Chapter Text
Another burst lip, another pissy teacher and another note home that had nowhere to go. Eren could have screamed, absolutely screamed and roared until his throat hurt, but what little self-control he had left went towards stopping that. The rain pounding against his nose helped a little too, in that sort of dramatic way only a teenager could achieve.
He breathed in and out slowly like Mikasa had shown him, so his breathing wouldn't go array. He realised his dark hoodie was more of a sponge than anything else, as the rain began whipping his arms and he began to run. Walking along the river bank was a good short-cut home but there was no shelter until he got himself under the bridge, where the elements might ease up on him. The sheets of water obscuring his vision made sure he didn't know what was in front of him until he'd reached the shelter of the wide concrete bridge.
Ripping the hood from his head and sitting on the ledge of the pathway he took the water-logged note from his pocket and tossed it into the river. It was pretty damn pointless anyway. He wanted to punch the concrete he was sitting on, then the wall across from him, then his principal's face, then the dick who'd insulted his friend, then the wall again for good measure. Then he changed his mind when the hateful glare he'd cast on the wall turned to wide-eyed wonder.
A huge pair of wings, one black, one white, spread across the wall, spray-painted in immaculate detail, down to every last feather, but in such a stylised way. Eren never was good with his words, he didn't use them often enough to be, no, he was much more well-versed in the language of fists. He wished he could describe this though, he stood to walk over and take a closer look, to brush the wall lightly with his fingers. Bright and wide green eyes roved the work in awe, finally stopping at where the artist had signed their work as "Corporal".
He'd forgotten why he was angry and allowed himself a small smile for it before yanking his hood as far over his face as possible and sprinting the rest of the way home.
The steps were taken two at a time by water damaged sneakers until he reached his floor and let himself into his and his sister's one bedroom apartment. He entered his bedroom straight away, technically, and plopped down on his sofa-slash-bed.
"How was your day?" Mikasa asked from the kitchenette, tossing a towel over his head.
"Decent," he replied, though it was muffled by the rough towel. He left it there though, to hide the burst lip. "Hey, Mikasa?" he asked through the towel.
"Yes, Eren?" she spoke in a calm tone. Nearly monotonous.
"You're artsy and shit, right?"
"Well, I'm studying art."
"Do you know who Corporal is?" Eren's towel-face was a hopeful one as he pleaded with Mikasa through coarse cotton.
"He's a street artist," she told him, taking matters into her own hands and toweling his hair dry for him. "Kind of a dick."
"You've met him?" Eren asked.
"My visual communications teacher complains about him a lot," Mikasa threw spare clothes at Eren and told him to change before he got a cold. She was forever telling him what to do, early acceptance to art college didn't make her more mature than him, he'd tell her. She would tell him that's not why she was more mature.
"Why so curious?" Mikasa raised an eyebrow at Eren as he began changing with the towel still over his head. She reached over to take it off of him. "You're not marrying the towel king, you don't need a vei-Eren, what did you do?!"
"Shit!" he squeeled, only one leg in his pants when Mikasa came hopping over the sofa to him, holding his face and nearly toppling him over. "It's nothing! I'm fine!"
"I never should have left you alone in school, I never should have gone to college early, Eren I'm so sorry," she was babbling now and Eren pushed her away by her face.
"I'm fine," he said. "Some fucker was bothering Armin." Mikasa sighed and let him go, giving him a knowing look.
"Eren, they'll kick you out," she said.
"But it's not fair!" he told her. "I got in trouble and the other guy got away scott-fuckin'-free!"
"Life isn't fair, Eren," she wrapped her arms around him. "You know that." He hugged her back, knowing it was more to comfort her than him.
Eventually they sat back on the sofa, watching DVDs on Mikasa's laptop, because damn TVs were expensive. When Mikasa finally dozed off against the armrest, Eren took the little notebook onto his lap and opened a search engine, typing in Corporal, only to be met with pictures of military officers and swearing quietly. If he wanted to see more of his work, he'd have to go scout it out himself.
Eren closed the laptop and rose from the sofa, stretching, before pulling the throw from the back of the sofa over Mikasa. Shrugging into a deep red hoodie, Eren moved to the small window, slipping out onto the rusted old fourth story fire escape. He climbed down the ladders, covering his hands with the sleeves of his hoodie until he dropped down into the alley below. By now it was probably almost midnight, if not after and the night had a cutting chill to it, but at least the rain had stopped.
Eren lit a cigarette and began walking aimlessly around the streets of Trost, not quite knowing where to find more of Corporal's art. It turned out not to be too difficult at all. Most of it was remarkably high up, almost too high to see clearly in the dark, on the sides of buildings or on bridges. Every piece featured wings, every single one. Eren continued his ambling, finding the work of other artists as well. He took everything in with wide green eyes, he probably looked like a tourist he thought to himself with a small smile. The time didn't occur to him until he was down half a pack of cigarettes, and he decided it was time to turn back. Then a white patch of wall at the side of a newsagents caught his eye and he took a marker from his pocket, probably having left it there from school. What he left was nothing to be too proud of, just one of the little characters from his maths copy, Mikasa was the artistic one, really. Despite that, he allowed himself a proud grin and signed it -Jeager.