Chapter Text
The sunrise was never beautiful in Shinganshina. Maybe it was the heavy smog, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Maybe it was the crime, which stalked everyone at night and paralyzed them with fear. Maybe it was the helpless feeling the people had, knowing that they might never escape.
Or maybe it was because the sunrise could never be seen over the skyscrapers.
Either way, the sunrise was never a pretty thing, and this morning was no exception. The stars feebly and weakly glimmered from above, straining to survive for as long as possible. The moon was gone; the only thing left was the brutal light from the sun, bringing with it the horrors of another day in a volatile city where authority was nonexistent.
Eren pulled his quilt tighter around his shoulders as he slipped out onto what was left of his concrete porch, a troubled expression on his face. He sat down on the cold, cold steps and cringed. His hip had been bothering him as of late after an altercation in an ally way.
He sighed, straining to look over the massive buildings that stood between him and an ugly sunrise. Eren didn’t even know why he bothered looking at it anymore. His hands left the quilt’s edges and his face found its way into them. He had a headache. He was injured and bruised and beaten on the inside as well as the outside. Hell, he shouldn’t have even been outside. So why was he out here?
You can always find beauty in something, his mother had said.
Even in Shinganshina? Eren, who had been naïve and young and all too innocent, had asked. Yet even in that innocence, he still felt a chilliness deep in his heart.
Even in Shinganshina, his mother had gently replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. Now, will you please do the dishes, sweetheart? They’ve been sitting there for two days.
Eren had found beauty in Shinganshina, but that beauty was long gone and dead. It had died the night his mother died; and then, it was kicked while it was down when Armin left, too.
There was no beauty in Shinganshina. And if there was, it wouldn’t be worth Eren’s time.
Eren stood up again, walking back inside his home and sitting down on the worn-out recliner. His mother used to sit there and embroider as she worked her worries about her husband away, choosing to make beautiful hoops instead of calling or writing or even speaking of him. The night his father left was the last time he heard his mother, Carla, speak of Grisha Jaeger. It was almost as if his name was a forbidden word, like saying it might break the world.
It might have, had Eren or Carla ever directly said it.
But they didn’t. They lived in a small bubble on Birch Avenue. This bubble was free of crime and dirt and sex and drugs. It was a safe haven. Refugees from the slums – men, women, children alike – would seek relief in the Jaeger household. Though she’d purse her lips and sigh heavily, Carla never turned anyone down.
It wasn’t like her. Though she could be sharp and raised her voice when needed, Carla was not a cruel person. She was easily worried and protective, like any mother should. Her motherly nature didn’t just extend to Eren; it also extended to those who couldn’t fight for themselves, those who were weak from misery and anger and shame. Carla Jaeger was everyone’s mother, a kind, caring soul who loved people – and most of all, her son – more than herself.
Was she too virtuous, though?
Eren reflected on this as he leaned his head back in the chair, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was cracked, with jagged lines running through it. It would have to be fixed at some point, but money was scarce, so it would have to wait for a few more months.
Eren shot up suddenly. The bills! They were due this morning, and he had totally let them slip his mind. Hurriedly, he ran to his drawers, yanked out jeans and a hoodie, pulled on his shoes, grabbed the bills, and flew out the door. His old Volkswagen was sitting in the driveway still – a small miracle, considering the town’s crime rate. He hopped in, started it up, and sped off to the post office.
When he reached Shinganshina’s post office, Eren took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He’d neglected to brush his hair this morning, but it didn’t really matter. After a few minutes of evaluation, he concluded that he look at least somewhat good enough to walk around town.
He dropped the bills off and headed back to his car, sitting in it for at least ten minutes. He wanted to leave, to run. But to where? There was no where he could really go.
Finally, he settled on heading over to Reiss Park. He mused that he could use the fresh air. Eren started his car and drove slowly over to the small park, located in the center of the city. It was surrounded by some of the nicer shops in town, like department stores and markets and small coffee shops. Reiss Park was a small oasis; keeping it clean and free of drug dealers, rapists, and other criminals was a small victory, a miracle, even.
The park was empty when he arrived, just as Eren had predicted. The chilly air made him pull his arms in close to his body as he took a seat on a bench. The fountain in the center was flowing feebly. Though it was nearly eight a.m., Shinganshina was still not fully awake. Eren couldn’t blame the people of the city; sometimes, he wished that sleeping for twenty years or longer was legal. Sometimes, he wished that he didn’t wake up at all.
It was so strange. Eren never remembered falling asleep on that bench, but he did. It was dangerous – how could anyone let themselves sleep in a park? In the most dangerous city in the country, to boot?
It didn’t matter. Eren woke up thirty minutes later at someone’s nudging. He opened his eyes, rubbed them, and looked to his left. No one there. He looked to his right, and there she was: Mikasa Ackerman, a good friend from his childhood and the only one of his close friends left. Mikasa was loyal to him, sure, but that wasn’t why she hadn’t left yet. She had little nieces and nephews to take care of after a meth lab explosion took both the children’s parents and her own. If it had not been for the young ones, Mikasa would have left a long time ago. But she had a responsibility.
What was Eren’s excuse for staying here? He had no family left. He had a job, but he could find a better one closer to the capital. He had a car, but it was in constant danger of getting stolen. He had a home, but the rent had gotten higher and his pay at work lower. There was nothing here for him. He didn’t have to be here, but something kept him in the godforsaken city of Shinganshina. He just wasn’t sure what it was.
And when he found that reason, he would shake his head at it, sigh softly, and leave. No matter how much it hurt to leave it behind.
“Oh, hey,” he said. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Of course you didn’t see me,” she replied. “You were asleep.”
“I don’t remember falling asleep.”
“Not many people do.” She looked away, the looked back, opening her mouth as if to say something. But she shut it again. Instead, she glanced at the ground and sighed heavily. Her lips formed a straight line and her gray eyes stared bleakly at the park. This was her default expression; it was calm, stoic, and unsettling to anyone who didn’t know her. And even then, it was still mildly unsettling.
Eren glanced over at her before trying to make small talk. “How have you been? Are the kids…are the kids fine?”
“Will has a fever. I’m taking him to the doctor today.”
“Oh,” Eren said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Mikasa blinked and sat there in silence for a moment, tracing the patterns on her left hand with her right. “He should be okay.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah.” Mikasa stood up, dusting herself off before looking at Eren again. “I have to go. Goodbye.” And with that, she was gone.
Eren sighed. Mikasa was difficult to understand. How could anyone be so stoic and cold, yet be so blindly faithful in others? How could she be chillier than ice but still remain naïve?
It reminded Eren of his mother, with her dogged blindness when it came to the topic of crime or his father. She refused to discuss his disappearance. It was as if the ugly things in life were stains on a wall. If the stain wasn’t noticeable, she ignored it, pushing it to the back of her mind and telling Eren not to point it out. And if it was, she pulled out whatever she had – whitewash, white-out, crayons a shade off from the color of the wall – and covered it up, hiding it as best she could. It seemed the best way for her to survive mentally. And while it had worked for her (at least, that’s how it seemed), it never worked for Eren.
Eren had learned a long time ago that simply coloring over the stains on the walls of his heart did not erase them. It only made them angrier and more pronounced.
Eren smiled bitterly, reflecting on it all. Blindness could never save him. It never had in the first place.
A twig cracked. Eren’s head shot up, and his looked around. It might be someone dangerous, so he had to be on guard. He swallowed hard, feeling his heart racing.
That is, until he saw blond hair and the flash of a blue jacket.