Disclaimer: I don't own SNK.

A/N: It's a miracle I'm even writing this, considering the fact that I haven't actively watched anime since I was about sixteen years old. Anyway, first time writing for SNK so forgive any sloppy characterization mistakes. This idea has been brewing in my head since Christmas and two and a half weeks later it's finally here. Yesh.

Also, special shout out to seasaltkisses for drawing one of her infamous crayon fanarts for this. You can see that in all its glory on my writing tumblr.

-x-

On the Edge of Nowhere

-x-

I

At The Border Of Sunset Park and Park Slope

-x-

"Maybe if you were home I wouldn't be in this mess right now."

"And just how is your current predicament my fault, Eren?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'd have someone to keep me in line so stupid shit like this wouldn't happen."

"…Well, even if I'm not there, you have Mikasa."

"Don't bring her up; she doesn't even know about what happened, Armin." I paused and turned to look over my shoulder at my sister. I could see her cooking dinner in the kitchen through the fogged up glass of the terrace's sliding doors, "Can you imagine the lectures I would get if she knew?"

"She's going to find out eventually. You know she always does, Eren." Armin sighed on the other end and I could hear his voice growing weary with concern, "What about your dad? Where's he?"

"Brazil? Chile? Does it matter?" I replied, reaching into my back pocket for my pack of cigarettes and balanced my cell phone between my shoulder and ear for a moment, "He's not going to know about this mess either. Only you, Armin."

I could have sworn he laughed even though the situation was far from humorous, "And why only me, Eren?"

"Cause you don't judge me for the stupid shit that I always do."

"Ah, I don't think I have grounds to judge you considering all the times you and Mikasa have helped me out. I still owe you a couple of favors, don't I?"

"Hey, don't talk like that you little shit. You're my best friend and you know that." I pocketed the cigarettes once I removed one and pat myself down for a lighter, "Besides, you're one in a million, Armin. Don't think I can find too many people to replace you in this shitty and run down city."

"But I'm not even in New York right now."

"Yeah, well. You're still better than half the people that live here even if you aren't here." I sighed, pulling my shoulder away from my ear and lit up, "We miss you, ya know? It's almost Christmas… and it feels weird that you're not going to be here."

"I'll see you two for New Years!"

"Yeah, if I'm not locked up by then." I mused, taking the first drag of the cigarette, "Ugh, but really though? Who the hell sets a court date two days before Christmas!?"

"…Uhm… cause it's New York?" Armin tried feebly, "You know the city never cares about whose life they're destroying and on what day."

"It's not even like what happened was my fault." I said, gesturing to no one in particular, "Stupid Jean and his stupid—"

"Eren, do I have to remind you who put who in the hospital?"

"So? His stupid ass deserved it after the shit he pulled." I flicked the cigarette and stared up at the night sky. Couldn't see the stars, but as least the bright, dumb moon was there, "Can you believe I saw that jackass on the train the other day? Of all the damn places to be, I'm on my way home from work and there he is sitting on the damn train like he has the right."

"You don't own the MTA, Eren."

"I should. Jean would be banned for life and he'd have to ride a bike everywhere." I leaned forward on the railing in front of me, "But, yeah. I was working my last shift… you know, cause they fired me and everything over this whole mess."

"Yes, yes, I know. How's the job search going, by the way?"

I shrugged, "I'll start after Christmas. Anyway, listen. I'd just called Mikasa to tell her I was coming home. Keep in mind, its six o'clock, there are tourists and idiots everywhere and I just want to get home already." I took a drag of my cigarette and switched my weight to my left leg, "I barely make it into the train just as the god damn doors close so I'm kinda discombobulated. Anyway, I look up and there he is. That jackass, with his stupid broken arm and his new bitch—that Marco guy that I was convinced he was fucking from the very beginning—laughing like he doesn't have a care in the world."

I could have sworn I heard Armin whisper 'gay men drama' under his breath. He cleared his throat, "…Yes, yes. I remember this Marco character..."

"He doesn't even live in Brooklyn! He's all the way up in the Bronx! What the hell would he be doing on the freaking F train?" I banged my fist on the railing and turned to began pacing the terrace. I was starting to get cold from standing in one place for too long, "So, yeah. I see the bastard and they're just talking. You know, happy and laughing like the shithead didn't have a care in the world."

"Didn't he see you?"

"No, I was hidden behind some lady with disproportional tits and a group of Norwegian tourists." I sighed, turning around and began pacing back toward the other side of the terrace, "They got off at West 4th. Probably to go gay it up in Chelsea together."

"…Gay it up…" Armin repeated to himself, "…Sounds like fun?"

"Huh. Right. Whatever." I tapped my cigarette off the ledge, "Bet you all believe me now, don't you?"

"I never doubted you from the start, Eren. I just thought … hmmm…" Armin cleared his throat, "…I just thought maybe … I don't know. Maybe … there could have been a better way of handling things? I mean, you sent your ex-boyfriend to the hospital with a broken nose and arm…" He trailed off, "Not only that, what's happening with the café? From what I heard you basically trashed their whole front entrance... surely the owner wants you to pay for their damages?"

"That's another headache and court date all together." I sighed, resting my chin on the cold metal railing, "January 4th."

"Sounds like you're going to be a busy man, Eren Yeager."

"What a way to start off the fucking New Year, huh?"

There was a soft rapping on the glass of the door and I saw Mikasa staring at me behind it. She turned around and pointed behind her before exiting the vicinity and returned to the kitchen. I sighed, stabbed my cigarette out and chucked it off the terrace, "Listen, Armin. Gotta go. Mikasa's done with dinner and you know how fussy she gets about me eating."

"It's okay, I understand. I've gotta get back to work myself to be honest…" He trailed off, "…Keep me updated about what's going on, okay? And hang in there, Eren. I'm sure things won't be too bad. Everything will be fine once this all blows all. It'll be like it never happened."

"Oh, yeah. Like it never happened. Ready for this, Armin? So, Mr. Yeager, what's this assault charge we pulled up in your background check? Yeah, that'll be a great reminder that it never happened."

"Positivity, Eren. You gotta think, positive." Armin sighed, "And trust in Mikasa. It might not be that bad, you know? I know she's still curious as to why you and Jean are no longer together even if she doesn't pry."

"She never liked him to begin with so it doesn't even matter."

"Hmmm." Armin cleared his throat, "Well… I'm going to go. Hang in there, okay? I'll be back in the city soon enough."

"And then you and Mikasa can take me out and we'll get trashed?" I sighed hopefully as I turned around to head back into the apartment.

"If that's what you want, then sure." Armin laughed in his usual way. Lighthearted and never a care in the world. I envied him sometimes; he was too nice for his own good, "Night, Eren."

"See ya." I pulled my phone away from my ear and ended the call.

Mikasa was busy setting the table as I slid back the glass door and stepped into the warmth of the living room. There was jazz music coming from her tablet on the dining room table and she had plugged in the Christmas tree so it brightened the dimly lit space.

She glanced at me briefly before turning her back and headed toward the kitchen again. I shirked off my coat and tossed it onto the couch. I sniffed the air for a minute and felt my stomach growl in anticipation. The aroma of whatever she had cooked had filled the apartment with a warm, garlicky scent.

I looked at the table where she had already set down two white plates. "Do you need help?" I asked, walking to the archway of the kitchen.

"Everything is fine, take a seat at the table." She murmured as she walked past me with a bowl full of salad.

"Are you sure?"

She paused and then turned to look at me, "…Well, perhaps you can get some wine from the bar?"

I walked past the table just as she sat a bowl of pasta down beside the salad and observed the bar in front of me, "What type?"

"Whichever you choose is okay."

"Red?"

"I said it was fine, Eren." She turned away from me again as if she couldn't meet my eyes. Mikasa was oddly demure tonight … must have had a tiring day at work.

Shrugging I pulled the wine from the bar and walked around to set it down on the table between where she sat the pasta and salad bowls. I turned back again to get wine glasses just as she placed a grey pan with a few slices of garlic bread down in front of me. She wiped her hands down on a towel by the stove, discarded her apron and walked toward the table.

"That everything?" I asked, setting the glasses down and she nodded silently, "…Oh, what about the cork—"

"Already have it." She replied, set about opening the bottle and poured a generous amount of wine into both our glasses. Once she was done, she set the bottle down and gestured toward me, "Well?"

"Oh, uhm …" I pulled the salad bowl my way as she began lumping her portion out of the pasta bowl, "So… how was your day?"

"Fine." She replied, "I worked some more with my new client."

"Hm? You mean the tiny one that looks like Armin?"

"Yes, Krista." Mikasa mused, raising her wine glass to her lips, "There's a lot of work to be done but she's making progress. She was able to do at least two pull ups today."

"Hey, that's up from zero when you first started with her." I stabbed at a baby spinach leaf, "Armin can't even do one."

"I'll make sure to put some work in with him when he comes home." Mikasa replied, twirling her fork in her spaghetti, "I assume that's who you were on the phone with outside?"

"Yeah, he's not coming home until after Christmas." I sighed, leaning back in my chair and threw my arms behind my head, "Just what the hell could be so important about California that he can't come back for a few days? The West Coast ain't shit compared to New York."

"New York was nothing but a dead end for him. I doubt the amount of biodiversity California has to offer exists in this city's polluted waters." Mikasa reminded me.

"There's plenty." I countered, "Just look at the Hudson River. You'll find heroin needles, pharmaceutical waste, urban runoff, probably a used condom or two. Hell, that's diversity, isn't it?"

"Don't be vulgar while we're eating, Eren." Mikasa sighed, scrunching up her nose momentarily.

"It's true." I shrugged while tapping my fork against my plate, "Oh, I have to go out somewhere in the morning."

Mikasa looked up at me, "It's almost Christmas Eve."

"I know." I replied, "But I have to take care of some last minute stuff and then I'll be home in the evening."

"…Stuff?"She asked. Her facial expression belied her emotions, but I heard it in her voice, "…Shopping?"

"Something like that." I muttered, refusing to meet her eyes. My suspicious nature wasn't helping me at all, "I'm just going downtown in the morning. I'll be back by four the latest."

"…Eren. Does this have anything to do with Jean?" I could kick myself for how perceptible she was.

"No." I quickly sat up in my seat and slammed my hands down on the table, "It doesn't have anything to do with that idiot."

She stared at me for a minute and then fiddled with the red scarf around her neck. Did she ever take that thing off? "…You know I hate it when you lie to me. …But I suppose you would tell me if it were really important, wouldn't you?"

"It's not. Don't worry about it."

"You would tell me if you were in trouble, right, Eren?"

"Mikasa."

"Well, someone has to look after you when Papa isn't here." It still baffled me how we were almost twenty four years old and she still called our father that.

"Mikasa, I'm twenty three years old. I don't need to be looked after."

"Hm," She speared a piece of cherry tomato, "…I just worry about you. With your temper and all."

"You've had your fair share of fights, too."

"Only when you couldn't fight your own." She set her fork down and dabbed at the corner of her mouth, "…Do you remember that time you wanted to fight Annie, in the fourth grade. She punched you so hard in the face that you had to get taken to the nurse by Armin."

"Yeah, and then both of you got yourselves sent to the principal's office because you guys turned the entire playground into Fight Club." I shivered at the thought of waking up to Mikasa sitting by my side in the nurse's office with her bruised fist and bandaged cut on her cheek. She still had the scar til this day even though it was extremely faint.

"Or what about that time you called yourself reigning terror on the group of guys that used to stalk Armin and harassed him for the first half of sophomore year?"

"You were there to beat the shit out of them as well if I recall things correctly." I took a sip of my wine, "I guess you were always there to clean up my violent messes now that I look at it."

She shrugged as if to wordlessly say, I would have expected you to do that same. Mikasa looked at me again after eating some more salad, "…So, I'll ask you again. …You're not in any type of trouble are you?"

"No." I replied, "Now stop worrying."

-x-

This whole mess started two months ago near the beginning of October.

This was back when I was still dating the idiot known as Jean Kirstein. Trust me when I say he was an idiot, because he was one. Period. Point blank.

I met him in my first summer as a post grad. Armin was back home from Miami—(of all the places to go to school, he chose Florida)—as was Mikasa—(actually, she stayed in the city to go to college. Miss Columbia grad over here)—and they were ready to celebrate once I got home. (If you're wondering, I went up north to Cornell. Ithaca's pretty nice, I'll say that much. Cold as shit though).

Anyway, like any typical start to young gay romance in the city, I met him in the West Village on a bar crawl night that left me puking my guts out into more gutters than I cared to remember. As such, I don't remember much of that night but we encountered him in this really shitty bar with nothing but a buncha old queens who were trying to relive their glory days of off-off-Broadway and shitty underground beatnik coffee clubs.

He was standing at the bar with his friend—this guy who was a freaking sea of freckles named Marco. Marco comes into play a little later on in this story, so just hold on to his name for a minute.

At that time I was more than on my way to drunk. I had just thrown up in some random gutter and while Mikasa and Armin were adamant on getting me back home, I wasn't ready to go yet. I was sipping on some water that Armin had gotten for me when Marco approached me first. As inebriated as I was, I was more than receptive to his approach. …Then …there's a certain lapse in time where I don't remember how Marco became Jean, but … that's what happens when you kill your brain cells with 70 proof vodka.

Anyway, long story short, I woke up the next morning in Armin's bed with Jean's number scrawled across my stomach in black sharpie with the words, call me written under it. No name, just call me.

We ended up as fuck buddies during the summer and I was calling the idiot my boyfriend by the middle of October. Things were okay until Marco became an issue. If we had a fight, I'm pretty sure ninety percent of the time Marco was at the root of it all. I mean, he told me they had a fling back when they were younger, but they were friends now. Best friends. And I shouldn't feel intimidated by or question my boyfriend's best friend, right? …Wrong. And you know why it was wrong? Because gay men seem to be notorious for having drama that rivals even the cattiest of females.

But, at Mikasa and Armin's request, I let it go. And because I let it go, October happened.

Jean took me to this small café in the West Village for our anniversary. It was nice. A little cramped but nice. Anyway, there were a couple of people in the café. A group of high school girls, some old people, a yuppie couple and a family of five off in the corner. And then there was Jean and I.

The entire day had been normal. I'd just seen my father off at JFK for one of his month long excursions back to South America and Mikasa had been lounging around the house with a horrible head cold. I had offered to stay home and just have Jean come over to celebrate but she was adamant that I get out and go on with my plans for the night.

So, there we were, sitting around and with two slices of blackout cake engaged in nonstop conversation. But, then Jean's phone rings. Not once, not twice but three times. And every time it rings, he looks more and more agitated. Not in the sense that he's annoyed… but like he's in trouble or in a bad situation.

"Who is it?" I asked him.

"No one."

"No one?" I asked, glancing down at his pocket where he put his phone. It chimed and vibrated noisily against his thigh, "You sure about that?"

"Positive." He quickly changed the subject and flashed me one of his typical cocky grins, "So, you were saying about your father…?"

I glanced down at his pocket, "Don't give me that shit."

"I'm not giving you any shit, Yeager. Shit, can we at least celebrate this gay ass day without you going postal on me?"

I slammed my fist on the table and it rattled on its wobbly cast iron legs. One of the baker's behind the counter glanced up at our table, raising their eyebrows in vague interest. "Tell me who was on the phone."

"Look, I know you're fond of them, but don't make a scene, Eren."

"Then give me your phone."

"You're being paranoid."

His phone began ringing again and I was sick to death of hearing that stupid generic iPhone ringtone. "Jean."

"It's Marco." Jean said finally as he muted the phone.

"Of course it's Marco. Doesn't he know you're out with me?" I asked, taking a sip of my iced tea.

"Eren." He warned, his voice growing lower, "Don't start that shit again, it's our anniversary, dammit. I told you before there's nothing going on between us anymore. I thought you were over this."

"Don't act like you still don't want to fuck the freckles off his face."

I guess we were getting louder because the mother of the family of five covered her youngest daughter's ears and glared in our direction. Who cares, I was getting tired of this stupid shit. I shouldn't have to compete with an old flame for the attention of my boyfriend … who was soon to be my ex at the rate we were going. Mikasa used to say the two of us were a poor match. We were two hotheaded idiots that leapt into a relationship that was solely based on sex to begin with.

Well, Jean didn't like what I had to say and finally he pulled his phone from out of his pocket and looked at it for a minute. He seemed to be contemplating something for a minute, before turning on the front display and pushed the phone my way.

"Maybe I still do."

I don't think I have to go into detail about what I saw right there on his phone. All I'll say is that it was a picture message from Marco and I'll let your imagination conjure up the image on the display.

There are few moments in my life where I've gone into a blackout rage. Most of them have landed me face down in the dirt with a heavy boot pressed against my head forcing me to eat sediment mixed with my own blood. And maybe once or twice in the ER with Armin fidgeting nervously at my side and Mikasa glaring stone cold death at an EMT. I've survived most of the shit I've thrown myself headfirst into. Mostly because of sheer dumb luck… because I pretty sure there's been times when I should have died. Oh well, I'm sure heaven doesn't have the patience to reform me and hell probably wouldn't want me. I guess I've earned the right to be called a suicidal bastard…and I've earned it well.

My first punch connected with his nose and I instantly felt the sick snap of cartilage under my already bruising knuckles. He didn't have time to recover as I threw the stupid table to the side and immediately grabbed the idiot by his collar. Fucking … all those times everyone said I was crazy. All those times I'd been told to calm the fuck down because it's not like that, Eren. All those times I'd been suspicious of the two of them, I'd been right.

Anyway, I was charged with assault in the third degree and landed myself in jail for the night, while Jean was getting cozy in the hospital with a broken arm, a broken nose and cuts from me punching him through the glass door of the freaking café.

Armin—wonderful, nonjudgmental and understanding Armin—was the one who met me at 6AM in the morning after they released me. I immediately made him promise not to tell Mikasa… there was no telling what she might or might not have done to Jean had she known the truth. We kept it to ourselves even if she was somewhat suspicious as to why I was walking in with Armin that morning… and why hadn't I called her to let her know I wouldn't be back home that night?

The story found its way into The Villager the day after.

My job told me I was fired two months later.

...But, that's the whole story. I punched my stupid cheating ex-boyfriend through the door of some café in Manhattan and now I was being charged with a class A misdemeanor. And that meant that I could possibly be facing a year's worth of jail time if the judge gave me the maximum punishment for this stupid shit. Also, besides my assault case with Jean, there was also the matter of scrounging up the money to pay the café back for the repairs on the door that I broke. I hadn't really been in contact with the owner since the incident, but everything was looking to be resolved in early January.

Really, no matter how you looked at it, I was fucked.

Guess I have nothing but my own stupid impulsivity and hotheadedness was to blame.

-x-

I found myself in court at 9AM on the morning of December 23rd.

My lawyer had been optimistic even if I wasn't. She was attacking the case from the angle of I'd been wounded "emotionally" by my boyfriend's betrayal. It was a crock full of shit at that point, but maybe I'd get a judge that had been burned by a lover somewhere in their past and could sympathize with my current predicament. …That was a far stretch, I know.

Jean came into court looking as fucked up as ever. His arm was no longer in a cast but still hung snugly against his chest in a sling. He didn't even look at me as he stepped into the room behind his attorney.

We stayed standing as the judge took her position in front of us and told us to sit as she reviewed the specifics of the case. After she established which party was which and the grievances that were being settled that morning, she turned her attention to me.

"Eren Yeager." She began.

"Yes, your honor?" I asked, standing before her.

She glanced down at the papers in her hand, "...You're here to settle the matter of the third degree assault charges Mr. Kirstein has brought against you, correct?"

"…Uhm, yes."

"Hm." She tossed the papers down in front of her and turned to Jean next, "Mr. Kirstein."

"Yes, your honor?" He was about to stand up but she held her hand out to stop him.

"Stay seated, sir." She said, pulling up another set of papers, "This morning I received a call from your attorney with a rather last minute request to your case. …You no longer wish to prosecute Mr. Yeager, is that my understanding?"

"That's correct."

Holy shit.

The judge nodded and wrote something down on the paper in front of her, "You are well aware that once the charges are dropped, your case against Mr. Yeager is finished and he will possibly be prosecuted by the state at a later date?"

"Yes, your honor."

"All right then," She turned her attention back to me, "Mr. Yeager."

I turned away from Jean to look up at the judge again, "Uhm… yes?"

"While Mr. Kirstein has dropped the charges against you, the state of New York still reserves the right to prosecute you for your crimes. Do you understand?" I nodded and she continued, "If both parties are in understanding of the law, then I am finished here for the day. Are there any questions?"

When neither I nor Jean spoke up she slammed her gavel down on the surface in front of her. Court was adjourned.

-x-

We were standing outside of the Starbucks off on Broadway like the delinquents that we were, me smoking a cigarette and Jean sipping on his shitty over sweetened coffee. I turned to look at him as he had refused to meet my eyes since we stepped out of the courthouse.

"…Why did you do it?"

"Because we both fucked up."

"We?"

"Yes, we." He took a sip from his coffee and turned to face me finally, "I was stupid for fucking around with Marco behind your back and you were stupid for fucking punching me through a god damn glass door."

"You were stupid for running your mouth off at me like that."

"And you were stupid for letting your temper get the better of you, but obviously I was stupid first for baiting you." He shook his head and gestured toward his arm, "Guess this is what I get for all of it."

"It's not like we weren't fucked from the start."

"Listening to Mikasa again?" He asked.

I shrugged, "No, even though it would have maybe saved me some strife if I did. Anyway, Jean. I'm done with this if you are. You and I can go our separate ways and just remember this as some bad nightmare that ends today." I flicked my cigarette ash into the street.

"Sounds reasonable." He finished the rest of his coffee and chucked the cup into the overflowing trash bin on the street corner, "I should get going anyway. Got things to do."

Probably meeting Marco for one, but I wouldn't voice my bitter thoughts. I turned to him, "This it then?"

"Yeah, Yeager. This is it. We're even." He wiped his free hand off on his pants and stuck it out to shake mine, "See you around?"

"Hopefully, not." I replied, looking down at his hand and shrugged, "But, yeah, sure. Whatever. See you around."

After we shook hands, Jean headed off uptown while I lingered around in FiDi for a bit. I chucked my cigarette into the street, pushed my headphones into my ears and started off for the South Street Seaport.

The Christmas decorations in the city were nauseating at the pier. Everywhere I looked there were lights and ugly tinsel streams of green, red and silver. There was also that big ass obnoxious Christmas tree that they plopped right in the center of the walkway so that the already congested streets were even more unbearable to walk through.

After running across the street and escaping certain death by vehicular manslaughter once again, I dialed Armin's number as soon as I had entered the mall and made it halfway across the food court. He picked up on the third ring with a tired, "M'llo?"

"He dropped the charges."

Armin yawned loudly in my ear, "…Oh… Eren. …It's … it's seven in the morning. What are you doin'?"

"Armin, did you hear me? I said Jean dropped the charges." I leaned on the railing in front of me.

It took him a minute but he finally woke up, "…Wait, what did you say?"

I grimaced slightly at two annoying tourists who were taking obnoxious pictures of themselves right next to me. Did anyone understand the concept of god damn personal space? Or was that nonexistent where they came from? I picked up from where I was and began walking around the wrap around balcony, "Armin Arlert. Wake up and smell the morning roast. What are you doing?"

"God, Eren, its 7AM in California." He groaned, "I don't have to be into the office until eleven."

"Oh, well… sorry." I crossed my free arm over my chest, "I went to court this morning. But, you know that already."

"Yes, continue."

"The judge comes into the room and she establishes the basics of the case at first, right? Then she goes on to say that Jean dropped the charges. Just this morning, just like that."

"…Why, though? I mean that's great and everything, but what in the world could possess him to do something like that?" Armin questioned, "You punched the guy through a glass door, Eren."

"I think he realized his whole stupid part in everything a little too late." I replied, "At any rate, I'm ready to forget about Jean and his limp dick."

"Me too… even though that's not something I think about." Armin chuckled.

"I'd hope not." I tilted my head back and sighed, my breath puffing smoky white into the thin air, "So. That's one headache dealt with. The judge told me there's a chance the state could pick up my case, but who really wants to spend time sentencing a stupid twenty three year old kid to jail for beating up his cheating prick of an ex-boyfriend?"

"I'm sure there's someone in the city that would. You know… social justice people and all those sorts of things."

"He cheated on me. Who's the real injured party in this mess?"

"Him, physically. You, emotionally, even though you've refused to admit it."

"I already did. With my fists on his stupid face."

"Hm. So you did." Armin yawned, "So what's next?"

"I have to go to court with the owner of the café, remember?"

"You still haven't met him yet, have you?"

"No. My lawyer's been kinda mum on the whole thing. Although she says this'll be an easier settlement than the one I could have possibly faced with Jean." I shrugged, "I'll just have to find a job to pay back whatever I owe the establishment. No problem."

"And …you haven't told Mikasa any of this, right?"

"…When it's all over." I said, "I promise I'll do it while you're here. It might soften the blow a bit."

"Of her anger?"

"She'll be upset but she'll get over it. She always does." I shrugged, "Anyway, Armin. I just called to let you know how today went. I'm gonna fuck around at the seaport some and then go home and sleep the holidays away. I'm picking you up at 8AM at LaGuardia on Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why so early, man?"

"It's not my fault you guys are three hours ahead of me. And a red eye was all I could find."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just excited you're coming home."

"Eren, it's only been a month and a half since I left."

"Yeah, well, it's felt like ages." I sighed, "Anyway, go back to sleep. I'll talk to you sometime on Christmas, okay?"

"All right. Stay safe, Eren. See ya."

"Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep. Talk to you later."

I tapped my phone twice before pocketing it and put my headphones back in my ears. The tourists from before were slowly migrating to my current position, so to save myself from committing any more preventable crimes, I exited back through the double doors of the mall and into the food court. …I glanced around the area for a minute and shrugged. Guess I could get a soda or something from Subway while I wasted some more time before heading home.

I walked aimlessly around the seaport for a few, stopping short of the piers to watch the boats floating for a moment and then backtracked through the streets and headed for the R train again to take me back to Brooklyn. When I returned to the apartment, Mikasa wasn't in but she had left a note.

If you get home before me, I stepped out to get a few things. Be back by noon. Made you a sandwich, avocado and chicken if you get hungry. It's in the fridge.

…She really did worry about me too much.

I sat the note down on the coffee table in the living room and began pulling my coat off as I made my way over to the blinking answering machine in the corner of the living room. One call, it was from my father. …Looks like we were spending another Christmas alone with just the two of us. …But it was alright, I'd grown accustomed to the distance.

I pulled my phone out of my coat to check the time and text Mikasa to let her know that I was back home. After setting it down on the table I turned over in the chair and sighed. It had been an exhausting day and I was ready to sleep through the holidays until Armin came back home and we could go out as our little trio again. I'd missed the little guy and it really did feel empty without him being in the city.

I thought I heard Mikasa calling out to me a few minutes later, but by then my muscles had relaxed and I was falling asleep while staring at the blurring and blinking lights of an all too bright Christmas tree.