any new drafts for his novels as soon as they were finished, and ensure he was meeting his deadlines. Such concern was hardly needed; Erwin was never late in finishing his work.
"Erwin, for goodness sake," Hanji huffed, nudging her glasses back up her nose before marching through the untidy mountains of books and papers to reach where he sat. "You really need to pull yourself together. If you don't remember to look after yourself, I'll have to hire a carer to feed you, bathe you, and put you to bed. Last time I remembered, you were thirty-two, and not a toddler."
"If I recall correctly, you once went three days without sleeping or taking a shower," he yawned. "So I don't think you're the right person to lecture me about that."
Hanji shrugged, adjusting the collar on her black blazer. "The difference between you and I is that you write the novel and present it publicly, and I do the work in the background. I don't have to look good, but you know how the media are with you." She waved a hand in dismissal, and Erwin was close enough to notice how ragged her bitten nails looked.
He rubbed his eyes and managed a tiny smile, knowing full well what she meant. As one of the leading novelists in the United Kingdom, journalists and camera teams could swarm him like vermin at the most inconvenient moments.
"I assure you, sleeping for only a couple of hours has been worthwhile." Erwin ran a hand through his thick blonde hair, making it look even messier than it was already. "I finally finished the first draft of 'Surge of Hope' last night." It was his latest novel idea: another thriller, like the dozens of others he had published. He preferred to specialise in one genre, whereas some of the authors he had good relationships with had a variety of novels.
The editor's apparent anger vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by a wide grin that spread over her delighted face. Despite being paid to assist in his writings and correct the few mistakes he made, Hanji was an avid supporter of his writing, and her enthusiasm could often be unnerving.
"That's marvellous!" she cried, jumping up and down in a childish manner. "That gives me something to work on when you're at Halmarsh Prison today." Although it was good he had finished the first draft, Erwin knew that he would have several drafts before the writing was perfected and of a publishable quality. It was tough work, and he often felt like his brain was being fried in his skull, but it was necessary if he wanted to have further bestsellers.
Out of nowhere, Hanji cussed so loudly that she made Erwin jump in his chair.
"You're supposed to be there in an hour."
She forced him to his feet, gripping his underarm to usher him through the spacious rooms until they reached the ensuite bathroom of his master bedroom. The bed looked completely untouched, and he recalled that he hadn't slept in it since Monday night. It was now Friday morning.
Hanji's right. I should really rest more, he thought to himself as she shoved him into the bathroom.
"Well, crap, if we hadn't been talking for a good few minutes, you would have had longer to shower and get dressed." She tapped her watch. "As it is, you have approximately thirty minutes until you should be in the car."
"Only thirty minutes?" he asked, irritated at himself for not getting up earlier, and irritated at Hanji for not mentioning it as soon as she walked in the room. It was his own fault, of course; if not for the editor, it was likely he would have completely slept through the time he was expected to spend at the prison.
"Yes, now hurry up and shower! I'll see you downstairs in the garage," she said, slamming the door in his face. Erwin turned away to the shower with a resigned sigh.
As he waited for the shower to heat, Erwin glanced in the mirror at his reflection. He looked as exhausted as he felt, with purple shadows under his eyes. He could admit that his career choice wasn't as taxing as some others, but it still caused him a questionable amount of stress and drained his energy. For the thousandth time, he wondered if that was the reason why his ex-wife had left him three years ago. Had she felt neglected due to his writing? Was he unbearable because of his frequent weariness? The same questions always occupied his mind when he thought of her. He didn't expect he would ever get an answer since they had dropped all contact after the divorce, but he had accepted that a long time ago.
As Erwin stepped into the lift which was to descend twenty-two floors into the underground garage, he allowed himself to look down at the interview questions he had between his long, pale fingers. Months ago, when he had started to interview prisoners for another project of his, he had thought up twelve questions that would be asked to them. However, after seeing the variety of people he found himself sitting across from and questioning, it didn't take long for him to start adapting the questions to suit them as individuals. He had underestimated the diversity of crimes committed by the men and women he spoke with. It seemed inappropriate to ask a television thief the same questions as an arsonist.
Erwin was wearing a grey, cashmere coat over a white shirt, black waistcoat and black dress trousers, his blonde hair parted to the left in his usual fashion. When visiting the other prisons, Erwin hadn't felt the need to dress in such a formal manner, as the men, women and youths he had visited so far had not committed- in his personal opinion- severe crimes. At first, he had been nervous, but he had been careful to hide it under pretence of confidence and indifference. Sure enough, the inmates had taken him seriously, and he became more comfortable.
However, Halmarsh Prison would be different. As a Category A prison, it was notorious for holding some of England's darkest and most dangerous criminals. Rapists, drug dealers, murderers...Erwin had no idea how he had gotten permission to access the inmates there. He had written detailed and informative letters to the prison, and eventually he was given access to interview eight of the inmates there. He hadn't been willing to go at first, he didn't want anything to do with those who were without morality, but Hanji had insisted that if he was going to write a novel about real prisoners, he might as well talk to some interesting ones.
There's a big difference between being interesting, and being insane, he thought to himself, but he had reluctantly agreed to go there if it was a benefit to his work and his publishing company that Hanji worked for, named Sina Publishing, thought it was a good idea.
Although his novel's purpose was to show the humanity of prisoners and release the stigma that all offenders were like hideous, inhumane creatures, he knew that no matter how many questions he asked or how hard he pressed for information, some of them were and would always be fucked up. It was a fact he wasn't willing to deny.
Erwin looked past the sheet of interview questions to glance at the note about the man he was visiting that morning.
His name was Farlan Church; he was twenty nine years old; he was sentenced to life imprisonment for dealing heroin. Erwin raised an eyebrow and folded the sheets of paper into his pocket as the lift came to a halt and the door opened with a faint ding. He didn't expect the interview to be that bad if the man wasn't a serial killer. Maybe he would have some interesting experiences.
In the garage, Hanji was standing beside his black Bentley, with Dita Ness, his personal driver, sitting at the wheel ready to go. She wordlessly handed Erwin a notebook, a small recorder and a pack of pens as he approached them. He noticed that she also had manuscript for his newly-completed novel in her arms, ready to be analysed and corrected.
"I hope this inmate gives you some good information," she said. "Just remember: some of these people have been forced into situations we can't even begin to imagine. Learn from them, and don't make prejudgements."
He nodded in acknowledgement, stepping into the back of the car but lowering the window so he could say goodbye.
"Don't force yourself to work too hard on the manuscript this time. There's no need to rush," he said. Hanji smiled warmly at him.
"I'll come around this evening to go over the first couple of chapters-" she patted the paper in her arms-" and we can discuss your interview today. I'm excited to hear about this drug dealer." She paused, brushing dark tendrils of hair away from her face. "Have you even eaten anything this morning?"
Erwin chuckled and shook his head quickly, before raising the window to block out her frustrated scolding about how childish it was to not eat breakfast and how important it was to maintain a healthy lifestyle.
"Let's go, Ness," he gave the order, and watched through the dark window as Hanji stomped back into the lift and vanished behind the narrowing doors.
"Yes, Mr. Smith," his driver said, pulling out of the garage and heading onto the street that was still quiet with its inhabitants sleeping.
"As you can see, our prison has one of the best security systems in the country," the guard that was escorting Erwin said proudly as they walked along the path that bordered a small field, flanked by two high chain fences. Numerous prisoners were in the field; a couple were playing a game of football while others stood or sat around in clusters.
It was early afternoon, and the summer sun beat down on Erwin as he followed the guard. He had finished his interview with Farlan Church, and would have left the prison already if he had not been offered the opportunity of a small tour. And so he found himself walking around the prison grounds behind the protection of a fence, like he was a guard.
"Have you had any escapes?" he asked the guard, curious to know. He stopped and turned to look at Erwin, shaking his head.
"No, there have been no escapes. I'm telling you, our security is of the highest standard, Mr. Smith."
"What about attempted escapes?"
The guard smiled wryly. "I can't really answer that."
They continued their walk along the gravelled path, Erwin nodding and commenting phrases of polite interest as the guard pointed out several parts of the prison. However, his tour was not half as interesting to Erwin as the inmates in the field. Every so often, he would find himself glancing over at them, and seeing fixed pairs of eyes blinking back at him. Secretly, he was thankful he was being escorted.
He spotted Farlan Church's light brown hair from the centre of the grass, his back turned away from Erwin. Beside him sat a smaller man, who had his arms wrapped around his knees, his chin resting on top. It was difficult to tell due to the distance between them, and his facial features were impossible to see clearly, but it appeared as though he had turned his dark-haired head to stare at Erwin, like several of his peers.
A shrill bell rang out, and the prisoners stood from the grass or gathered up the football they had played with and trudged back towards the main entrance, followed by officers. Erwin watched as Farlan's companion turned around once more to look over his shoulder in his direction before he passed through the door.
"I would say it's probably time I take you back," the guard said, roaming ahead. Erwin nodded, and strode behind him. He wondered idly if he would be fortunate enough to meet the man beside Farlan in one of his interviews. If the two men were close to each other, Erwin thought it would be good to find out more about the friendships between inmates at Halmarsh. It was unlikely, but he would remain hopeful.
