Weeaboo {Ereri}

XII.

Four years ago

By the time I had reached the station, she was gone. Who rides trains anymore? I didn't know, but at that time, the thought never fully surfaced in my brain. A low horn blared, the boxes flying by at a blurring speed. Pebbles hit the ground around me, and a breeze tore my hair back. "Mom!" I yelled.

An eerie moan and clacking wheels responded.

"Levi!" Mikasa called, exasperated. She slammed the car door shut, jogging to me. "Don't run away from home like that!" She raised her voice against the train, squinting down at me. Dark hair snaked around her shoulders.

The wind blew cold on my wet cheeks. I glared at her, pointed at the train. "Home is with Mom! Stupid!" I ran towards the eerie moan, the clacking wheels, and the wind blown pebbles.

She grabbed my wrist, scoffing. "Levi!" Mikasa yanked me back. "You can't get that close to a moving train! Are you stupid?" I slapped her. She slapped me back. "Listen, idiot, it's too late. She's not on the train."

"Shut up!" I pulled hard on my wrist. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Mikasa pulled me to her, and I hit her stomach with my fists, screaming tears into her shirt.

"Listen to me," Mikasa said, lowering us to our knees. "Mom died at the hospital. She's not here!" she urged, and keened over me.

~~~

"I'm so sorry for your loss," another one said. Mikasa nodded curtly and smiled stiffly, thanking them. They leaned towards me, down on their haunches. They put hands on my shoulders. They grinned. "It'll be okay, Levi. You'll get over it." I lifted my hand in front of their face, raised my middle finger, until they sighed and left.

Our kitchen was covered in home baked foods that Mikasa made me eat. She sat next to me on the couch then and ran her fingers over my head. "Our hairs are getting long, aren't they?" She bent to me and crinkled her eyes with a smile. "Let's go cut it all off."

"Yeah."

Mom rode trains. It was what she did before she settled down and had me and Mikasa. I never knew my dad. Mom danced with poles and walked around outside at night to keep us full. "Danced with poles?" I asked one night. "Why?"

"Ah," she had sighed. She ripped my blanket into the air, letting it settle lightly over us. "Some people pay a lot of money to see that." Mom- her name was Kutchel- had looked over at me. "I imagine a top hat on Mr. Pole and I imagine that the people are pigs. That makes it a lot more fun." We both snorted down laughter, trying not to wake up Mikasa.

"Can I see one day?"

Mom rolled over. "No way!" I could hear the pout. "If I did that, Mr. Pole and the pigs would want to see you instead." I laughed, even though I could tell she was crying.

Mikasa cut her hair right up to her jawline. I got an undercut. We looked older and stronger. I had a hard time sleeping.

Mom got sick when I turned eight. She wouldn't tell me what it was, and Mikasa looked like she had known for a long time, even though she was only fifteen. I forgot about it until the hospital bills started coming in the mail. I was eight, after all.

Petra saw me again soon after I cut my hair. "Levi!" she cried, smiling. "I haven't seen you since school ended! It's been almost three months!" I was walking to school. We were in the same grade. It was the first day of our last year in elementary school. When she got near enough, Petra whaled me upside the head with a fist. "Stupid! At least call me or something!"

I shrugged. "Sorry."

We walked in silence. Petra stopped smiling, the skip in her step gone. "Levi... I'm here, you know. You never let me in. I'm here!" She pounded her hand against her chest and coughed, laughing.