Bertholdt stared at the open fridge, an ever-growing sense of despair stealing over him. While there was still an impressive supply of beer, the fridge was devoid of milk. Reiner must have used the last of it for his breakfast and failed to write Bertholdt a note before leaving for the airport. The football team had an away match that coming Friday, leaving Bertholdt alone in the apartment for a few days.

Perhaps he could go without milk for the weekend. He dragged himself over to the pantry. With luck, they still had rice. There was indeed a half-full bag of Kokuho Rose, but much to his frustration, Reiner had also consumed the last of the bread, and there was not enough Nutella for his lunch tomorrow. Bertholdt knew too well that Germans had a weakness for Nutella, but the almost empty jar had a label of "for Bertl only 3" in Annie's lethal print. Next to it was a full jar of peanut butter, with its own label, in Reiner's handwriting, of "Reiner's. BERTL DO NOT EAT." Keeping peanut butter in their apartment was certainly a risk, and not one that Bertholdt was entirely comfortable with.

Sweating slightly, he measured out a cup of rice and placed it in the rice cooker. He set it to be ready in an hour.

Bertholdt sank down onto the couch, reaching towards the floor for his hoodie. It was nowhere in sight, probably in the bedroom. However, his phone was sitting on the coffee table, and nervously he went through his text messages. There was one unopened from Reiner, reading, "getting onto the plane now. text you when I get to CA. 3".

Feeling slight anger over the food situation, Bertholdt replied with "I guess you want me to die on your chunky peanut butter. please leave me a note the next time you eat all the food. safe travels".

Like it or not, Bertholdt would have to brave Stabway.

The nearest grocery store was infamous for being unsafe, despite its name. The Safeway on 50th and Brooklyn had gained renown for being the place of many gang confrontations, culminating in a brutal stabbing their second year of college. Thus, there was the unspoken rule that no member of the 104th, under any circumstances, went into Stabway on their own. Normally Reiner was there to go with him… He felt his palms grow clammy with sweat.

He picked up his phone again to send a message to Annie. It read, "hey annie, go to stabway with me?"

Seemingly within seconds, he got a reply of, "I live by u village. like fuck i'm walking to stabway when QFC is 10 minutes away from me".

Bertholdt frowned slightly, wishing that Annie could sense his desperation over text. "please? reiner gone to play football against berkeley. i need someone".

Annie's reply read, "ask ymir. she lives right under you. bertl, you are a chicken."

Bertholdt sighed. It was true that Annie lived rather far from him, but she came over so often that the distance seemed to make no difference. Still, he could understand her reasoning. She didn't need anything from Stabway, so there was no point in her walking all the way to Bertholdt's apartment. Ymir could be an acceptable substitute… he quickly sent a message to her. "Ymir, this is Bertholdt. do you need anything from Stabway?" He set his phone down on the couch, waiting nervously for her response.

Within a few minutes his phone buzzed dully; he felt strangely nervous as he read the response. Ymir was very terse in her text messages: "No".

Within seconds, however, he got a second text. "Hey Bertholdt! This is Krista. Jean said he needed to get more food in medieval history today. You should ask him if he needs to go to Safeway!"

Bertholdt smiled slightly. While Ymir could be cold and apathetic, Krista was always more than kind. He found Jean's contact in his cell phone and sent off an apprehensive message: "Hey Jean. This is Bertholdt. Do you need to get food at Stabway?"

Bertholdt waited thirteen very anxious minutes for a reply. "Yeah, I'll go. Meet you in front in 10 minutes."

"Ok. see you then" Bertholdt texted in reply, before shoving his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

A sense of relief washed over Bertholdt. While he was not particularly good friends with Jean, he was grateful that someone was willing to accompany him to Stabway. Jean Kirschstein could be pretty intimidating when his face was drawn into a scowl, and Annie said that he had improved at disarming knives in a self defense class with Eren. He checked the pockets of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet and keys; he quickly went through the pantry and fridge one more time just to be certain that he didn't need any other groceries to last him until Reiner returned.

The walk from his apartment on 52nd and 15th to Stabway went by quickly. He could feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin from nervous sweat, his grocery list in one hand quickly becoming slightly damp. Reflexively wiping his hands on his stomach in an attempt to rid them of their sweatiness, Bertholdt worried that he would make a fool of himself, and Jean was unrelenting with his mocking. He could already hear Jean's voice in his head, taunting him for dropping something. Bertholdt tensed as he walked up to Jean, casually leaning against the wall as though he went into this particular Safeway alone every day.

"Hello, Jean," Bertholdt said genially, giving the man a slight wave in an attempt to be friendly.

"Nice shirt. You might want to rethink it next time you come here," Jean remarked, scanning Bertholdt.

Bertholdt looked down sheepishly at his chest— emblazoned across it was the word "Smartass" (really Samarium Argon Tantalum Sulphur Sulphur) with "UW Chemistry" printed in tiny letters underneath. "I forgot I was wearing it," Bertholdt admitted.

"You can't be too surprised if someone beats you up, then," Jean said with a dismissive shrug. "You're pretty tall though, they'd have to be bold to take you on."

Bertholdt shook his head slightly. He had the advantage of height, but as Reiner often reminded him, he did not own it. Droplets of sweat stung his eyes as he stepped through the automatic door.

Deliberately he marched towards the bread, grabbing the cheapest wheat bread he could find at first glance. The sooner he was out of there, the better. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jean pick out something from the chilled beers. Next was milk, which should have been easy to pull off the shelf if his hands hadn't been trembling. He ended up almost whacking himself in the face with the glass door in his nervousness. He glanced over his shoulder— fortunately, Jean had his back turned.

"I'm— I'm almost ready," Bertholdt stuttered, turning to face Jean. He tried to keep his anxiety off his face.

"Yeah, me too, Marco asked me to pick up strawberries though," Jean replied, shifting his six-pack of beer from one hand to the other. He then took off towards the produce, Bertholdt following on his heels. So far everything had gone fine, and they'd escape from Stabway unscathed.

"I… I just need to get Nutella," Bertholdt explained as Jean returned with a carton of strawberries.

"You eat that stuff?" Jean said, wrinkling his face in disgust. "It looks like shit in a jar."

Bertholdt could feel his ears grow red. "Well, uh… I'm allergic to peanut butter, er, peanuts really, so…" He wished he was wearing his hoodie so he could sink into it.

"I still wouldn't eat that crap. There's almond butter, you could just eat that," Jean retorted, shaking his head. "Let's hurry up and get out of here."

"Y-yes," Bertholdt affirmed, his face still hot with embarrassment. Jean could be rude, he knew, but there was precious little he could do about his allergies and somehow Jean had shamed him for having them anyway. With sweaty hands he reached for a jar of Nutella, but it slipped out of his grasp and fell to the floor. Bertholdt's saving grace was that the jars were made of plastic, not glass, but it made enough noise for Jean to turn around. "Sorry," Bertholdt preemptively apologized.

Jean simply shrugged and made a beeline for the checkout.

However, when they reached the checkout, their hopes of escaping Stabway without much drama were dashed. A cashier was being held at knifepoint by a hooded young man, with the demand that he have access to register.

"A robbery?" Jean whispered to Bertholdt, his bad attitude forgotten. "I've yet to see one at Stabway."

Bertholdt attempted to rub his palms on his jeans, but with his food items, this proved a near impossible task. "I've… not seen one either. Do we do something?"

"I don't know! I wanted to come with you because your height is intimidating!" Jean hissed.

"Er… Reiner always takes me here…" Bertholdt confessed. "This place terrifies me. I thought your attitude would keep everyone else away."

"Damn it!" Jean exclaimed loudly, before dropping all his groceries. He launched in to tackle the thug, hoping to disarm and incapacitate him.

"Jean… you're being foolish…" Bertholdt trailed off, cursing himself because he offer Jean any help as his friend took on a thug empty-handed. Reiner would have handled the situation far better, and comforted him afterwards. Jean would likely berate him for not attempting to help.

Annie could have easily disarmed the thug and had him sprawled out on the floor. But Jean did not have Annie's skills. Bertholdt desperately wanted to do something, but he could only watch as Jean grabbed the arm of the thug and pulled it away from the cashier. For a moment it looked as though Jean would be stabbed in the ribs, but somehow he got the knife out of the thug's hands.

Jean threw the knife away before forcing the thug to his knees with a well-aimed kick to the groin. A sharp elbow sent the thug to the floor; another customer had used the distraction to find duct tape. It was passed to Jean so that he could bind the thug at the wrists and ankles. Bertholdt was not entirely sure if that had been necessary, but he was still scared enough to be glad for the duct tape.

Jean's heroics were almost instantaneously met with applause, as if Bertholdt needed more reasons to feel miserable about himself. He lacked the aggressiveness that characterized Reiner's (and Jean's) ability to gain control of the situation. All he could do was watch as others defended him. He found his chest almost sore with longing for Reiner.

"A lot of good you are, Bertholdt," Jean snarked as he picked up his discarded groceries.

"I know…" Bertholdt muttered, wishing that he could sink through the floor and disappear.

They had to wait some time for the SPD to arrive on the scene; Jean was obliged to give a statement and Bertholdt was also an obvious witness. Night had fallen by the time they were released from Stabway, and Bertholdt could not bring himself to say anything to Jean as they parted, not even a small Tchuss. Jean turned left on Brooklyn to make his way back to his apartment next to I-5, and Bertholdt turned right to return to his apartment. Wearily, he placed the milk in the fridge, not caring too much if the bread and Nutella remained on the counter.

The rice cooker had kindly kept his rice warm, but at this point he felt no hunger. Bertholdt simply flopped down on the bed he shared with his boyfriend, cuddling with a shirt that smelled especially of Reiner's sandalwood soap. One thing was certain: he was not venturing into Stabway for a long time.