𝑗𝑜𝑏 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 ᶠˡᵒᶜʰ ᶠᵒʳˢᵗᵉʳ

one.

one, war tactics for dummies.

If the meeting didn't end soon you were certain a fight would break out. All courtesy of you, your puny fists, and ill-temper, of course.

Zeke had been doing reruns of the upcoming mission for the third time in a half-hour period, and the sound of his gritty voice was hurting your ears. How he spoke came off as highly condescending and rude. Every time his eyes met yours in the sea of soldiers you were set on, his brow would raise the slightest— not enough to be discerned by others, just enough for you to notice it— and each time he did, your temper would grow.

Everything about him had your senses on overload for all the wrong reasons.

His old, worn-out lenses, musty clothes that you were sure stunk up the place if he were to make any broad movement, and messy hair were pissing you off. He could have chosen to take a shower this morning and you were sure your mood wouldn't be as bad as it was now.

"And that concludes today's meeting," Zeke finally said. The room grew in idle chatter between the soldiers and you sighed in relief. The hardest part of the day was over.

It was a high-stress moment for Paradis, as Marley began closing in on the nation in suspicion of invasion. Everyone was planning, training, and executing meetings to handle the situation, but it wasn't as simple as that. War was the only suitable approach for a nation as obstinate as Marley, as Zeke would often say.

You didn't care either way, as you were not involved in the matters. Not that Zeke would even allow you to join the fight in the first place. It didn't make a difference if you took part in the meetings along with the other soldiers, as you weren't part of the crew. Surely, the only reason you were being treated kindly was because of your brothers.

You swam through the huddles of bodies, trying to get outside of the conference room before Zeke came up with a reason to keep you lingering for longer.

You went to the back of the room, away from the podium where he had just spoken. The exit door was in sight and you were soon to reach it in a few more steps, but something stopped you. A hand fell on your shoulder.

"You can't leave."

You sighed. Of course it had to be him.

"I think I'm grown enough to do as I please, don't you think, Floch?"

If there was anyone to claim the title of pretentious it had to be him. Floch was in the line of annoying men right after Eren and Zeke— in that exact order. But for some reason, you allowed him to get closer. The bare of your skin burned from where he had touched.

"No, I can't let you leave," Floch spoke. He was dressed in his formal attire even while on a break day. "Boss's orders."

"Eren isn't even here!" you sighed. It seemed it was all you had been doing lately. Sighing and being inconsequential when it came to the grand scheme of things.

Floch remained firm on his spot.

"No, but Zeke is. I will still uphold my assignment no matter what."

"Aren't you a good boy? What, you want me to praise you?" you taunted condescendingly. It came naturally from spending your whole youth by Zeke's side. "I'm just going to my room to rest. Not that I could go anywhere else, anyway."

You sidestepped him to be able to reach the door but Floch stopped you once again.

"Hey," he spoke, his voice softer than before and his hand holding your wrist. "Are you alright?"

The tone of his voice was surprising— even more so than his touch— and it was enough for you to pause.

You averted your gaze.

"Yeah... Just a headache."

"Have you been taking care of yourself? Are you still only having chips as a meal?"

Your face relaxed by his words. He still remembered how poor of a planner you were ever since you two were younger.

Floch dropped the hold on your wrist with a cough. He glanced to the side of you, where the majority of soldiers still chattered.

"They're going to be bringing out refreshments soon. Stay for those."

"Ah, how lovely." You crossed your arms and followed his line of sight. "A party with war criminals."

"Exactly. And you're one amongst us."

"Me?" you asked incredulously with a laugh, "No, I don't think I quite fit in. I have yet to master the art of killing as you all have."

"With those arms, you would be a first-class act out on the field. One swing from you and the enemies would be rendered immobile," he humored. It was unexpected for him to be this talkative and you relished in the memory he was enticing.

Years prior, before Paradis' status had gone to the shit hole that it was currently, you and many of the cadets would spend evenings together before the division came. As the child of a renowned doctor and sibling to a titan holder, it was common for you to linger in the battlefield infirmary where your father worked.

On one of those training ridden days, you had come to meet the infamous 104th recruits. And with them was Floch arguing with a girl over who had cheated during their sparring session.

He was a mess. Wickedly selfish and whiny and absolutely and positively cowardly. He even dared to divert the blame onto the girl. Your first impression of him was that he was pathetic. So, you did the best you knew back then and smacked him.

You glossed at the memory, recalling the bright pink mark on Floch's cheek.

"You did deserve it," you said.

Though, now, the same couldn't be said of that wimpy little boy. He had finally grown up, possibly for the worst. His old carefreeness and humanity seemed sheltered away after the long years of training he had undergone. Floch wasn't the same as before and he was probably to never be back.

"I guess I did."

He let his statement linger, allowing the silence that grew between the two of you. Then, he spoke again.

"I have something to give you." His hand went inside his pocket. Before he could continue, a jagged laugh from the assembly interrupted him.

The refreshments were already being passed around the room and most of the soldiers were gulping down the cheap beer with delight. They were a copy of each other, mindlessly following the crowd and enjoying the small get-together after discussing matters of war and death.

Your face twitched at the feel of another soldier bumping into you, so you moved to the door before additional people got inebriated and started gabbing about how great it must be to have Zeke as a brother.

You clicked your tongue in distaste and proceeded to leave, but a certain red-haired man wasn't going to make it easy.

Floch grabbed your arm.

"Stay a while longer, Yeager."

The name he used to address you caused you to flame all over. You turned on your heel and glared with the ugliest expression you could muster.

"Shut up already!" You shook off his hand roughly to express your disdain. "I said I'm going to my room! Don't tell me you plan on following me there as well?"

He was quiet.

"What? Do you have anything else to say?"

He took his hand out of his pocket and sighed. "No. Go to your room then."