I remember the night clearly when she had pitched the job to me. It had been a bad day; I had gotten into a fist fight with some sleazy co-worker of mine. By the time my boss had finished drilling me on the etiquette of the working environment, it had started raining. Like the depressing cliché, as I made my way through Rose to my apartment, a car had driven by and splattered me in mud and water. I remember yelling profanity briefly at the car because I was just that sort of person and my bad day was getting to me. The walk had seemed longer than it actually was, the streets had been lit with warm lighting and people were rushing to seek refuge in establishments. My stomach grumbled as I peered through the windows at the restaurants. The thing was I actually couldn't afford it so there was really no use in trying. I then thought back to how whenever Mikasa came she always insisted on taking me out to dinner. I always told her not to, simply because the thought of my situation and the harshness of it was an embarrassing notion in itself. I didn't mind letting my mind wander as I made my way down, turning a few corners here and there. I was most likely going to get a cold, I knew, and that if I didn't get it tomorrow I'd get it the day after. Then job-hunting would probably be delayed as I tried to get back on my feet.
Even as I arrived at my apartment and unlocked the door, I realized that I honestly wouldn't mind a sick day. It would give me time to think for myself and even if I did have a stuffy nose and I headache, I could still look through newspapers and see what positions were open. I was honestly surprised I hadn't run out of places to hire me. Then again, there were quite a few obscure journals in Rose. Most of the information there was mundane or hush-hush-you-don't-tell-anyone-and-we-leave-secre t-messages-as-we-publish sort of things. I, personally, had never gotten involved in the underground things that went about the three main districts. The columns I wrote never involved any underlying messages to some hit man or lone shark or whatever the underground crime handled. I was fine with that, truthfully. I may have been short on cash and struggling day-to-day, but I certainly wouldn't be caught doing crime. My morals were too high for that, I knew, and it was probably one of the main reasons Mikasa let me live in Rose.
The thing is Rose isn't bad. Everyone knew Maria was a bit more dangerous but Rose was somewhere in the middle. Even as I entered my apartment then and it was messy and full of dirty clothes on the floor, it was safe. It was safe and I always found a way to pay rent and I loved it. A nice girl named Christa lived next door with her girlfriend Ymir and Christa would bring me cakes or something on occasion. Ymir was a bit of a trickster but overall I liked the apartment complex. So as I entered and fell to the floor, I was happy because I always felt safe in my apartment and took refuge in it. Even if it smelled bad and was sort of dirty. It was still my haven. My happy little haven.
But I was feeling a bit down that night. I had lost another job. Finding jobs wasn't the problem; it was keeping them that was always a pain. As I laid on the floor, drenched and covered in mud, I felt terrible about myself. I don't always feel terrible about myself, but I really did that night. It was then that everything I had tried to accomplish and failed at came crashing down on me. My relationship with my dad was horrible, my mom was dead, and I was struggling for independence and failing miserably. I was twenty-five years old. Twenty-five, and not doing as well in life as I would have hoped. I eventually felt better at the thought of being able to find another job easily. With the resolution of finding another job tomorrow and keeping it for at least a week, I went to shower.
When Mikasa called, I had just finished eating a rather odd dinner. It was really just some Lucky Charms without milk; I had forgotten to go shopping and was left with little to nothing to eat. The strangest part was I still insisted on putting them in a cracked bowl and eating them with a spoon. At that point, I was fairly sure I was catching a fever or something. I then, unceremoniously, slept on the floor as I was used to. I was always too lazy to go to my bed or was usually up late reading something; travel journals, most of the time.
It was sometime after the wall phone rang—or at least—I assumed it to be sometime later than when I had fallen asleep in a rather disgraceful manner. Groggy and just barely clinging to consciousness, I stumbled to the kitchen in a sort of stupor that was pathetic, to say the least. I then outstretched my hand towards the phone, pulling it by the cord and sending it flying to the sink. I had sworn loudly, possibly in German or some odd mix of German-English that always seemed to slip my lips whenever I was at my worst. I then scrambled to grab the phone quickly, loud banging noises following afterwards. "Sorry about that," I had tried to say casually, already knowing the caller to be Mikasa because she always insisted on calling me every night. "What's up?" I ask with a grin before adding, "I lost my job—"
"I figured as much," she cut in coldly.
I flinched a bit because the way she had said it sent chills through me. That woman terrified me; she was ridiculously protective and always demanded to know what was going on with me. I loved her but I knew that even she needed to calm down, step back, and give me room to breathe.
"Yeah well," I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair. "Why'd you call?" I asked at last. She called almost every night but this time it felt so much more important. Mikasa's voice was naturally monotone, but after knowing her for so long, I knew how to pick out slivers of emotions within it. Her voice was serious right now, yet seemed to have an undertone of excitement that had sent me into a spin of confusion.
"I set up a job interview for you—"
"Mikasa, what the hell?!" I cut in this time, indignantly, too. She was always doing things for me, even when I insisted she shouldn't. I knew it was just me being stubborn but I was an adult and needed to find my own footing without her help. She was a successful lawyer and I knew she had more important things than helping me out.
"Listen, Eren," she had replied firmly. "I have connections to the boss of a popular journal in Sina. There was a position open and I submitted your résumé. You're approved despite the fact you only have a high school diploma!" she puts emphasis on the last part as if telling me to hush up and listen.
"Go on," I had sighed as I leaned against the counter, twirling the phone cord around my finger idly. I had a cellphone, but I kept it business-only out of fear Mikasa would send me excessive texts of worry whenever she had the chance.
"There's also the matter of your frequent fights on your work and school record. I really have no idea as to how you're not arrested for assault," she added bluntly.
Ouch, she was cutting deep this time around.
"What position did you sign me up for?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level though irritation loomed before me. It was like that of an ugly visitor, a visitor I knew all too well.
Mikasa had stayed silent for a few moments; I could only hear the vague crackle of the line.
"Well?" I repeated myself, something horrible weighing in the pit of my stomach. Yes, Mikasa was quiet, but not in the sort of way that meant someone was lost for words. "Go on," I urge her though I can feel cold sweat begin to run down my back.
"Personal assistant..." she had murmured so quietly I had to strain to hear.
"Okay, Mikasa!" I snapped. She knew I wasn't the sort of person to take a job like that. "You sign me up for a job without my consent, but as a fucking personal assistant?!"
"Eren, listen, please," she begged in that flat voice of hers. "If you do well as personal assistant, I'm sure they'd be willing to do a transfer as a columnist."
I remained silent. That didn't sound too bad, but it also depended on how long I'd be one. "Who am I working for?" I remember asking with a deep sigh of exasperation. Mikasa was really trying, I knew, and that I needed to do this for her, if anything. The pros of this job outweighed the cons and I knew I'd be an even bigger idiot for not trying to show up to the interview.
"A man named Rivaille," she answered, her voice lightening considerably.
"What's he like?" I fumed, tapping my foot in impatience.
"I'm not sure... but I'm sure he's nice enough. Just promise you'll show up," she pleaded once again. I could envision her brown eyes widening as she said that, even if her voice was still as level as always.
"What time?" I puffed out my cheeks like a pouting child. I had succumbed. I always succumbed.
"10:00 sharp. Not a minute less. He's very punctual," she added with a tone of seriousness.
I nodded slowly and sighed. "Fine, I'll be there. Bye, I love you."
"I love you, Eren," she said brightly before hanging up.
These events then replayed through my mind as I stood outside of the building to my new workplace. It was cold once again, even colder than before. I had also caught a cold, which was fairly annoying, as well. I had shown up at five in the morning as requested of me. I shivered a bit and slowly walked up the steps. I needed to remember that night, I knew, because I also needed to remember what it was that had gotten me here in the first place. Mikasa had told me the doors would be open for me and that if they weren't I could buzz Rivaille down or something. I really didn't want to be asking that guy for any favors even if it was as simple as door opening.
To my delight, the doors were unlocked and I entered the warm building that I needed to call my work place. I looked around a bit. It strangely felt more comfortable in the early morning than from when I had come for the interview. The lights were dim and warm, a soft light good on the eyes for when the mornings were dark and not quite ready to be illuminated so brightly. Even if it was five in the morning, Sina was still fairly active and the lights were just as pretty in the rush of activity. I honestly felt like a tourist because I had looked at everything with such wonder. I then go to the elevator room and hit the arrow key that points upwards. I had skipped breakfast again just to be here. The worst part of this for me, even if things were nice, was that I was coming down with a cold and had run out of medicine in my apartment. It was hard to work when your head felt like it was stuffed with tissues.
As I stepped onto the elevator and ascended the floors in a smooth ride, I honestly prayed that Rivaille didn't mind.
A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is so boring. I wanted to write out the phone call between Eren and Mikasa that would lead him to the job since it's the whole reason all this is starting. I honestly wanted to cram in some EreRi in here but realized it would be best if I saved it for another chapter. The funny this is, this is an EreRi fanfiction yet Rivaille isn't even in this chapter. The next chapter will be centered on the relationship a bit more unlike this one and the one before it. So please just bear with me until chapter three comes out. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed because they were extremely helpful and appreciated!