Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was a Friday and the streets of Trost were wet and drab looking in the light of the early morning sun. Autumn, as a matter of fact, was a very chaotic time of year all around for the people that lived there. The city was always loud and bustling with everyone trying to shop and jump from place to place, and by all means the non-stop change in weather was definitely not helpful factor. It was a town of many strangers. All fixated on that of their own agenda, going around and about their busy lives. A town of many impossibilities.

Sasha Braus avoided the cracks in the pavement effortlessly as she tore through the alleyway next to St. Rose’s avenue. It would have been quite a journey if she hadn’t slipped on her roller skates before heading over to Jean’s. Almost as much as it would have been a potentially less exciting one, maybe. It wasn’t like her to be on time though, in fact, it was probably a detail that was very much unlike her. She hoped that it would be a pleasant surprise to the others.

A varied range of high pitched, dance music rang into her ears and she reached up to push her earbuds in so they felt just that little bit more uncomfortable, but compressed. Just the way she liked it.

The street was empty so she hummed along to the tune, only a little bit unsure of how loud her voice actually sounded outside of her own realm of relative solitude. But ultimately she decided that she didn’t really care too strongly just as long as nobody else was too bothered by it – which she knew they wouldn’t be. No one would ever be bothered by something so small and mundane in a big place like Trost.

Music always made the city seem brighter somehow, more lifelike. At the most, it kept Sasha’s speed steady as she glided softly from side to side, revelling in the feeling of her four wheeled, pale purple skates sliding along the concrete ground.

She drifted past the grubby row of flats, lined up right against the busy sidewalk and peered into each one of their windows curiously. Annie, a close friend of Bertholdt’s (another close friend), lived in one of the houses but Sasha was never able to identify which. Not that it mattered all too much, it was just something Sasha had taken a personal interest in. She couldn’t help but do a lot of things through routine and she knew it because it was similar to the way she felt about music. She knew that if she learned a song and repeated it over and over throughout the day then by the next she would know it lyric by lyric, beat by beat, and note by note without fault. It was just her work process.

Jean would probably just call it a habit.

Sasha still didn’t really believe that was the case. She had a lot of nervous ticks.

Chewing gum was a habit. So was her excessive coughing, picking the brightly-coloured, yellow nail polish off of her fingernails, and religiously tapping her teeth together whenever her braces felt uncomfortable, but her music wasn’t. Her music was always a process.

And habit or not, Jean was a jerk about everything anyway, even if Sasha was partially into him. But everyone was partially into Jean, which was beside the point. If he wanted to argue with someone so badly then he had plenty of other options available. Sasha had caught Connie smoking a blunt inside the garage on multiple occasions when Jean’s parents were in the house and that was a much more concerning habit, so Jean should probably stop pinning it all on her and go and get his eyes checked.

She picked up the pace when she finally started getting close to her destination, skates rolling soundlessly on the pavement as the electronic dance music from her iPod continued blaring into her ears. She could feel the roughness of the gravel under the wheels as she drifted onto the now vehicle-less road running between whatever street she was on now. There was a row of small houses on each side, all facing opposite each other and Sasha knew that Jean’s was right at the very end of the drive – the route was so familiar now that her body guided her over there naturally, the only work she ever had to do to find it was move her feet.

“Clear the way! National treasure coming through!” Sasha yelled once she had finally maneuvered her way off of the road and towards Jean’s open garage door. She patted him on the shoulder sympathetically as she skated by, hopping skilfully over a plank of wood that was lying in the middle of her path as she did so, “And I didn’t bring any shoes again so you guys are just gonna have to suck it up and live with my cheese feet this time around.”

Jean sighed.

He was standing just outside the door, leaning back against the wall connecting to his house with his usual look of apathy. Marco was softly attempting to discuss something with him but the sudden mention of Sasha’s “cheese feet” made his mouth twitch downwards in disgust. Connie was nowhere in sight but then again, his punctuality couldn’t really be considered the best when he was stoned out of his mind more than half of the time he was actually awake.

“You’re uncharacteristically early for a change,” Jean finally grunted in acknowledgment, and she nodded her head.

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Sasha grinned, plopping down loudly onto one of the mud-covered stools beside Jean’s workbench, “I wanted to be on time to get in some song recs for the tour.”

She pulled out her earbuds and kicked off her skates quickly. The music was just loud enough for her to be able to figure out was song was playing when they weren’t in her ears, even with the insistent howling of the wind wandering in from the open garage door. She coughed.

“You don’t happen to have any food in the mini fridge do you?”

“Just drinks,” Jean sighed once more, “Did you not eat on the way over?”

Sasha pulled a face.

“Of course I did! I stopped off at Mcdonalds while I was on the high street.”

“And they let you in with those things?” he nodded towards her skates this time but Sasha just shrugged in return. There had been a brief encounter with an employee about “appropriate footwear” but ultimately, there was nothing they could do to stop her from whizzing around the drive through and ordering a big mac to go. When Sasha was hungry, she was not a force to be reckoned with.

Marco frowned, “Is Connie not with you?”

“Haven’t seen him all day,” Sasha shrugged again, wrapping her earphones around her index finger before popping them into her shirt pocket, “which is weird because by now he normally would have texted me his to ask if I could grab him coffee or something.”

“You guys are always texting each other non-stop. What, am I not the favourite friend anymore?” Jean teased, suddenly shooting Sasha a smile that might’ve caught her off guard if she weren’t still sitting down.

“You were never the favourite friend in the first place, Jean,” Marco replied, shaking his head.

“Bullshit.”

“We’ll see on the road trip,” Sasha grinned, “Marco can make a graph of how many times we all text each other in the RV.”

“Hell no, we are not bringing maths into this.”

“Oh, come on. A little multiplication never killed anybody.”

Jean raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Sasha knew that as far as he was concerned, any amount of actual mental work was going to kill someone. He was about to say something else in response but Marco cleared his throat loudly before he could get another word in.

“About the road trip…uh-” he scratched his cheek uncomfortably, “I sort of have some bad news.”

Jean’s head immediately whipped around to face him but now it was Sasha’s turn to look dubious. She tapped her teeth together and brushed her ponytail forwards so that she could run her fingers through it.

“Please tell me this isn’t really serious?” she whined, “The trips in a few days, Marco.”

“I know, Sash. I know. But I’ve got exams coming up soon and I tried asking my parents again to see if I can go but they are still super against it.”

“But why? Didn’t you tell them it was a band thing?”

“I did,” Marco sighed, running a calloused hand through his hair before settling back against the connecting wall beside Jean. Sasha could see the dry patches on his skin, all rough and scaly now because of the cold. His hands were matted with freckles and large flakes of eczema that never seemed to disappear, no matter how many times he moisturized them.

Sasha often worried about him. Marco wasn’t exactly cut from the same cloth as she, Connie, or Jean were but they had all grown up together - it was important that they acknowledged that during challenging times like these.

“We can’t go anywhere without a drummer, man,” Jean frowned, “You know that.”

“Yeah,” he sighed again, “I do. And if there was something that I could do about it, I would. You know that.”

“I do. Just shit, man.”

Jean’s lips thinned and the handsomeness of his features were quickly glazed over with a look of uncertainty. He always appeared somewhat strange whenever he was in deep thought; cheeks pinched and eyes even beadier than they were ordinarily. Sasha took a note of it – without his usual look of anger or apathy, something about Jean became more alien. It was an odd sentiment.

“This concerns me, Marco,” Jean finally spoke again after a few prolonged seconds of silence. He sighed and nonchalantly pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his black skinny jeans, “Seriously, man. You fucked us. Hard-”

He flicked the lid of the carton up and swore again (more quietly this time), before placing the stick between his lips and quickly lighting it.

Sasha watched carefully as he took a drag and blew out smoke. It always looked so practiced with Jean but she had eventually chalked it up to him being tightly-wound more often than not. She was a nail polish picker and he was a chain stress smoker, which wasn’t really all that out of the ordinary - Jean was probably the most stressed out person she knew. This was his habit.

Marco didn’t say anything in response but the others both took it as his final confirmation on the decision.

Their drummer wasn’t coming on the trip. End of discussion.

“Shit,” Jean swore again, face falling back into its standard expression, the more handsome one that Sasha much rather enjoyed looking at, “Fuck you, man. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to find a new drummer before the trip? Like fucking near impossible.”

Marco tapped his badly bitten fingernails together but other than that he still looked unfazed, expression tight as the wind washed past the three of their faces and injected them again with the cold. Sasha dug her own hands into the stool she was still perched upon, knuckles pale as she tried to will any sort of warmth into her body. The gum she had been chewing on the way there had gone stiff and felt uncomfortable in her mouth but she continued to try and blow flavourless bubbles with it regardless. It tasted almost as sour as Jean’s expression now looked.

They were silent for a few more minutes, which was hard for Sasha when she had so much she wanted to say about the road trip. The others didn’t seem to be giving in though, so when she spotted a short, familiar looking speck in the distance, she instantly felt relieved.

“Jean.”

“What?” the other grumbled.

“Connie’s here,” Sasha pointed towards where said boy was skipping across the street, hands in the pockets of his hoodie and shaved head hidden underneath a too-big baseball cap.

Connie was always great at breaking the tension between them so Sasha silently hoped that he would hurry up and get to them before Jean did something completely unpredictable and spontaneously combusted. He carried his guitar case on his back and underneath the muddy brown hoodie, Sasha caught sight of the brightly coloured orange and blue print on the collar of his shirt. She smiled and waved her arms around in the air to gain his attention.

“Connie!”

“Cheese feet!” he yelled back enthusiastically in response, grinning down at her dirty socks, “You should have told me you got here early!”

“And you should have told us you were going to be late,” Jean chipped in before Sasha had a chance to reply, “Bad news. Marco just screwed the whole tour.”

Connie’s barely-there eyebrows suddenly shot up, he gave each of them an incredulous look. An expression of which very clearly demanded an explanation.

Marco sighed, “Jean’s over-exaggerating – my parents won’t let me go on the trip and-”

“Your parents won’t let you go on the trip!?” Connie exclaimed, scrunching up his face in a way that Sasha would’ve found funny if not for the current circumstances. Marco grimaced, “Dude! You do know that we’ve already spent a shit ton of cash planning this tour, right? We have actual legit gigs booked for like, the first time ever! How the hell are we supposed to find a decent enough drummer who would be willing to come with us before next Tuesday!?”

“We can’t!” Jean quickly agreed, “We are broker than broke with no connections and all my neighbours think we are the worst local band in existence!”

“Well, that much doesn’t really surprise me but what about the RV, dude? Can we still have that?” Connie stared desperately up at Marco, who nodded his head quickly in return.

“When I said you guys could have it, I meant it. It’s terrible and you paid for it,” he simply shrugged, “No refunds.”

“Phew.”

“Where is that piece of junk anyway?” Sasha added, looking around the interior of the garage in curiosity, “Jean’s not storing it up his ass is he?”

“Ha. Ha. You’re such a joker, Sash,” Jean said, taking almost no time at all in moving from his position beside the wall to over where Sasha was still sitting. He ruffled her hair hard and she whined in complaint, “So funny. No. I, uh- I fixed it up at a lot until we leave for the trip.”

Sasha reached up and pulled his hand off of her head but didn’t release on her grip on his fingers, “So it’s in storage somewhere?”

“Well, yeah,” he plucked the cigarette from his lips and tossed it on the ground to snuff it out, “If my parents found out I spent all of my cash on that piece-of-shit-mobile then they’d haul my ass out of here for sure.”

“So as a result you spent more money…” Marco speculated, “On a lot.”

“Yes,” Jean shot him another sour look, “And the guy was real shady so I got it for cheap. Just don’t worry about it, it was in the worst possible condition it could be in when we bought it off of this bozo right here.”

“Oh, come on-”

“You don’t get a say in this, friend ditcher,” Jean pointed an accusing finger toward Marco, “I’m still mad at you. Remember?”

Marco sighed, “I remember. Just, ya know, make sure whoever you left it with doesn’t any steal engine parts when you guys go and check it out.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Connie raised an eyebrow.

Did Marco not plan to help them any further than this?

“Jean’s mad at me,” he scowled, shooting the singer an exasperated look, “Remember?”

“Oh, I know I do!” Jean replied with mock anticipation, shaking Sasha off of his fingers before opening up the drawer on his workbench and pulling out a pair of long, wooden drumsticks. He headed over to where Marco was still standing and thrust them into his hands hard, “It was good seeing ya, pal.”

“Ouch, a gentler goodbye would have been cool too.”

“You really think I’m in the mood to be gentle with you right now?”

“Nope, no. I’m out of here, don’t you worry,” Marco replied a little too quickly, raising both hands as a sign of surrender before turning and backing down Jean’s very empty driveway. He turned to wave goodbye, making eye contact with Sasha on the way out, “Text me when you guys get that RV up and running! I expect to still hear from you on the trip!”

“Will do!” she called back to him in response, “See ya later, Marco!”

“See you!”

“Good riddance,” Jean grumbled again. Sasha could see his fingers tapping the pocket with the cigarette packet in it, obviously itching to light up another, “We haven’t got any time to spare. We need to find a drummer, fast.”

Connie frowned and took Marco’s place along the connecting wall, “But what about the RV?”

Jean obviously hadn’t thought about this because he froze up for a few seconds while he mulled it over. Apparently when he’d bought the vehicle it was a flaming, metal bucket of shit and Sasha and Connie believed every word of it. If Marco’s parents didn’t want to keep something, then the probability of it being in incredibly bad condition was extraordinarily high.

“Fuck. You’re right,” Jean covered his eyes with his free hand, “We need to head on over to clear it out before we set it up for the trip.”

He groaned loudly in frustration and tore his fingers away from the pocket. Sasha picked at her nails.

She didn’t like seeing Jean so agitated but once he was pissed off about something no one was allowed to add their own input, it would only set him off further. He was an emotional person like that.

Her stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the tension and causing Jean to sigh again.

“You fuckers wanna go get some grub?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest, “Ya’ know, before we haul our asses over to the lot.”

“I could eat,” Connie replied while Sasha nodded furiously, “Chilli fries?”

“Chilli fries.”

“Nice!” he fist pumped and Sasha finally hopped down from the stool, stomach grumbling once again in slight anticipation.

Food was always the best solution for a day turned sour and she knew that Jean and Connie also agreed with this sentiment. The three of them left the garage together to stop off at their favourite diner nearby, and after drowning their sorrows in milkshakes for a couple of hours, they took the bus to the lot Jean had mentioned earlier on.

Although, it looked more like a junkyard from Sasha’s perspective.

Most of the vehicles parked up around the place appeared to very poorly designed and the large brick walls and wire fences surrounding the place were high and worn, shielding the place from outsiders. Jean didn’t seem to be quite as bothered by it as she and Connie were but perhaps he was just putting on a brave face for their sake. He had been there before after all. Sasha just chalked it up to the outlandishness of the location having already sunk in.

Well, at least she hoped that was the case.

“John! Buddy, over here!”

The three of them swivelled around towards the voice and Jean’s frown immediately turned into a grimace when he caught sight of the small, balding man that was now very quickly approaching from behind one of the other cars on the lot. He wore a long, beige, unfitted trench coat and smelled very strongly of car oil and alcohol. His hands were pruney and orange, with skinny, talon-like fingers curling and uncurling around a beer bottle like claws. Sasha instantly disliked him.

“It’s Jean, and I’m here to check on the RV.”

“Oh, boy,” the nameless man chuckled, sidling up to them and flinging a musty arm over Jean’s tensed up shoulders, “Well, you see here, Jean, buddy… A couple of guys showed up the other day asking to take a little looksee inside that big ol’ hunk o’ junk…”

Sasha didn’t like where this was going.

“And see, I know we’re pals and all so I thought, hey, maybe it won’t be too big a deal if they were in there for like an hour, tops. I mean, they were pretty persistent about it, given that – let’s say they, I dunno, threw a bit of cash my way. What do I do then?”

Jean closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking in the calmest voice he could muster, “Please do not fucking tell me what I think you are about to tell me.”

The man simply shrugged, “I just thought that since we were buds, you know, we could sort out a little loan of some kind. In exchange.”

Jean didn’t do loans. Or numbers, or maths in general. Which was mostly due to the fact that he was almost flat out broke more often than not and couldn’t hold down one job to save his life. Whenever he did spend money he spent it on cigarettes, mostly, or food. He was loud, and uncivil, and almost everything that came out of his mouth was a curse word. It was honestly no surprise to Sasha why his parents so desperately wanted him out of the house.

Connie shot her a side-eyed glance, mouthing a countdown as they waited for their friend to erupt.

“Are you fucking with me right now!?” Jean threw the man’s arm off of him and stopped walking to angrily stare down at him, lips pulled tightly up into the nastiest snarl he could manage, “You let people into my RV!? I’m going to have your fucking head!”

“They didn’t take anything! I swear it!” the man replied in haste, shaking his battered up claws in front of his face as if to ward off any incoming attacks, “It was the biggest vehicle in the lot and they were looking for a place to use – they gave me two-thousand bucks! How was I supposed to turn down an offer like that!?”

Jean suddenly growled and Connie took a step back from where they were standing in order to not get caught in the midst of it.

“You violated our fucking contract, Randy!”

“It was two-thousand dollars’ cash!”

“If they had two-thousand dollars then why couldn’t they find a better place to use!?”

“I dunno, man! They didn’t tell me what they were using!”

“Hand over the fucking keys.”

“Hey, buddy you know I-”

“Hand over the fucking keys, Randy!”

The man, Randy, quickly handed Jean the keys to the RV and the latter marched off to where it was parked with Sasha and Connie following along in tow. He mumbled a lot of “fuck”s and “shit”s on the way there but the others kept quiet. Letting Jean vent was the easiest way to move forward in a situation like this. Things were starting to look pretty bleak.

The RV in question was parked precariously in a cramped spot between two other equally as jacked up cars, but Jean ignored them and stomped right up to the small door of the vehicle, shoving the keys harshly into the lock. Sasha and Connie had never seen the actual interior of the RV before but they had both expected it to look as old and shoddy as it was on the outside, (which it did, unfortunately) but Sasha had definitely not counted on the smell when they walked in.

“Oh, my god!” she hissed, quickly pinching her nose after kicking off her skates onto the rug, “What the fuck is that!?”

“It’s called a mistake,” Jean replied, kicking a stray box of old knickknacks on the way in, “Fuck me, man. Shit, this is so fucking jacked up.”

Sasha whined and pressed her forehead against his shoulder softly, “This is so unfair. We’ve got like a bazillion times more work to do now.”

“I need a smoke.”

“Hey,” Connie frowned and pushed past them to get to the front of the vehicle, “What the hell…?”

Something of interest had obviously been found but Sasha didn’t feel bothered enough to say anything, at most she just let go of her nose, wrapped her arms around Jean’s torso and hoped that he wouldn’t shake her off. She really didn’t want to clean up a busted up RV for a trip that was surely going to be a major flop. They didn’t have a drummer, or any cash, and now they were going to have to clear out a mess that they didn’t even make. Damn, Marco. That flaky jackass.

Jean just stared straight ahead at the wall in front, trying to take everything in. His jaw would tense and un-tense every few seconds but he remained silent, which was unusual because Jean was never the silent type. If he had an opinion then he would make it his god damn mission to convey it, but in this case, Sasha only hoped that it meant that all three of them were sharing the same thought process. An exceedingly hopeless one.

“What the hell…” Connie murmured quietly again before bending forward to get a better look at the seat in front, “Guys!”

“What?” Jean grumbled in return. His fingers were already reaching for the cigarette packet in his pocket again but Sasha slapped his hand away.

Connie picked up whatever he had found on the passenger seat and held it up to show them. Sasha removed her face from Jean’s shoulder enough to get a glimpse of it but she almost fell over backwards when she realised what it was.

In Connie’s right hand was a small, zip-lock baggie, filled almost a quarter of the way up with a leafy green powder that just had to be from those guys that 'Randy Rascal' (as Sasha had now dubbed him) let into the RV.

“Holy fuck, dude!” she let go of Jean’s waist and rushed over to where Connie was standing, “Is that what I think it is!?”

“Awwwwe yeahhh,” Connie did a small jig, “Motherfucking Jackpot!”

“Drugs,” Sasha grinned, snatching the baggie out of his hands and opening it, “Nice!”

“No.”

Jean had finally zoned back in enough to fully address the situation. He folded his arms across his chest, momentarily distracted from his own bad decision making.

“Connie, you stupid, fucking stoner. There’s no way we are using that shit,” he said matter of factly and Sasha whimpered in disappointment, “What if it’s like, I dunno – what if it’s been messed with or something? You don’t even know what the fuck it is.”

“It could be Marco’s. I mean, it’s probably just dyed cocaine, ya know – to make it less suspicious looking.”

“I very highly doubt all of that.”

"Have you not seen Breaking Bad?"

"That was meth."

“Okay, but so what? We all need to kick back a little so come on, man,” Connie grabbed the bag back from Sasha and shook it enough for its contents to move about inside, “Or are you too chicken?”

Jean spat, “Fuck no.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure.”

“Then stop wussing out. Come on,” he shook the bag again, “Are you in or not?”

There was a loud gust of wind that came from outside on the lot but Connie waved it off when Sasha shot a pointed look in his direction. It was suddenly quiet again, with Jean deliberating and the others both silently waiting for his answer.

It wasn’t right to pressure Jean into this when he was upset and Sasha knew that, but even so she didn’t dare speak up. She had never been good at confrontation, especially not when it came to standing up to her friends. The bad circumstances throughout the day had probably influenced this. Connie was often overly pushy without intending to be.

“Give me that,” Jean finally answered. He slammed the door of the RV shut and shuffled over to join them, quickly snatching the baggie out of Connie’s hand. The latter grinned excitedly.

“Welcome to the club!”

“If I die from this, I’ll kick your stupid ass in hell.”

“I expected nothing less!” Connie leaned forward and directed his gaze towards the front of the RV, “Listen. Silence,” he held a small hand up, “No wonder those guys your friend was talking about wanted to use in here.”

“Randy isn’t my friend,” Jean snapped back, opening up the baggie, “So do we smoke it or what?”

“I think we snort it,” Sasha chipped in, pointing at the baggie and digging one of her broken nails into the plastic, “It’s too fine to smoke.”

Jean smirked, “Well, look at you. Recreational drug expert, Sasha Braus.”

“Oh, please. I’m about as much of an ‘expert’ as you are.”

“You flatter me.”

“I’m taking the first hit,” Connie said, reaching forward to pull apart the opening, “Therefore, if it has been messed with, I will be the only one to die in vain.”

“Wow, thanks for taking one for the team,” Jean replied sarcastically as Connie dipped a careful finger into the bag and lifted it slowly up to his nose, “You know I’m not coming to your funeral, right?”

“I’ll kept that in mind,” Connie replied, pressing another finger down over his nostril before inhaling the strangely coloured substance.

Jean and Sasha watched him silently, immediately searching for any precautionary signs of distress, but Connie just cheered when all of the powder had disappeared. He punched Jean on the shoulder and shot him another smug smile.

“See,” he pointed towards the baggie, “Just cocaine.”

Jean scoffed, “Just cocaine?”

“That’s what I said. So come on,” he nudged him again before gesturing back down at his hands, “It’s your turn.”

“Fine,” Jean dipped two of his own fingers into the bag to scoop up some of the powder before handing it back over to Connie. With his hands finally free, he lined the fine substance up along the flat of his wrist and pressed his nose against it to inhale.

It was quiet for a few more seconds until the powder disappeared so Sasha coughed to break the silence.

Her own turn was quickly approaching.

“Sasha?” Connie held out the open baggie to her so she lifted her hand cautiously before pressing her own two fingers inside.

It felt soft, which was unexpected. For some reason she thought it would be rough.

The others were both watching her face as she scooped up a small amount of the substance and mimicked the way Jean had lined it up along his wrist. When it was finally straight enough she held it up to her nose, trying not to breathe it in right away. She didn’t take nearly as much as the other had but the crushing feeling of oncoming nerves had already to bubble up inside her stomach. What was she even freaking out about? She had taken stuff like this before.

“Stop staring at me,” she said, shifting her gaze from the powder to meet the eyes of her friends, “You’re putting me off.”

“Sorry,” Jean mumbled, glancing away towards the window at the front of the vehicle, “Just hurry up, alright?”

She nodded quickly, trying and failing to shake away whatever bad feeling was making her so nervous.

“Do it.”

She inhaled.

The substance tickled her nose as it went in and she had to hold her breath for a few seconds to keep herself from coughing. It wasn’t long before she felt the others’ curious eyes on her again.

“How do you feel?” Connie asked immediately, fingers already sweeping at the insides of the bag again.

“I dunno,” Sasha shrugged, “Sort of the same. Maybe I didn’t take enough.”

She had already prepared herself for all of the oncoming questions but what she said hadn’t been a lie. The bad feeling in her stomach very quickly subsided and her breathing pattern returned back to the way it was before. Sasha hadn’t even realised that it had changed until it was over. She still felt relatively normal.

Jean put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, “You definitely took enough. Just sit down, it’ll probably kick in soon.”

She obliged and slowly sat down on the mangy looking rug on the floor of the RV. Jean slipped down the wall to seat himself beside her softly but Connie just flopped down on the ground without any sort of hesitation, quickly becoming absorbed in his own little world.

“This is weird,” Jean said quietly to her and Sasha turned her head to stare at him. His eyes were closed so she took the chance to admire his face again.

He seemed much more relaxed than he had been a few short minutes ago and all of the tension that had built up in his jaw started to rapidly disappear, leaving behind the familiar face of someone she didn’t often get to see. Leaving behind the other, much kinder Jean.

“Why?” she asked. He didn’t say anything else so she shuffled closer, dark brown eyes drilling holes into the side of his face, “Tell me. Why is it weird?”

Sasha tapped at his shoulder persistently for him to answer the question but he just cracked a small, slow smile before replying, “Because everything feels all slow-motiony.”

“I don’t think that’s supposed to happen when you’re high on cocaine,” she laughed, leaning into him.

“Exactly.”

“So you think Connie was wrong? About what it was, I mean.”

“When is he not wrong, Sash?” he tried to move into a better position from where he was leaning against the wall but failing that, ended up sliding further onto the ground to rest his weight on his elbows.

Sasha tried to sit up too but it was a lot harder than anticipated. Something had definitely kicked in now and it was starting to make her feel disorientated and “slow-motiony” like Jean had said. She actually kind of wanted to go to sleep.

When she put her hand on Jean’s chest to nudge him, he was already breathing heavily. She nudged him harder but he just flopped down onto to the rug, snoring.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, eyes tracing the outline of his sleeping face once again, “That definitely wasn’t cocaine.”

She looked over towards where Connie was lying, cheek pressed up against the ground with his arms and legs spread outwards in all directions like a spider. She could hear him snoring too, just a little bit louder than Jean. Sasha wondered why she hadn’t heard him before then. Maybe whatever they took was actually some sort of sedative. That would definitely explain the drowsiness and the sudden motion sickness that she was feeling. She lay her head down on the rug beside Jean’s and closed her eyes.

It was one thing trying to fight the drug’s effects and another thing waiting it out until it was over. But all Sasha could hope for now was that someone didn’t find them before they woke up.

So she gave in and slept.

---------------

“Holy fuck! Sasha! Sasha, wake up!”

“Mm…”

“Sasha, wake up! It’s ten past six in the afternoon!”

“W-what…?”

Sasha rolled over onto her back. The ground was uncomfortable and she had no idea where she was but her eyes felt heavy with sleep. How long had she been out?

“We slept here all night!”

Oh, god. She felt so disorientated.

She peered out from beneath her lids slowly, trying to get at grips with what the hell was even going on. Her limbs felt like rubber but the way they weighed her down on the floor made her think that they were made of metal. Her whole world was spinning off it's axis. Where was she? And why was her head suddenly throbbing?

Connie was hovering over her, face so close that they were practically nose to nose. She could feel his warm breath on her chin but her body wouldn’t let her move to push him away. His barely-there brows were knitted tightly together in worry and Sasha could make out all of the small bumps and discoloured pigments on his skin. This situation was confusing. She stared vacantly at the mole on his cheek while he shook at her shoulders, trying to bring her back to full consciousness.

“I’m so hungry,” she mumbled, finally able to move. She tried to turn back onto her side but he stopped her, “Can we go get breakfast soon?”

“It’s six in the afternoon, Sasha. I just wanna know if you’re alright.”

“I really want pancakes.”

Connie sighed and moved off of her, “I can’t believe you can still be hungry at a time like this.”

“Why?” Sasha yawned and stretched her arms out above her head, listening to her joints pop in progression, “What’s wrong?”

“We didn’t get any work done and none of us went home last night, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Huh?” she rubbed her eyes, this time trying to sit up. Which was a mistake because as soon as she went to push herself off of the rug, her limbs turned into noodles again and she immediately flopped back down onto the floor.

Connie stood up to maneuver around her and clutched both of her wrists, hauling her up like a rag doll until Sasha was able to maintain at least some reliable level of balance. She blinked once, twice, three times until she was able to make sense of where she was.

The RV looked twice as bad in daylight as it had yesterday evening and Sasha groaned loudly in irritation. Memories of what had happened suddenly flooded back to her. They had skipped a whole night's work after falling asleep and they still needed a drummer for their band. What sort of fucked up thought process was going through her head last night? They had so much work to do and they threw that time away for what? For –

“Drugs,” Sasha’s eyes widened until they were freakishly big, “Oh my god, where are the drugs, Connie!?”

“Relax, Sash! Jesus Christ,” Connie gripped her arms again and glanced over his shoulder at the door before turning back to face her, “Jean’s outside trying to figure out what to do with them. I mean, I suggested selling them but he just wants to toss them out.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

Connie laughed at this and Sasha smiled along with him, easing some of the tension a little bit, “Fuck if I know. He’s just pacing around out there like a lost soul. Every time his phone beeps he gets more and more wound up.”

Sasha furrowed her brows together in concern, “Oh no…”

“I don’t think it’s the drugs, just-” he glanced behind him again, “-Just forget about those for a moment, Sash. I think Jean’s been really strapped for cash lately, I dunno. We really need to find a drummer if we are going to make this thing work. And fast.”

“But we’ve only got three more days until we are supposed to head out,” she replied, fingernails already working away at the very last remains of her bright yellow nail polish, “What the hell are we supposed to do? Put up fliers, post advertisements on craigslist? Scour the streets until we can find someone with a decent level of skill!?”

Connie sighed and scratched the back of his shaved head in thought, before pulling out his mobile phone from the pocket of his hoodie. He flicked through it for a little while, leaving Sasha to keep picking at her nails in silence. A part of her wished that they didn’t get so caught up yesterday, what with the arguments and the sleeping drugs, both a result of poor judgement on everyone’s part. Now they were paying the price with the short amount of time that they had left before all three of them were officially broke. It was unfair that Marco got off scot-free while they were stuck dealing with their own stupid, self-inflicted waves of guilt. Jean, especially.

Sasha continued to wait until Connie finished looking through his phone. When he finally diverted his attention back to her face, she realised that he was grinning.

“What?” she asked and he shook his head incredulously, still smiling, “What-? Connie, what is it?”

“I just had an amazing idea.”

“Well, spill,” she skipped excitedly over to where he was standing to peer down at his phone screen, “It’s not a secret is it?”

“No, of course not! Listen, you know those stupid mixers the C.A.A. always throw for like, what do they call them-? ‘The Consultants of the General Public,’ or whatever. It’s something corny like that.”

Sasha lifted her gaze from his phone to narrow her eyes towards her friend instead.

“I’m not sure if that’s it,” she replied, “but go on…”

“Well, they are holding one tonight- in the town hall.”

“A mixer? Tonight-? Aren’t celebrities usually way too busy to spend the weekend at a boring party like that?”

“Well, yeah but what if the people attending aren’t celebrities? I mean, it’s more of a ‘who makes the community look better’ type deal, right? Like hello, even I received a chain message about it. Me! Connie Springer!”

“But I still don’t get it.”

“Sash,” he put a hand on her shoulder, “What I’m saying is that the type of people to show up at these sorts of things are usually just losers looking desperately for a fancy accolade. I dunno, like amateur artists, and singers, or shitty local charities, or-”

“Musicians,” Sasha gasped.

“Bingo!” Connie cheered, pointing finger guns at her, “The place will obviously be filled with a bunch of total wannabees, practically itching for a potential shot at fame and fortune! And if all doesn’t go as expected, at the very least a lot of them will still have some major artsy-fartsy connections, right!?”

“That’s right! Oh my god!” Sasha screamed, fingers gripping firmly onto Connie’s small shoulders as she hopped up and down on the spot, pink and purple mismatched socks sinking right back into the RV’s unclean rug, “Dude, you are a genius!”

“I know right!? It totally just came to me!”

“We’ve gotta tell Jean,” she glanced towards the door, “Like, right now. What time does the mixer start?”

“I- ah…” he squinted down at his phone screen again, trying to find the email he had been looking at before, “It says that all names have to be given in by 7:30pm. There’s going to be some sort of award ceremony.”

“Then we’ve got to hurry, holy shit!” Sasha snatched up her pair of roller skates, still lying against the wall, and threw open the door of the RV, “Jean!”

If Connie was right about this then they wouldn’t be so screwed anymore, and Jean might just lighten up in enough time before they had to leave. They were going to road trip around Trost to play at some of the venues around the city and that had already required a lot of pre-planned bookings and a big, whopping, fuckton of persistence to pull off. It was also another one of the reasons why Jean was having so many ups and downs in terms of mood swings lately. He often went off alone when he was upset. Another bad habit for the books, Sasha noted.

“Jean!”

Where was he?

“Jean!?”

“What?” he turned around from where he had been wallowing beside a dumpy, old tow truck. Stopping just enough to allow Sasha to easily catch up with him, socks quickly picking up mud as she sprinted towards where he was now standing, cigarette in hand.

His hair was dishevelled and his face was an unusual tinge paler than it normally was. He pressed his lips together until they became a thin line, still not making any form of eye contact with her, even when she sidled right up beside him to talk. She patted his arm softly.

“I’m here. You can stop pacing now if you want.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

“I know you do,” she replied, grabbing onto his arm properly this time to stop him from going anywhere, “Connie had an idea about the drummer thing.”

He huffed a short laugh and lifted the cigarette he was holding to his lips, “Another Connie idea, really?”

“Yes, really,” Sasha nodded, clutching her large purple skates to her chest, “So don’t shut me down, okay? It’s a good one this time, I promise.”

Jean shook his head in disbelief before puffing out another bout of smoke. The sky was dark except for the grotty looking street lamps that towered overhead behind the wire fence behind them. Sasha was able to make out the disgruntled look he was wearing on his face – eyebrows angry, and tawny brown eyes staring at nothing in particular. She tugged his hand away from his mouth.

“You don’t have to like it but we need to do something. This is really urgent, Jean.”

He ignored her again.

“Jean! Oh my god-,” she snatched the cigarette out from between his fingers and threw it as far away as she could manage. They both watched as it hit the ground somewhere further down the lot and his mouth automatically opened to argue back, but she cut him off before he could, “It’s getting really late and we’ve got a party to crash. So stop feeling sorry for yourself for like, a second so we can get this show on the road, literally.”

“Jesus, fuck. Alright, okay,” he glanced down at her skates and then again down at her feet, “Just put some shoes on first.”

“Fine,” Sasha replied, putting her skates down on the ground and gripping his shoulder so that she was able to slip into them. He let her support herself against him without protest as she tied up the bright yellow laces and leaned back up into standing position.

She took his arm again and they wandered back over to the RV, just in enough time to catch Connie already slipping out of the door and locking it behind him.

“You guys ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jean replied, sticking both of his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket, “Where to?”

“Town hall.”

Jean’s eyebrows shot upwards, making the lines that sometimes appeared on his forehead begin to crease, and his mouth start to twitch.

“Town hall?”

“Yup!” Connie bounded down the metal steps beneath the door and slipped in between them, flinging his short arms over both his and Sasha’s shoulders, “Did Sash not tell you?”

“No,” he scowled before shooting her a look of pure, utter betrayal.

“Whoops,” Sasha shrugged, a small smile suddenly making its way onto her face, “Well, don’t worry about it now. Next time you can choose the party location, Jean.”

“You’re not funny. At all. What the hell are we even doing?”

“Saving our own asses,” she replied, un-anchoring herself from underneath Connie’s forearm to skate along in front of the two, “You know, nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“Aha.”

It wasn’t that late by the time they got there, Trost was ginormous but luckily they all lived within the part of town that heavily relied on public transport. The three of them just hopped onto a number thirty-five bus after leaving the lot and made their way into the centre of the city without any trouble whatsoever. They planned to road trip into the more barren parts of town however, the parts with less people and more history. Which was what Marco often liked to call it. It was a shame that he couldn’t actually be there but Sasha still couldn’t find it in herself to blame him, even if it did jeopardize the whole thing.

Though again, she wasn’t really at all good with confrontation.

“Where do we sign in?” asked Connie as they made their way towards the entrance of the town hall. Everything was lit up brightly and many people stood around beside the open double doors leading inside, all looking up when they saw three unkempt twenty-one year olds stepping off of the streets towards them.

“Shit,” Jean hissed, looking down at his own attire, “We stand out way too much like this.”

“And you’re the only one with an invite…” Sasha added, glancing about at the crowd around the city square, all dressed up in fancy coats and eveningwear. She felt her face start to heat up at all the stares they were getting, “Connie?”

“I might have forgot to mention that the ‘preferred' attire was formalwear,” he chuckled a little uncomfortably, “There’s nothing they can do, it’s not mandatory.”

“But it’s humiliating,” Jean grumbled in response, already covering up his face with his hands to hide his identity, “Sasha take off your skates.”

“But what about the cheese feet.”

“Forget about the cheese feet, just do it.”

“Shit, okay. Jesus,” Sasha huffed, reaching down to undo them while the other two held her waist to keep her upright. She kicked them off and held them at her side, “Happy now?”

“No,” Jean sighed and she smacked his shoulder with her free hand, “But let’s sneak in quietly. We are already getting too much attention drawn to us as it is…”

“Alright,” Connie agreed quickly, “No signing in, let’s go.”

They took no more time standing around and slipped hurriedly inside the building, keeping to the wall in order to avoid being questioned about registration. They still got a few unwelcome looks of contempt from passers-by but Sasha did her best to try and ignore it. It wasn’t like they were actually here to collect anything.

“Are you sure there aren’t some celebrities here?” she asked Connie when she received a particularly nasty look from a man dressed in a suit and a velvety green bowtie. He glimpsed down at the muddy skates in her hand and then back up at her face before sneering at her in disgust and walking away. Jean patted her shoulder sympathetically.

“Like I said, it’s just snotty wannabees,” Connie glanced back down the hallway, “If we’re looking to recruit anybody then they have to be someone who won’t judge by appearances.”

“But how are we supposed to single them out?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck and Sasha frowned, “Look, someone will wanna talk to us. I mean, we are already creating a lot of disturbance with the way we’re dressed so let’s just roll with it for now.”

Sasha shrugged. Maybe she should have thought about this obstacle earlier, or should’ve at least told Jean the plan so he could set her straight and make her see sense. This was definitely just another ‘Connie idea.’

“Maybe we should just get out of here and save the wild drummer hunt for another day,” she suggested, tapping her teeth together, “Standing around like this makes me feel uncomfortable… I mean, I can’t be the only one that thinks so, right Jean?”

Connie raised his eyebrows.

“Jean?”

“Shhhh-” Jean held a finger to his lips, stare directed towards the double doors right at the end of the corridor. Sasha followed his gaze with mild difficulty. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at a person or one of the portraits hanging up along the wall next to them, “That’s Mikasa Ackerman.”

“Mikasa who-erman?”

“Mikasa Ackerman,” he nudged Sasha’s shoulder to direct her eyes towards the right person, “You know that news reporter on the mystery channel.”

“No?”

“And what does that have to do with finding a drummer…?” Connie frowned in confusion, “The plan was to look for musicians.”

Jean waved his hand around and brushed him off, “We are, we are. Just- I mean, I gotta go over to say hi to her! Her stories are incredible and her face-!” he sighed longingly, “Wow.”

Sasha squinted a little harder to make out exactly who he was trying to point out until it became very clear who the woman in question was. She was beautiful. Clad in a dark blue dress with matching heels and a soft looking red scarf around her neck. Her short hair had been pulled up on one side to expose a rather large diamond earring and she was currently looking around the hallway, almost as if she could feel them staring at her.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Jean!” Connie yelled, drawing more attention to himself as Jean wandered off in the direction of the pretty news reporter, “You are sabotaging yourself, I hope you know that!”

Jean stuck his finger up at him but didn’t say anything else in reply. Sasha sighed and tugged at the sleeve of Connie’s hoodie.

“We have to go after him.”

“But what about the drummer thing?”

“We can look for one in a second, right now we’ve gotta wingman Jean. He looks like a fucking mess.”

Connie scratched his chin, “Dammit, you’re right.”

Sasha nodded with a small grin and quickly pulled him in the direction of their friend just in time. Mikasa hadn’t seen him yet and Jean was about to say something but Sasha quickly slipped in front of him and smiled up at her, the other girl took a fast step backwards in surprise.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello?” replied the news reporter, eyes now trained on the skates Sasha was holding in her hand with a look of confusion, “Do you need something?”

“Um, well kinda,” she shuffled her feet nervously. She felt a little silly in her tie dye hoodie and board shorts now that she was talking to someone who looked so stunningly sleek and professional. She tried to laugh it off, “You- well, aha…You see my friend, Jean?”

Jean groaned loudly into his hands and Mikasa peeked past Sasha to get a glimpse of where he was.

“I see him.”

“Well, he thinks you’re really pretty and was wondering-”

“-If you were interested in telling us about one of your recent stories!” he suddenly jumped in, covering Sasha’s mouth with one of his clammy hands, “You’re a reporter – that one from Shiganshina, right!?”

Sasha’s mouth curved into an o-shape, “You’re a reporter from Shiganshina? What are you doing all the way over here in Trost?”

“Actually I’m an independent journalist,” Mikasa replied, immediately perking up at the mention of her occupation, “And I’m here on business, believe it or not. It’s nice to meet fans of my work.”

“Well, only I’m a fan-” Jean cut in, and she raised an eyebrow skeptically, “Your reports on the recent giant sightings are incredible. I mean, your conspiracy about the local government using their power to cover up the case by shutting down all of the major scientific companies in the area – I was completely convinced. Actually, I had the same exact thought process when I heard about the city’s university lab being shut down.”

“Really?” she suddenly turned to face him as if she hadn’t originally seen him standing there before, “So you agree?”

“Absolutely.”

She laughed and Connie and Sasha fist bumped each other behind Jean, “Well, I can’t really take all of the credit actually. It was really my friend Armin here who really thought up the whole thing.”

“Armin?”

“Guilty,” replied a much smaller voice beside Mikasa that made Sasha, Connie, and Jean all nearly fall over in surprise. Sasha hadn’t realised that someone else had been standing next to them this whole time, “Though, I just dabble in the work from time to time. I’m a scientific photographer.”

He finally stepped forward into the light and on closer inspection, Sasha realised that this Armin person also seemed a bit out of sorts at such a sophisticated gathering. He was small and skinny, with unkempt, mousey blond hair that fell until it met his chin. There were traces of small acne scars across his cheeks, and Sasha could see by the way he was picking at the thread on his button-up shirt sleeve that he didn’t really want to be there either.

“Oh, please,” Mikasa scoffed, “You see, he doesn’t give himself enough credit for what he does. If you’re a fan of mysteries you must really talk to him instead, I’m actually looking for someone right now so…if you’d excuse me.”

She raised a hand briefly in farewell before turning and walking through the double doors at the end of the hallway, and leaving the three of them with Armin – who was now very clearly raring to talk their heads’ off.

“If you’re interested in government conspiracy,” he began, finally glancing up at them, “There is this one I’m working on about how their own labs are tied to the reason why giants are being sighted in this very city! The whole thing is pretty complicated but technically they’re sending out emails to other supervisors abroad.”

Sasha was confused.

“And you see, this would’ve been all very well if they hadn’t been sending the same emails to neighbouring scientific corporations, of which they receive all of their data files from, and-”

“Hey! Ah… Actually you know what,” Jean interrupted, still staring off in the direction Mikasa went in, “That’s great and all, kid. But we are really busy with, uh…” he craned his neck further to the right, “award collecting and stuff.”

“Hah, really?” Armin looked Jean up and down, completely unconvinced, “You are collecting an award?”

Jean obviously heard the skepticism in his voice and was momentarily distracted from his mission of figuring out where Mikasa had gotten to. Sasha could already see the irritation on his face before she heard it in his voice.

“Look,” he glared down at him, “Kid. I really don’t have time for your conspiracies, alright? We’ve actually got business to attend to here so, let’s just cut the speech short before I end up telling you to get lost.”

“But you are telling me to get lost.”

“Awesome, so we’re both on the same page,” he patted Armin on the shoulder shortly and headed off in the direction that Mikasa left in, not even looking back when Connie tried to yell at him about “finding a real musician this time!”

“Sorry,” Sasha sighed and turned back to Armin, whose expression was still blank, “Our friend’s a douche.”

The other just shrugged in response, “It’s fine, I’m used to it. I talk too much anyway.”

“So, those labs abroad that you were talking about. You think the government here funded them?” Connie asked, trying to get the conversation flowing again.

“Yes,” Armin replied, reaching up to brush his fringe out of his eyes, “They are still trying to hide the information from media outlets but a friend of mine used to do some work for them, so obviously I was in the know.”

Sasha had heard about the giant sightings very briefly but she figured that it was just another story like bigfoot, or the loch ness monster. This boy obviously seemed to believe that they were real.

“How old are you?” Sasha added, “If you don’t mind me asking. You just seem very young to know so much about this sort of thing.”

Armin sighed, he obviously got this question a lot, “I’m turning twenty next month.”

“Oh! Haha, wow I thought…”

She thought he was a middle-schooler, how embarrassing.

“Yeah,” he shrugged uncomfortably, “I get that a lot. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine.”

Oh, man. She’d made it awkward.

He didn’t really seem like he really wanted to talk to her anymore after that so it was Sasha’s turn to excuse herself. She had needed to use the bathroom since they got here but all the stares from the other guests receiving awards made her feel too weirded out to go. Anything was better than standing around with a stranger though. Especially one that looked just about as uncomfortable as they all felt.

Unfortunately, not talking to strangers was probably out of the question in this sort of situation. When Sasha had found her way out of the bathroom, most of the people that were in the hallway were all moving towards another room, probably to where the award ceremony was going to be held. She couldn’t help but quietly wish that she would’ve able to loiter around in the toilets for longer but only since they were surprisingly empty. Which was most likely because everyone was in a hurry to find a seat.

She followed the other guests through the hallway and into a large room filled with tables and a small stage at the very front of the room. There were other people standing at the back of the room unseated and looking for their friends, so Sasha decided that her best chance of finding Connie without drawing too much attention to the fact that she still had no shoes on would be by standing with them.

The man in the green bowtie that had sneered at her earlier entered the room and the audience clapped as he got on stage and took the microphone off of the podium. The lights in the place dimmed and Sasha felt thankful for this as the people glancing at her stopped and began to turn their attention to the front. She pulled her earphones and a packet of gum out of her hoodie, ready to zone back out into her very own augmented reality for a few spare minutes.

“Hey.”

She stopped what she was doing, one earbud already in her ear while the other was hanging out, music yet to be played.

A boy had sidled up to her in the process, dressed in a leopard print cardigan and a pair of neon, green Doc Martians. He wore a t-shirt with a giant, grey alien emoji head on it and Sasha immediately felt intrigued by his presence.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, looking around the room for a bit in silence before pointing down towards her hand, “I actually just came over because I saw that you had gum.”

“Oh, okay,” she whispered back, ignoring the glare they received from one of the other guests beside them. She handed him a stick of the strawberry bubble-gum, “So, do you come to these things often?”

“Hell no. I’m just here for the free food,” he popped the piece of gum into his mouth, “Obviously.”

“I can relate.”

“Of course, as should everyone,” he glanced up at the ceiling, “So what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You aren’t wearing any shoes... You know, if you hadn’t already noticed.”

Sasha shrugged and turned to stare at him, finally catching a proper glimpse of his face for the first time during their short conversation.

His hair was short and half of it was dyed pink with little streaks of blue here and there, but the strangest part about him were his eyes. They were big and bulbous, with irises that were a striking green colour Sasha was almost completely stunned by. He was tall and gangly, and despite his good humour, his lips were curved downwards into a frown – which was also strange because his voice was deep and not at all sad sounding. She looked away slowly and popped her other earbud in.

“I didn’t come here wearing any.”

“Relatable,” she felt him grin more than saw it, “So those skates are yours too.”

“Sure are.”

Someone else next to them shushed them loudly and the boy sighed and turned to face the stage again, finally giving Sasha the chance to play her music.

The same high-pitched, techno dance track from earlier this morning came on when she hit the unpause button on her iPod so she quickly pressed the ‘next’ button.

The new song was much slower but still had the same electronic dance feel she always enjoyed listening to. She raised her head to ask the boy if he wanted to listen too but he was completely focused on centre stage, not even moving a muscle – or blinking for that matter.

“Hey,” she nudged him but he didn’t respond, and when he did finally blink he did so very slowly. Eyes closing for what was probably about a minute in song length. Weird.

She turned to stare around at the rest of the crowd but they were unmoving too. All frozen in place like human statues. The speaker couldn’t really be that interesting could he?

Her eyes drifted towards the front of the room, stopping when they finally reached the man in the suit and velvety green bowtie. His finger was frozen in mid-air and his toothy smile, large and plastic-y looking, appeared unmoving too. Almost as if it were stuck on his face forever. A bout of laughter came from the audience next but to Sasha it sounded as if a thousand different foghorns had all gone off at the same time. Loud and obnoxious, even over the sound of her music. The only way she was really able to tell that it was laughter was by the way that the audience had started to shift slightly in their movements, mouths very slowly curving upwards into smiles that took so long to form that Sasha’s iPod was halfway through playing a new song. A completely different, five minute song.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, staring around the room again at the faces and their false looking smiles, “Oh my god, what the fuck. What. The. fuck.”

Was she still high?

Oh my god, she was still high wasn’t she? Shit. Shit.

“Shit,” she swore aloud, feeling even more unnerved when nobody turned around to tell her to be quiet this time.

She lifted her shaky hands up to her ears and gripped the bottom each earbud. She needed to come back to reality for a bit.

Shit.

When she pulled them out of her ears the soft classical music in the awards room had begun playing again, drowned out almost completely by the sounds of cackling from the audience. Normal laughter this time. Laughter that didn’t sound like thousands of foghorns were going off all at once.

Her hands were still shaking.

“Are you okay?”

Sasha turned to face the boy again. The way he was looking at her clearly held some level of concern. His large green eyes were wide and drilling holes into her own squinty, dark brown ones.

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Sorry, I just-,” Sasha moved away from him, shoving her fingers into the pockets of her hoodie, earphones, iPod, and all, “I’ve really gotta go and- uh, I’ve really gotta go and find my friends.”

Someone else in the crowd shushed her again and she shot them a quick glare.

“It’s okay, wait-!” the boy said and Sasha stopped trying to escape for a moment to hear him out, “I’m actually looking for my friends too. One of them was supposed to be collecting an award today and it’s kinda lame but I think it means a lot to her and whatever. Her name is Mikasa! And she wears a red scarf and is like, around my height, sorta. There’s Armin too! Who is short and blonde, and kind of awkward… so uh… I don’t really know where I’m going with this, sorry.”

“Well…” Sasha shrugged, glancing back up at the boy’s unusually disproportionate face. His own panic making her briefly forget about what she’d just witnessed, “If it helps, I actually met them earlier on by the entrance – but if Mikasa is collecting an award then maybe we should just wait until the end of the show.”

“Wanna go out into the hallway and wait?” he asked, looking hopeful, “You could maybe tell me why you’re really here in the process?”

She smiled back genuinely, actually super grateful to be getting out of there, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Awesome,” he grinned and Sasha finally caught it this time. It was soft and endearing, something she didn’t expect.

They slipped past the remaining guests standing around beside the double doors and into the corridor quickly. Sasha sighed loudly in relief.

It felt like a huge weight had just been taken off of her shoulders for a second there, but it immediately came crashing back down when she suddenly remembered why she urgently needed to find Connie and Jean. She dropped her skates on the ground.

“My friends, one of them is handsome and pissed off looking and a little bit taller than you, his hair is really fluffy and he was wearing skinny jeans and a denim jacket. And the other, he’s really short, shorter than your Armin. He was wearing a hoodie and he’s super bald!”

“Super bald!?”

“Yeah!” she pulled out her phone to show him the picture of the three of them on her lock screen plus Marco, all with their band equipment, holding up their respective instruments, “It’s those two there, the other guy with the drumsticks is my other friend Marco.”

The boy squinted closer at the screen, gasping excitedly when he realised what they were all doing in the photo.

“You’re in a band!?” he yelled, booming voice echoing around the empty hallway, “No freaking way!”

“Yes way!” Sasha grinned. All of his enthusiasm was making her feel more animated too, “But I don’t really know if Marco is in it anymore…”

“Why not?”

“Jean sort of kicked him out,” she shrugged, free hand now combing through her ponytail. It was really greasy, “I didn’t really agree with it like, at all, but Jean just gets so mad all the time.”

“He sounds like a jerk,” the boy scowled.

Sasha shrugged again.

“He kind of is sometimes but it’s only because he cares about us a lot though, he felt sort of betrayed I think. Even if Marco didn’t mean for it to come across that way.”

She looked sadly back down at the picture on her lock screen of them all smiling together. It was a rare thing nowadays for some reason. Sometimes it felt like they had all gotten a bit sick of each other.

Sasha never wanted to get sick of them.

“We actually came here hoping to find a drummer to replace him, we’re going on this road trip to play gigs around the city and when Connie got the email for this C.A.A thing we thought we might be able to meet someone here.”

“You’re looking for a drummer?” the boy asked, eyes widening again, “You’re looking for a drummer here? At this event?”

Sasha slipped her phone back into her pocket, “Yes?”

“Well, I guess you need to look no further,” he gestured down at himself and Sasha’s expression lifted immediately, “I play drums, bass, harmonica, uh, the violin?”

“Holy shit.”

“And I’m technically jobless and have nothing better to do in this shithole town so-”

“You’re in!”

“Wait, really?” he blinked a few times, shocked at how quickly she had taken the offer but Sasha was desperate.

She needed to find Jean and Connie. Now.

She also really needed to tell them about the freaky sedative, slash, slow-mo drugs and what they had done to her. That couldn’t have been just her, right? They took it as well so maybe it happened to them too. Oh my god. What if they passed out somewhere and that’s the reason why she can’t find them!?

“I have to go, oh my god. Oh my god,” she said quickly, picking up her forgotten skates and glancing around the corridor to make sure nobody else was present, “Just- please just wait here for me, okay! I forgot there’s something really urgent that I have to tell my friends and I really need to find them before anything happens to them – oh god, uh - What’s your name!?”

“Eren!” he shouted in response as she backed down the hallway, “Are you sure you don’t need any help!?”

Sasha shook her head. She didn’t need any help, she was the one that needed to help Jean and Connie. She needed to find them and tell them that those drugs had been screwed with after all.

When she stepped through the double doors at the end of the first hallway it was empty, very much like other one. The dirt and mud clinging to her socks had dried and no longer felt squelchy so she let herself feel the carpet properly for the first time that evening.

It was soft.

Jean was going to be so mad at her for leaving Connie when she found them. Maybe she should have waited back with the boy, Eren, instead of coming out here all alone.

The classical music was louder by the entryway and she hesitated the second time she put her earbuds in and pressed play on her iPod. The electronic beat started up again as she padded towards the doors leading back out onto the street so she made her way there quickly, just to make sure she wasn’t getting tired again. Getting some fresh air for a few moments was probably the best way to sober her up for now.

She stepped outside, eyes still trained on her iPod as she made her way down the large marble steps at the front of the building. She sat down on one of the ones in the middle and lay her pair of skates down alongside her, hoping and praying that the cold would do something to clear her head a little. Drugs had never had such a bad effect on her before. What happened at the award ceremony had felt way too real. It was almost as if she was fully conscious and aware of what was happening but-

She looked up over towards the street.

The cars.

The people.

It was happening again.

She tugged the earphones out of her iPod in haste and everything suddenly started to move again. It shouldn’t have stopped, why on earth did it stop!?

No way. This was on a whole new level of fucked up.

She looked back down at the small device, playing with it in her hand for a few more moments before plugging the earphones back in impulsively. Again, and again, and again she plugged and unplugged them into her iPod, watching the road ahead in horror as the cars started to slow down and then speed up over, and over, and over again.

She felt like she was having some sort of weird fever dream. Music couldn’t slow down and speed up time. That was bullshit. She knew that. Everybody knew that.

She was still high, she had to be. There was no other explanation.

Music wasn’t a remote that could turn the world on and off. It wasn’t a habit or another one of her nervous ticks.

Music wasn’t excessive coughing, or picking off nail polish, or tapping her teeth together whenever her braces felt uncomfortable. Music was a process.

It was her process.