For the Eremika week 2018. Day 1: First meeting/ First time.

Thanks to my dear Janet for betaing this chapter

Mikasa sighed.

The flickering, incandescent lights of the nightclub focused on the platform, announcing the debut of the best dancer of the night. Every weeknight, the raven short-haired girl delighted the lascivious eyes of lonely, wicked men with impure desires. Men who drowned their sorrows in alcohol while leering at a girl who offered her best movements on the platform, half-naked, in exchange for monthly pay and good tips. Just one condition: see and do not touch. And until then, none had dared to feel with their hands what their minds had already imagined. But she did not care. She would be safe as long as the wretched intentions of the unpleasant gentlemen did not come to fruition, sure that, that night would be like all others: dance, smiles and some hip movements, until finally, tired of feigning happiness in that ridiculous playboy bunny outfit, she could go home with a few bills in her pockets and soothe the famished stomach of her alcoholic father.

She could not throw him out on the street. He was the only one she had left.

So she sighed, steadying herself like every night before this, wearing her best mask to sate her audience while wiggling her hips to the beat of the suggestive music, supported by a bar to satisfy lustful glances and obscene thoughts.

The lights dazzled, turning her into the center of attention for the next thirty minutes, until one of her workmates replaced her. Freeing her from the hundreds of eyes that devoured her shamelessly, except for a pair of emerald eyes that watched her every day, wondering where the girl who wore a coat went after leaving the club with a withered face and a faded smile.

Far from the vice of women, Eren frequented that bar with the desire to quench his thirst for beer after a long work day. But one night, the green of his eyes had crossed with the dark gray of the girl's, and since then, that color had been etched into his brains as poison invades the veins after a fatal bite.

Tying his long hair in a bun, Eren inhaled the cigarette in his hand, following with his eyes the movements of the dancer who now came down from the platform. Long, firm legs, pale as the moon, hid behind black netting as part of the outfit she wore to dance. Her hair, chin-lengthed, black as onyx, was adorned ridiculously with a rabbit-eared headband until she got rid of the ornament with such annoyance. A rude and rough hand spanked her as soon as the girl passed over one of the tables, making her scream with anger; a pair of bearded old men with a grotesque appearance laughed out loud, celebrating boorishly their detestable deed.

"Son of ..." roared the girl; but one of the two cut her exclamation off by holding her arm, with the clear intention of keeping her, turning the young woman into the subject of their fun.

"Price per hour, sweetie? One night with us and I'll give you whatever you want," the tallest of them spoke, his voice husky as he whispered in a pathetic attempt to sound sexy. Mikasa struggled to free herself, but she was cornered between the two beasts trying to take her with them by force.

"Let go, you bastard!"

The laughter that escaped the throats of both men rumbled in the girl's ears. But a new, raspy, domineering voice rose above them and the music with an imposing tone.

"The lady said to let her go."

The boy with brown hair and fiery green eyes made his appearance on the scene as soon as he noticed the atrocity. Mikasa had seen him before, but for her, he had never been more than a regular customer of the bar ...

Until that night.

"And who are you to tell me what I should do? Go away, child. I saw her first."

Eren did not bother to look at the source of the voice. His eyes remained fixed on Mikasa.

"Let her go. Don't you understand, you asshole?" pronounced the boy, in a severe tone, even more rude than before. The friend of the man who held the girl's arm stood up, approaching Eren with clear intentions to intimidate him, and even humiliate him, and thus make him understand who was the boss that night.

"Go with your mom, brat. My friend and I will have some fun with this beautiful lady -"

A fist punched connected with the mouth of the undesirable one, causing an irrepressible drip of oral and nasal blood. Mikasa was released, while Eren was preparing to attest the next blow, unleashing a fierce fight between him and the assholes who were trying to commit a heinous act. Blows, blood, sweat and broken bottles were the protagonists of the fight; Mikasa asked them to stop, along with her workmates, but nothing was enough, until Traute, the owner of the place, stopped the fighters with the resounding bang of a gunshot.

The music stopped, and so did the men who beat a half-dead boy on the ground.

When the blonde woman with plump lips, gestured asking about what had transpired, her clients pointed to the dancer, for not being willing to spend one night with them. And although Mikasa tried to defend herself, everything was useless.

The club dancers were not sex workers.

However, everyone knew that if a customer requested such services, they should be able to offer themselves. After all, the customer is always right. Or at least, that was what Madame Traute thought.

Thus, Mikasa was fired, and her savior was forbidden from re-entering the seedy club. Eren cursed, shouted impolite empty words that were ineffective before the new situation of the girl he had rescued.

Wearing an old coat for warmth and high heels that riddled her feet, Mikasa left the bar, downcast as she wondered what would become of her life from now on.

She counted the money she had received as tips, and the week's pay, and put her hands to her head in despair. She was sure that her father and she would not survive more than a month with what was in her pockets now.

It was cold, and the gusts of cold air caressed her naked ankles with inclemency. Defeated and on the verge of despair, the dark-haired girl sat at the edge of the sidewalk, hugging her knees to warm herself, cursing her life underneath her breath.

She was too young for a life like that.

Nineteen years wasted by her mother's death and her father's drunkenness.

Mikasa looked up to the skies for help, but she only saw the vast darkness that the vault of heaven offered before her.

Suddenly, worn shoes and dirty pants stopped before her eyes, flexing until a battered body descended at eye level. She recognized him; she recognized the intense fire in those green eyes that saved her, and the tanned skin of the fists that rescued her.

A second later, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck, returning the warmth of a home she had never had. Eren did not know why, nor how; all that was in his mind was the desire to protect her, as if he had been born for it.

Finding her was like finding the purpose in his life, after an existence full of failure and nonsense.

Mikasa looked into his eyes, moistening the dark gray of theirs with tears of hope and sadness.

Eren extended his hand to her and she took it. Maybe they had just met; maybe she should not trust him, and the scarf would only be a memory of the night when a boy with emeralds in his eyes saved her from hell.

Maybe.

Only maybe.

Or perhaps, their souls had been taken apart in some other life, and that night they had met again.

When she stood up, Eren looked back, tightly holding her hand.

"Come on. Let's go head back home."