I guess I'll continue for now, thank you for reading. As a result the story has been renamed.
Animus
"It's all in the mind."
― George Harrison
Hanji was in my face this morning. She was always in my face.
"Oh wow you look like you just woke up from four days and three nights of wild sex."
I wish. I would take that over two weeks of insomnia any day. I've been feeling like shit every morning, and because of that work has been insufferable.
When did it start? Last week after that train ride, yeah, I swear it was that day. Every night since my mind would turn numb as fuck whenever I tried to fall asleep. I think at most I'd get around 2 hours from knocking out in my office. I was rightfully qualified to diagnose myself, but I'd need someone from the psychiatry department to prescribe the meds I needed, and if I did people were going to machine gun me with questions. I'd rather not add migraines to the list of symptoms.
"Hey, so drinks tonight or what?" Hanji reached over to poke me, but she knew better to when I shot her a dirty.
I was going to turn her down, but then I thought maybe getting hammered would get me to sleep, even if it was on a stranger's bed.
"Was that a no, or a yes, or a maybe, or an 'I'm going to be too busy jacking off to criminal masterminds'?"
"Ah."
"Ah to drinking right, not jacking off?"
"YES."
"See, that wasn't so hard!" she flashed a smile and left my office with a triumphant strut. Sometimes I wonder why I bother with Hanji. We had history, dating from freshman year, and not that kind of history (God no). I was roommates with Erwin back then, and I somehow naturally integrated into his miniscule group of friends, and just happened to be the backbone of the group. She was a born prick. She had this bad habit of barging into our rooms, be it studying for finals or walking in while our pants were halfway up, she couldn't give two fucks.
Hanji eventually went on to become a scientist. She was good at what she does, I'll give her that, but mention even one word about her work and that mouth won't shut the fuck up until Sunday. But she knew better than to start with me, or Erwin and Mike. Mostly it was her graduate students that suffered.
Thinking about that strange woman gave me headaches. My eyelids were feeling heavy again, I was going to knock out right here right now, and then wake up two hours later still feeling like I had a Bentley chained to my neck. Maybe I should just suck up my pride and just get those meds.
There was a knock on my door.
"Professor, do you have time?"
I knew that voice all too well. I had no energy to deal with him right now so I kept my mouth shut.
"Professor, are you there?"
No I'm not fucking here. Now go away.
I heard his mumbling behind the door, "He's probably in the bathroom. I'll wait here until he comes back."
For Christ's sake.
I stormed to the door and yanked it open, loud enough so that it was obvious I was not happy to see him. "Just get inside Jaeger."
He doesn't notice. He never does. He was the most stupidly passionate student I've ever taken up, sometimes I wondered if he even had a life outside of forensics.
He waltzed inside like my office was his personal therapy room. Behind him was Mikasa Ackerman, a prodigy was the best word to describe her, but she lacked the ambition Eren Jaeger had. Aside from brains she was quite the looker, but she and Eren were the most possessive lovebirds I had ever seen. I heard she was a junior kick-boxing champion back in the day. I also heard she threw a classmate across the room for flirting with her boyfriend. Now that was something.
If Eren just...transferred a little of his borderline-compulsive ambition to her it would all be perfect, and I wouldn't have to deal with the 30 emails I got from this little fucker Every. Single. Day.
But then I know these two were destined for great futures. And then I know these two will have a good life together. I see them all the time, cooing each other on the staircase, the lawn, the library, hell even at the car park, and it's really fucking gross, but I envy them. They've got their lives planned out, they know what they want and who they want, but what did I have? Everything a third world child wanted, but then it all seemed pointless.
"Professor?"
I snapped out of it, the two of them were staring at me.
"Sit," I said.
I was very right about sex and alcohol working.
She was taller than what I usually went with, blonde and curvaceous. I even let her spike my drink. She wasn't very tactful about it. Her apartment was decent, but to be honest I was too fucked up to notice. I took her rough, rougher than I normally would, and she was screaming so loud I had to tell her to shut it. But that was how desperate I was to pass out, and with my dopamine levels through the roof, I didn't give my mind the chance to numb. It was my way of telling it to calm the fuck down and it did. A few rounds was enough for the fatigue to sink in, and that night I slept like the dead.
But I also dreamed.
...
...
I'm in my office, alone. It's quiet and lacklustre without them. There were times when I found them noisy, and times when they could be frustrating, but those times were now gone and I would rather hear the bickering of their voices than be here. Alone.
You're alone again, this has happened before. But then it's worse because they were taken away, and then it's worse because I was fond of them. I would never admit it, but everyone knows, Erwin knows, Hanji knows, Eren knows, even the others know.
I am alone and it feels strange. There is a clawing sense of despair I can't brush away, but I show nothing. I'm incapable of crying, even though I am crying inside. I'm incapable of yelling, even though I'm screaming inside. I've accepted it, but at the same time I haven't.
I hear footsteps, and I go to lock the door. And it's humiliating, because I know exactly what I'm doing. I was hiding. I was a coward. And then I turn around and see the empty mug on my desk.
Petra.
I'm sorry.
...
...
I woke up in cold sweat.
What was that? A nightmare? A memory? I don't even remember anymore, but there was a dull pain in my chest. It stayed for a while, but once I realised the shower was running and that I was still in the apartment of my one night stand, I forgot about it and started changing.
It was the first fulfilling sleep I had in two weeks. I never thought this would be the method to solving my problems. Sex to me was like taking a piss. It was a temporary urge, done and gone. It was raw, it was fun, it was a past time, and I couldn't care less about the person I was doing it with. Call me a dickhead but I spoke the truth.
I left her apartment. A neighbor saw me on the way; I didn't bother looking at him. While waiting for the elevator, I was relishing the familiar throbbing of a hangover. It was worse than usual. I supposed that shouldn't surprise me, I had no idea what I was spiked with last night. Desperate measures had their consequences I guess.
When the doors opened, there was already someone inside. It was a woman, dressed like a church girl...why did it seem like I'd seen her before?
She smiled at me, "Nice day."
"Ah."
We stood in silence as the elevator descended. In the mirror beside me I could see her sandy blonde hair and gold eyes, a plain face in my opinion. Hm. I didn't think much of her. I was saying that but at the same time her face kept forcing its way into my thoughts. Although she had the good-girl appearance, what's the bet she had a sharp tongue when she needed to be, and what's the bet she was physically tougher than she looked? But, what did I care? I was paying way too much attention to her. It was making me feel uncomfortable...weird...and it was like something I felt not too long ago.
Train station.
That's right, I did have this strange, longing sensation back then. I might have seen something as well, but I couldn't remember. Amnesia? I don't know but suddenly her presence was driving me nuts. It was like my mind was rattling on iron bars and begging for me to set it free.
"You," I blurted out. I couldn't help myself. She looked my way. "Have we met?"
She looked curious, and I don't know what to make of it. "I'm sorry, I don't think so. I've only been in the country for two weeks."
"I see." Maybe I was over-thinking, mistaking her for another woman.
And then I want to say something more; nothing comes out. Normally I thought superstition was just bullshit made up for idiots to believe, but I really felt as if some unknown douche-bag force had shoved his hand in my mouth and was whispering in my ear "No dude, she's off limits."
For some reason it made me angry. It made me frustrated. She wasn't even my fucking type. I stopped conversation there. The doors opened, and I power walked away. I didn't give myself time to ask for her name, and that was a good thing because why would I want to know it? I could do better.
And I don't know if I was just hearing things, but I could have sworn I heard her call out my name.