I Need You

Chapter 2- Captain Who?

Song recommendation: MANSA- Vibe (slowed + reverb) by SELENNE

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRGmB43t3hpW4LkEpA79k-sCUfSPBfzjI

TW: Catcalling, intoxication

. . .

Vines snaked up a large, antiquated building as stones teetered in the walls, threatening the fate of anyone who dared step beneath them. It was the Survey Corps Headquarters, an abandoned parliament building assigned by the government for weary soldiers to lay their heads and recharge between missions. Belongings in tow, this would be your new home for the coming weeks before deployment. Entering the jumbo double doors, the smell of mildew and old linen was overpowering. The décor was Victorian: red carpets and drapery, brass chandeliers and trimmings, stone accents and pillars. Antique furniture covered in white sheets lined the walls, spiders utilizing the seating arrangement to sew their homes. It appeared no one had been there for quite some time. You stopped walking to study your new surroundings, awe struck at the beautifully ornate building. Slender fingers tickling across your waist had your soul leaving your body and a fearful shiver seizing your spine.

"Holy shit!"

The soldiers within ear shot startled at the sudden outburst, unsure whether the need for concern should be reciprocated. Whipping around, a highly unamused Captain came into view,

"You ok, Cadet? Look like you just saw a damn ghost."

Embarrassed at the amount of stir this caused, your hand sheepishly signaled to the others that it was a false alarm,

"Everything is fine. Sorry, Sir."

"Good. 'Cause I don't like problems."

Levi pushed past, smell of soap and musk leeching onto your jacket as his shoulder grazed yours. As if someone was pulling a string at the top of his head, he moved through the crowded entrance with perfect pose. He was a strange man. Though formal and rigid, there was an edgy darkness to him that was not typical of a high-ranked officer. Shrugging off the encounter, you advanced through the entrance of the old structure. There was a long corridor covered in pictures of what appeared to be royalty. Oddly, none of the people in these photos were recognizable. Midway down the corridor was the entrance to a large mess hall littered with wood benches and tables. There was a serving area and kitchen against the far wall and an adjacent alcove window overseeing the courtyard. Continuing to explore the vast hallway, it broke off in different directions. To the right all the men were convened around a doorway that appeared to lead into the men's barracks. Taking a left, you lined up with the other female soldiers. The women's barracks were full of bunk beds and windows. Next to the bunks were small, two drawer dressers for scouts to store their things.

The room felt claustrophobic, so a bunk closest to a window was your best option. While the other women chatted casually, your focus remained on your bag of belongings. A girl in a red scarf stood at the corner of the room staring you down. Her name was Mikasa Ackerman, and she was about as friendly as the titans, meaning she would devour you if you ever got in her way. She had short, black hair and a small but muscular frame. Raising an eyebrow in her direction, Mikasa quickly buried her face in her scarlet scarf and left the room. Though it was unclear why she was staring, it wasn't something you had any interest in exploring further.

Carefully piling saltine crackers on your dresser, your hand pawed around the bottom of your bag until it met a piece of photo paper. It was a photograph of your family. You weakly sat down on your bunk as a deep pain pulled at your chest. Before the titans attacked, your mom insisted on a family photo. Getting portraits done was a long and painful process. Not only would you have to dress in itchy formal wear but would also have to pose for what felt like an eternity as the exposure developed. That was why no one ever smiled in photos. Kissing your hand, it pressed onto the picture, your mind grasping at the impossible. Their lives had meaning; they mattered. The mere idea of the little girl your sister would have become was shattering, debilitating, heart-wrenching. They deserved the future that was ripped from them, ripped from you. The sound of your heart breaking was interrupted by irritating crinkles. It made you bristle,