An: The next few chapters will be better! (I hope!) I have to set up the characters and all that jazz. Also, Sasha and Mikasa will be written differently from the manga/show... I feel like there isn't a terrible amount of character development with these two, and also hey it's AU. It makes sense for them to be different since the circumstances are different. I will try to keep their main characteristics the same though... Please review and favorite if you liked it or want it to be continued.

I don't think anyone really ever enjoys high school, at least when it's happening. Time has a way of making the sharp edges of reality blurry and the warmest hues of happiness shine brighter than the cool colors of rejection or denial. We're all subject to this prejudice. I'm no different. Usually, it doesn't happen till a hard night where you can't sleep, or when your hair has been grey for years and you are no longer living but reminiscing. Personally, I haven't been having been sleeping too well.

We like to remember the best parts of anything, because we lived for them. We lived through the bad parts to get to them. That's all besides the point though. It doesn't matter if you're a jock, princess, nerd, goth, punk, stoner, or whatever label— you were forced to constantly do things you disliked in high school. You had to conform, even if that meant conforming to nonconformity. That's a large portion of life though. You have to keep marching to the beat of someone else's drum till you have the money to tell that guy to beat off somewhere else.

High school felt a lot like limbo to me. I was kind of just stuck in the mists of childhood and adulthood. Somewhere along the line, I realized the only difference between these stages was how close I was to death. I also learned that nearly no one knows what they're doing. Basically, every high school senior is navigating the seas of adulthood without a compass. The only thing they have to guide them is where they think they want to go. It's a shot in the dark. All the while, they have to just keep hoping that they're making the right choice. They have to pray that they won't wake at forty to hate themselves for it, or even worse dream about "what if". I'm twenty and still don't have my compass. I'm all guts and am filled with hesitation about choices. Little gas bubbles fizzle up and when they pop; I become anxious beyond belief. Hence the lack of sleep.

I went to college for a semester when I was eighteen. It wasn't for me. My father was... well the least I could say was disappointed. I came back home eight thousand dollars in debt with nothing more than a notebook and fifteen credits. Somehow, I ended up apprenticing at my best friend's uncle's shop though. Two years later, here I am, a real bonafided tattoo artist. I'm pretty good at it too. I don't make a substantial amount of money, but it's fun which not something a lot of people can say about their jobs. It's also creative, and everyday presents an adventure. Some people want the most crazy things on their body's. This one guy wanted a blue cow with a third eye meditating on a leaf on his back. It was the stupidest thing I have ever heard of, but it was literally one of the most fun things I have ever done. The clientele at the shop is pretty diverse too. We get all types and walks of life here. Punks, musicians, jocks, thugs, soldiers, valley girls, hippies, geeks, I mean everyone. I like that. It's good to experience the spice of life.

At night though, I can't help but I wonder if I really like it. I mean, is that what I really want out of my life, to doodle on people's skin? Is that any way to derive meaning from my life? One side of my brain says hell no, and the other says it thinks so but still is unsure, so it chooses to plead the fifth till the sun comes back up. I'm kind of just like sixty shades of grey. I can't decide if I want to be black or white, so I stick with the in-between.

I force myself to get out of my head. I pick up my clipboard, scanning my canvasses and times. My eyes linger over one name in particular. "Mi— Mikasa Ackerman. Wha?" I set down the clipboard and head to the big boss's room.

I walk in to see him with a client. He has that glazed look over his face, and his hand rhythmically moves over the man's skin. The chirping of the machine brings a smile to my face. No one inks better than Terry. He may as well be the best artist in the whole state. There's no one point in talking to him now. A fire wouldn't even dare to disturb him when he's in the zone like this. I'll just have to wait. My feet guide me back into my station. I spin and spin around in my chair, 'patiently' awaiting my next client, but thoughts of Mikasa plague my mind. Did she seek me out or is this all big some coincidence? It has to be her right? I mean how many Mikasa Ackerman's could there be? Man, my brain is all over the place today. Think of work, Sasha.

Not soon enough my client, a tall and tan man, walks through the door. "Sorry 'bout bein' late."

I smile politely. "It's okay. I have on record that you paid ahead of time, so lets get down to it." I press my hands into each other and start to rub them. "It also says that you wanted a loin's mane. Do you have references for me?"

"Yea." He puts his hand his pockets and pulls out his picture.

"Do you want it done realistically, new school, or any particular style like that?"

"Realistic." His voice booms.

"Awesome, I'll go sketch it out. Please take a seat. I'll be back in a second."

My hands take on a life of their own and do what's natural to them. Small slides of hand, semi circles, and vertical lines soon enough start to make the image of the lion. I finish up the sketch, ask him for his approval then start to tattoo. The whole process takes about four and half hours. Like, Terry, I kind of get into my own zone too when tattooing. My body knows what to do because of muscle memory and my brain just does it thing. I just keep drawing away till the ink makes the image I want. When I look down and it's something to be proud of.

I quickly dispose of my gloves. I let the man stand up look at his tattoo while I put away my machines.

"Ayyy, this is a-mazing'." He gives me a high five.

"Thanks! I'm glad you like it!" I reply sincerely.

In a few minutes he's done admiring his new piece. I grab the ointment and gently rub it on the red, puffy irradiated skin. I then apply the bandage on the area. Next is the after-care spiel. He nods his head diligently with a shit-eating grin on his face. He's not listening to a word I'm saying. Well at least he signed the release form... It's not my fault after this point if he gets an infection.

My legs lead me back to Mr. Big Boss Man's room. This time he sits at his stool sketching away.

"Hey Terry."

"Mhhhhmmh?" Terry isn't much of a talker.

"I wanted to know if you were the one to booked me for a 'Mikasa Ackerman'?" Terry nods his head slightly.

"Yep."

"Oh okay... Did she ask for me or something?" I can't help but feel a smile sprout on my face.

"Nope."

"Oh..." My smile disintegrates and my voice drops an octave. "okay."

"..." Terry's hand keep moving at the same pace even through his sigh.

"What else?" Terry asks without looking up.

"Oh, there's nothing else to tell or ask." I wrap my hands around my upper waist.

"Don't lie."

"Auuh." I start to laugh nervously. "I'm not?"

I'm really bad at knows this about me.

Terry stops moving and turns his head to the right to face me. His brows furrow as he makes eye contact with me. It's pretty intense. You see, one eye is green and the other is brown, so it feels like an angel or something is staring into your soul. It also doesn't help that the old man has bushy eyebrows that demand to be looked at.

"Don't." He says tersely. "Lie."

"She's just someone I went to school with..." I confess.

"And?"

"Aaaannd that's it?" I shrug my shoulders.

"No."

"No?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Don't omit things." Oh now we're up to three words sentences. His patience is running out.

"I don't know?" I feel myself blushing and grasp onto myself tighter. "She was just that super cool, smart, athletic kid, ya know? I always kind of wanted to be her friend. I was kind of hoping it was her and that she requested me..."

"Okay."

"Okay then?" I can't shake the feeling of surprise and have to force my that stupid deer-stuck-in-the-headlights look off my face.

"..." Terry just keeps sketching away.

"Alright." I step slowly out of the room.

I have three more clients for the day. The hot sun beats down on me through the window. The afternoon feels like it will last forever but it doesn't. It actually goes faster than I really wanted it to. A lot of my workdays have been like that lately. Before I know it, I'm home. I lay on my bed both nervous and excited about seeing Mikasa again. Will she remember me? What is she doing back in town? Will Eren and Armin be there too? Will they think less of me? I slam my face into the pillow.

"Urrrgrgh. This is so stupid."

"I love my job. I love my job. I love my job... I think I love my job?" I roll over. "Maybe I should have just keep going to college. I would have been almost done with it by now." I let an aggravated scream crawl out of my lips. That doesn't make me feel a whole lot better, but it least it made me feel a bit better.

Eventually, sleep calls my name four hours later at two A.M.