Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters or situations (or anything, really) do not belong to me. I've totally stolen the plot, though, so it's completely new, and what's mine is mine. Any use of the Levi's brand is not for profit, so it's basically free advertisement. Be happy.
AN: This is the edited version of a little thingy that's been slowly getting written. The original first chapter was around this length, but I used the first half, lengthened it and just used that. It's still very short though, sadly. The rest just didn't work with this section. Also, for those who've read Not So Bad After All, this won't be in that world. Similar scenes might work themselves in, though. No promises…. Ah…. one more thing. Don't expect regular updates. Just don't. Sorry, but my writing fluctuates like crazy. That being said, I appreciate reviews! They let me know what's good or bad, or what readers want to see. Regardless, here's the prologue.
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Eren's POV
The pitter patter of the rain becomes muted as the door to Levi's Jeans swings shut behind me. The tinkling of the bell above the door is the sole replacement, not even strands of music floating from the speakers in the ceiling. Sighing in relief at the protection from the fierce rain, I glance around the store. It's rather empty, and I'm only able to spot the cashier talking to a single client, though another customer might be hidden from view among the shelves neatly stuffed with denim. Then again, it's close to closing time, and most people probably time their purchases better.
What I need is simple in theory, but unfortunately it's not quite so easy in real life. My waist size is around 31 inches, which gives me a jeans size of 30. What sucks, though, is that my long legs tend to screw up jeans in that size. I need an inseam, or pant leg length of what's typically found one or two sizes larger instead- and so, after a few minutes of poking around the racks, I end up going to the cashier to avoid wasting too much time searching.
The other customer must have left a while ago, for the cashier is reading his book in calm silence. It was probably his decision to keep the music off- business doesn't seem to be doing well today, and I can already see a frown becoming more pronounced as my footsteps announce a customer in need of his help. I stop by the register, and wait. It takes a few moments, but the man sighs, places a bookmark in and closes the book. He has an air of suffering about him, as if he'd rather be anywhere else than here. I refuse to let that drive me away, and only let my eyes flicker over the tattoos peeking out from under his collar for a quick moment.
"Excuse me, sir, I'm looking for slim jeans in size 30, but I need an inseam of 32 or 33 inches. I checked the shelves, but found nothing." My accent, a mix of German and Japanese, causes the cashier to quirk an eyebrow, but he's tactful enough to not mention it- or he simply can't be bothered.
"I'll check the back, follow me," he replies curtly, then slides from his chair and moves around the counter. Taken aback slightly by how short he actually is, I obey. He doesn't seem to be enjoying himself very much, I'd say, but it's not really any of my business. He disappears behind a door marked 'Storeroom- Employees Only', and so I wait patiently, quietly humming a song I heard a little while ago. Luckily, it doesn't take long, and soon two folded jeans are practically thrown in my face when the door opens.
"Um, sir, I only need one-" I begin, but he cuts me off in a rough voice.
"I brought two. The top has an inseam of 32, the bottom has 33. I'd suggest going with the bottom, but try them both on just in case." That surprises me a bit, but I thank him as he directs me to the changing rooms. Slipping out of my boots and pants, I lay my raggedy jeans on the stool. I mourn them for a few moments, but it's not like I'm throwing them away. The problem is with the paint splatters- I've had to pick paint off them after washing them, and I've just decided to keep them as my painting jeans.
That man has good eyes. The bottom ones do indeed fit me better, and as I get dressed again I mull over getting a black pair as well. I've only got one pair aside from my painting jeans, and it's getting too light for my tastes. Mikasa insists on washing it more often than necessary, and it's showing. Heading out of the changing room, I find the cashier typing away on his phone, though he stows it away soon after I emerge. Putting the top jeans in his outstretched hand, I thank him, and ask for another pair of the bottom size, but in black. He nods, and I'm left to the silence again as he goes back to the storeroom. I wonder if the store is always so empty…? Usually there are enough customers to keep such personalized service from happening, unless there are helpers. With that, my thoughts wander off as I wait.
Once he appears again, we head back to the cash register, and I'm surprised at how late it's gotten. The store windows are still wet, but the clouds have mostly drifted off, giving a clear view to the darkening sky. As I sigh, relieved that at least my way home will be dry, the man rings up my purchases. His hands fly over the keys, and in moments my new jeans are in a plastic bag on the counter. I pay, and thank the man again, glancing at his name tag, where 'Levi' is written in spiky letters. I try to keep my amusement from showing, but some of it must have slipped through. He just looks at me, as if wanting to snap at me, but then nods in a not-unfriendly way.
As I head out the door, I hear a little buzzing sound, and the red lighting from the logo above the door shuts off. I check my watch, realizing it's 5 minutes past 6- in other words, 5 minutes past closing time. Turning my head back to the door even as I start walking, I meet the man's eyes through the glass. He stands next to the door, watching from that silent store. I wave. Again, he doesn't respond immediately, but his hand raises in a wave, if somewhat hesitantly. A smile makes its way across my face, and I nod, before turning away and walking slowly home.