Author's note: first in a set of three.
Sasha was in trouble, and she knew it. She could barely talk, let alone walk straight, and her stomach was not happy with her, that was for certain. She put down her 6th vodka slime, reeling slightly. She glanced down the bar. Armin was talking with the bartender, who quickly served up two shots of peach vodka. Those shots quickly found their way into the hands of Reiner and Ymir; within seconds they were spluttering and cursing, both renouncing their hatred for fruity alcohol.
Sasha had seen enough Saturday nights with the 104th to know that was the cue for Reiner and Ymir to return home to make up with their boyfriend and girlfriend, respectively. Sasha felt bad, really bad, and she realized that she could not make it back to Haggett Hall in her state when she misjudged the location of the door and slammed into the doorframe instead.
"Sasha, you okay?" Connie asked, his flushed face shifting for a second from an expression of drunken glee to one of concern.
Sasha laughed it off, but internally she was terrified. "Oh yeah, I am fine!" she said, her speech slurred even to her ears.
"Seriously, Sasha," Connie warned, "you're really drunk. You're an RA, if you get reported you'll lose that job… I know you can't afford to live here if you're not an RA."
Connie, despite his own tipsy demeanor, struck fear into the heart of Sasha. That's right… if she lost her position, her room and board would be gone, she would have to drop out, and she would be forced to return home. She felt her hands grow clammy as she let out a wail. This had the effect of drawing the 104th's attention to her.
"Sasha, do you have a stomach ache?" Mikasa asked calmly, her composure flawless even when she had a few drinks.
"Mikasa! If I go back to the dorms, someone will see me and I will get reported for public drunkenness and then I will lose my position as a RA!" Sasha felt her heart beating super fast as she grabbed onto Mikasa's arm. "Please let me stay with you tonight! I cannot go back to the dorm!"
"Mikasa, you can't let her stay with us," Eren snapped, giving his sister a disgruntled look.
"And it's not like she can stay over with Reiner, Bertholdt, and I," Annie added cooly.
Connie shook his head. "I'd bring you over to Elm Hall, but I'm pretty sure my roommate would be pissed."
Sasha sent Krista a pleading look. "Kamisama, please let me stay over!" Her knees buckled and she found herself kneeling on the sidewalk.
Ymir scoffed. "Is the potato girl asking for our help?" she asked coldly, clearly still miffed over the peach vodka surprise. "Sorry, but there's nothing I can ask for in return right now."
"Ymir!" Krista admonished, clearly frustrated. "Well, Sasha, we would, but…" she cast Ymir an irritated glance.
"Sasha!" Marco cried, pushing through the rest of the 104th to grab her hand. The sudden human contact helped relieve some of the spinning sensation. "We'll let you stay over! We're not too far, you can sleep on our couch and go home in the morning when you feel better."
"Marco, why are you inviting her over?" Jean grumbled, but Marco ignored him.
"C'mon, Sasha. Let's get you to bed." With that, Marco pulled her to her feet and allowed her to lean on him. She was too embarrassed and grateful to speak. With slow steps, Marco helped her down 43rd street. Behind them Jean mumbled, his long face drawn into a grumpy scowl. "Don't worry, the apartment is not too far now," Marco murmured, trying to encourage her. The prospect of a place to sleep where she wouldn't get kicked out of the dorms was enough encouragement.
The roar of I-5 seemed almost deafening to Sasha as Marco attempted to pull out his keys with one hand. Failing, he asked, "Jean, please get the door?"
Jean did as told, grumbling something that Sasha could not catch. "Let's take the elevator, Marco, the stairs will be impossible to navigate," Jean stated. They walked through a courtyard to the elevator, Jean pressing the up button. The machine announced its arrival with a cheerful ping! and Marco eased Sasha into it. Jean pressed a button with an angry forefinger. The 3 was illuminated brightly, almost giving Sasha a headache.
Within seconds Sasha was escorted out of the elevator and down the hall. Jean unlocked the door and held it open. Sasha took in the apartment quickly. There was a couch in the middle of the common space, two desks situated against either wall. "Here you can sleep, Sasha," Marco murmured, helping her lie down on the couch and pulling off her sneakers.
Jean made a beeline for what must be his bedroom. "Good night, you goody-two-shoes. We won't have any food in our apartment when we wake up tomorrow. There's a reason there's a ban on Sasha staying over at anyone's place."
"Jean… be quiet," Marco cautioned, but Jean had slammed the door shut.
Sasha rolled onto her side, feeling sicker than she had at the bar. It wasn't because of the alcohol, though. It was what Jean had said. Had everyone just made excuses because behind her back, because they'd agreed, as a group, to never let her spend the night?
Just because they thought she would eat everything? She felt her eyes tear up and she willed herself not to cry.
Marco returned with a garbage can, a blanket, and a pillow. "In case you get sick during the night," Marco said softly as he placed the garbage can next to the couch.
"I promise I will not," Sasha swore.
"It's okay, Sasha. It's just in case." Marco slid the pillow under her head and threw the blanket over her. Sasha made an attempt to hide her tears, but a couple rebelled and flowed down her cheeks. Marco gasped slightly, sitting down beside her on the couch. "Sasha, what's wrong?" he asked softly, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to her. She missed on her first try, but managed to grab a hold of it with her second.
"I am okay, Marco." Her voice wavered noticeably.
"No, you're not okay. You're about to cry," Marco pointed out. "If you don't feel comfortable telling me, that's all right. But you can't tell me that you're okay. And anything you tell me will be held confidential. I won't tell anyone."
Sasha stared at a shadow on the wall as she spoke. "I am… from a very rural part of Alaska. It is close to the Arctic Circle. Summer days are long, but winters are almost in complete darkness. Living there… you learn to value things. Simple things. You cannot just throw things away."
"You always told us you were from Anchorage," Marco said, surprise in his voice.
"I did not want you to think poorly of me…" Sasha confessed.
"We wouldn't. You're our friend, Sasha," Marco assured her.
"If I was your friend, then why— why am I not allowed to come over to people's apartments? That's right, Jean said I would just eat everything." Sasha let out a loud wail.
Marco rubbed her back soothingly. "You're my friend, at the least. I ignored Jean and let you over anyway. But you do have a bad reputation."
"Here— here's the other thing about living in Alaska. We went hungry a lot. Food was not easy to come by. If I got two meals a day, I considered myself a lucky girl," Sasha explained, curling into a ball. "I stole food when I could. I would— I'd take a little more than what I needed and hoarded it so that I could eat later. I was desperate to not go hungry."
"Sasha…" Marco murmured, his face lined with concern. "I'm so sorry, I never knew it was so bad where you came from."
"I came to Seattle, and suddenly, there is so much food, so much food in abundance, and people waste it," Sasha continued, a hand balling into a fist. "I left the starving conditions behind, but I still return every summer, and I see all this food. I must eat. I must hoard. I don't know when I will—I'll have the opportunity to fill my stomach again."
"And here… we kind of thought you were a glutton," Marco confessed. "I know that some thought you were superficial and food was the only thing in life you cared about."
"It is… no food, and you die," Sasha whispered. "I don't want to starve."
"We'll make sure you don't starve," Marco replied, tucking the blanket around her. "And I won't let anyone talk poorly about your compulsive eating from now on. I'm sorry you've felt the need to keep it hidden for so long. I really am." He rubbed her back. "I know now that you can't help it, and I'm mad at the others for belittling you so much you felt the need to hide."
Sasha reached out from under the blanket to grab Marco's hand. "You won't tell anyone?"
"The rest of the 104th might understand better, and they would no longer make fun of you, if you told them," Marco pointed out softly. "But that's for you to decide, not for me to share. I won't tell a soul about what you've said to me."
"Thanks, Marco." Sasha stifled a big yawn.
"Of course, Sasha," he said with a smile. "You should sleep. Feel free to stay as long as you need tomorrow morning. Jean might complain, but I'll tell him to shut his trap."
Sasha giggled slightly at the prospect of soft-spoken Marco using such harsh language. "Good night," she said, this time unable to stifle her yawn.
"Good night," Marco echoed, slipping into his own bedroom.
Sasha sank into her pillow, her eyelids feeling so heavy. She couldn't help but think about what Marco had said, though. Telling everyone she had an eating disorder? For a long time, she felt like that would have only garnered their scorn, and maybe they wouldn't believe her. After all, people who had eating disorders wanted to starve, not the opposite. She craved the understanding of her friends, though. And if they were her friends, then… they would give her their support. There had never been a time where the 104th wasn't there for each other.
Thanking Marco once again for his kindness and understanding, she let herself slip off to dreamless sleep.