Enamor |Violinist!Levi x Reader|

Enamor | 3 |

There is a moment when people lose thrill in their lives and have nothing to do. Everything is so null and void. At that very moment, that speck of time, people start looking deep into the meaning of simple things which, well, weren't meant to be interpreted as if they had a complex constitution.

The same was happening to you.

"I see....so the author meant to make the readers realize that.....no my statement seems to contradict with this book." You traced the wrinkled spine of the book and straightened the curled up page edges to place it back into the polished bookshelf.

"It seems as if I have gone mad...or am turning into an old man," you spoke to yourself. If your conscience had allowed you to think about the contents in that book for an hour more or so, then your name would've been on the top most position in the éclat of philosophers.

'Trost is so.....blue.'

A rolling noise disturbed your tangled mind to be further knotted into delusional theories about the existence of the colour blue.

Moving your head to a slightly uncomfortable angle, your sight laid on an old man staring back at you. Despite his old age, he still had a twinkle of zeal in his eyes. His words, so firm, yet dignified, often give off shades of wisdom which would momentarily evoke the threads of logic in one's mind.

'Old age doesn't mean wisdom and youth doesn't mean innovation.' The same old guy would quote this statement from God knows which book and lessen his worth, it was his way of being nice and down to Earth. The second string about 'youth' might have been directed to you but after years of living together, you knew you shouldn't take his bitter comments at heart.

"Grandpa," you smiled and twisted around fully to see him, "why'd you come? I was managing the shop well on my own."

"Oh no, I'm not here to work," he laughed, most probably because him working in your shop would only be deemed as a dream come true, "I was bored skype-ing with your grandma so I came here to disturb you."

You chuckled and looked out of the wooden-framed window to see if any person was nearing your shop.

The yellow hue of the walls did not match with the dull, pallid weather of Trost. There were hardly any sun rays to play with the vibrancy of your bookstore. The damp weather outside stuck to the glass, blurring the view as people's sight tried to claw on the books displayed, thus, acting as a liquid hurdle between you and money.

This town- a muted palette of dull blue, washed out yellow and worn out green.

Your eyes laid on Carla's beautiful flower shop, morning dews adorning those vibrant petals. Good for business. Her shop was painted a shade of blue which got along with the suffocating ambience of Trost. At the same time, that shop gave off a refreshing feeling.

Must have been those flowers.

Eren was helping her mother arrange the blue bells on a display table. Skilled hands pulled, shuffled, arranged and watered them.

Blue bells, blue walls, blue Trost. So synchronized.

The sky was a mournful grey today. Concrete buildings rose high above you. The whole street was a train of shops, lined together, one adjacent to other. It looked so congested but unfortunately land couldn't be bought easily, especially in Trost where most of the land was owned by wealthy government people-officials, the Mayor's dogs. So, people had no other choice but to open up their business here.

At the dead end of the street, the darkest portion which may have never tasted even a speck of warm sunlight, there was a blacksmith's shop, Reiner's shop.

Even a whole bunch of Carla's flowers couldn't dilute that concentrated chilly aroma.

With a dry cloth you swiped across the display glass, pads of fingers often touching the cool material only to make a shudder run across your figure and a curse ring across your tongue.

With the glass now transparent instead of translucent, you asked your grandfather, "Remind me again why we painted our shop yellow?"

"Your mother insisted," he answered with a smile, making the skin around his eyes crumple.

"Oh yes, right," you stared at the insurmountable pile of books to arrange. Out of irritation, you tapped your foot against the wooden floor, an abrupt stop ensued. "I forgot to thank you for the tickets. So, thank you. I had a great time there."

"I knew it! Ackerman's tunes are really a beauty." He smirked, probably because he had been right about classical music being a treat to the ears while you were constantly trying to support an opposing point by giving him examples of well-known bands.

You were wrong and he fed on this new piece of information.

"I know...it makes me think-"

The old man disturbed you by a chuckle, "You had always been a thinker type of girl," he paused, remembering your childhood traits, "you always questioned the working of everything, challenged the elders-" he referred to himself, "-these doubts of yours often itched on my skin. Why could you never see anything with a view of it being simple?" Offended, you shot him a glare, one which was diluted enough for his esteem to not get hurt. "But still I love you." He smiled.
"Remember, kiddo. Beauty is in simplicity," came out a finished sentence.

Wise.

"I see," you replied. Your intentions were not to piss him off with your, what he thought, complicated thinking; those tangled webs of arching thoughts. Your grandfather might not have been one of those cuddly bunny grandpas but his brutal honesty was what you liked. But you weren't going to modify yourself to a radical extent so that his wishes would get satisfied.

He smiled, "I hope you didn't bother Mister Ackerman with your unique thoughts."

You blushed scarlet. Unique thoughts? It seemed like his brain had been officially tagged as an old edition. "I am a meager human! And humans too have individual thoughts! And I didn't bother him at all!" Or so you thought.

"I see."

_+_

So, this was a short intro of the reader and her grandpa ! It is unedited so please tell me if there are any errors. Please do! Don:'t forget to comment!