This is your fault.

The red, blistered, disgustingly moist skin of Jean and Connie is entirely your fault. You watched them struggle throughout the training of the day, given all the crawling in the dust and the sweat, you could tell their skin must've formed pus by now. They itched to remove their uniform at lunch but couldn't do so because the blisters must've rubbed against the hard fabric of the uniform. That had been pure torture for them. Not to mention they became a laughingstock throughout the day.

All because you wasted a month getting back at them.

You admit. What you did was terrible. Terrible, yes, but great.

Your conscience can't bear it. They probably don't remember what they told you, and it hurts that they forgot they just someone with their words.

Nevertheless, you'll do the honorable thing this time.
You won't tell them it's you though. Shadis is one nasty motherfucker after all.

"Hey Jean," Jean passed by you in the wooden patio, preoccupied with scratching around the swollen lesions. His irritated attention fell on you. You intended to offer him and Connie that one time full service you've never given anyone before, and never to give anyone again.

"You should take a warm bath." You cringed when he reached for his crotch, and you could tell how relieved he's feeling when he scratched his inner thighs, to his tight bikini line.

That's where you rubbed most of the leaves after all.

You showed him some oatmeal soap mixed in some of corticosteroids from the ointments you brought with you from your world.

"I heard you guys couldn't do the training awhile back."

"Y-Yeah," He was startled... more like bewildered. He didn't expect you to know his name, nor to speak to him at all. You're not a face that could blow everyone's mind and you understood if he doesn't remember, but it hurts to know that he brushed off his name calling because it meant nothing to him.

You held on that pursed lip— hopefully you looked sympathetic rather than apologetic, and tendered him the soap.

And he was alarmed, of course he was. Soap is not a basic commodity in the military, especially in the outer walls. Maybe you should consider selling this to Reeves if you run out of money or you need extra coins. Or you could sell it in Sina because only the rich can afford it.

"W-where did you get this?!" Jean hissed accusingly. He scratched his neck which only peeled the skin. He winced at the wound, and you can't help but cringe at the blood and pus seeping in his gray collared shirt.

"I made it. I worked as an apprentice before I came here. Since I have a spare, you and Connie should share. Also," What you said isn't an outright lie, right? You really were an apprentice... of pots and knives making, that is. You saw him bring his defenses down, as he observed the soap with such curiosity he almost looked like a child.

Well, he is a child. A teenager to be exact.

"I've only used one of these when a friend of my mom gave me a birthday present." He mumbled under his breath, his nose buried in the scentless soap.

"Sorry, I didn't put flowers on it—"

"It's fine," He chirped, his eyes alive and happy that he forgot his predicament for a while.

"There's more..." You said, as you fished that pate-like cream you made from peppermint and eucalyptus leaves. "After taking a bath put this on your skin. Twice a day and always make sure the itches are always dry. Maybe you should visit Sir Shadis so he could excuse you and Connie."

"You sound like my mom," He chuckled lightly. "But why are you doing this? We called you a freak sometime back."

Oh, so he remembered. So he remembered and that's enough to let go of what they said. Although the bullying hadn't stopped yet, (Some unimportant, unnamed cadets just can't let it go!) it felt relieving they knew what they did that triggered the whole thing. Maybe they'll even apologize if you're pushing your luck.

"You didn't do this to get back at us, did you?" You shook your head nonchalantly because you are a magnificent liar.

"Wish I did. Whoever did that to you's pretty clever."

"Sorry about that." After an awkward silence, a chuckle escaped from his lips as he blushed by the moonlight. Jean scratched the back of his head. That's just the poison ivy right? Not some awkward hormonal reaction from a boy undergoing puberty?

You tucked your hair behind your ears. As soon as you noticed he's interpreting it as something else, you began to panic.

Oookay, now what the fuck? You showed kindness and you get a fanboy? You're older than him. Like years man. You sure don't look like your age, but with a fifteen, fourteen year old guy? Nope, not happening—

"Hey, um," he scratched his sideburns like some shy high school kid trying to shoot his shot to his crush to an after school boba date. You fought the urge to cringe as he went on on his delusions.

"Do I get to share this with Connie or...?"

"Share them with Connie. I don't have anymore but I'm sure you got enough for two."

"Oh." He sounded like a lost mutt. "I thought this was just for me."

"I think I need to go... Histor— Christa said she'll rub my back for me so..." Historia never said that.

"I see. I'll update you with the effects tomorrow—"

"No need to do that."

"Then I'll show you in the morni—"

"No." Take a fucking hint man.

"I see. I'll see you tomorrow in the mess hall?" He said so cooly he almost convinced himself he did look cool, but in all honesty he looked like an ostrich peeping on a women's public bathroom.

"Don't wait for me." You just wanted to leave at this point. "Great to see you, Jean."

"Good night, um..?"

"Johnson." You don't want to give him your first name. It's too familiar and you don't want to be too familiar with the people you'll leave after a couple of years and never see again.

"Johnson?" Jean took your surname to memory with that smile on his lips. "Yeah, good night, and uh..." He still have something to say as he meaninglessly flailed his arms on his sides, in which you really can't give two shits about.

"I'm sorry we said those things before. We know you're quite... different but it's not right to pick on you."

Different. Hearing that word you detest made your insides churn. Jean already apologized, and it should be enough. You shouldn't punish him for the things he's sincerely mending and contemplating upon, right?

"You mean it?" You tested him, raising an eyebrow.

"What do I mean..?"

"What do you mean 'different'?" You dreaded to hear his answer. "Bad different?"

"Good different." You felt your shoulders drop in relief. "I thought you're like that freak show—Jeager, but I think you're different in a good way." He elaborated while he played with the soap and cream you just gave him.

"And I meant it when I said I'm sorry." He made your lips purse to a smile, as if the weight of the hate flew and died in the air.

"It's fine, I can always dig this gem whenever I need to... you know, inspiration to hate?" You shrugged and snickered, filling the patio with both of your quiet chuckles. You patted his shoulder goodnight which made him remember his situation.

"Johnson." You had to turn around. And you thought he liked Mikasa? Jean's mad blushing now. It made you uncomfortable, because all you could see in him is a younger brother.

"What's your first name?"

"Why?" You responded, your face turning sour.

"I can't know your first name?" You mentally groaned. Alright...

"Phoebe." You simply said.

"Shame," His foot pointed back, ready to hit the glorious showers. "I thought I could call you mine."

You raised an eyebrow, struggling to hold a straight face. You should've seen this coming; it's Jean and his pick up lines he got from the newspaper dating columns.

"Yeah no, good night kid."

Four months and a week and Jean was still stealing glances at you every fucking chance he could get.

And you know what they say about the four month limit: past it, then it's not infatuation brought by puberty anymore.

You pushed the thought aside. You don't do slimy feelings.

You never want to be the subject of anyone's affection, especially not from a pubescent boy whose voice usually cracks during the morning footwork. He held that ointment like a secret between the two of you; an illusion that something so passionate exists undetected between you and him. And you're not so much of an asshole to say bluntly that you're not interested, so you continued to be accommodating; the total opposite of how you wanted things to be.

He takes your (and Mikasa's) word, like a religion.

You took the usual potatoes and beans today. (Whoever cooked that beans is a fucking idiot, it's undercooked!) You considered sitting in a corner, scooting a little farther to Sasha where Connie and Jean usually sit. You contemplated sitting on Armin's area, but you didn't like the idea of being familiar with the main players.

So you settled behind Annie, because she doesn't give a lick of shit about you.

It's not that difficult to sit beside anyone and get ignored. Be it in the classroom, in the middle of training... you try your best, but you're not the best one there is on the training ground. Your assessments said you're agile and flexible which should make you a natural in 3DMG, but in terms of strength, you're hardcore average. Classroom-based training is where you are expected to stand out, but you purposely commit mistakes so no one will notice. It's a biting feeling when you see your scores in the exams sometimes, when you 'miss' five points, or you pretend you didn't know the answer so it wouldn't be so obvious...

You wanted to shine, like your name, but to be noticed by the higher ups is an expensive price to pay. You're not... Eren different; just one of the good ones different in this world. You're an extra. A fodder. An expendable commodity.

You should play the part, then leave quietly.

Leaving. Somehow, that word felt like a punch in the gut.

Some people weren't repulsed by you anymore, and you like the feeling of being accepted, even if not completely understood.

Arianne is the first one to make you feel that way.

You looked at Eren. At some point he thought he was special too, that's why he thought he can justify his comrades' deaths. 'Their deaths can't be helped.', was it?

Then you realized you're the only person in the mess hall.

You chewed, as fast as your jaws could allow, and hop on the training for the day.

Shadis was giving instructions already. And given that you're late, he just have to pick on you to lead the stretches before the exercise proper, and oh! That's not even the chorus of the song:

Today, you'll be practicing the art of omniscient directional mobility gear, or 3DMG.

You felt that familiar hurl in your stomach as his spit sprayed on your face like Windex, only the nasty kind.

"Weird little shit." He spat. Seriously? It's kind of getting old now. The potato girl on Sasha's end gives more spark. "Since you have your own time that you follow, why not show them how you do it, cadet? You've got fifteen minutes."

The bile and the chewed pieces of potatoes threatened to splurge. Fuck this, what are you gonna do? Jumping jacks? You're gonna barf the undercooked beans and everyone will call you names again. You're used to following instructions now that you can't fucking summon the braincells you're so proud of?

Phoebe, think damn it!

Think!

Oho.

Since he wanted you to lead the stretches, you're gonna give them the stretch of their lives.

Yoga has been part of your life to calm the nerves. No one has seen you doing it because it's something you practice in private; on a Sunday or any day-off for that matter. It sure works to shoo the thought that you might not be able to go home anymore, or you'll get killed in action, or you don't have a future! Or to tame your annoyance with Jean's incessant, unsolicited love stare hunting your nights— not the good kind. It has been a routine for years since pubescence and has persisted until now.

And you're gonna show them how weird you could be.
Maybe they'll like it, who knows?

You walked in front, eyes stared at you— daring you to start.

You looked at Jean and what registered was concern in his features.

And then you started to lift your arms, and reached your toes.

Inhale. Exhale.

Backed up again and reached in for the toes. You heard the giggles.

Inhale. Exhale.

"We're not getting ready to take a shit—" Shadis tried to interrupt...

"Touch your fingers to your toes, don't bend your back, bend with your hips." ...but you didn't let him. Then you crawled the dusty, red soil with your hands, without bending you knees... then you stayed there with your hands on the ground...

Rocked your heels...

"And jump forward!" You saw them jump on their skin, following your instruction seconds after. You put a leg back as you raised your arms to lengthen your spine, and you heard their groans, which meant they have a lot of tension in their inner thigh and lower hip. You stayed there for a while. Letting them get used to the posture, until they notice you leaned forward, as you drew big circles with your arms.

The groans grew louder, and you peeked at Reiner, who's moans topped everyone's off.

The man was enjoying himself.

You came up with your arms raised only to lower them back again, and this time, forming knots with your fingers behind your back as you allowed your bended leg to lower completely, now facing the cadets.

You heard Reiner curse under his breath, when you made everyone stretch their inner thighs. You did the whole routine on threes, and on the third repeat they already memorized it by heart. You closed off the practice with a push up, then glided your whole body to a cobra position...

Inhale. Exhale.

You sat with your legs crossed.

Your hands in prayer.

And you thought you're having hallucinations, but the glow on their faces were apparent.

Tensions were released.
Pent up energy gone in the wind.

So... they liked it?

Historia— well, Christa for now, gave you an accomplished smile. Her reaction is not really an assurance since she's always nice. Unless someone like Annie or Mikasa would tell you...

Of course, Jean's giving you that smile like he's so proud. And you saw him blush, but you chose not to react to it.

Even Eren and Mikasa were relaxed. Now that's reassuring.

Annie? She's not really someone to paint it to her face unless she tells you.

Everyone seems to like it, except Shadis.

Just what did you do to this guy anyway that he goes red whenever he sees you?

At the end of the day, no one really told you how good it felt about the stretches, until Reiner suggested you lead the cool down.

And so you did the exact same flow awhile back, so everyone can follow. You didn't want to remind yourself of your fuck ups during the 3DMG practice. Reiner had to look out for you the entire time, much to Jean's annoyance. You were grateful, the 'big bro' looking out for you while he's still on disguise. You reminded yourself that he won't be an asshole today, at least not until the Battle of Trost.

Shadis was not present, but you saw his lifted arms in the window like he's trying that warrior pose you did this morning.

You were pulled by the girls in the six bed bunks you shared, and one of them was that twin ponytailed bitch who laughed at you in the introduction day. You didn't receive an apology but it didn't matter now, you reminded yourself.

"Hey, what was that you did?"

"Where did you learn that?"

Annie listened in the corner.

"Is that something you do in your hometown? It's quite cool."

Think of a story, fast!

"Uh... yeah, it's passed down to us..." you said sheepishly. You answered more questions the more you fabricated the truth. "I learned it in my hometown, and it's not very popular..."

'Yes, it's been passed around in the countless YouTube videos.' was what you wanted to say, but they didn't need to know that.

"Sir Shadis should make you lead the warm up and cool down from now on. It felt good on the muscles, right Ymir?" Ymir always agrees with Christa.

"But where exactly did you learn that technique, Johnson?" Annie was intent at making you not swipe the question no.

"I lived at the outskirts of Wall Maria before. It was considered a self-massage."

"I thought you were an entertainer." Annie chinned your guitar. Damn it blondie.

"For extra coins." You said, smiling. "I was a blacksmith and cook by day, and a singer at night. I do that every day-off. There's twenty-four hours in a day and seven days in a week you know."

Only then did she dropped the questions and asked you to play the guitar again, instead.

I want to give the readers some insight of how the three years had gone by with Phoebe. I think we can hope on to the graduation next chapter. So sorry for the slow pacing of the fanfic. :)