We're not anyone. We are nobody.
We works in the thin space between day and night, future, past and present, and every second between each of them. We don't have any name other than those we've received when we got assigned here. Our identity is only a surface, and the real, big deal lies underneath. And if we do our job right, you won't ever suspect our existence.
I tended to say we were like ghosts. Unapproachable, invisible, something you won't see, can't touch, and whose presence is undetectable. Our families? Dead. All of it. We are the chosen ones, or rather, those who prefered a fake life to a deep, endless death. We don't have any root, any friends, we are perfect for this job. So, what are we supposed to do? That's pretty simple, actually. We, are a piece of the giant puzzle you are living in. We connect your lives, we disconnect it, and sometimes, we'll even have to end some of them. Sad, but, it's the job. We all accepted it.
At least, that's what I thought.
Tuesday, 14th of May
Day 0
You know, you don't have your word to say. You don't have the right to think anything about what you're doing - if it's right, if it's wrong, because 'if's will kill you. They will, I assure you. In this line of business, you shut your mouth and you keep going, because it will always be preferable than rotting in the black hole we call heaven. Bad news, folks, there is no heaven; nor is there any hell. The only hell is here, and now, and we're all lost in it. Me, you, the names on my files.
"And yet, Pixis told us we would have lighter days." I looked up at Jean, sprawled in his desk chair, more busy hoping for a better tomorrow than really making a difference. As always. "It's so boring."
"What is it, Kirschtein?" I asked, because I knew he was only waiting for me to start the fight, or, whatever you call this. I kept typing on the keyboard, eyes far from his, and thanked the circumstances to give me something I could pretend being distracted by. "Don't tell me they kept you on Earth to whine about your so-owned life."
I could feel him straightening in his chair, even without the horrible creak it did. No need to say he was furious, well, not quite - just annoyed, because I was the only one in here having the guts to say anything or, at least, I probably was the antagonist to his story. We were friends, though. A weird, twisted kind of friends.
"It's none of your business," he snapped, and I tried really hard to keep my eyes wandering over my screen, for the sake of both of us. I needed to stay calm, if I couldn't at least contain myself by opening my stupid mouth. The last I needed was to end up in Pixis' office, or in a worse scenarii, being expulsed from every single thing. The office. My own life. The living sphere.
"If so," I replied, "why do you keep telling us every fucking detail about your life?"
He wasted no time in answering back. "Hey, nobody forces you to listen, Jaeger."
"Are you serious? I'm sure the 107th level can your hear wh-"
Something fell, or at least, that's what I thought; because when I finally looked up, ready to meet Jean in front of my box office, I met Mikasa's gaze, and she was standing right in front of my desk, exactly where I expected Jean to be. But he was still deeply lost in his chair, and looking in the same direction as I did. On my desk, a new, heavy, fresh pile of files.
That's something I could have take the opportunity to whine on, in my turn, if Mikasa didn't stay longer than she should have.
"You two," she started, and I closed my eyes, preparing for another lesson. It surely wasn't the last one. "Are both incredibly stupid children." A second, and another, and another. When finally she spoke again, I dared to look up, and a strange mix of anger, disappointmend and boredom stared back at me. "Grow up."
Reiner's distant laugh arrived from the neighour box.
Jean was looking at her with dead eyes, but I knew him enough to know if was burning inside, probably hating me too, because each time he had been caught by Mikasa, I had been involved as well. Mikasa wasn't only the most protective living person about me, she was also the so-famous crush Jean was so poor at hiding. And this, was another good reason to kill me added to the "why killing Jaeger would be a wise, wise choice" list. I'd survive, though. Always did.
Mikasa turned and hesitated, and with a ghostly frown, she said to me, "they're coming right from above. They said they wanted it done for tomorrow night. I've got my own pile, Armin is outside and Shadis made sure everyone was busy enough for the rest of the week." Another pause, and surprisingly, she pivoted to look at Jean. "If you work on it together, you might be able to get some sleep tonight." Then, she disappeared.
A stranger would have been shameful, afraid, just anything. But actually, I knew Mikasa from my past life, and Armin had been my first, also probably only friend. These were purely forbidden, any links refering to my past life, or whatever I could have been back when my heart was a warm, beating thing, not a fake and useless organ left lifeless in my chest - but they were working for the Office as well. We weren't the only Office. I don't know how, or where, or who - but we're not alone. And fate led me to them once again; that's at least one thing I should be grateful of. For now.
So, yeah, I was pretty much used to this mom thingy. To these strict, caring dark eyes, and this prideful yet careless girl I had always considered like the sister I had never had. Jean, on the contrary, was still learning. He was still learning to face the evidence - that Mikasa wasn't interested, and that even if she was, it probably wouldn't be something she'd allow to be showed; he wasn't her type anyway - and to look at those same strict, dark eyes without blushing. I guess he liked to be dominated, but if someone out there wasn't dominated by Mikasa, then it wouldn't be normal.
"Congrats, Eren," sang another box near mine, and I identified the voice as Connie's. Reiner's laugh came back again, this time stronger and careless, free from Mikasa's departure. He was too much of a gentleman to act cocky, but he wasn't dead enough to hold back a laugh.
"Yeah, it has been a pleasure to work with you," continued Reiner. I knew he was smiling behind his screen.
I let out a deep, tired sigh and reached for the files Mikasa had left on my desk before leaving herself. Indeed, it was heavy, and I knew she was right about Jean. I would need him to get rid of this amount of work in time, otherwise, I was pretty sure my night would only be reduced to cheap, cold takeout I wouldn't even have time to touch, and two or three trips to the restroom I would probably waste trying to stay awake. If I was still alive - though alive wasn't the word - there was a reason. I was only here to work. Not a slave, but not far either. They paid me for this, but the real money was much more subtle than that. It was me, here, breathing the air my lungs didn't need anymore. Lazy guys were sent in the nothingness. That's what my contract was about.
"Alright, Kirscht-" I tried, sighing deeper again, because asking wasn't near as pleasant as I hoped it would be.
But he cut me off anyway. Moron. "You fucking idiot, I really do hope you're not going to ask what I think you're going to ask, because you know damn well what I'll say." He grabbed the edge of his desk and pushed himself away from it, his chair silently rolling on the floor. "Fuck. You."
Connie snorted but the sound quickly was drowned under the typing sounds, coming from the entire level. We were the 104th.
Most of us were young, unlucky children dead too soon. The rule to work here was to be legal, aside from having no family left. This detail only was enough to make me lonely, no matter how many friends I could make in this building, because God knows that's the only place I was allowed to do so.
Reiner was twenty-seven. Connie, twenty-one, as well as Sasha. Bertl died in a swimming pool, by heart attack, and they only found his body forty-eight hours after his death. He was only twenty-four.
I, am - was, whatever - twenty-two. I stopped counting a long, long time ago. It's not as if I would get any older anyway. I would keep those immature, uncompleted traits until the die I'd die, well, for the second time.
"Mikasa's right, though," Reiner said, and his serious, big brother voice was back. "If you don't help him, he won't be done for three days at least." I hated to admit it, but yes, it was the truth. Jean still had a few files on his desk, but among all of us, he was near to taking care of it. It wasn't my case.
"Jean, please," I insisted, and when I turned my head in his direction, I saw him frowning at me like I was some sort of crazy animal. Probably was.
"Are you kidding me?" he asked again, but none of us answered and I held his gaze. Then, he sighed, even louder than me, and once more time was he sprawled in his leather chair, ready to act like the savior my pride wouldn't allow me to admit he was. "Okay, okay. But one condition! Two, in fact."
I didn't say anything and waited for his next words, perfectly aware he'd take advantage of the situation. Reiner and Connie stopped typing and looked above their screens. "One, you will tell Mikasa you were the one starting this, and please, Jaeger, be convincing, even if God knows it's not something you're good at."
Connie snorted again.
I prepared myself to snap something back, but thankfully, nothing came out of my mouth. It was exactly what he wanted. To annoy me; and get some satisfaction into revenge, I guess.
"Second," he went on, "you will be the one paying us lunch, and it has to be from Maria's."
At the exact same time his last words had been said, though, Sasha's moan joined the conversation, louder than any sigh.
"Guys, you are not serious. It's not even five in the afternoon."
"So what?" Connie asked, frowning.
"So," she replied, "you are freaking making me hungry."
I smiled and silently shook my head, because being dead wasn't something strong enough to cut her hunger. You could eat her soul she would still come back to life only to cry over her empty stomach. Sasha had a nostalgic, homesick taste, this dangerous kind of taste that took me back to the person I used to be and all those days I had wasted without even knowing. And suddenly, I felt empty.
"Deal," I confirmed, tired and lifeless, because memories weren't the best thing. They were supposed to remind me of my life, no matter how far and distant it was, but I couldn't feel more dead.
"Deal," Jean repeated, and he stood up.
"Where are you going?"
He went past my desk and clumsily took one of my files with him. I reached out and put my hand on it in extremis, right before it could fall on the floor and spread the pages of the present we were supposed to fix.
"Toilets. Want to join me?" he teased sarcastically, and I shook my head with exasperation. "That's what I thought. Stay here, Jaeger," he called out before disappearing in one of the many doors.
"You," laughed Reiner while gueninely trying to hold back a sincere laugh, "are going to enjoy your next two days."
Connie burst into laughter and I stared at the screen, where the report files were still waiting for me to fill them. My right hand wandered to my nape and massaged there, and damn, he was right. I was stuck with Kirschtein.
At first, we agreed to do it seperately. Faster, probably more efficient, but not quite.
That's why we finally decided to do it together, as unpleasant as it was. I still don't know how we came to this agreement, and who came up with the idea, but the fact is we were sitting on a filthy bench in the subway station, waiting for the right time to fix somebody's destiny.
"Sometimes, I wonder why I am working for the Office."
I looked away. "Thinking like that won't lead you nowhere."
"I guess," he thoughtfully replied. Then, he fell silent, but a minute later, tried again. "Say, Eren."
I turned my head in his direction and ended up surprised at how close we were, and how sincere his eyes were being. No sarcasm, no enmity, he was being completely human.
What an idiot.
"How long have you been working for the Office exactly?"
Somehow, I just looked at him and as the subway appeared in the station, decided not to answer.
First, because I didn't know exactly how many months, years I had been working here, doing the same thing over and over; filling files, opening doors to nowhere and everywhere at the same time, trying to repair the cracks in people's lives. Sometimes, I just couldn't. Arrived too late, or the circumstances just weren't right. It was a question of timing, 85%, and 15% luck and fortuity. Which is ironic, because we are fortuity. We are the dog craps people are walking on before whining about how bad their day started, we are the sidewalks they missed and tripped on. We are the bus they couldn't quite catch, the awkward, unpredictable timing in their lives. Coincidences. Silence. We are all of that. All of that.
But, secondly, I didn't really want to remember. Despite being an asshole, Jean was undeniably human, probably too much for his own sake. He had his own problems. I had mine. Though I tried really hard not to care anymore. But Jean did, he really did care, he cared way too much. About people. About things that shouldn't matter. About his friend, Marco, left on the living side of the lake, the one he couldn't quite touch, only look at from far away. About his own life he had been forced to abandon, even though it was the case for everyone in the Office. Somehow, he didn't deserve it. Counting the months, the years, couting every second I was spending being this ghost, could only lead me to the same direction.
Regret. Doubt. Sorrow. Every question left unanswered since the day I died.
Nothing really worth it, in the end.
"Okay," he just said, when he understood I wasn't just looking at the void, but trying really hard to ignore the question. I knew he wouldn't hate me for that - he had plenty other reasons anyway.
Another minute flew away. The station was almost empty, almost quiet, but not quite. There was something, this strange, weird feeling, like plenty of times when the night was dark and calm, and everyone tired of their own day, closing their eyes for just a minute, and silently hoping minutes would turn into hours, days, weeks.
A teenage girl walked down the stairs, and past us. Jean looked at her with no constraint, because people couldn't see us. They didn't pay attention enough, and even if they did, which would be, in itself, a miracle, I'm not sure they would really see us anyway. We weren't quite human, but we weren't dead bodies, or souls left in the void. We were breathing, eating, sleeping, walking - we just didn't need it as much as we did while we were alive.
Then a man followed, shortly after, and the first thing I noticed was his dark, clean suit and tie. He was holding a messenger bad and an old, small book in his other hand. I watched as he walked past us in his turn, and finally stopped near the track.
I gently elbowed Jean. "Hey. It's him."
"Are you sure?"
"Jean," I sighed, "we have been here for ten minutes at least. I've read this file twice."
"Alright, alright." He looked around. The girl had disappeared and there was only an old lady sitting in the bench next to us. She seemed tired. I wondered if I ever would have to fix her destiny, too.
Jean stood up and I did the same, dusting my own suit in the process. It was the Office dress code. Though I couldn't quite understand how wearing a nice suit would be anything near from useful in our work. People couldn't even see us. Every single thing was cleverly orchestrated. The flats we were living in were ours, but the Office paid for us. The Office, somehow, even being completely full of ghosts, was also strangely alive. That's the reason why I had a home to go back to at the end of the day. With water, warm water - a shower, a couch, a TV, even. Food and sheets; electricity. The neighbours never asked about the unoccupied flat on the third floor. They never asked any questions. They never complained about loud music. Because they simply didn't hear a thing. I was just a ghost.
Levi Ackerman. That was his name. The guy we were about to take care of. Thankfully, it wasn't a dark case - we weren't there to make sure he would die in the right circumstances, at the right time, just as he was supposed to. His files told us it wasn't his time, now. It was just routine.
He was fourty-one. Freshly. No kids, no wife, not rich, actually, he had just the money he needed to pay his bills and buy what he needed. The irony? He didn't seem more alive than us.
Jean and I approached the track too. He was still standing there, a few meters away, lifeless, staring at the void like a statue. No sound, no move. Kind of disturbing. But then, he turned his head in my direction, and I ended up looking at his eyes. Surprise almost gave me the impression to miss a heartbeat, but I wasn't foolish enough to hope it was still beating. I looked at the other side of the station, just as he did a second ago, and tried not to think of the weird sensation I was kind of missing; sharing an eye-contact with a stranger. It was a luxury I couldn't quite afford anymore. And I had to accept the fact that he was simply looking right through me, like you stare through a showcase without looking at your own reflection.
I probably would have been worried he might jump in front of the subway if I didn't know exactly what was about to happen. It was always like that. No surprise, just work. Sometimes, I really missed this unpredictable feeling in my life. Fortuity still happened for us, Jean, me, Connie, everyone. But no one was there to check our steps, and everything that would happen to us was due to our own will. We were deciding every single thing in our lives to happen, even walking on crap dogs or tripping on the sidewalk. Nobody was there to make it happen at our place, or making sure it wouldn't happen.
Nothing was written.
There were no files with our names written on it.
You know, I could still do that. Miss the sidewalk, or the bus. But it wouldn't feel quite real anymore, not now that I know the secrets of the work underneath all of it. It's like watching a magicman do his magic trick but knowing all the ropes, all the strings.
"So, what do we have?" Jean asked at my side. Ackerman couldn't hear us, but he was far enough not to hear a thing anyway.
"Somebody has to bump into him, make his book fall on the floor and walk on it. By accident, of course," he added with an amused smile, because sometimes watching people being tricked by fortuity was the only thing still untertaining us. Ackerman, though, wasn't quite lucky today. "He'll lose his keys while reaching out for his book. If we do our job right, tomorrow will be a bright day."
"Well, basically, nothing can be worst than that."
At least, he'd have to appreciate tomorrow. We needed bad days to have better days after all. Just as there is no darkness without light.
The subway arrived and we took a step back by reflex, then when everything stilled and the door opened in front of us, we entered the waggon. I checked around us, and Ackerman entered the same waggon by the door at our left. So far, so good.
He sat down on the right side, we sat down on the left side.
I opened the files one last time to check what was written in it. I lingered a few seconds on the picture pinned to the page, and looked up. No huge difference. The picture had been taken from his official papers, but it was strange to actually witness such a straight, emotionless face. Even Jean couldn't be this blank. He couldn't be much anyway.
"So, what now?"
He checked the other side of the waggon as the doors were shut.
"We wait."
And we did.
Ten, fifteen minutes - and finally, the guy we were waiting for entered the waggon. He seemed sleepy, at this late hour - almost nine - and pretty much hurry to get back home. For a second, I wondered what would happen to Ackerman if he, indeed, would lose his keys tonight. He could still ask for a duplicate to the owner, because sleeping in the corridor probably wasn't a wise idea.
Whatever.
"It's time," he whispered, but uselessly, because who would hear us anyway.
I straightened up in my seat, ready to make sure everything was going as planned, every single detail, every single thing written in his own destiny. It wasn't my job to judge if it was a good, or a bad thing, it just had to happen, in a way or another. That was my job.
The sad thing about it is that you can't really escape it. We'll always be here, waiting, watching, searching for occasions. If you manage to baffle death when you were supposed to die in a car accident, then you can still trip on a glistening floor and mortally hit your head.
What is meant to happen will happen, eventually.
"Look," Jean said, but once again, he could have went silent, because I already was watching.
The man freshly entered walked past Ackerman and just as we were about to do something, he tripped on Ackerman's feet and lost his balance, just enough to lurch but still not enough to fall on the ground. Ackerman's book, on the contrary, fell in a loud sound.
We watched closely as he bent down to get it back, and vaguely saw his keys fall from his pocket. How sad.
Good thing I wasn't able to interact with many people, because I really wanted to help him right now. The guy already seemed so annoyed and, tired and, whatever. We were just adding to his misfortune, though it wasn't our choice.
Ackerman sat back and dusted his book, silently cringing.
Jean and I went out of the subway at the next station.
As promised, we took our takeover to Maria's. It was Jean's favourite restaurant because we actually could go there, which was something pretty rare. As much as every single thing of the normal, everyday life, like buying food or paying the bills. Everything was planned by the Office is some kind of way, and we had our little world, too. Maria's was one of the rare restaurants where we would go, sit, buy or take food with us and have the opportunity to do that without forcing the future. Shopping in a normal shop usually ended up with me doing my things and leaving after making sure the exact price was left on the counter, where, maybe, the cashier would notice the bills if he looked up.
There were many, many things I couldn't quite understand about the laws between the worlds. Living, dead, between the two, it didn't really made sense. Not in the beginning, not now either.
But I know for sure that one particular law: we must not, in any case, personally intervene in other people's lives. Alive, of course.
"What about Mina."
"Are you being serious, right now?" Jean cringed.
"Well..." I didn't really went on, because I had lost my words and didn't quite know where I wanted to go anyway. I just looked at him and shrugged, thus he assumed it was a yes.
"Really?" he insisted for himself, thoughtfully dipping his chopsticks into his bowl of noodles. "Dude..."
"She's cute." I shrugged again. End of the day weren't the moment I was the most expressive and talkative and, well you feel me. "I think..." I added, frowning. I didn't actually know if Mina was cute because, I never really asked myself the question. Never really thought the answer mattered either.
"Not as much as -"
"Mikasa, right." I cut him off before he could say it. "But you know damn well she's into that."
"Into what?"
"That," I clumsily repeated, moving my hands in front of me like it would help. Idiot. "You know, this boy girl thing. Human interaction. Feelings. Romanticsm." I shrugged. Again. "Not her thing."
"Yeah, so," he replied sarcastically, and I could feel his irritation growing, "what do you say? Should I buy her food instead of flowers or what?"
"Jean, we're not talking about Sasha, okay. You won't gain anything with freaking food." I put down my fork. "And what's with her anyway? There's plenty of other chicks at the Office."
I would have liked to say it was only about Jean. But Jean wasn't always the issue in everything; actually, knowning he had the power to take Mikasa away from me was pretty scary. That's probably one of the reasons why I never said to her about Jean. Like, you know, Jean isn't that bad, maybe you should try to give him a chance. She wouldn't obey, and she wouldn't believe me in the first place because, who was I to say this bullshit when we couldn't even maintain a conversation without it going totally out of control? But, still. I didn't really fancy the idea of them flirting together. One day, maybe. We had eternity after all.
He sighed and lowered his head to eat some noodles. I watched, hopeful that maybe he would move his chopsticks and splash his face, but he didn't. How boring, really.
"What about you, Jaeger?"
I took back my fork, knowing it would be a good distraction, and started playing with the food in front of me. Not disgusting but, just, I wasn't hungry. And since we had decided to eat here instead of buying takeout to the Office, why not.
"What about what?"
"C'mon, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Do you not feel lonely sometimes? Nothing's as good as a woman's presence. The 104th has some good choices, why not give it a try?"
"The 104th," I tried, but failed to be convincing, "is our place of work. Jean."
"So what?" He shrugged, this time. "I don't care."
"Yeah, well, I do."
"Don't fucking tell me this, Jaeger, you know you can't interact with people outside the Office, so what? Are you going to stay alone and pathetic until the day you disappear who knows where?"
"I'm not going to disappear."
"Please let me hope a little at least," he shook his head. Man, this guy, I swear. "Just imagine, alright. I'm not saying you should date Mikasa, let's be clear, huh," he added, because it was fucking predictable. "But you know, why would say no to something fun."
"Something... fun?" I frowned, serious. "Jean, we're not here to have... fun. Fuck, we're closer to death than we are to life. Isn't that enough for you?"
"Eren, you're the one who's the most comfortable with this thing, and you're also the one most likely to deal with it and don't give a fuck. This is not only about work, and files, and timing. If you have enough time to eat - or rather, waste an entire plate, you can still make a fucking effort and find someone. 130 levels aren't that much after all. There must be someone in this freaking tower waiting for your dumb personnality to show up."
I snorted.
"Whatever."
"Are we going back to the Office after that?"
"Yeah, I've got work to do on the computer. Plus Armin told me he'd be there, so, I wouldn't be alone."
He hesitated. I knew he was coming home.
"Okay."
And silently, he kept eating.
"Don't you want to... be... like, alive, sometimes?"
Armin looked up at me with big, caring, heedful eyes. Ocean eyes. I always thought this wasn't a work for him, but he ended up being more mature and comfortable than I actually was. I admired Armin for many, many reasons, but it was definitely one of these.
"What did you two talk about?" he sighed with a smile, because there was no point in lying. Not to him.
"Hm," I took a second to choose my words. "Nothing much. Stuff... like, I don't know. Girls."
There wasn't much to say about it.
Armin closed the book he was trying to read and I gave up on finishing what I've been doing so far. It was almost midnight and the office was empty.
"No," he suddenly answered. "No I don't."
"Why?" I knew how to do my job. That's the only thing I had been doing for who knows how long, now. But Armin had the answers, he knew the secrets of everything, he knew how to let go and grow up, or simply accept something. "How can you?"
"Because," he calmly said. "I learned to accept the fact that I might not experience all that I wished I would experience when I was alive and a young, naive boy. I'm not going to fall for the same things twice. I have the opportunity to make things right this time, and I have a home to go back to, even if it's empty, that's all I've got. And I'm fine with it."
This night, I didn't say anything.
He was right.
Saturday, 1st of June
Day 18
They say lightning doesn't strike twice at the same place.
They are wrong.
I saw Ackerman again, this day.
Lost in his thoughts, sitting in the subway. I quietly wondered if he had found his keys.
Friday, 7th of June
Day 24
We were at the Office when this happened.
We were all somehow sitting in my desk area, all around Connie, Reiner and Jean, because the most action was mainly here after all. Sasha was eating, Connie was talking loud, Jean was trying to prove his point, Mikasa was just sort of being there, Armin was closely watching the debate of which Bertl chose not to take part, Annie looked at us from the neighbour box, deeply annoyed, and Ymir and Christa were sitting on the edge of Connie's desk, whispering things to each other's ear.
It was hot, really hot, it was only noon and the sun was too bright for our own sake. ACs weren't quite working and it was the kind of temperature where waving a magazine in front of you is useless. Even ghosts can sweat, after all.
The bag of chips Sasha had opened an hour ago was still smelling in the air, and making all of us more hungry than we should have been. A few of the 104th were missing, outside or who knows where, but we didn't really care because it was too hot to care about anything. Neither about money, aliens, nor about death, time, the difficulty of being a human being in this fucking world. Nothing. Really.
Reiner stood up, claiming he had too much work to just stay here and wait for the heat to kill him a second time, and Jean teased him, and his pride, so that maybe he would stay. They gently fought during a few minutes, Reiner still standing, when Hanneth entered the room with a cartoon box. Some fell quiet, some didn't, but I caught his tired eyes as he easily found a way through the desk he was searching for.
"What the fuck are you doing?" asked Ymir, turning around in his direction.
"Packing," he just said.
Hanneth was the caretaker, well, we considered him as this. He never had any reason to show up at our level. Not once.
"Hey," Annie appeared at the corner of the box, arms crossed on her chest, eyes serious. Annie didn't stand up for nothing. "Why are you packing Wagner's stuff?"
He looked at her for a second, just enough to convince her he had heard that, every single word, but also to convince her that the answer wasn't something she really wanted to hear. As cold and unsociable Annie seemed, she was human after all.
Behind me, half of the conversation had stopped since Hanneth opened the door. The other half was still going, loud and lively, but I wasn't paying any attention to this anymore. Not when Hanneth was opening the drawers of Thomas' desk, and sharply emptying every single one of them to put his stuff into the box.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Ymir said, but she wasn't amused a bit. Christa just watched at her sides, mouth shut. So did I.
"It's not," Hanneth just said again. And he kept packing.
That's the opportunity I chose to intervene, so I walked around the box, and when I finally stood in front of Thomas' desk, I smashed my hands on the surface, ending every conversation still going, and stopping Hanneth's moves at the same time.
"What do you want, Eren?" he asked, familiar, but annoyed too. Because he knew me well and he knew I wanted answers, which, obviously, he didn't want to give.
"Where is he?"
"Don't you have work?" He paused, frowned. "All of you?" Then he looked at the small group gathered around Reiner's desk and I thought for a second everyone would give up on insisting.
But Annie stood still, Ymir as well.
So I stayed.
"Where is he?" I repeated, and this time, Hanneth stilled, sighed, and looked at me with pitying eyes. I knew this look.
"He won't come back. That's all you need to know. Alright?"
None of us said a thing. We continued to watch Hanneth packing Thomas' stuff, and each of us were asking the same questions, silently. Why he? He was just a quiet, kind boy. He never picked up any fight. He never searched for troubles, he never had any at all. No enemy. No family. He was working just right. What the fuck had been wrong with him?
Hanneth left the room and I slowly turned away, only to meet Annie's serious gaze. She wasn't even blinking.
"What does that mean?"
She took a deep breath, like an adult about to teach something important to a dumb child. I was the dumb child.
"That means," she said, "that Thomas finally proved my point that luck isn't a regular thing."
"That sucks," Ymir added, and Christa slowly wrapped her tiny pale arms around Ymir's waste because, yes, it could have happen to any of us. We were able to understand. We all did.
That's probably the day I realized this eternity thing was entire bullshit. And while Armin was clever and more reasonable than I could ever hope to be, I also realized that I hadn't much time left to waste. Maybe I would be next.
And, strangely, I knew what Jean had meant the other day. Wasting one life not experiencing anything was more than enough. Thomas' definitive death was a reminder that wasting my second chance would be the fucking biggest mistake I could ever do, and Lord knows I had plenty of choices.
Saturday, 29th of June
Day 46
"This guy," Jean started after throwing a file on my desk, "is really fucking with us. It's the fourth time this month."
"Really?" I frowned.
Then I reached out and took the file, and I opened it with every bit of curiosity I was still able to stock in my tiny, tiny dead body. That's when I saw it. His picture. Again. Just when I thought I'd never see it again because, well, that's how things usually go.
I had forgotten his name already, but a quick look at the top of the file gave me all I needed to know - again.
"Yes, really," Jean blurted out. "He's a pain in the ass."
"Chill, you wouldn't get all this money without him." And I actually smiled, because I was right.
"Whatever. This time, he's yours. I'm done with him."
I stared at the files and waited a second. I didn't really want to take care of him, nor did I want to go outside, because filling files was just fine in the moment. It was still pretty hot outside, and here were the downs of wearing a suit, but I was pretty sure Ackerman would understand, right? Still, Jean had more work to do than I actually had, and if he had seen his face this much, this month, then maybe I could make an effort. Plus, I really owed him one. I guess.
"Alright, calm your tits."
I closed the file, and went back to what I was doing on the computer. I heard Jean crashing in his chair next to me and thought, how the hell can someone need us that much?
We were just there to make sure what was bound to happen, would happen, after all.
Sunday, 30th of June
Day 47
Working on Sundays shouldn't be allowed. But when you're dead, there isn't much you can do on a Sunday anyway, well, beside staying at home and watch TV and pretend you're still alive and still as useless and stupid and naive as you were. You're still that much useless, stupid and naive, but you're dead, so it doesn't really count, does it?
So, yeah. I went out of bed, showered, dressed, didn't bother eating anything and went out because I didn't want to be late. If we had another case named Ackerman because I couldn't do it in time, Jean would probably freak out. But he was right. No one was supposed to come back this much. Even the most clumsy ones, always bypassing what was supposed to happen. The worst.
But this time, it felt… different. He was there, sitting on a bench, but it wasn't in the subway station, and he wasn't wearing a suit. He just had loose black pants, probably as soft as I expected it to be, and a white blouse with only like, three, four buttons only. And all undone. He seemed to welcome the summer's heart, to embrace it, to accept every detail about this all. So I looked down at my files, re-read it all, and sighed. This guy really didn't have any luck, did he? He was there, reading his book, not asking anything to anyone. And I was about to fix something that had to be fixed. Apparently, he liked to be bumped into, and the guy who was supposed to bump into him two days ago found a way to bypass his own future, changing Ackerman's in the process. Every fucking thing is linked, you know. That's why I was about to make sure he tasted this freaking coffee.
I really was bad at enjoying this.
So I just watched him read, all alone on this bench, in the park, lost in the summer's heart and light wind, surounded by pale flowers everywhere in the trees. Maybe the guy wasn't lucky, but he seemed happier right now than the last time I had seen him. It wasn't for the work, it wasn't even intentionally, actually. I just appeared to cross his road as he crossed mine. That's how it works - pure. accident.
At least that's what I called this.
He turned the page of his book and I ran a hand in my hair. Damn, it was too hot to be alive. Well, you know what I mean. Dead or not, I was sweating like an animal.
"Watch your steps!" Someone blurted out near me, and I turned my head as the stranger flew away with his bicycle. And when I turned my head back around, I met his gaze. Ackerman's.
I felt surprise jolt through my veins and a little bit of manic before remembering he couldn't see a damn thing. Yet I didn't know why, I felt weirdly vulnerable. And he kept looking in my direction, for a few seconds again, motionless, like he somehow had forgotten how to breathe.
That's when I realized. Too late, maybe, but still.
The guy in a grey suit clumsily running with a Starbuck's coffee in his head was probably only trying not to be late, but ended up not seeing the bench and when he turned next to the plants, it took him by surprise. Ackerman as well.
But it wasn't just that. Actually, Ackerman could have avoid the incident if he only saw it coming. And considering the angle where he stood, he should have. Thing is, he was looking in my direction, which was getting him distracted from what really was happening. That's the big deal.
Believe me or not, I had just intervened in someone's life without even knowing it. And I realized how fucking big it is. It's not just about living human beings and us, taking care of the details they always miss, it's them, and it's us, together.
I heard Ackerman standing up from the bench and groaning something I couldn't quite understand, while the other guy was probably lost between pursuing his course or apologize a million times. Personally, I fled.
Monday, 1st of July
Day 48
"It's weird."
"What's weird?" Mikasa looked up at me behind her computer screen she had put on the table.
"This guy." I fell silent, thinking before speaking, for once. Because I didn't really understand it myself. "I think he – I think he saw me."
Mikasa smiled, but not the affectionate kind of smile, more like the "very funny" kind of smile. She didn't do this often, but I had to admit it was one good occasion. Who the fuck could see us, huh?
"Don't bullshit me, Eren."
"No!" I pressed. "I'm serious. Extra fucking serious."
I stood up and walked into the tiny kitchen. It was small and slightly filthy but, it was all I had and I was okay with that. Thanks Armin.
"I was… I mean. I was there because Jean asked me to take care of it and –"
"Oh, so now you're taking care of Jean's files," she sang sarcastically like every detail of this story was insane. Probably was.
"You forced him to help me." Mikasa stopped typing on her keyboard and I took the cue to keep going. "I was just supposed to make sure he'd receive the fucking coffee on the shirt. And he was here! The guy was here. Problem is—I distracted him."
"Who?" Mikasa was lost, but I was too.
"Ackerman! The guy I was watching after."
"Eren, you can't—"
"No, listen!" I forced her, because telling Armin wouldn't be a good idea, I needed to get this out of my system before receiving wise theories. In my mind, it couldn't be near as logical as I hoped it to be. "He was looking at me. The first time, with Jean, in the subway station, I thought he was just like, looking in my direction, but then he did it again and this time, I kept him distracted until the guy came out of the alley and—" I stopped. Where was I going, again?
Mikasa pushed her chair away and stood up in her turn. Then she walked to me and put her pale, warm hands on my face. She reminded me of my mother.
"Eren. It has been proven. It's one of the rules. They can't see us. We can't interact with them. Don't try to tell me you broke two of the rules and without even wanting to do so. Eren, it's not possible, do you hear me?"
I looked into her eyes and allowed myself to zone out for a second. Dark, deep black eyes I felt like I had always known. And with her hands pressed to my face, I almost recalled the sensation of being home.
"It is," I just whispered.
I didn't how, or why, or how again. I just knew it was possible, because it had just happened.
Wednesday, 3rd of July
Day 51
Surprisingly enough, it's raining. It's raining but it's still hot, somehow, and being outside with just a t-shirt seems appropriate. Summer never makes sense anyway.
Armin and Mikasa were aware of it. And, yes, I finally felt like Jean deserved to know, because after all, he knew this guy more than I did. It was weird, but it was the truth. And despite every adive I had been given, I decided to act dumb and see by myself. Because it was my chance to do something, to actually fill my evenings, when I was supposed to die on my sofa waiting for another sun to set. It was my chance not to waste the second life I had been offered.
That's why I followed him. Carefully, of course, because if indeed he was able to see me, the last thing I wanted was to interact with more people and end up appearing like a freak, stalker, well everything I really wasn't. Or was I?
Seven o'clock and it wasn't dark yet. Sun was still up, people were going home, so did he, in his suit, under his umbrella, walking alone. Technically, I was doing exactly the same. In my suit. Under my umbrella. Walking alone, but not quite.
A rebel breeze came from the other way and a few meters away from here, I watched as he struggled to get umbrella in place. Fucking wind. Even hot, it still managed to be a pain in the ass. I watched, yes, and when he finally gave up, letting the rain falling down on him, I felt a weird, unpleasant pain in my chest. It wasn't like planning someone's death for the second time, third for the clumsiest ones. It wasn't like making somebody's day worst than it could ever get. It was more like – fighting the urge to make somebody's day better.
Unfortunately, I wasn't here to fight it.
"Excuse me," I called, and he looked up, hair already wet from the rain. Black strands were cutting his forehead into pieces and clinging to his pale skin, and I realized as I approached I had never seen him that close. Maybe it was the joy to know I wasn't mad, to know he had seen me the two first times and that he had just looked up even though I was the only one in the street, but I felt dangerously brave. "Do you need this?"
He seemed to hesitate, and as he looked into my eyes, I never felt more alive than this. I was born again. In secret.
"No. It's yours."
"It's fine!" I insisted, because really, he needed it more than I did. I liked rain anyway.
"Please. Keep it."
I stilled, not sure if I should do something, but determined not to go. And maybe I was being too polite to actually stay polite, but I offered him the umbrella, and five seconds later, he gently accepted it, wrapping his fingers around the base.
A raindrop slipped on his face and I watched his wet eyelids. Then his eyes. He had beautiful eyes. Tired, and sad, but beautiful.
"Are you sure?"
I silently nodded and as the rain started falling down on me, I couldn't welcome it more than that.
"It's fine. I live here." I pointed at a random building behind him and he looked over his shoulder. Then he nodded, too.
"Okay. I—how could I give it back to you?"
"You can keep it."
"No, I insist."
He really did.
"Then, call this number when you won't need it anymore. But please, take your time." And just like that, I took one of my "business cards" out of my pocket, directing to the phone on my work desk.
He took it before it could be wet from the rain, examined it closely, and then looked up at me again. He seemed to take a mental decision, and I swear to god my heart couldn't have beaten this violent even if I was still alive. It almost hurt.
"Okay." A pause. His eyes met mine. "Bye, then."
And he turned away. But not quite.
Because he also stopped a few steps later, then looked over his shoulder again, searched for my gaze, and kept walking again. Then he stopped once more, and probably resisting the urge to look over his shoulder a third time, he moved forward and didn't look back.
Thursday, 4th of July
Day 52
"I guess you were lucky your intervention didn't change much."
I watched as Pixis straightened up in his leather chair, lacing his fingers in a thoughtful gesture. Pixis was okay, he was a good guy, I think. But overall, he was my boss, and my little game out there couldn't stay secret for an eternity. That's exactly why I had been called to his office and was, in this moment, sitting in the chair in front of his large, black desk. How all of this would end up wasn't worrying me a bit, because I knew somehow it wasn't enough to send me back where I was coming from – nowhere. However, I needed answers.
"Yes, Sir."
"Eren, do you understand the impact of what you did? It could have been worst, it's true, but you shouldn't be allowed to change a single thing in people's lives unless it is what you are supposed to do."
I didn't say anything. I really knew it had been a mistake, but I wasn't regretting anything. Because, how could this be wrong if I had the occasion to make his day a little brighter, a little more acceptable? All I had done so far was giving him reasons to hope for a better tomorrow, because every time I had to fix his future, it wasn't for the best. An umbrella – that's the only I had allowed myself to change. It couldn't be that much of a sin.
"Yes, Sir."
He stayed silent for a minute, just looking at me like it would give him the answers he, also, needed. And finally, I found the bravery to talk.
"Sir, can I ask you something?"
He frowned, surprised, but then he nodded.
"How is this possible that, he could see me? Us?"
"I don't know, Eren, I don't know." He paused, and I patiently waited for his next words. "But somehow what happened the other day was supposed to happen, and even if I have no idea why or how, you were essential to this detail. I suppose," he added, "that even those who control everyone's future are controled by it as well. This is bigger than us."
I nodded. I was like a pawn in the destiny's giant game, but no matter how small I was, I had my importance.
In the end, Pixis didn't have any answers to give me. He just knew what I knew, and we didn't share anything else. He only told me not to do this again, but then, hesitated, and said one particular thing I wasn't about to forget.
"Keep an eye on him, would you. This is the first time it has happened. Be careful."
I nodded again, politely smiled, and went out of his office.