CHAPTER THIRTY THREE:
you've got mail.
"This situation isn't that bad... like, it's really not that bad," Klaus said brightly, clearly choosing to ignore the raging fire burning about two hundred feet behind him. He turned to the blonde baby that was being cradled in another man's arms, crouching down to his stature before cooing at her. "What do you think, Olive?"
Professor Levi Ackerman glared at him, holding Olive closer to him and leaning away from Klaus at the same time. "The kid doesn't speak. Now, tell me why, in what world, would: a fire, a ruined wedding-because of the fire, mind you-, a fight, a missing cat, and a fake celebrity relationship be 'not that bad'? Half of these fucking things were ticking time bombs."
"See, you're not being that optimistic as of now," Zeke Jaeger cut in, affectionately slapping Levi on the back. He chuckled, shaking his head as he dangled his legs from the car he and Klaus were sitting on-which wasn't even theirs. "But when have you ever? I swear, you're going to die someday because of that attitude."
"I will murder you," Levi hissed, glaring ahead at the fire before walking off towards two girls in the near proximity, ignoring Zeke and Klaus's drunken laughs.
How and why he approached the young women seemed ridiculous to him; what was he doing, attending his students' wedding, holding another student's child, looking for his favorite student?
Teaching had always felt like something he did despite his unhappiness, but then, in that moment, it felt like maybe he taught all those years to find that specific class of special people.
They're in that weird grey area, too, to make things worse, he thought, where some are getting married and having children while there're still others who live with their parents and yet more who couldn't tell or explain the difference between herbal tea and true tea if their life depended on it.
And then there were people like you who were literally a week away from going on tour around the world. But of course he didn't have the pleasure of teaching all of the famous early-20-somethings in the world.
The dark sky was clouded with smoke to the point that it no longer looked black and the stunning stars that were there earlier were gone.
Levi wrinkled his nose, the loud sirens ringing in the distance.
He glanced at the baby and hurriedly, carefully, steadily, he walked towards the two silhouettes of the women, where one was comforting the other as they both stood near the large limousine, which was parked the furthest away from the garden venue.
"Sasha, Mikasa," He called, "Where's Y/N? Armin and Connie?"
Sasha stopped rubbing Mikasa's back and reached for her baby, smiling slightly as Olive softly cooed at her. "Thanks for holding her for a moment, Professor."
Levi did a weird movement between a nod and a shrug, immediately straightening himself out when he realized that he didn't execute that correctly. "So?"
Sasha shook her brown hair out of her face and looked at Mikasa before turning to Levi. "We... don't know."
Mikasa was biting the inside of her cheek, and with one look at her eyes you could tell that she was stressed. She wiped away a bit of soot from the hem of her dress. "Armin was with me and Marco when he said that he was going to look for Y/N... but that was before it all went up in flames. I don't know where they are now."
"Ah... shit."
→ approximately one week earlier, two
weeks after the night of the premiere...
Your fingers plucked at the metallic strings of your electric guitar, the song's melody blending with the low bass. You put up your foot onto a nearby speaker as you went deeper into the solo, grinning to yourself as your right hand rapidly moved the guitar pick up and down, your left hand pressing down chords that would change within a second.
Mikasa's strong voice was singing one of Musicorum's first ever songs, which was, embarrassingly enough, an indirect song to Armin.
You still cringed at the sheer fact that it was the most popular song you'd ever written (and at the height of your heartbreak, too), and yet, he still didn't know that it was about him. Or at least, he didn't say it outright-though a part of you really did hope he never noticed. To be honest, the lyrics were so obscure and vague that you were pretty sure that no one knew what they were really about, except for one other person.
You turned around to look at Jean, who had been killing it with the bass lately, for someone who had learned out of what he felt was a necessity.
Jean's eyebrows formed a thoughtful scowled as he looked down at his hands in focus as he tapped his foot. He was keeping time well, bopping his head back and forth to the song that engulfed everyone in sound and vibrations that still made you shiver every time.
Mikasa sang, throwing her head back to get her bangs out of her face, light sweat lining her forehead from the blinding spotlights.
You strummed harder, feeling as the plastic pick in your fingers struck the metallic strings. You pressed at chords so quickly, so naturally, so fluidly that it felt like you were at the center of the world, and yet, you knew that it wasn't your position to be in.
Sure, it felt bad having to play a song you wrote when you were angry at your now-boyfriend, but it was a fan-favorite... as depressing as it may seem.
"Just leave m-" Mikasa yelped, tripped over a cable with a crash, yanking the cable that connected Jean's bass to the amplifier, and probably something else as well, because an ear-splitting shriek of feedback filled your ears.
Jean swore, which was not a good decision, because he was still wearing his new earpiece, which was conveniently linked to yours.
You groaned, cringing at the noises around you: the feedback, the recording of Eren's drums, Jean's frenzied cursing at how he had been interrupted, and your guitar, because if someone was going to carry this band on their back it was you. "Shut it off!" You yelled, still trying to continue the rehearsal as usual.
"I can't-!" Mikasa said, though you had to practically read her lips to understand the message that she was trying to convey, "Oh my god, why are you still playing? Stop!"
You did as she said, taking off your guitar from where it was strapped to you and setting it down on the nearby stand. You threw down the guitar pick with no particular care as to where it went.
You ran to the sound system behind the stage, but by the time you got there, every sound was cut off, and a person in a cap and knit navy sweater vest was flipping switches and pressing buttons like it was second nature. A large paper shopping bag sat next to their feet, the kind with the rough handles that remind you of wicker baskets.
Usually, your band would have a few people helping out behind the scenes, but that day it was just you three. Performing as an official trio was very different compared to what it used to be, but performing-or more like, practicing -without any other support was even more.
Seeing this person was a relief, in all honesty.
You frowned at the person anyway, who had their back to you. "Uh... I didn't know we had a sound guy today. Thanks, though... Glenn, maybe? Or Richard? Sorry, I can't see your face."
They turned around and took off their cap to reveal blond hair and a pair of happy blue eyes that greeted you with a wink. "Hi, Y/N!"
It took you a second to register that Armin was standing right there, and when it did, you gladly yelled out, "Armin, you came!"
Jean choked in your ear. "He did what now?"
Mikasa snorted. "Don't get pregnant, there, Y/N. If you get pregnant, then Sasha and Connie'll be over all the time."
You cursed under your breath, taking off the ear piece to prevent them from listening in on your conversations further. "What are you, thirteen?"
"You did that to yourself."
"Well, to be fair, it didn't sound right." Armin walked over to you and gave you a gentle peck on the cheek as you cringed at the connotations of what you said.
"I- well, I can very obviously see that you used the keycard I gave you to get in here," You said, nodding to the lanyard that hung on Armin's neck, "But since when did you know how to work the sound equipment?"
Armin grinned. "I helped out with the backstage stuff at Marley Private School's theater, so I picked up a few things here and there, as one does." He put down the bag and pulled out a bouquet of red tulips, putting them in your hands and beaming triumphantly as your face lit up at the gesture. "I also picked up these."
You smiled. "Armin," You chuckled slightly as you felt the velvety red petals underneath your calloused fingertips, a contrast from both the stiff yet flexible plastic of the guitar pick you'd been using for the past two hours or so and the metallic strings of your guitar itself, "you've given me flowers every week now!"
Armin laughed, wrapping his arm around you and slinking around so that he was holding you from behind, his hands near your waist and fingers brushing against your stomach. He rested his chin on your shoulder and spoke. "What type of boyfriend would I be if I didn't give you flowers after a day full of practice?"
You turned around and gave him a peck on the cheek, immediately causing his face to go as red as your flowers. "I'm running out of space to put these in my room, Armin. Is your job at the library that well-paying enough for you to be buying me flowers every few days?"
He made a sheepish smile as he made an attempt to cover his face. "Well, the fact that I don't have to worry about paying rent gave me a lot of wiggle room for the savings I had. I do want to get a full time job, though, because if my transfer papers for Paradis University don't go through, that'd be problematic for my career aspirations."
"The fact that your parents are trying to win you back over by giving you money helps too, I presume," You said, though he seemed to stiffen at this slightly. You decided to change the subject. "So.. tell me, what do these symbolize? You gave me daisies for new beginnings, and then the lilacs for the emotions of 'new' love, so going off of that, you must have an essay prepared for these."
"Yeah, I do! See, tulips by themselves ar-"
The door to the backstage controls slammed open, a male's voice swearing in pain and frustration.
You turned to look at who was there and groaned, burying your head in Armin's chest to possibly avoid conversation, but the name flew out of your mouth in a grudgingly respectful tone. "Klaus."
"Lovely to see you too, my dear guitarist," He responded, struggling to run a hairbrush through his thick nest of curls, "And blondie. Whatever your name was... oh! You were the deep-drunk, talking about how we're all just on a Little Rock that floats through a void called space." He paused. "Not-Porco. That's what your name is from now on: Not-Porco! Catchy, I think, 'cause it's funny because you managed to fall on the red carpet exactly like he did!"
"It's Armin," Armin said hesitantly, "please just call me Armin."
"Yeah, sure, whatever." Klaus yanked out the brush from his curls, apparently having given up. He pointed to you and tossed you the hairbrush with no hesitation.
He missed, though, and it hit Armin on the head, where it bounced off and somehow ended up in his paper bag.
You sighed, patting Armin on the shoulder. "What did you need, Klaus?"
"Oh!" Klaus was snapped out of his amusement at his utter incompetence. "Right, well, this was left for you in my office. Dunno what it is." He rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out a large orange envelope. He tapped the address and started to aim it at you once more, but you and Armin put a stop to that really quickly by hissing 'no.'
"Just give me the envelope like a normal person, dude," You grumbled, letting go of Armin and plucking the envelope from your manager's hand. "Who's it from?"
"Doesn't say," Klaus shrugged. "Anyway, I'm going to the mall if you guys wanna come. I don't mind being a third wheel. Make out all you want, I've been one all my life, baby!"
Never in your life had you seen Armin object to something that quickly. "Um- no, no thank you."
You averted your eyes and shifted the flowers in your hand to a position where you could possibly whack Klaus with them as a weapon if it came to that.
"I'm joking, Not-Porco," Klaus sighed, flopping his hands to his sides with exasperation. "Damn."
You looked at Armin, and he looked at you. Then you both turned your eyes onto Klaus.
When none of you laughed, he simply turned around and left without a word.
Wow.
A moment of silence passed as the metal door creaked shut, leaving you only hearing the electronic humming of the spotlights and Armin's soft breathing.
The door opened again, where Klaus peeked out between the open crack, a more serious look on his slim face, "I forgot to say that there's something in your lounge room. I was told that it's a pretty big delivery, so you should go check it out now that everyone took a break."
You raised a brow, glancing at the flowers you held and back up at Klaus. "Anything else?"
"...No, that's all. Okay, bye." Klaus slammed the door shut once more, the clanging lock startling Armin a little.
You sighed again and went out the door, too- though admittedly after enough time had passed for Klaus to be somewhere else- motioning for Armin to follow you.
It seemed like Mikasa hadn't bothered to pick up her tossed microphone, but Jean took the care to set his bass right back onto his designated stand.
Cables and cords were all over the place, and you made a note to tape them down the next time. Armin elaborately stepped in between cords and just barely missed hitting the speaker that played Eren's recording on it.
He noticed your guitar sitting on a stand and curiously bent down to see it, smiling at the guitar pick that was sitting right by it. "So who's going to be replacing Eren as a support member?" Armin asked, lightly brushing his fingers over the silver tuners with what looked like vague admiration.
You picked up your bag from a nearby chair and swung it over your shoulder, grunting slightly as you untangled your foot from a knot of cables. "We've been getting a lot of videos sent in, and right now we're looking at this girl called Lara Tybur. Maybe you've heard of her? She's Willy Tybur's younger sister. We think that as a person who grew up in a family of music, she'd be a good fit. But Mikasa has been telling us to hold out on a choice and to wait, so that's what we've been doing."
Armin tilted his head in wonder, standing back up and glancing at her microphone: a simple grey thing with red ribbon at the bottom. "Does she have someone else that she wants to give a chance?"
"Yeah, probably. We've told Lara to sit tight and learn the songs, anyway, though. But what we really need is a new manager," You said under your breath, shaking your head as you pulled Armin out of the practice stage to the lounge rooms, where you walked past Jean noisily scarfing down a burrito in the hallway as he nodded his head to what was probably the recording of that day's practice. He liked to listen to the recordings to see what he could improve on and what he could yell at you about.
You stopped staring at Jean's weird burrito etiquette and continued. "Or at least I do. You know, for some reason I think that we're emotionally attached. Somehow, his weird personality and bad habits are endearing now."
"Hasn't he made a lot of mistakes that wouldn't have been noticed unless you guys checked?" Armin said thoughtfully, interlocking your fingers together with his. "Like the release date of the album and the first ever live interview with the record label... And then there was the entire Mikasa situation a few years- and we all know how that turned out. I don't think I can ever think well of him when he deliberately brought that entire conflict onto her."
"Well, no, see, the thing is, that it was Eren who actually did things, but- oh my god, what if it was him?" You stopped in your tracks, causing Armin to lurch backwards a bit because he kept his grip on your hand as he continued walking towards the end of the hallway.
"What... are you referring to, exactly?" Armin said hesitantly, "There's lots of things that could've been him. Like your journal, and like Porco."
"I was talking about Eren's leave. Klaus seemed way too chill for a member leaving forever. So what if he let Eren sign a contract different from ours? It would go unnoticed and it's virtually impossible to know from an outside perspective," You said, quickening your pace and unlocking the room door that had 'Y/N L/N - MUSICORUM, Gu.' on the white plaque.
You pushed open the door, but it didn't budge. You gave Armin a confused look. "I promise it doesn't usually do that."
You pushed on it harder the second time, and you heard a ripping noise of crumpled cardboard as you forced it open. Your arms pushed against the door, your head slightly hitting it as you practically kicked it in.
And when you did, dozens of boxes, large and small, wrapped and bare, on the floor, on the table, and everywhere in between.
Every single square inch of the floor was covered with cardboard, save for the space you cleared yourself with the door.
There were smears of what looked like shampoo on your mirror- or at least, you hoped it was shampoo. The entire room reeked of men's body spray.
Floch's body spray, you reminded yourself, because those days in Professor Smith's History class were absolute hell for your nose, and you doubted you could ever get that smell out of your memory.
To say your lounge room was now cluttered would be an understatement: even cluttered would be cleaner compared to this. The once-neatly arranged room was something that could only be described as a clean freak's worst nightmare.
Levi would have a field day.
"Holy motherfucking shit."
"That is heavily accurate and understandable," Armin said softly, his eyes wide as saucers when you looked over your shoulder at him. "What is all of this?"
You furrowed your brows, putting down your flowers onto the singular free spot of space on your table. "Yeah, I have no idea."
Armin poked his head inside and frowned at the cramped space and towering boxes. "I don't think you can even walk in here. Is there any labels or something?"
You picked up the box nearest to you. It was absurdly light.
"Huh."
It had no sender's label, no return address, nothing.
You tossed the box at Armin, who yelped and moved out of the way at the last second.
"Why would you throw a box at me?" He pouted, bending down to pick it up, but using an excessive amount of force that wasn't needed for a box that light, so when he stood up, his arms flew above his head and whacked the wall loudly. "Oh."
You stifled a laugh. "Exactly."
"What's in here?" He said, shaking the box to get a noise to be made, but you didn't hear a thing, and you were pretty sure that he didn't either. "Mind if I open it, Y/N?"
You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms, fixing an out-of-place strand of blond hair on Armin's head. "I don't mind."
Cautiously, he sat down right beside the door, crossing his legs so that his khaki pants creased over his knees. He got out a box opener from his key ring and carefully shoved it through the tape on the side, sticking it right in the middle. "Wait," He said, pulling away his thin hand and folding the small blade back into its keychain, "what if there's something dangerous in here?"
"What, like a bomb?"
"Yes," Armin worried, weighing the box once more, "it could be something harmful."
"That's ridiculous," You said, grabbing another box and stabbing a pen into the tape, ripping it open quickly.
You shook the box's contents out, and only a piece of paper floated down, waving from left to right a few times before it hit the linoleum floor.
It almost felt nostalgic to feel that kind of fear in your stomach, and you really did think about how messed up that was when it landed right side up, the chubby, childish faces of Armin, Mikasa, and Eren looked back up at you.
You heard Armin gasp lightly, bending down to pick up the picture of everyone smiling as the local drunk, Hannes, ruffled their hair.
It was one of the various pictures that had been stolen from you years prior, finally returned.
You walked up to the glass double doors of Shingeki Academy, peering into the front lobby with slight amusement at the emptiness inside.
You adjusted the large bag you carried in your arms. In the bag you carried were around sixty photos (some of which you weren't even aware you'd lost or owned at some point), some shirts and scarf that you suspected belonged to Mikasa, and guitar strings that you were almost sure were ripped straight from your long-lost guitar.
You hadn't opened up Klaus's envelope yet, nor the other three that were inside a few boxes- Armin's advice was to read through normal mail after you figured this particular situation out.
At this, you glanced at Armin, who was clearly nervous to be there.
Of course, term would be starting in a few weeks, but you'd only ever seen the school bustling with people.
It was a bit of a hope you had that the people you were looking for would be there, but it wasn't like you actually expected them to be there.
Hesitantly, Armin opened the door and let you through, the stale, humid summer breeze ruffling his hair.
You'd never felt so uneasy in a place that you'd previously thought of as home. The walls were still painted the usual white, the front desk was still the same tan wood, the school crest still on the large sign. But the place looked dusty, and the doors looked as though they'd been untouched for weeks.
This, especially, was what was so off-putting for you: Levi Ackerman always made sure that the school was clean and that the janitors did their jobs well.
However, it didn't look like he'd been keeping up with that habit.
You pushed away these thoughts, though, because it was technically still summer, and it would have been perfectly normal for the place to look unkempt.
"Is it really okay for us to be here?" Armin said, slightly startling you, since he spoke out of nowhere and interrupted the heavy, lingering silence that was in the halls.
"I mean, I'm alright with bending the rules for my own convenience," You replied. "Think of it as being for the greater good, or whatever rows your boat."
"How exactly is finding out whether or not Floch or Hitch had gotten in trouble outside of the robberies a part of the greater good?" Armin asked, looking around at the pictures hung on the walls with slight curiosity. What even counts as 'good'? Being good is just whether or not something is convenient, like you said."
"Armin, you broke into the library once back in middle school- all for a book that would prove your point against some kid in our ELAR class. You really can't talk," You said, a small laugh bubbling in your throat as you both turned the corner to the first year classrooms. "God, that was funny... didn't Eren get blamed for that, too?"
Armin squeaked, the type of noise he would make from the back of his throat whenever he was about to object to something. "That was because Colin was a spoiled little boy who acted like he knew more than me! He snipped off pieces of my hair when he sat behind me, too!"
You grimaced, peeking into a nearby door. "Well, that part wasn't funny."
He sighed, carefully taking out the wrinkled, slightly yellowing childhood picture from his pocket. "What if there's some sort of clue in the pictures?"
"I hardly think that this would be like a Sherlock Holmes case."
"There wasn't anything saying who these were all from... and who would put a single picture into its own individual box? We opened so many of those boxes and in each one there was only a picture. Except for that last one, though, with Mikasa's scarf." Armin held it up to the window's light and squinted. "Whoever sent you all of this has got to really not care for the environment. Did you know that letter delivery generates twenty grams of carbon dioxide? Imagine how much it did with two hundred sixteen boxes. Emails, too! In only one year, the average person generates around one-hundred thirty-six kilograms of carbon dioxide, just from emails!"
You were mildly taken aback, but at this point you weren't that surprised.
"I'm sorry?"
"Right!" Armin whimpered, brushing his fingers on the cracks of the walls. "I felt so guilty about using email so much when I was younger... just a single email gives off around four grams, and one with an attachment around fifty. It's terrible, and web searches are even worse!"
"But how do-" You stopped yourself. "We're getting wildly off track here."
"Oops." Armin folded the picture and slipped it back into the back pocket of his pants. Sorry, sorry."
"No, don't be. Sometimes your brain surprises me; you talk about the most interesting things, and you're always so passionate about what you say. You're hot when you talk about things that are so very explicitly out of common knowledge," You said, admittedly only half-sarcastically, but even if you didn't agree with the statement, you just wanted to see what he would do. "You're really attractive, you know that?"
Armin choked on his own saliva, looking at you with a raging blush on his cheeks that was slowly spreading to his ears. "Y/N! What if someone heard that?! A teacher, or a kid!"
"Then they heard it, no big deal. Plus, we're dating now, that sort of thing is normal, isn't it?" You said, laughing slightly. You put a hand on his back and felt him jerk away from you. "Oh- are you okay?"
"Sorry," He said, pressing a hand to his chest as he tried to catch his breath for no apparent reason. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Don't say sorry so much." You muttered, but Armin only exhaled in relief. "You've got nothing to apologize for."
"Sorry, I jus- okay, that one was an accident." Armin straightened his sweater's v-neck collar. "Hm. How about I say something, then?"
"Go for it."
"I think you look really beautiful when you're on stage," He said, trying his best to hold eye contact with you as you walked. "You think you don't have a stage presence, but in reality, you're playing yourself down."
"First off, thank you," You said, feeling your stomach tickle with butterflies at the reassurance. "But what do you mean by 'playing yourself down'? Do I look like I'm repressing myself or something?"
Armin pursed his lips, letting out a small 'hmph' noise as he looked at you and then at the floor before looking at you again. He seemed to think about this for a moment. "It's not that, but it's like you're deliberately being a bit more quiet so that Jean and Mikasa- and before, Eren -would get more of the spotlight on them."
You frowned. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Armin nodded, "and it bothers me. Because I know that you really do deserve more than what you recieve, and even though Mikasa is pretty, and Jean handsome, you're so much more than that, both in terms of attractiveness and talent, especially to me." He gently took the paper bag from your hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I never did understand why you were always put on backup vocals- both back when I was still considered a member and now."
You grinned at that, finally coming to a stop in front of the lecture hall door labeled 'Literature'. "Thank you for that, Armin. I really do appreciate it... though seeing myself from your point of view is weird, you act like you love me."
"Of course I do," He said softly. "...but are you sure that no one has been hearing us? I feel like there's someone else here, and our conversation turned out to be personal."
You looked at him while you put your hand up to knock. "Honestly, though, Armin, I've heard worse in this building. One time, I caught Hanji and Mobl-"
A sharp, stern voice interrupted you, causing you to jump slightly at the realization that Armin didn't have a voice nearly that deep or rough. "Mind telling me what you're doing here?"
Armin yelped, whirling around with embarrassment, his eyes wide. "We didn't mean to-! We didn't- we're not-!"
Levi Ackerman's icy blue-grey eyes glazed over Armin's features with a look of judgement. He glanced at you and sighed deeply. "What happened to you hating Arlert? You wrote songs about him, Y/N. There's no going back from that! Poetry, songs, letters you never sent-"
"-Aw, you wrote songs about me?" Armin cut in, a gushing smile on his lips.
You resisted the urge to face palm.
Levi glared at him, tapping an annoyed foot onto the ground, and when you looked down, he was wearing sneakers. "They weren't positive."
"No, well, see, there were a few angry ones and others were more expressive on how much I missed him," You said hastily, cringing at every word that came out of your mouth, because it felt like everything you said only made you seem worse. "Anyway! Levi, remember that time me and a few friends got our dormitories broken into? And robbed? And threatened? And stalked?"
Professor Ackerman grunted, pushing his arms in between you and Armin to get to his classroom. He snatched out his keys from his jacket's pocket and hurried to unlock the door, pushing it open as he spoke, "How could I? That's the reason we're being investigated."
You felt your stomach drop. "I'm sorry?"
"You should be. We're not being allowed to house students on campus anymore until the MPs get this shitty operation over with," Levi said nastily. "The fact that Zackly didn't want to conduct an investigation at that moment to 'save money' says everything about this school. Furthermore, the only people involved in that situation were you, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Hitch, Floch, and Armin."
He turned around to look at you pointedly. "Floch and Hitch wouldn't do that now that they're adults and would recieve jail time for that. Armin, as much of a dick he was for a certain time period-"
You heard Armin let out a long sigh.
"-is too smart for that. Which means that someone from your band reported this. Five goddamn years later."
ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ⁵⁴³⁰