His daydreams were tinted a green color, reminiscent of his teal eyes when the sun hit them. His dreams at night were full of all sorts of differents colors; of tastes and sounds. His personal dreams for the future were absent of all color, devoid of feeling--of motivation.
He lay in his bed one afternoon, before work, laying across the width of it with his head hanging off the edge. He listened to a sweet cacophony of music floating through his ears, arising thoughts--mostly jumbled--feelings, mostly brief. Repeated until he grew tired.
He adored classical music.
His friends knew nothing of this, they believed the only thing he listened to was various forms of metal and the voices in his head--kidding on the last part, mostly. He had never been concerned with what people thought about him. But unlike a secret kept because of guilt as most secrets are, he kept this to himself because it was precious to him.
His mother adored classical music.
She’d play it whenever she cleaned around the house. Eren, only a child, would lay on his stomach on front of the TV with an open coloring book and crayons.
Listening to her hum while she worked and the soothing sound of the music flowing through the house, imitating some form of peace, was always better than what he had to listen to when his father came home.
Lectures, nitpicks, the sound of a backhanded slap and his mother’s wailing. The thud of her body hitting the hardwood floor, of kicks and crying. At night it was worse. Mommy pleading, begging, screaming for him to stop. But daddy just fucked her harder. Her her tighter. Imprisoned her like he had for most of her life.
A pin down butterfly.
Because butterflies were beautiful and so was his mother. But they were also delicate.
His mother bled out in a bathtub when he was nine. Eren didn’t understand, why mommy was gone.
At the age of 18, he still didn’t.
He checked the time and realized he had to leave for work.
Eren dropped out of highschool when he was in the eleventh grade.
You could sum the reason up to depression and all it’s wonderful traits. He couldn’t concentrate when he would force himself to go, his lack of concentration showed in his dropping grades and his dropping grades made him feel even shittier until he felt so shitty he could no longer get out of bed. All the missing hours resulted in missing credits and there was no way he’d pass the year.
He dug himself out of his whole, but it was too late at that point.
When he turned eighteen, a family friend (a former friend of his mother’s) named Hannes offered him a job at the club he managed.
It was a club on 6th street that Eren and his friend’s visited constantly throughout their later highschool years since Hannes had always let it slide.
Eren went to bartending school and now made semi-decent money when you counted tips.
Eren was wiping down the bar, listening to his co-worker Annie bitching at him about one thing or another. She was good company but had a resting bitch face that rivaled his best friend Mikasa’s just with an attitude to match. He didn’t really care as long as he could stick his dick in her every once in awhile.
There were only a few people sitting at the bar, and Annie looked away to attend to someone, when Eren looked up after feeling someone’s heated gaze on him.
It was hard to make out the figure of someone leaning against the back wall of the club with such dim lighting, but Eren did.
The man was of short stature, but the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his biceps showed off the muscle there. Hair an inky black. Expression should’ve been unreadable from so far away but Eren was sure he saw a twist to his lips as he smirked.
“Eren! Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna fucking work?” Annie slapped his shoulder.
He blinked and suddenly there was a crowd of people huddled around the bar.
He took so and so’s order and went through the mechanical process of pouring out drinks. Usually he was all charisma and smiles and anything that would make people tip more, but he was distracted. It was like the image of that man had sent his brain into a fog.
Eren didn’t believe in apparitions, but the way he looked under purple tinted lighting gave Eren reason to believe he was a sign of Eren’s delirious boredom.
When he looked back, the man hadn’t vanished. He was closer. He was talking to Hannes and being led to the vip section.
That gaze met his one more time and from here, Eren could see the electric grey of his eyes. He wasn’t close enough to see the storm in them.
Eren went out for a smoke break, leaving through the back door that led to the alleyway between the neighboring building.
He was taking a drag of his cigarette when he heard a loud scuffle.
It was an argument, between two men. One voice rising in it’s hysteria, one smooth and calm. There was a loud sound. Like a cross between a yelp and a grown man’s groan.
He heard footsteps getting closer.
He crouched down behind a big blue dumpster. His forgotten cigarette dropped to the ground. He figured he should just go inside because there was literally no reason for him to watch a fight between drunken idiots.
He peeked around the dumpster and his eyes widened at the fallen figure on the ground. The other guy knelt over him. And then there was that sound again. The glint of a knife, gleaming silver, over and over he stabbed him. Like it was nothing.
Eren thought maybe he should sceam, maybe he should puke, maybe both. But all he did was watch in stunned silence.
He hid behind that dumpster for nearly thirty minutes. Watched the man gouge out an eye so he could pocket it. Watched him spit on the corpse. And then that sicko licked the blade once, twice. He walked away and whistled a tune that Eren was sure would haunt his mind.
Eren crawled over to the body when he knew the man was gone.
He took out his pocket knife, and gouged out the other eye. The asymmetry was killing him.
He went inside and smiled at Annie when she made a haughty comment about his break being an hour long.