~Months Later~
Mikasa usually only spoke when necessary. She usually spoke when someone prompted her to or when Eren was about to do something rash. When she was with Eren and Armin they were usually the ones babbling away while she quietly absorbed their words.
And so, one afternoon as they'd swung on the swings at the park, her out of the blue statement had both he and Armin blinking at her in bafflement.
"I don't remember his name." She was still on her swing, her small black shoes digging into the sand beneath them. "An uncle, I think."
"An uncle?" Armin asked gently, on the swing between them, a book clutched to his lap.
Her expression was one of deep concentration, and if Eren hadn't felt so panicked he would have thought it was funny.
"I don't remember his name but I…I think I do have an uncle." She explained hesitantly.
Eren felt his chest tighten. "You have family?"
"Hm," She nodded and suddenly there was a brightness in her eyes, a brightness he rarely saw. "Mama told me he'd always protect me. But he always looked really mean. I didn't like him."
Eren watched her. Good.
"Why did you just remember him now?" Armin's question bothered Eren immensely.
Mikasa pulled up her scarf—his scarf—and mumbled into it. "I smelled smoke. Someone was smoking and then I…remembered that he smelled like that, too, whenever I got close to him. Like smoke and mint."
Armin's brow furrowed. "Do you think he's looking for you?" Armin tucked his corn colored hair behind his ear. "You should tell—"
Eren hopped off his swing with a huff. "She doesn't have to." He looked at them both sternly. "She said she didn't like him, right?"
Mikasa nodded.
"Then there." He grabbed Armin's sleeve, then Mikasa's, tugging them off their swings a little roughly. "Let's go."
"But Eren," Armin sounded a little breathless, struggling to hold onto his large book and trudge through the sand. "If he was supposed to protect her that means he's supposed to—"
"She doesn't need him to protect her." Eren tucked his chin into his jacket, giving Mikasa a sideways glance. "You've got me, right?" He ignored the heat blooming across his cheeks, pretended it was the bite of the icy rain beginning to pepper about them, darkening the tops of the buildings, the cracked streets.
Her eyes widened—then softened, her mouth and nose hidden behind her scarf. "Yes." Her small hand gripped his more tightly. "I have you."
He'd promised to protect her.
He'd never know how impossible keeping that promise would be.
It had taken a while for Mikasa to become truly comfortable with Eren's family. They treated her just like she was their daughter and she had just begun to feel secure when her entire world was flipped upside down.
She'd been sent to the store just around the corner to buy milk, Armin accompanying her on her way back home, when she'd accidentally slammed into a very tall man. He shoved her away hard enough to make her hit the wall, the gallon striking the sidewalk and exploding.
"Mikasa!" Armin grabbed her arm, steadying her.
She stared at the spilled milk numbly, seeing it splattered across her shoes, saw it mix with the rainwater as it dribbled down—
"What the fuck, kid?"
She looked up and felt her lungs constrict.
He pushed a breath of smoke out of his lips, glaring at her, tucking a small package into his pocket quickly, suspiciously. He had light blue eyes—the same eyes she'd seen the night her parents had been murdered. He'd been the driver of the van and she'd only seen him briefly but his face had been etched into the backs of her lids nonetheless.
Blue eyes as pale as ice.
All he had done was drive them all to the cabin.
And then he'd left.
And it had always been in the back of her mind, something she pushed away with all of the fierceness and fear she felt but she remembered now, the words that sometimes plagued her at night.
There was still one that was alive.
He cocked his head, and he looked much older, the bones in his face slightly disfigured, his right eye a little cloudy, but she remembered him all too well. "You look familiar."
No, no, no.
"Do I know you? Dad or mom buy some pills from me or something?" He hunched, peering at her face, blowing smoke into her eyes, making them sting.
She shut them, shaking her head, backing away, Armin pressed against her back.
"You can't talk? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Another puff of smoke struck her and she stepped away with shaky legs. "Get the fuck outta here, stupid kids."
She stumbled, almost crashed into a telephone pole as she bolted away, yanking Armin along with her, tripping and refusing to fall until she got away, could almost feel him running behind them, could feel his breath brush the back of her neck—
She slammed into someone, a small strangled cry ripping from her throat as they fell onto her, knocking her to the ground. She kicked and punched as hard as she could, her voice gone, panic blinding her until she heard him speak.
"Mikasa—Mikasa, ouch! Stop!"
She released the grip she had on his hair and finally looked at him.
"Mikasa stop hitting Eren!" Armin yelled.
Eren?
"What happened?" Eren struggled onto his knees, rubbing his red cheek. "Why were you running—and why did you start hitting me?"
He stood then held out his hand to help her up. She still felt a little shaky, still felt like a string had wrapped tight about her throat and when she took his hand and let him pull her up she slammed herself into him, wrapping her small arms around his neck.
"Mikasa?" He was still, not quite holding her, not quite pushing her away. "Mikasa—why do you smell like smoke?" He grabbed her small shoulders and pushed her away, tried to look at her face. "Did something happen?"
She only shuddered and shook her head, trying to breathe. He found me, he found me, I walked right into him. It was just pure chance that he didn't recognize me, chance, luck, the way that I was saved by you.
Eren looked to Armin.
Armin shook his head. "Just…a scary thug."
But they both knew that wasn't it at all. Mikasa was as tough as nails, had gotten into fights with boys and girls twice her size, thugs were a regular sight about their neighborhood…and their gazes reflected their questions but they spoke none.
"Come on," Eren sighed, pulling her forward. He understood as he rarely did, that while she was tougher then he cared to admit there were moments where even she needed to be comforted, even if she wouldn't explain why.
She clung to his hand tightly as he took them back home.
"What is it Mikasa?"
She was trembling fitfully at his bedroom doorway, her pale white gown twisted, her hair bunched haphazardly about the scarf wrapped over her neck and face. "I…had a bad dream."
This wasn't an uncommon thing, Eren thought, and he wasn't surprised since she'd been a little more than shaky since they'd gotten home. He threw the blanket back. "Come on. Hurry its cold."
She nodded, shakily climbing onto his bed, curling into herself. He rolled his eyes, shifted to face the window, presenting his back to her. "You can hug me."
Her cold fingers crept around his small ribs, and she burrowed against him, pushing her toes beneath his legs. He pulled the blanket up and shut his eyes, tried to pretend he didn't feel the heat of her tears soaking through his shirt.
"You want to tell me your dream?" He asked sleepily.
She shook her head, sniffling, rubbing her nose against his shoulder. "Is…dad not here yet?"
Eren yawned, stretching. "No…he's been staying at work pretty late, huh?"
She nodded. "I…don't feel good."
He frowned, shifting, rolling over to face her. He peered at her face, tugging her scarf down. "What do you mean? Like a tummy ache?"
"No." She was still crying, silvery drops dripping off her lashes, her nose. "I mean—"
There was the sound of a scream—his mother's scream—and then he heard a gunshot tear through air, too loud, too close, their bodies vibrating.
Mikasa gasped, gripping his shirt in her fists, shoving him off the bed.
"T-that's a gun. Mikasa, that…" Eren gasped.
They both scrambled to their feet, pressing their backs against the wall as footsteps thundered down the hall towards his bedroom door.
"Move." Mikasa locked the door, ran towards the window. "Eren!" She pushed it open. "Run!"
"But my mom—"
"The other window!" She yanked on his shirt, shoving him out onto the roof, quickly snapping the window shut behind them.
They heard another gun shot and they crawled away from the window as quickly as they could, slowly making their way to the attic. They crawled in, the rain making their limbs slippery, their movements clumsy.
Eren collapsed onto his back, trying to catch his breath, his wet hair clinging to his cheeks and temples. He watched Mikasa crawl away, shoving a heavy box over the small attic door.
"Mikasa—don't! We need to find my mom."
She shook her head fiercely, her back pressed against the cardboard, soaking it. "Eren…" He'd seen her terrified before, had seen her in the midst of her nightmares, had seen her earlier when she'd slammed into him—but compared to the sheer numb horror on her features they were all nothing, nothing to the fright gripping her at that moment. "…they found me."
Armin curled up on his couch, his brow furrowed, the phone pressed to his ear tightly. He kept looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was awake, to make sure no one would see what he was doing.
The phone finally picked up.
His voice was gruff, thick with sleep. "Hello?"
"Hannes?" Armin croaked, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry for bothering you at..." He glanced at the clock and flinched. "At this time but—"
"Armin?" He heard Hannes grunt and heave himself up. "What's wrong?"
"I know you only told me to call you when it was an emergency but—" But I just have this horrible feeling and I don't like the way that thug looked at Mikasa because almost nothing scares her but he did and he mentioned something about her looking familiar and I can't help but think this may tie in with the death of her mom and dad and maybe this is ridiculous but if there is even the slightest chance that my gut is right –"I was wondering if maybe you can go check on Eren and Mikasa?"
Silence.
"Why do you want me to check on them? They're probably asleep and their parents are—"
"Please." Armin begged now, shutting his eyes. "I just think something…is wrong." And the last time I ignored my gut Mikasa's parents were killed and she was kidnapped.
Hannes sighed. "Yeah. Alright. Go to bed."
Armin smiled shakily. "Thank you, Hannes. I will."
"Yeah."
He hung up quietly, curling onto his side, knew he'd be awake for hours.
Eren had never really thought of himself as an ignorant boy. But as he watched his mother slowly bleed to death in front of him and the men drag Mikasa away by her hair he only knew that he really didn't know half of the ugliness this world was capable of.
"You stupid little fucking bitch!" He watched the blonde man backhand Mikasa, hard enough to slam her onto the kitchen floor. He had claw marks on his face, saw blood on Mikasa's fingertips. "Just like your fucking mother—you scratch just like cats. Do you know how much trouble you've caused me?" He bent, grabbing her arm and yanking her up. "I'm not letting you escape this time." He grabbed her thumb. "I should break your damn fingers for this shit."
"Claude!" The man holding Eren rasped. "What the hell do I do with him?"
Claude snarled when Mikasa tried to kick him. "Tie him up. We have plenty of men who'd like a pretty little boy like him."
A gun fired, the sound sharp, the bullet tearing into the thug holding Eren, killing him instantly. The man dropped Eren, crumpling to the ground, and Claude let Mikasa slip through his hands, fumbling for his own gun.
"Shit," Claude threw himself on the ground, searching for where the shot had come from.
"Eren! The door!"
They turned to see Hannes outside the window, his gun drawn. Eren scrambled up, ran towards his mother's bleeding body. "Mom, get up." He tried to lift her, couldn't. "Mikasa, help me!"
She was shaking so hard it looked as if she'd fall apart but she grabbed his mother's arm nonetheless, tugging with him.
Another shot fired—this time from Claude's gun, and it grazed Eren's shoulder, sending him flying against the wall.
"Eren!" Hannes shouted again. "Jump out the window!"
Eren felt tears blind him, the pain hot and wet, tearing through his left shoulder. "We need to get mom out first."
Another shot and this one almost hit Mikasa, but she only threw herself down over Carla's bleeding body, gripping her fitfully.
"Please, get up." Mikasa whispered.
Carla reached up, touching Mikasa's hair gently. "Mikasa…" Blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. "Take Eren. Get him out of here."
Mikasa's face crumpled. "No."
"Mom, get up!" Eren crawled over to her, yanking on her wrist. "We need to go."
Another shot and this one broke through the glass window over their heads, sending glittering shards down over them, slicing at their skin.
"Leave, Eren!" His mother's voice gained strength, "Leave now!"
"No!" He tugged harder. "If you can't move I'll carry you. Like I did Armin. But I'm not leaving—"
Hannes suddenly reached through the window, grabbing the both of them and throwing them out into the bushes.
"No!" Eren screamed, struggling against Hannes hold. "My mom."
"Go to my car!" Hannes shoved them both away. "I'll get your mom out."
Eren shook his head, his shoulder still burning. "Not until—"
More gunshots flew through the window, and Hannes cursed, dragging them farther away. "How many of them are there?" He growled.
"F-five. Four since you…killed one." Mikasa looked on the verge of retching.
Hannes lifted them both up bodily, reaching the street, using his police car as a shield. "I only brought one gun." He shoved them into the backseat. "I only have three bullets left."
"I don't care!" Eren screamed, kicking and punching at Hannes. "My mom is dying!"
Hannes grabbed Eren's collar, throwing him farther into the backseat, slamming the door shut and locking them in. He was about to say something when they heard a shout.
"Hey, pig." They all looked towards the shattered window, saw Claude holding up Carla, a gun to her temple. "Let the girl go or I'll blow her fucking skull in."
No.
"Hannes…." Carla called out, her face bone pale, her eyes hard. "Take the children."
"Mom!"
"Carla, I…" Hannes voice strangled.
"Go!" She screamed and suddenly she reached up, grabbing Claude's gun, struggling. "Go, Hannes!"
"Carla!" Hannes was breathing rapidly, shaking. But there was only one of him and four of them and by the time he called back up it would be too late and the children…
"Fuck. Fuck." He slid into the driver's seat, jerking the car engine to life.
"Hannes! My mom!" Eren banged against the window uselessly, hitting until the skin split over his knuckles, watching as Claude put the tip of the gun back to his mom's temple.
No, no, no.
Hannes slammed the car forward just as Claude pulled the trigger.
This was her fault. They'd been after her, if she hadn't existed, if she had let them take her the first time, this wouldn't have happened. Eren would be happy with his family and with Armin and his other friends and she'd be dead or worse but they'd taken her in and now Carla was dead.
How could you leave her? Why didn't you save her? You're a cop—it's what you were supposed to do.
She sat numbly, Eren's screams distant, the moon leeching everything of color as Hannes parked in the parking lot of the police station, his head bent forward, his forehead touching the steering wheel.
"Forgive me, Eren." Hannes sounded sick to his bones. "I'm so sorry."
And this was all her fault but no one was blaming her.
And she wasn't crying, could only shake and breathe as best as she could.
It happened again. She touched the scarf about her neck. Why did it have to happen again?
"Where's Grisha?"
"He's still at the police station. He's…taking it very badly."
"What about Eren and Mikasa?"
"I'll take care of them. Their hospital bills, medicines…I'll pay for it all."
"Oh, Hannes." The nurse murmured sympathetically. "Don't blame yourself—"
"Don't." Hannes growled. "I had a chance to save her but I didn't and now she's..." A jagged breath. "Just…give me the bills. I'll take care of everything until Grisha can pull himself together."
And none of them knew it just then, but Grisha never quite managed to put himself back together again.
~Years Later~
This was stupid. He didn't even know why he was hiding with Jean of all people, in the janitor's closet.
"Get your ass off of me, Yeager." Jean hissed, shoving at him until his back hit a pile of brooms and mops.
"Fuck off, Jean. You were the one who shoved us in here in the first place." Eren straightened his jacket, glaring at Jean in a temper. "What the fuck are you trying to do? Make out with me?"
"Stop fantasizing." Jean ignored him, peered through the crack of the door and out into the hall between their classrooms. "It's Juro, again."
Eren scowled. Juro? "You mean that stupid football dude who got a full scholarship or something?"
"Yeah." Jean mumbled impatiently. "Now shut up. I can't hear them."
Them? "What the fuck are you talking about, Jean?" Eren tried to grab the door handle but Jean shoved at him again. "What are you afraid of him, or something? Let me the fuck out—"
"He's talking to Mikasa again." Jean snarled. "Haven't you noticed him? He's always hounding her and plus prom is coming up. I think he's going to ask her to go with him."
"Juro is asking Mikasa to…?" Eren felt himself go still, his lungs deflating. He'd seen the guy around a few times, had noticed the guy was unusually nice to him, making sure his gorillas didn't mess with him or Armin. Eren had always thought maybe he was just a nice guy but now that Jean had mentioned his interest in Mikasa…it made a sickening amount of sense.
He was trying to score points.
With Mikasa.
"Yeah, he is, the bastard." Jean muttered. "Juro." He scoffed. "What a stupid name. He has stupid hair, too."
Eren swallowed thickly. No, Juro didn't have stupid hair. In fact he wasn't a very stupid guy in general. He was reasonably intelligent, athletic, tall and muscular and he always smiled at everyone which was more than what Eren ever did. He was the most coveted damn boy in the school. "Yeah, whatever, I don't care." He bent down, pretending to tie the torn shoe laces on his converse as he inconspicuously pressed his ear against the door.
"I was just wondering if you were…if you had a date?"
"A date?"
Mikasa sounded as oblivious as always and he couldn't help but feel inexplicably pleased and frustrated. He'd always sort of liked that Mikasa never seemed to notice the boys who fawned over her—Jean was really the most persistent which was why they were fighting before Jean had shoved them into the closet—but he'd always dreaded the day when Mikasa wouldn't be oblivious anymore, the day a boy finally caught her attention. And the slightest of chances that it could be this day had Eren frozen stiff.
And he wasn't quite sure why this made him feel so shitty, but it did.
Because Juro was the type of guy every guy wanted to be like. Strong, charming, good looking and ripped, who was also annoyingly nice and popular.
"For prom."
"Oh."
Eren held his breath, wrapping his laces around his fingers tightly enough to cut off his flow of blood, shutting his eyes.
"I don't. But no thank you. I don't have…money for a dress. I'm working that day, anyway."
Eren let out his breath, felt the blood pound in his skull harshly. She doesn't have money for a dress? She'd bought a tux for him just last week, even shoes, and he'd been embarrassed but he'd assumed she'd bought herself a dress too, hadn't thought about how much his suit might have cost, that she'd probably been unable to buy them both something to wear. But of course she'd choose him over herself, wouldn't even think twice.
"I can give you money for a dress, Mikasa." Juro offered generously, his voice kind. "I know that it must be hard for you, going to school and working a job to support you and your brother. I know your dad isn't around much—"
"That's family business." Mikasa cut off sharply. "Thank you, Juro. I need to get going now. I'm sorry."
He heard her walking away and before he could even pull air into his aching lungs Jean had him pushed up against the wall, his face enraged.
"You're a fucking asshole, Eren." Jean shook him. "How long are you going to mooch off of Mikasa? You don't think it's enough that she shows up to school with dark circles under her eyes, her hands red and scrubbed raw, that she defends you from any stupid little fight you get your dumb ass into—but now you're taking prom away from her, too?"
Eren felt the truth of his words hit him square in the chest, his eyes stinging as he struggled against him. "I didn't know she hadn't bought herself a dress!" He head-butted Jean hard enough to snap his head back, landing on his heels as Jean dropped him. "It's none of your fucking business, anyway."
Jean held his nose, tried to breathe through his mouth. "Of course not. You never fucking notice all she does for you. You just take it like the spoiled little fucking brat you are. You just let her shoulder the responsibility of everything just like your useless father—"
Eren cracked his fist across Jean's jaw, sending him flying into the shelves of cleaning products, bottles and paper towels scattering. "Don't you mention my fucking dad."
He moved to the door but Jean lashed out, grabbing his ankles and yanking. Eren fell onto his stomach, and then Jean was on him, and they were punching and kicking and beating the shit out of each other.
Eren straddled Jean, trying to get him to release his grip on his hair—
When the door flew open.
Connie and Sasha stood there, a foam cup in each of their hands.
"You guys need a rabies shot, or something." Connie sipped his lime green slushy. "Or maybe some lube and condoms."
Sasha nodded, sipping on her blue slushy, pulling out her cell phone, snapping a picture of them quickly. "Blackmail." She popped the straw out of her mouth with a sly grin. "Your lover's tryst has been recorded. I demand half your lunches for the rest of the year."
Jean threw Eren off of him, scrambling towards her. "Sasha don't you fucking dare—!"
Sasha screeched, pulling Connie with her as she ran down the hall, her silky brown pony tail bobbing madly. "Bye!" They spun through the front entrance, the doors slamming against the wall.
"Fucking shit." Jean cursed, breathlessly hunching forward, his hands on his knees.
Eren sat up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. "This is your fucking fault." He stood, his knees a little weak. "For sticking your long ass face in our business."
Jean grimaced at him. "You don't fucking deserve her, Yeager." Jean looked away, and it made Eren's stomach hurt, but the look in them told Eren that whatever Jean felt for her was much, much deeper than a stupid crush. "And if it's for her sake I'll keep sticking my nose in your business no matter how much your pansy ass tries to push me out of it."
Eren huffed, shoving Jean out of his way as he walked down the hall. "Fuck off, Jean."
"You better make sure she goes to prom, jack ass." Jean called out. "Even if you have to go to prom with your own sister."
Eren slammed the front doors open violently, pulling his hood over his head as he walked after Mikasa
"The garbage, Ackerman."
Her boss called out, and Mikasa nodded grimly, worn down to the bone. She shut off the sink, drying her stinging hands on her red apron before heading out to collect the garbage bags and hefting them over her shoulder. She stepped out the back door, making her way down the alleyway in search of the dumpster.
She'd just about reached it when she spotted a short thug leaning against the wall casually, a hood thrown over his dark hair, his blue eyes narrow and murky as he looked at her. He finished lighting a cigarette, pulling in a drag, tossing the match onto the damp pavement.
"Hey," He called.
She kept walking, lifting the rubber lids, dumping the bags into the bin. She'd seen him around her workplace for a few weeks now, lingering, his eyes following her discreetly.
"Bye."
He gave a very deep, dark chuckle. "I fucking remember when you were small enough to be carried with one arm." He breathed out a thick gray cloud, the scent acidic, minty. Familiar. "What the fuck did they feed you to get you to grow so much?"
Mikasa turned around a little too sharply, her brow furrowed. She eyed the tattoos peeking from the collar of his shirt, from the ends of his sleeves, the scars clawed white over his large knuckles, that small twitch in his face that seemed universal in all drug users. He was probably having a bad trip, because he'd never gotten close enough for her to see all these details, never spoken to her until now. Most of the rift raft around here knew not to screw with her but he was new, and so perhaps it was his turn to learn.
"Leave or I'll call the cops."
She heard him exhale again, a slight whistle rasping along with the smoke. "Cops?" He smiled at her mockingly. "They're fucking useless. They couldn't protect your mother." His words made her heart pound viciously, and she felt confusion cloud her judgment as she stepped forward. "They barely protected you, didn't they?" He shrugged, crossing a scuffed boot across his ankle casually. "Doesn't matter." He flicked his cigarette, sending bright orange embers fluttering to the ground. His hooded blue eyes gave her a very, very hard look, a chill of warning tickling the back of her neck and hands. "I'm not taking any chances this time…Mikasa." He huffed a little, smoke clouding his expression. "It's still a shitty name. Never figured out why your mother named you that shit."
Mikasa.
"You…knew my mother?" It could explain why she felt so breathless, why he looked so familiar, a memory teasing the edges of her thoughts, her pulse pounding in her palms. Not an unpleasant memory, just an uncomfortable one.
"You could say that." He threw the cigarette to the ground. "Listen, brat...you're not safe here." He crushed it with his boot. "I need to get you the fuck out of here." He gestured to the chain link face behind the dumpster. "And I need you to not throw a fucking tantrum about it."
She stepped away, shaking off her stupidity. She was listening to a drugged up guy on a bad trip mumble nonsense, in a dark alleyway, alone. "Leave. I'm calling the cops." She brushed by him—felt his hand grab her wrist, spinning her backwards, swiftly pinning her against the wall.
She snarled, slamming her heel up towards his nose but he blocked it easily, twisting her body so that she landed hard on her knees, her wrists pinned against the wall as he hunched over her.
"There we go," He murmured, a dark amusement curling into his voice, his face inches from hers. "Just the height I remember you at."
She slid her knees outwards, taking his legs out from under him, slamming him onto his back.
"Fucking shit." She heard him mumble and before he could stand she was on him, her small dagger at his throat. He went still. "Good girl," He murmured. "You're tougher than you look."
"I could kill you." She murmured quietly. "It would be self-defense. The cops wouldn't bat an eye at it."
He arched a thin brow. "I bet. Just like you killed those thugs when they took you, right?" He watched the shift in her expression with immense satisfaction. "How many murders can a girl get away with before they throw her in an asylum, I wonder?"
She pressed the dagger in deeper, breaking his skin. "How do you know so much about me?"
The amusement left him, like water down a drain, leaving only a hollow, anguished look in his eyes. "I promised your mother I would protect her." His eyes traced her features. "She fucking made me promise to protect you when you were born. Like if she fucking knew this shit would happen." He shifted beneath her but went still when she pushed the blade deeper. "Claude is sniffing out your scent, Mikasa."
Claude?
His eyes narrowed, oblivious to the numb horror that pushed the air from her lungs. "I'm not taking any chances." He repeated.
She couldn't quite catch her breath. "How did…how did he find me?"
"Mikasa?"
She looked up at the sound of Eren's voice, found him at the mouth of the alley, staring at the both of them sprawled on the ground incredulously.
"Eren?"
"Mikasa…" He stepped closer, still a far ways away. "What are you doing?"
She blinked rapidly—felt the thug push her up, lift her to her feet just as he got to his, his arms wrapped around her loosely.
"Put the blade away." He whispered into her ear, pretending to adjust the tie at the back of her apron. "You don't want to get him involved in this. Not unless you want it to get ugly."
Her body felt stiff, her hands damp as she discreetly slid the knife into her back pocket. "Leave." She bit out quietly, her nails biting into his wrists as she pushed his hands away from her body.
He smirked. "I'll be back, Mikasa." He walked over to the fence. "I'll give you a few days to get ready."
He scaled up the fence lightly, easily leaping over, landing on his boots gracefully. He gave her one last dark look over his shoulder. "I'm Levi, by the way." He straddled a large black motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. "I'm also your god father." He revved it up. "Lucky you." He left, leaving her shaky confused.
With the life Eren had lived, not much could really surprise him. Yet when he'd found Mikasa straddling another man in a dark alley he'd almost felt like throwing up.
He'd also felt like an idiot.
He'd watched them for a few seconds silently, his disbelief paralyzing him, thoughts and questions racing through him.
What the hell was going on? Why was she on top him? And was she touching his neck? What the hell were they whispering to each other—and since when did Mikasa look and willingly touch any guy but him?
"Mikasa?" He stepped forward, seeing her eyes dart up in complete surprise.
"Eren?"
He stumbled forward clumsily. Who the fuck is that guy? What the fuck are you two doing? He felt like shouting it at her, demanding answers, but his voice came out much too thinly. "Mikasa…what are you doing?"
She didn't respond, only looked at him blankly, and as she opened her mouth he saw the guy underneath her lift her up, putting her on her feet, his hands touching her lightly, adjusting her clothing, murmuring something to her, his arms around her. It spoke of intimacy.
And it made his tongue thick with rage.
The guy walked away from her, looking like one of those badly presented hard asses in action movies, scaling the fence like he was a fucking cat. He gave Mikasa this weird look, a look that made Eren want to claw the jerk's stoner eyes out. He called out something Eren didn't catch, telling Mikasa something that made her rock back on her heels.
Eren finally connected his brain back to his body, making his feet move forward just as the guy revved his huge stupid motorcycle and disappeared.
"Mikasa?" Eren grabbed her elbows, forcing her eyes to tear away from where the man had been, forcing her to look at him instead. "Mikasa what the hell was that?"
She was shutting herself off quickly, trying to retreat behind her usual cool composure. "That was—he was just—a customer."
Mikasa was a horrible liar—and where before Eren had found that fact almost endearing, it now made him want to almost strangle her. It made him want to believe those words desperately.
But she was looking away uncomfortably, her pretty dark eyes looking at anywhere but him, her hand tucking her scarf up over her small mouth and nose and Eren knew, knew her more than he knew himself, more than anything.
"What the hell did he buy?" He shook her a little, feeling rattled. "Or maybe I should ask what the hell you were selling?"
She stiffened—and he cursed himself. "No, wait, Mikasa—I didn't mean that."
She inhaled shakily. "He's just an old friend." She kept her eyes shut.
And she was still lying.
But he felt guilty enough to let it slip. For now. "Have you taken your lunch?"
She swallowed. "No."
"Good." He grabbed her hand, tugging her out the alleyway, hoped she couldn't feel the way he was shaking. "Let's go eat."
If he didn't puke before they even got there, anyway.
It wasn't that Eren didn't know Mikasa was pretty, he mused, stabbing a french-fry with a fork as he sat across the small table. He knew it more than anyone. He lived with her, for god's sake, had seen her in just a t shirt, had seen her get out of the shower in just a towel, her skin damp and dewy. He'd seen her so tired she'd passed out on the kitchen table with her mouth wide open, had seen her smile even when she was so tired she could barely think, had seen her face swollen from sleep and tears—and he knew how beautiful she was because he'd seen all those moments, had carefully folded them away in his memory, tried not to think of them, especially not in front of others.
Because he didn't know what she felt for him. Not exactly, anyway.
She loved him, he knew that, but how many times had she called him her family? And what the hell did that even mean? Could she ever look at him as a man and not just some stupid kid brother?
He didn't really know. Because he'd never seen Mikasa interested in any guys in school. He'd always rather hoped maybe it was because she felt something for him. Only him.
And it had been a day of awful surprises—first Juro, then that stupid stoner in the alley.
He'd felt a little insecure with Juro because the guy was perfect, with one of those jaws chiseled out of marble, the kind of build that took way too much effort but Mikasa had rejected him anyway—but what if Eren had been totally wrong?
What if she liked guys like that thug in the alley? What if she liked tattoos and smokers and Harley's and bad boys who looked like they hadn't ate in months and who could take her for rides on their bikes? What if that dangerous shit excited her?
He was so very normal, so ordinary, their afternoons spent watching TV curled up on the couch and arguing about what they should have for dinner, the riskiest things he ever did was get into a bunch of fights he almost always lost, sometimes put cinnamon in his oatmeal.
And if she did like those kind of guys—how the hell could he even begin to compare? He didn't stand a fucking chance.
"You're not eating." She slipped the straw between her lips, drinking her usual drink of peach raspberry iced tea.
He pushed the fork into his mouth stiffly. "You haven't ate much either." The food tasted bitter. "Maybe I want to lose some weight." Maybe you'll like me like that.
Mikasa looked at him with the slightest of frowns. "Why would you want to lose weight, Eren?"
"Dunno." He drank his soda. "I've been thinking about getting some tattoos, too." He chewed another fry. "Maybe buy some cigs."
Mikasa put her fork down with a clatter. "Where is all of this coming from, Eren?"
He scowled, throwing a french-fry onto her plate childishly. "I don't know, Mikasa." He caved. "Who the hell was that douche bag you were rolling around with in the alley?" He felt his chest burn along with his cheeks, didn't tear his eyes away from her, reading every subtle flicker of emotion.
Her throat worked, and she looked away, out the window beside them. "He's a regular at the restaurant. I was throwing the trash out and he was there and we started talking. That's all."
His lips pressed together thinly. "And then you two started rolling around with each other?"
She still wouldn't look at him. "It's…complicated."
He pushed his plate away. "I'm done. Let's just go home." And it was infuriating but he could feel the shakiness in his throat, felt like locking himself in his room and wallowing in his own misery.
"I can't."
He exploded to his feet. "Yeah, go ahead, run off with your druggie boyfriend."
He tugged on his jacket as he slipped outside, was about to walk off when Mikasa grabbed his arm, pulling it backwards.
"Eren—"
"Don't worry about it. It's none of my business, right?" He couldn't look at her, focused his gaze on the empty street, on the way the night crept over the buildings, shadows stretching thin. "You can mess around with whoever you want, Mikasa." The words felt like knives on his tongue, in his throat, and his wrist was still in her grip. "You go to school, work yourself to the bone to help support us because I can't find a damn job, you buy me a tux and don't even think about buying yourself a dress." He let his fingers hook between hers, gripping them tightly, still facing away from her. "I want you to have fun, too." His voice was just a rasp now. "It would be selfish for me to…to want you to not see any guys."
Her fingers tightened around his. "Eren…it's not like that…with him. Or anyone."
He looked back at her now, saw her other hand pulling up her scarf—his scarf—the lightest shade of pink tinting the tops of her cheeks.
Still, their fingers stayed linked.
He couldn't quite hear much over the thunderous sound of his heart, neither did he understand if she had understood what he'd been trying to say, and he didn't understand if she meant what he thought. If her blush meant that she was trying to tell him that there was a chance…
But he didn't want to get his hopes up.
But he could, however selfish it was, reassure himself. "You mean you aren't…going out with that guy?" He touched the back of his head self-consciously. "Or anyone else?"
The scarf hid her mouth but he could almost swear she was smiling. "No. I'm not. I don't want to."
Good.
"Alright." He pulled her forward, giving her a rare hug, pressing his mouth to her hair, inhaling deeply. "Let's go home, yeah? Make popcorn and watch some mystery documentaries or something."
They pulled away from one another. "Cartoons." She mumbled and he grinned at her.
"Fine. Cartoons."
"But Eren?"
"Yeah?"
She pulled open her sweater, showing him her apron, and he tried not to look at other things. "I need to go back to work. This was my lunch, remember?"
Crap. "Yeah, sorry." He checked his cellphone. "Want me to pick you up?"
She nodded. "Nine."
He frowned. It would be late but he figured he could manage. "Alright. I'll be there."
He only hoped he didn't screw this up like he screwed everything else up.
A/N-Did I just update one chapter right after the other? I did. My brain is fried.
Now, I'm not saying I don't like reviews. I do. Of course I do.
But I also like when there's just a little handful, too. Small enough that I can address each single one. So, here goes.
Guest-- "Not bad" you say? Good enough for me. If anything that sort of reminds me of Levi. Also, the fact that you wished me luck on updating all four of my stories makes me think maybe you've read my other works? Either way, thank you. Thank you for reviewing and encouraging me. I'm indecisive and insecure and I need reassurance constantly. I annoy even myself.
Scavirr-I like protective Eren, too. You know what else I like? Jealous Eren. It's petty and immature but I do. I hope you liked my update. I really do.
Ma-Ahhhh, thank you. I hope the 'more' you hoped for was...what you hoped for (I laughed at this for like five minutes, guys, my lameness knows no limits)
VitaminPiller--I had just updated when you wrote the review so I went back and put you in. Thank you for liking it because there are a billion reasons for you to hate it. This quick update...ah, I don't do this often. Trust me. I hope you like it enough for it to be worth the wait.
JanieZ--You wrote me a lengthy review! It makes me happy because the first chapter was iffy, I know, and I freely admit this. I knew it wouldn't lure in a large group at all but I sort of wrote this because I just needed to, you know? And it makes me inexplicably happy that you could like this because it felt like (it always feels like this but the feeling was sharper here and I can't quite explain why-perhaps because I'm using a lot of personal experiences) I bared part of my mind here and you didn't shun it at all. Specifically, the whole Levi having a romantic relationship with Mikasa's mother. I hadn't ever seen that anywhere else so I felt like it was just risky putting it out there (what if they don't like it, what if they hate it, what if it's really stupid and you just THINK it's a great idea) so you made me feel very happy when you approved of it. I loved your review. I felt like you completely spoiled me and sort of took my hand and pulled me forward and told me everything was okay. Again, thank you for helping me with the title. I expect you to message me on tumblr and tell me what you want to see in the next chapter (more jealous Eren? jealous Mikasa? maybe you want her prom dress to be a specific color or style? Anything) and I'll make it happen, as little as that is worth. Thank you. I adore you.
