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Then:

Chapter 2

He could remember the day he'd first seen her almost vividly. It had been a chilly spring afternoon, which was odd giving the time of year. 'Anastasia Lynnfield, Trost' appeared on a purple banner at the bottom of the television screen.

"Oh! Look! There she is!"

He remembered his good friend, Bertolt, had been over that particular day (much like every off day they shared) to watch the televised competitions. Why he partook in such a past time Reiner didn't know, but Bert got a thrill from gymnastics and watching it.

Reiner himself had been busy, preoccupied with organizing the books in his home and trying desperately to drown out the other man's babble with David Bowie's Moonage Dream. It was then when Bert insisted that he join him in watching his favorite gymnast, some girl from Trost, compete. From what he'd heard through the grapevine, the neighboring district had no decent athletes.

Hadn't had any in a long while actually. Not since Chanel Lynnfield, the current competitor's mother, had retired some odd years ago (he recalled seeing it in the papers and on the news for weeks after she'd made the announcement publicly, just before her youngest daughter made a name for herself). But Bert wouldn't stop pestering him, so reluctantly Reiner joined him.

Reiner took the opposite side of his sofa with a defeated sigh, eyes fixed on the television before him. There it was again, her name in a banner across the screen bottom, as she approached what Bert had informed him as the uneven bars. He'd gone so far as to inform his uneducated friend of said event-

"The uneven bars are an artistic gymnastics apparatus, used only by female gymnasts. It's made of a steel frame, and the bars are made of fiber glass with a wood coating, or a less commonly wood. The bars are placed at different heights, allowing the gymnast to jump from bar to bar." Bert briefed, giving Reiner a run through before finishing with, "Anastasia is the best I've seen in years."

The girl, Anastasia, was an interesting enough piece of work, without the fact that her body was scandalously clad in a leotard being pointed out. There wasn't much Reiner could make out over the television screen, but he concluded the girl was indeed very pretty. Her dark hair had been pinned back tightly in a neat bun, secured with a ribbon that matched her leotard. Her lips were full, set into a straight line as she concentrated on the task at hand. Her legs looked strong, toned, and his eyes followed them all the way up to her thighs. Past her wide set hips, over the flat plane of her gut, and finally to her chest where he noticed a small but defined patch of discolored skin just below her collar bone.

"Ooooh~ look!" Pointed Bert excitedly as Anastasia took to the bars.

They watched, one in awe the latter less much so, as the girl went about her routine. Even the stadium watched in stunned silence, nothing filling the void but the sound of her body cutting through the air and the weak creaking of the bars.

"There are five types of swings, all of which have their own unique grip. A giant swing occurs when the gymnast swings all the way around the bar with a straight body." Bert needlessly informed as he broke the moment's silence with taking his eyes off the screen. "There's a backward giant, forward/front giant, inverted giants, german giants, and mixed grip."

As Reiner listened to his friend ramble on about the sport he knew little to nothing about (and quite honestly care nothing about), he wondered just what it was the other man did in his leisure time.

"Anastasia though," Said Bert. "Is very unique with her routines. She's required to do the main five, but she adds a whole bunch of other stuff in between what's needed to make them all the more exciting. Her mother was the same way, so it doesn't surprise me."

By the time the routine ended, a short few minutes later, Reiner was amazed by the girl now smiling on his TV. Though he would never admit that to the giddy, satisfied man at his side. He got to his feet shortly after, choosing wisely to tune out Bert's chatter as he critiqued the girl's routine down to the smallest detail.

Reiner just simply shook his head. He had his passions, could go on for hours on end about good music and literature, but Bert took being passionate to an entirely different level.

"Yeah, well, she's done competing now. How about you put something else on?" Reiner loosely suggested, hoping Bert would catch onto the fact that he wasn't into that sort of thing.

And of course he didn't.

"But I haven't seen her scores yet!" Bert protested meekly.

"Didn't you say she's the best in Trost at that? Shouldn't you already have an idea of what her scores are going to be?" Questioned Reiner.

Bert's gaze slipped back to the television before returning to Reiner's, whom arched an inquiring brow. The last thing Reiner wanted was to continue watching a lot of half dressed girls flipping, twirling, and whatever the hell else the remainder of the afternoon- not that he had the spare time anyway. This was his only off day for the next week and the books he'd recently purchased had not only begun to collect dust in the corner he'd discarded them in, but they were begging to be touched before he forgot about them entirely.

Sensing he was going to lose this battle, and in his own home, Reiner turned and motioned down the long hallway he'd been previously working in.

"Well when you're done, let yourself out!" Reiner called behind him.

He waited for Bert's sincere 'thank you' before he shut the door behind him with a quiet click. Reiner was a busy man with a busy lifestyle that left little to no room for down time. When he wasn't occupying the majority of his time teaching literature arts at the Karanese University, he was volunteering at the town's library. He was one of those guy's that had to stay busy, had to keep moving to feel like he had a defined purpose in life. Reiner having a serious soft spot for Shakespeare and Poe just added to the many things that had become normal to him over the years.

The spring semester was nearing its end, which he was genuinely thankful for, meaning his normally otherwise packed schedule would free up a bit. Reiner had already prepared the final for the first half of his classes, and was in the process of completing the other. He relished in the fact that once his students were done testing, he wouldn't see more than half of them again unless they either took the second half of his class or he ran into them in the bookstore.

Though the latter was less likely, the youth of the day didn't find refuge within the confines of a good book. They were nothing like how he was when he was their age. When he had nothing but books to escape to when the world was cruel. He supposed he should be thankful to his parents for stressing the importance of reading.

Reiner had made a good living so far trying to teach others, some far less interested than most, that reading (especially when it came to the right material) was not all that bad. He lived towards the center of town, just where the university and bookstore met. For the most part it was a nice place to live, not too busy yet not too quiet either. With the exception of the students that frequented the surrounding shops from nearby dormitories and apartments.

Having spent the majority of his days building a life for himself, it was safe to say he found very little need for companionship. As soon as one thing was completed and out of the way, something else seemed to occupy his time. And the ladies he did fell were worth a fraction of his time, felt unwanted and left. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get lonely from time to time. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want someone to debate various topics with, someone to discuss literature with, someone to just be with that was meant for him and him alone. Reiner supposed he wanted a life like Bert's. A life where he had someone he went home to everyday, who sent him messages throughout the day to let him know that they were thinking about him. But when such emotional, sentimental thoughts filled his head, he'd grab a book and retreat among the words. Or force himself to get through the sad excuses for papers to get some grading done. Or he'd shove his ear buds into his ears and jog through town blaring Bon Jovi and Blue Swede until his legs couldn't carry him anymore.

For a while he was content with the normality that was his settled, redundant life. That is, until he crossed paths with her.