Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The streets of Moscow are gray. The buildings are gray, the air is gray, and the grass is gray. Every corner of the city is gray, like the entire town has faded during the cold war. Everyone walking outside has their heads down, avoiding any sort of eye contact. It’s not a good time to be walking the streets alone, especially in a city as dangerous as Moscow.

Except for him, of course. Eren Jäger has no need to hide, like prey in the shadows. He is a killer. It’s all he’s good for.

When walking the streets, people get out of his way, not even looking at his face. His expensive leather trenchcoats and boots are like a warning sign, telling everyone to not mess with him.

Eren is a man of few words, but a strong presence in Vorovskoy Mir. He’s a reckless piece of shit, known for his anger issues and tendencies for self-distructive behaviour. A ruthless huntsman. One particular instance of Eren’s ruthless nature, was when he killed his old man. He shot that man straight in his face.

Technically he shot him in the groins first. A personal, little fuck you. Eren’s expression didn’t read an ounce of sympathy while the man cried and pleaded in front of him, hurled over, clutching his sensitive parts and rocking back and forth. You’d think Eren, as a guy, would at least feel an ounce of something watching another guy get ‘kicked in the nuts’ (in a way), but no. His stare held no emotion. It never did. If anything, he looked bored. A man like Grisha Jäger didn’t deserve Eren’s compassion. Then Eren blew his head off with a shotgun. And simply left. If anybody saw him leaving, they knew better than to say anything. He got some real prestige and infamy after that, all over Eastern Europe. Hell, even all the way to Brooklyn and Sicily. People started calling him Adskaya Pyos; a dog from the pits of Hell. A dog of war. The last thing you want to see before you die. Even some of his ‘friends’ started avoiding him. They feared what an impulsive man like Eren was capable of, killing the man that brought him life. For a Bratva man like Eren, it was a testament to his strength, a mark of his unyielding nature — and nothing more. Not even the NKGD fucks with him.

Being a Boyevik means leaving nothing but destruction in your wake. It’s just a part of the game.

He’s at some seedy underground fight club. A place where men in striped, flashy, expensive suits come to place their bets on who will win or not, or even in extreme cases, who will die. The sounds of sweaty men cheering echoes throughout the arena —shaped like a small roman theater—, and throwing their money at the opponents. He and Kirstein are seated in a small private box. It’s dimly lit (by design, no one can see the faces of others too well) with the smell of cigar and wiskey, air thick with smoke.

This isn’t his favorite thing to do. Large crowds were never his scene, but watching people being beaten to a pulp is somewhat entertaining.

But a certain Jean Kirstein is bothering him too much to focus.

"Come onnnnn! It’s the Bolshoy Ballet, man! The Bolshoy! There’s a new lead dancer that’s making waves, a friend of mine actually. He just got promoted after he did this insane… whatever it’s called! Grand jeté. You’ve got him all over the cover of the newspapers. They’re calling him the next Vatslav Nizhinskiy." Eren groans, a low, deep rumble in his throat. The next Nizhinskiy? He doubts that. Kirstein has been hounding him all week about this ‘amazing’ performance that he apparently has to see. According to him, some prodigy or something from the Bolshoy was set to perform a principle role. Kirstein's been ecstatic ever since he found out. "Come join us, we’re going as a group, Mikasa too. It’ll open your horizons."

"We live in the Soviet, what horizons are there to open?" Eren spits, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Horizons of the art, Jäger." Kirstein mumbles through his cigar, the smoke mingling with his breath as he speaks. "You gotta open your ears and eyes sometimes too, you know. There’s more things to life than just bloodshed. The performing arts… music, dance, theater! Stuff like that. They’re good for the soul. Lighten up a little. Besides, ballet is the epitome of art and culture in this country."

Eren watches as a boxer in the ring is thrown on the ground, nose blood running down his face as he’s stomped on by his opponent. "No thanks. I don’t like that shit."

Kirstein rolls his eyes. "Don’t play dumb. You’ve never been to the Opera House before. The place is… magnifique. And this dancer, he’s magnifique. Everyone’s singing his praises. You’re bound to like one of the dances. And then you’ll thank me for dragging you out of your den of solitude and violence and bringing you to a place of culture."

"Jean, don’t bother." a woman’s voice, cold and void of emotion, speaks up. "He’s not interested."

Mikasa is here as well, actually. Poor woman is practically drowning in the smell of cologne and body odor from men. She too, is also known for not her words, but her presence, in the Vorovskoy Mir. Women aren’t allowed to be a part of the brotherhood, but Mikasa’s combat skill equaled to that of a hundred boyeviks. She proved herself to be a valuable asset, and was vouched for by the Prakhan himself. She is just as cool and composed as Eren is reckless and temperamental. She’s well aware of his attitude problems, and has been putting up with them for years.

"It could be fun for a change!" Kirstein tries again. Can the man just give it up already?

"Yeah, fun. Watching ballerinas dance around on stage definitely sounds like my idea of a good time. Why the hell are you even interested in the ballet anyways?"

"I’m French. Love for the arts is in my blood. But it’s also because Krishenka wants to go. She used to be a dancer, so she loves that stuff."

Oh, yeah, Kirstein’s new girlfriend. Or as Eren likes to call her, mistress of the month. The man’s always parading around with some new broad on his arm. Typical. From what Eren knows, the two of them met at some art auction, and she’s apperantly the daughter of some president of a company. He knew Kirstein could be a real smooth-talker when he wanted to be, but it surprised him that he managed to snag the attention of some glitterati girl, rather than some broke prostitute that needs his money.

"You’re still with that girl?"

"What’s that suppose to mean, Jäger? We’re in love, and you would know what that was like if you weren’t such a little megalomaniac."

Eren scoffs. Kirstein? Actually falling for a girl? That’s hard to imagine. The guy always seemed so… well, flaky at best. And downright heartless at worst. He would just flirt with people and then move on. But who is Eren to judge. He’s had his fair share of mistresses and lovers. All of which were either strippers, escorts, or some other form of working woman.

"I’m not a megalomaniac. And I doubt that girl’s gonna stay with you."

Kirstein eyes him suspiciously for a moment, before drawing his gaze back to the fight in front of them. "Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jäger..."

Eren? Jealous of Kirstein? As if. "Don’t offend me. I’m not."

"Sure ya are. You’re jealous I can find a girl and you can’t."

"You obviously have no trouble finding a girl. Your problem is keeping one."

Kirstein cackles like a hyena. "But that’s rich coming from you! Who have been single for how long now?"

This bastard!

Yes, Eren’s been single for some time, that is true. But what does Kirstein know about his love life? Exactly; nothing. Eren’s always been a private man in that particular aspect. In general, actually. "That’s none of your fucking business."

Kirstein furrows his eyebrows. "Damn, what’s got the stick up your ass?"

"Your stupid, fucking—"

"Boys…" Mikasa warns, sensing the dangerously growing tension between the two men, considering she was —quite literally— caught in the middle. 

Eren would have continued his verbal assault, if it wasn’t for Mikasa. Her word is law. Simple as logic. Also… her tone is mostly what makes him back off. The tone that indicates that she’s not dealing with their bullshit. Specifically Eren’s. Then, Mikasa’s expression softens. "Are you sure you don’t want to come, Eren? Maybe it would be good for you." she pauses. "You can’t just work all the time…"

Eren holds back a scoff. Mikasa worries for him because each year he just become more and more of a shell of the person he used to be. And Mikasa seem to be grieving that loss. Like the death of a loved one. Because he might as well be dead these days. He’s skilled. And feared, even by men like him. People stay away from him. He’s worked hard for it. He wouldn’t change it for anything.

But it still irritates him. He hated it when Mikasa started bringing up the same speech. It made him feel like she was trying to act like a mother to him, and he already had plenty of issues with his own mother.

"Be quiet." he scolds.

Mikasa clenches her jaw. She’s losing it, though she’s always been good at keeping her emotions in check. "Fine." Grabbing her beige trenchcoat, she swings it on, not sparing him a glance. "Jean, I’ll see you on Saturday." and with that, she’s walking towards the exit of the underground arena, the sound of her heels drawing the attention from some older men.

Eren watches her leave, a heavy feeling in his gut. Something he doesn’t experience that often.

Kirstein leans in close to Eren with a lowered voice to break the awkward silence that just fell over them. "She’s waiting for you, y’know…"

Eren grunts. Her cold attitude towards him is understandable. And he’s reminded of the fact that he’s neglected her for these past months. He’s been disappearing for weeks on end without a word to her. No phone calls, no letters, no nothing. He’s just been keeping to himself, alone. There’s no surprise she’s pissed at him. Eren… hasn’t been a good brother or friend to her this year. And she doesn’t deserve this treatment. Yet, she still stays by his side regardless.

She still cares about him. And he cares about her. He really does.

Eren inhales a breath of air. He’ll regret this. "When’s the show?"

"Hm?"

He holds back a groan. He doesn’t want to say this out loud. "The ballet."

"…Hah?! Don’t tell me you changed your mind? You really are unpredictable, Jäger!"

"Just answer the damn question."

Kirstein chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "6 o’clock on the dot. But there’s a introduction part an hour befo—"

"I’ll be there at 6." Eren interrupts. He’s not spending any more time at the theater than he has to.

"Tch. Eren Jäger; ever the weak one for a woman’s pleading." Kirstein mocks.

Yeah. Something like that. He can only hope she forgives his dumbass. And something’s telling him he’s in for a surprise. Surprises are never a good thing. Something’s going to catch him off his game.

Something is going to change.

As Saturday comes, Eren drags himself to the Moscow State Conservatory for the Performing Arts.

The venue was huge, almost intimidating to look at it. It was one of the biggest he’s seen in the city. With the black sky framing it, the building shines like a golden temple in the midst of darkness. And it was one of the most prestigious places for those that loved the classical-performing arts. The exterior of the theater featured a grand neoclassical design with a massive portico, and a stately copper roof with colonades. The theater's facade is decorated with sculptures (a quadriga) and elaborate moldings, evoking the grandeur of Imperial Russia. It’s opulence; overwhelming.

The inside is equally grand, adorned with beautiful paintings and mosaics, creating an atmosphere of extravagence, tiered seating and sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. This place is basically a museum too. There's hallways and rooms displaying costumes and props used from certain plays, especially by some of the more celebrated performers and artists. He tries not to let the grandeur of it all get to him. But it’s impossible to not feel a sense of… something, from this building, by its history and significance. There’s so many ballet companies here, but this one’s special. This is a place for the elite performers. The building’s strength and profitability surpasses almost all notable European theaters. Everything here gives him a strange feeling. A feeling of reverence. Its beauty and elegance only being matched by the history it carries within its walls. Still he tells himself it doesn’t affect him.

He's a man of status and affluence, though he's never really been anywhere near as meaningful as this before. Okay that’s actually a lie. He’s been here once, a long time ago. Of course he's been to a Russian ballet before. In this damn country, it was basically impossible to avoid. His father had dragged him to see the classics on stage. But Eren never cared for it. Because the dancers he saw on stage, disappointed him, to the point where he never bothered to come back. So much focus on technicality, no focus on actual acting and depth. That was the problem. The dancers lacked artistry. They were just a bunch of marionette puppets twirling on stage.

The place was swarming with people. Everyone is dressed to their nines, a few holding champagne flutes in their hands. To Eren, it doesn’t make sense why someone would want to sit and just watch a group of people dance. And to pay so much money for it as well. Besides, he’s heard all about the ballet gossip. The controversies and affairs… The abuse.

Eren wanders around alone, hands in his pocket, as he climbs the red carpeted stairs to find the entrance to their private seating, a cigar between his lips. It’s Cuban. Montecristo. His favorite. Rich and flavorful taste. Compared to the other men here, Eren walks like a wild wolf amongst lapdogs. Like the grim reaper.

They’re suppose to be seated in the Tsar’s box. He’s not surprised that Kirstein has managed to get a hold of such expensive seating. It’s not uncommon that tickets from this theater are often sold to Bratva dealers, who in turn sell them on the black market for double the face value.

In the corridors to the Opera boxes, a portrait of a ballerina catches his attention. The name tag reads Plisetskaya. She’s grinning, and dressed as a peasant girl, probably Giselle. Eren tilts his chin to scan her portrait better.

"Eren." a voice laced with surprise says. He knows that voice. And he barely looks at her. Of course Mikasa would be the one to find him. She’s dressed like a business executive. "I didn’t think you would come."

"Neither did I." the dark-haired man mumbles. 

"HA! I don’t believe it!" Eren knows that voice too. Goddamn, he does not like this man at all. "Look who came crawling out of the slums. Eren Jäger himself!"

Kirstein’s voice manages to capture the attention of some bystanders, making Eren’s paranoia spike. "Don’t use my name so lightly in public." he warns.

The other man —wearing that stupid, dark vest-suit with a fedora— comes in with his mistress. She’s pretty. Not that Eren expected anything less from Kirstein. Long, blonde, straight hair, and a black formal dress, paired with black satin gloves. And a pair of skyblue eyes. Still nothing that catches Eren’s eye. She immediately loses points for being attracted to Kirstein.

The woman awkwardly takes it upon herself to introduce them. The second they make eye contact, her smile is wiped away like a blur. Though she manages to compose herself very quickly with a polite (forced and nervous) smile. Brava, Miss—

"I’m Miss Lenz, how do you do…?" her voice is a bit shaky as she greets him, which he finds rather amusing. That’s funny, she’s afraid of him.

Good. He likes it that way. "Just fine, ma’am. Jäger." He greets, shaking her hand with a tight grip. Just like he’s been trained.

"I can’t believe you actually came! I guess hell must have frozen over, huh?" Kirstein wheezes. God, the show hasn’t even started, and the man has clearly already had one or two drinks.

"Why… wouldn’t I come here?"

"Because you’re…" He pauses, then gestures to Eren from head to toe. "…you’re you."

It takes every fiber in Eren’s body to not punch that mocking expression right off Kirstein’s face. He’s never been a person with a long fuse. "Yeah, I felt like coming. Problem with that, Kirstein? Or is my presence ruining your night with the lady?" his words come out sharp, and he can feel Mikasa beside him, giving a small tap on his shoulder. A silent play nice, please. Ugh, she’s basically asking him to just let this bastard be.

"Not at all, Mr. Jäger. The more the merrier! Right, darling?" Lenz nudges the tall man beside her. She looks up at her man with a loving smile, which he replies with by giving her a smug grin and wrapping an arm around her waist. Eren can practically feel an ulcer growing in his stomach from having to watch the man cling to that girl like that, like an annoying piece of gum on the underside of a park bench.

"No objections from me. You’re welcome to join us anytime, Jäger! You always know how to light up a room." Kirstein jests, voice laced with sarcasm and that shit-eating grin that pisses Eren off even more.

Lenz tries to diffuse the growing tension. "Let’s go find our seats! I have never been in the Tsar’s box." she beams. Lenz is a lot more excited for this than Eren is…

The auditorium is big, organized in a horseshoe shape. The ceiling is ornately decorated, featuring intricate frescoes and chandeliers hanging from the rafters. The stage is lined with a large golden proscenium arch, from which the stage curtains hang. The drop from the stage to the orchestra pit, is in contrast painted black and given no emphasis at all.

The box they’re in is tastefully appointed with velvet cushions, red-trimmed curtains, and a commanding view of the stage. The sound of murmured conversations and shuffling footsteps of attendants float softly around him. Eren is seated next to Mikasa (obviously), and Lenz, much to his dismay, sits on his right side, followed by Kirstein.

"I’m excited to see this. It's been a while since I saw Swan Lake." Mikasa casually tries to strike a conversation with him. She’s always been better at small talk than him.

He awkwardly coughs, leaning onto his own fist, elbow supported by the arm rest. "I suppose it’s one of those things you should see at least once."

"Have you never been to the ballet before, Mr. Jäger?" Lenz questions, turning her head. She looks sweet enough, with her pretty blonde hair and little round face. But something about her annoys him. Maybe it’s her sweet-yet-somehow-cloying voice. Or maybe it’s because she’s dating Jean Kirstein, and that’s enough to piss him off. He doubts their relationship will last. Men like him and Kirstein rarely get a serious partner. And Eren personally thinks the man should keep it in his pants. Even so, Kirstein has a nickname for her. That’s rather weighty.

"No." he says, in a voice that’s both polite and unbothered, yet cold and disinterested. He's not interested in explaining.

"Then I suppose tonight will be enlightening for you, will it not?" she giggles. Why is she trying to be nice to him now? Is it to get on his good side, or just pure politeness? Ugh, Eren hates goodie-two-shoes.

Slumped in his seat, and cigar supported by his fingers, Eren does not look impressed. "Perhaps. But that’s assuming the performance will be good enough for me to actually get ‘enlightened’. If it’s not as good as the critics claim, then I doubt I’ll find this evening to be very enlightening." he gives her a sarcastic raise of his eyebrows, which only makes her give him a tight-lipped smile in return. The poor girl is really trying her best around a man like him.

"I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised! Jean, didn’t you have some friends here?"

Kirstein has clearly been too busy drinking his champagne to pay attention to the conversation. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are slightly out of focus. He’s had too much to drink, much like Eren thought from the beginning. "Mmm…? Oh, yes. Yes, I did!" he exclaims, putting his arm around Lenz before speaking again. "Bott and Arlert. They’re the lead roles."

"How delightful! This is my favorite." Basic. "Arlert’s dancing the Swan Queen, right?"

"Yes, indeed! Only the very best for you." He leans over in his chair, grabbing a hold of another champagne glass, before taking a rather unnecessary large sip from it. The man’s very drunk, but the woman beside him doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, she seems to think it’s ‘cute’.

"Then, I can’t wait to see her!"

Kirstein clears his throat. "Actually," He motions for her to lean in to whisper something in her ear, and then Lenz exclaims with a soft oh.

"I didn’t know they allowed that. But I bet it will be just as good!" Then she leans back to Eren. "I think you’ll like Swan Lake if you’re new to ballet. It’s a classic."

Classic... More like overplayed, and overhyped. "We’ll see." mumbles Eren.

"Do you think you’d like to join us afterwards to meet them if we go?"

Eren doesn’t get the chance to reply (not that he wants to), because the lights dim low, and the heavy, golden curtain is pulled back, like a dark veil ready to reveal a forbidden secret.

This is it. It’s starting. There’s truly no going back now. The music starts playing from the orchestra pit downstairs. Eren mentally prepares himself for a painful experience.

Act I opens with a celebrating village. It’s Prince Zigfrid’s 21st birthday.

First in is the Waltz. Several women with long, frilly skirts and princess hats, and men in tights take the stage. Eren studies the dancers as they emerge. The same way he studies his moving targets. They twirl around, moving smoothly and effortlessly in a never-ending motion. Like dolls on strings. He will admit, he’s not entirely bored (for the first 15 minutes).

A man dressed in a white cavalier tunic —presumably Prince Zigfrid (a beautiful man with dark hair and gentle eyes)— is greeted by the villagers. The village is abuzz with life and happiness.

And here comes the Pas de trois. The steps in the female variation were just so damn hard to make look easy. He observes her movements. Her form and skill are fluid and seemingly natural. It's quite incredible, actually. The soloist is wearing a long fluffy tutu, like a puffy, big, yellow cloud. She’s probably supposed to be reminiscent of something light and whimsical, but in reality, Eren thinks she just look like enormous cotton candy made of tulle and satin. Her hair is pinned into a tight chignon, and a diadem framing her pale, hollow face. All the dancers look so… identical.

He’s only half watching during Andantino —it’s too slow for his liking anyways— and mostly studying the people around him. Kirstein seems interested. Lenz is watching with a smile on her face, like a girl with a childish curiosity. And Mikasa seems to be watching it from a more analyctical perspective.

The music gets louder, and the lights are bright. The sight of the Court Jester’s never-ending spins is a spectacle in itself, he’ll give him that. But Eren’s had it with this romanticized village and the melancholic Prince. What about the titular swans everyone’s waiting for? That’s the whole point of what makes this ballet so cultivating. It’s basically the butter of the bread and yet, Eren is seeing no signs of any swans. What's the director even trying to achieve?

Dance with Goblets follows next, and Eren realizes he’s not made for events like these. Boring performances with no action that don’t end. He’s an impatient man, not a tolerant one. He's tired of this village being glorified. He's waiting for the showstoppers, the grand moments, the drama, the intrigue! The plot is taking quite a while to build up, and this ‘celebration’ has dragged on too long. An unknown passage of time of his life he'll never get back. And Eren can’t take it serious with those goblets everyone has. They looks ridiculous!

Finally, he hears the Swan’s Theme, and Zigfrid finds the lake. About time.

By the time Allegro Moderato commences, Eren’s on the verge of apathy.

Zigfrid wanders around on stage, with a crossbow, like he’s searching for something. He’s alone at night to hunt. He’s looking around, while Rothbart looms over him from the shadows. It looks stupid. The story is stupid. Yet Eren feels compelled to search for whatever the Prince is searching for. That’s when the White Beast appears. It’s not a swan in full yet, but the sight of the moving puppet gliding across the lake has him wary. The malaise isn’t over yet.

Zigfrid takes his aim. Something’s in the shadows. Something is going to change, and it—

It comes sharp; it’s sudden — yet so gentle at the same time.

From the shadows of the lake, a sweet, light figure in a pristine classic white tutu, a bodice of white gauze and feathers, and tiara on her head, — floats out like a celestial being. A presence that demands attention.

Her entrance is grand, with an almost supernatural grace, and is immediately greeted with an applause from the audience. The sight of her captures everyone’s attention, including Eren’s. She’s like a bird, but no bird Eren has ever seen. An illusionary swan, coming to life, right in front of everyone’s eyes.

The tutu and hairpiece seems to reflect the light, making it bounce off the crystal like sequins on her tutu — making it seem like she's glowing, like she's radiating her own light, just like a swan would. Her white aura silhouettes her willowy frame. Something in Eren immediately changes.

There’s no music playing anymore. Only her.

Eren holds his breath, finally witnessing the moment he’s been waiting for.

"There we go. Bravo!" Kirstein cheers, clapping along with the crowd, and a very puppy-excited Lenz. Eren feels lenitive as he watches something so beautiful enter the stage.

Even just walking, —placing each leg so delicately in front of her—, she is so lovely, so classic. Then again, this is Odetta; the definition of a classical ballet heroine. And this ballerina, she truly embodies Odetta. The way she moves, Eren can actually believe this is a girl turned into a swan. She’s earned this role, and she’s making it clear to everyone. She has the perfect blend of fragility and nobility.

And such a bravura she has too! Her every move is flimsy yet precise, each gesture dignified and flawless, each turn on her toes as soft as snow.

He doesn’t like Zigfrid getting too close to her. But he likes the way her body bends for him in such an ethereal manner, spine and neck arched backwards in unnatural ways, as if to immitate a swan, arms extended behind her like wings. Like butter melting into a hot pan. If it was himself in Zigfried’s position, Eren could easily picture himself pulling Odetta all the way to his chest, her petite frame fitting perfectly in his sturdy arms; her warm breath tickling his neck as their bare skin brushes together.

The soft blue hue cast over the stage really adds some sort of heavenly look to her features and illuminates her pale beauty. Her face is much fuller than the other dancers, with their sharp features. But her face is a look of serenity mixed with melancholy and grace. Even from this vantage point, he can see that. And with her blonde bangs swooped over her forehead, she easily stands out in the sea of dark-haired dancers.

So this is what everyone’s been waiting for… And him, apperantly. The magic lifted her as gently as though she were a note of music and it were singing her.

"Aren’t they gorgeous?" the woman next to him gushes, her gloved hand resting at her chest. He wants to hate on her, but he can’t. He’s also drawn in. More like stuck. Like a butterfly in a spider’s web.

"Yeah." Eren mindlessly says, unable to tear his gaze away. She, he mentally corrects.

"They all look so beautiful…" she whispers over to Eren, without even turning her attention away from the show. "I heard that the ballerinas here are exceptionally talented, but I never expected them to be so—" she stops mid-sentence, her words dying on her tongue. Eren doesn’t even have it in him to mock her. The ballerinas’ every move was a study in elegant precision, a testament to the beauty and power of the human form in motion. No matter where she went on the stage, his gaze just naturally followed. "Is this really Arlert, Jean?" Lenz asks.

"Huh? Oh! Yes. Yes it is!"

Arlert, huh…

Eren doesn’t pay them much attention. No. His attention is elsewhere. As the Love Duet takes place, Eren intently focuses on the balletic pair, embracing each other so intimately. It’s not the Prince’s touch that hurts the most. It’s the look in her eyes.

Lenz, for some reason, is still trying to befriend him. During the Pas de quatre, she leans in again. "I’ve actually danced this part before, back when I was a ballerina. It's much more complicated than it looks!" she explains, referencing to the four dancing Little Swans.

Eren holds back a grunt. It’s clear she’s very much one of the ballet fanatics, who can’t go five minutes without gushing over the girls on stage. "Ah, is that so? That’s great." he half heartedly replies. Eren doesn’t give a shit about that. Only someone who’s played the role of Odetta can call herself a ballerina.

Actually, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, the rest of the production seems irrelevant and pointless. All that matters is the White Swan. All that matters is the lithe ballerina that dominates the stage with her delicate, dream-like presence, and the beauty of a Tsarina. Whatever negativity Eren was feeling, has melted away under that seraphic gaze.

This is no ordinary ballerina, that much is obvious. Why she stands apart so much, Eren can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s the swooped bangs, the gazelle like ankles and wrists, flowing, porcelain creamy arms, hair that shines like the eclipse of the sun, or the red painted cheeks… There’s something about her that isn’t quite traditional.

Needless to say, Eren is intriguied by the swan before him. This Odetta is an otherwordly, sculptured beauty with elegance of movement. Her musicality is probably the greatest in the world. At least he thinks. And he doesn’t say that lightly, because this is assoluta territory!

The White Act feels too short. To Eren’s disappointment, the White Swan leaves the scene after she and Zigfrid is forced apart at daybreak.

At the end of Act III, Odetta collapses when Zigfrid swears his love to Odilliya.

As the finalé unfolds, the audience falls dead silent, forcefully gripped by the tragic beauty of Odetta's impending doom. Towards the very end, the White Swan stands before her demise by sunrise. While the swan maidens gather before her, bidding one last farewell, her arms reaches out in a poignant gesture, as if saying goodbye not just to them, but to the audience itself. Her eyes are crying, but Eren’s are screaming at her to see him. To chose him.

They’re all drawn to the tragedy: the White Swan, on the edge of destruction — the point of no return. With her gaze like that, Arlert is the sole focus in this venue, the only star left in the sky.

Until that very moment shatters into thousands of sparkling pieces, and the White Swan jumps to join her loved one in death. Ultimately freeing herself from Rothbart’s curse.

And can’t see her anymore. Not within the shadows of the stage, not within the grandiosity of the scenery either. Not until all the dancers line up at the stage to take their crescending applause and recieve some boquets. Eren, is the only one that doesn’t get up to give his standing ovation, or join the people roaring their "Bravo"s, too busy taking in the sight of his newfound muse. The way she bows for the audience, deep and appreciative. Her chest is heaving with pants, and she seems so genuienly grateful, a palm over her heart-side… Her emotions are authentic. There’s an artistic vulnerability to it. He wants a taste of it.

The audience, they call her name, screaming how much they want an encore. And Arlert, stands before the whole arena. She bows again. It’s then, in that split second in which she slowly lifts herself, a hand reaching out beyond the lights, fingers pointed straight the Tsar’s box, does their eyes meet. She looks at him; and he feels seen for the first time in years. And Eren holds it. Holds her big, twinkling blues, with his cold, intense stare.

There, framed by the bright lights and golden curtain, her gaze locks onto his with such ferocity.

Only then, does he shoot up from his seat like a lightning (almost knocking his ashtray over), his claps echoing like gunshots through the monumental auditorium. He ignores the weird look he recieves by his companions.

Is this what they call being enraptured by a performance? It’s like the ballerina was casting a damn spell on him… Even his inner darkness is being lifted from just the mere sight of her.

How can one be so breathtakingly beautiful? How is it that she was so elegant, fragile and graceful, yet strong and powerful at the same time? Even after performing some pretty hard variations, and a great coda, she still stands with her chin up for the audience. He can feel them staring, the aristocrats, the dancers, the ballerina. She hasn’t said a thing yet her presence says everything. It’s a visual poem written in the language of body movement and expression. Not a word spoken, but everything said. Something about that presence, the way the light had reflected and glittered around her, the look of absolute obedience and devotion in her eyes…

And she saw him! She really did. (At least Eren tells himself because he’s self-centered like that.)

"Do you want to join us?" Kirstein ask, standing with Lenz clutched to his arm.

It’s not until Kirstein address him that Eren snaps back into reality. A reality where the audience is already leaving. He’s slumped in his seat again, and all of his peers are looking at him with expecting eyes. "Join… join what?" he lowly asks, staring back with bleary eyes.

Kirstein groans in annoyance. "To see my friends. Lenz wants to meet them." 

Meet them? Meet the dancers ? Meet his dancer?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

But he can’t show he secretly lust for this woman. So he casually swirls his unfinished drink in his hand. (He’s sort of disappointed at that. Free alcohol, and he was so busy swooning over a gorgeous woman that he hasn’t even finished it.)

Damn. How lucky can one bastard get? Yet as much as he wants to meet her —God he wants to meet her more than anything—, he knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t allow himself.

A man of the Bratva and a renowned ballerina… He wants to laugh. What a bunch of nonsense…

He should drag his sorry ass back to his apartment and drown himself in booze and smokes to forget about it. He’s not about to go swooning for a ballerina like a schoolboy. He’s above that. He ought to stay far away from the woman he’s lusting for. Keep things simple. If he sees Arlert again so soon after her beautiful performance, he’s definitely gonna be too overwhelmed to control himself. And he doesn’t want to act like and idiot in front of these fools —not to mention in front of Arlert herself. He doesn’t want to ruin the image of a brutal and notorious Boyevik that he’s worked for all these years.

But… Arlert’s dancing form is forever engraved in his minds eye. A memory so bright and fair that it seems unreal. Except she is real. That image will haunt him, till the day he dies. A dance of shadows and moonlights. A swan that touched the stars. And something inside Eren himself he can’t explain.

There are, apperantly, still some wonders left in this world. Eren just never realized he could have a piece of it, for the price of an admission ticket. His breath has been stolen, and his soul has been taken.

He feels it. Inside his body. The desire to know her. To get to know her. To find out what kind of woman she is. He doesn’t care why, he only knows that he needs to. There’s an unspoken connection between them.

"I’ll join."

And just like that, Eren Jäger signed his life away.

Chapter Text

He just agreed to meet her. In a very non-intimate way, of course.

He should have refused. Avoid unnecessary danger. Not voluntarily walk right into this venus flytrap... But hell, he’s already knee deep in this mess. Besides, it’s just a simple hello, and see her in person. Then he can go home and get off to the memory. He just needs to remain composed, keep his feelings in check.

Kirstein is leading their small group backstage, it seems the man is familiar with this place, Lenz holds onto his arm like the bimbo she is. Eren walks right behind Mikasa. Always.

The further they get, the more anxious Eren grows. It’s only a matter of time before he’ll meet her. And that thought both arouses and scares him. It’s a new feeling. He thought nothing could scare him these days. He wants it. He wants to know everything about her. What she sounds like, what she looks like in the dark—

"You don’t have to hover over me, if that’s why you’re still here." Mikasa says.

Eren snaps out of his thoughts, giving her a sideways glare. "I’m not hovering over you." he hisses, even though he very much is. "Besides, I like being with you. It’s… been a while."

"Yeah." she mumbles. It’s true that Eren had a tendency to hover over her, but for good reasons. The first time they met, her family had just been massacared by slave traders. She was only 9, and they were going to take her to a brothel. Because some wealthy creep wanted a pretty little Asian girl for personal use. And Eren, being the stupid kid he was, had wandered straight in to the building when he saw shady men there. Then he killed them. One with a knife, and one with a broom of all things. His father nearly lost it when he found them. Not because Eren killed someone, but because he disobeyed.

So he hovers, a little. He’s always been a protective man in general. He’d die before he let any other man touch her. Or woman, for that matter.

He doesn’t bother to come up with an excuse, as he’s fully aware of the fact that he’s being a little clingy right now. But again, he can’t explain it to himself why.

He does however put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a small reassuring squeeze. The closest he’ll get to sharing vulnerability. A display of affection between familiars. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. In the end, she knows he only means well. He’s got a hard time expressing himself, even when he’s sober. And Mikasa knows that, so she doesn’t comment on it.

"I’m glad you came, though. Even if you look the way you do."

"Hey, I look presentable enough. I even wore a tie."

"You’re slouching. At least try to appear like a gentleman. We’re meeting ballet dancers, they have class. Which you lack by the way." Yeah, that’s Mishka for ya. Not afraid to say what’s on her mind. Even for a man like Eren. She just continues that strut of hers, completely unbothered.

"I have class. Just not in that way." Eren defends, stuffing his hands inside his pockets. He wishes he could come up with something better, but he can’t. Not when his nerves are all over the place. Does he really get to meet Arlert?

And now he’s is imagining her response to Eren’s presence. Would she smile? Ask his name? Be intimidated (like so many)? Find him attractive? Or...? 

God, it’s like facing down the Devil, only that the Devil is a woman who wears a tutu. How do you even start a conversation with a dancer? Eren’s a criminal. Arlert’s a dancer, someone of art and elegance. Eren’s rough and rowdy, and Arlert’s graceful and refined. Eren’s all sharp and jagged, and Arlert’s all soft and sweet. They’re nothing alike. They’re like polar opposites. They probably won’t have anything in common.

He’s being over the top. And all for a woman he plans to sleep with once.

He doesn’t even realize they’re here until Lenz’s voice cuts through, gushing to someone about what an amazing performance it was.

He knows who she’s talking to, before he even sees it. The one person who makes his heart race and stomach churn with lust — Her, Miss Arlert.

Eren stops in his tracks. Then slowly lifts his head. He knew she was beautiful, even as a blur of white and blue on a stage. But now he’s about to meet her in the flesh. And that fact alone seems to make him lose the ability to breathe. Because this is it. This is the moment he has been waiting for. The moment when the ballerina would grip him by the throat and bring him to his knees. And he’s ready for it. Ready to feel the impact of her performance. To feel the grip of her devilish hold.

Standing only a couple of feet away, is the blonde ballerina. Even off stage, she still looks elegant. Ethereal even. Like the world’s most fragile bird. She’s wearing something cozier, a french blue sailor-collar cardigan with white buttons and a bow, some silvery grey pants and some penny loafers that have definitely seen better days. Her short hair looks a little tousled (but it makes her look more adorable, if that’s even possible), probably from being tied back for so long.

Eren doesn’t realize he was standing in thespian dressing room’s door frame like a creep until Lenz (fucking Lenz) calls for him: "Mr. Jäger! In here! Come say hello!" she encourages, and it does NOT help Eren’s nerves calm down when everyone stares at him. Especially, when the blonde ballerina turns her head to meet his gaze.

"...Hello!" she shyly beams, wave-fluttering her fingers to him, and Eren’s heart soars. He needs to get a grip. He needs to act like a man.

She sounds just like he expected her to: soft but alluring. The voice is silky, yet laced with something confident. Every sound escapes her mouth in a gentle lilt, in that slighty breathless and rich accent he doesn’t recognize. Her voice is even lovelier in person. Gentle. Like a summer breeze on a hot day. She’s also much shorter than he expected. Her limbs looked so unnaturally long on that stage. But she is… very tiny. Eren swallows a lump forming on his throat. What should he say? Should he comment on her performance? Should he tell her how beautiful she looked on that stage? Should he tell her how she managed to steal his heart in less than a minute and that he will burn the world to the ground for her if she as much as asked him to? Maybe that’s too much. This woman doesn’t even realize her dancing has affected every fiber in his body.

Eren carefully shuffles forward, ready to extend a hand. "Hi." he says, trying to sound like a normal person. "I’m uh— Ere— Jäger, I mean."

"I’m happy to meet you. I’m Armin Arlert." Arlert accepts his handshake. Eren’s hand feels like jelly when he grabs her hand. Soft and small, just like the rest of her. Her hand feels delicate, like holding a rose, knowing that one wrong move will prick your fingers. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and so completely fragile that Eren’s mind can’t help to think dirty thoughts. How she’d fall apart in his grip, and how the world will shatter into a million different pieces when he’d claim her as his.

"Likewise. I can see why everyone’s been talking about you…" Eren softly mutters. His green eyes rake over her entire body, analyzing and studying her. Looking for a weakness on her. He would like nothing more than to claim her as his, but he’s not going to pounce on her like a wild animal. Not yet. Because he knows the importance of lying in wait until having the mouse right where he wants it to be. He can’t see any weaknesses anyways. All he sees is thin, long lashes, black eyeliner and blue eye-shadow framing her ocean eyes. And flamingo pink lips. She really looks like a swan-faerie.

"That’s nice of you to say." she lets go of his hand, and Eren immediately hides it to clench it inside of his slack’s pocket. "I wouldn’t have taken you for a theater kind of guy."

"Trust me, he’s not." Kirstein cuts in. Eren forgot there were other people here. "I’m surprised he even came at all."

That small comment seems to earn a chuckle from everyone, except Mikasa, who has an unreadable expression as always.

Eren would have usually snapped at Kirstein, instead, he focuses on the ballerina, on how her chest heaves with every laugh she takes. How her collarbones are just begging to be bitten. How he’d have to lean down to reach her. He clears his throat. "So do I look that bad, then?" Does he really? Maybe he does, with his heavy Rolex and steel rings and pure black attire. And the tattoos on his knuckles.

Arlert giggles at the question, a sound that’s just as soothing as her voice. It’s a light sound, almost like a melody, and it dances through the air in soft little murmurs, wrapping all around them. "Well, no. You don’t look bad at all, quite the opposite, really. You look…" her eyes flick over his entire body, almost as if she’s undressing him. And it’s driving Eren insane. But then her face brightens with a smile. "Different. You don’t look like the type."

"Sorry." Eren sheepishly say, and he wants to scold himself. He’s not suppose to apologize. "I’m not familiar with the Opera culture, you see."

She gives him another smile, a little smirk that almost looks playful. The sight of it makes Eren’s heart skip a beat. She’s so painfully beautiful, and at the same time her innocence almost makes Eren want to protect her. He’s not exactly sure why.

"That much was obvious, when you came in here in all black. But I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sure you look handsome in more casual clothing too!" Arlert reassures, and Eren, struggles to keep his expression and neutral as possible. He wasn’t prepared for the direct compliment at all. At. All.

He’s almost certain he can hear someone say something, but he doesn’t care for it. He doesn’t hear anything other than Arlert’s voice. "I liked it a lot!" he blurts out, earning a look of surprise from everyone. "Your dancing, I mean. You’re clearly skilled."

"Thank you, Mr. Jäger. I’m glad you liked the performance. It’s always a pleasure to hear a praise from such an… eccentric stranger like you." Arlert’s lip curve up into a charming smile, dimples forming on her cheeks. This ballerina seems to be pretty shy, based on her demeanor and reactions, and it makes Eren want to say more. More compliments, and so many other words he can’t quite find in this moment of weakness. "I wonder…" she starts, tilting her head, as if to study the stranger before her better. Then, there’s a glint of mischief. "what was your favorite part of the performance?"

That’s a trick question. It has to be. Arlert probably wants to test him a little, and Eren so badly wants to pass—

"Pft! Jäger?" Kirstein’s voice cuts through. "The guy doesn’t give two damns about ballet. He’s the kind of guy that doesn’t know a thing about class and culture. All he does is drink and read Nietzsche."

Eren is about to lash out at Kirstein, if it wasn’t for Mikasa of all people chiming in. "Eren’s just shy. And a little weird. He doesn’t have a lot of friends to go out with." There goes his only ally.

He’s giving both of them a dangerous glare, telling them to stay out of this. Then he looks back at the blonde dancer, who’s still giggling. Ugh, he doesn’t need to be reminded of the fact that he’s completely new to the ballet world, but Kirstein and Mikasa just has to expose his ass for the whole world. "Look I… it’s not that I don’t appreciate the performing arts… I just… don’t know the proper etiquette, or the correct vocabulary…" he mumbles, trying to explain his incompetence.

The blonde ballerina doesn’t seem to mind his ignorance in regard to her art. If anything, she just seems rather fascinated, a small smile still visible on her face. Like his lack of knowledge is adorable. "It’s no big deal, I promise." Arlert reassures him, her voice as soft as a whisper. "I won’t fault you for not knowing what a pirouette or a saut de Basque is. It’s actually rather sweet. I wouldn’t mind giving you a tour of the house if you’re interested."

"Yes." Eren accepts, very quickly. "I mean… it would be nice. To be shown around a little. If you really don’t mind."

Arlert seems a little surprised by his eagerness, but doesn’t make any protest. "I’d be delighted to." she turns to the other’s. "Does anyone want to join?" 

Please no.

Kirstein shakes his head. "Nah, I think I’ll go say hello to Bott now. Is he still around?"

"Yes, I think he just went to the lobby to greet someone. We’ll be on our way then, Mr. Jäger. Just follow me."

Oh, Arlert. You’re too innocent. And so foolish. A beautiful little fool.

Eren follows along silently, hands stuffed into his pockets, per usual. All the while he looks back and forth between the ballerina and the surroundings. He’s trying to remain composed, but it’s obvious he’s stealing glances. And everytime he does, Arlert shyly averts her gaze and lowers her head when Eren catches her eyes. Adorable. Her expression is really something to behold; so damn vulnerable. Like Eren could pick her up and steal her away right then and there, and she would just let him. And he really considers doing just that, taking her wrist and dragging her out of the Opera House to the nearest hotel with a hot tub so they can get it over with. But she’s so damn tiny and nimble. He’d have to be careful not to break her.

The taller man tries to pay attention to what the ballerina is saying, he really does. But it’s hard, when the only thing he can focus on is her voice and her looks. The way her skin shimmers in the light, the way her hair swishes with every step, even the bangs, and the way her oversized cardigan loosely hugs her body. The only thing that brings him back to reality again, are the times Arlert gently turns to check if he’s even still listening to her. And he just stands there dumbly while she talks. All he can think about those plump, pinkish-red lips as they form words, making that soft, alluring, accented voice. 

The corridor they’re in is a massive long gallery, walls adorned with portraits of prima ballerinas and ballet masters. Every era, every generation, is displayed on the walls in stunning oils. And as they walk among the artwork, Arlert points at each portrait and speaks about them. Explaining their importance and their achievements. Arlert is clearly speaking from a view of admiration, a sparkle in her pretty eyes. But to Eren, they’re all just portraits of women wearing very elaborate dresses and looking rather emotionless. Cold and hollow. Like most ballerinas. Except Arlert. Warm and deep. Like the Indian Sea.

"I’ll admit, this is rather impressive, Arlert. You’re clearly educated on the subject."

"I’m glad you think so. This gallery is dedicated to the most famous ballerinas who’ve danced this theater. Here, they’re our idols, our role models, as we say in the business. I like to come here and wander on my own."

"I suppose it won’t be long before they hang up your portrait here with the other ballerinas." Eren casually tries.

"That’s seems unlikely." she chuckles. "But I guess I would prefer to be up with the other danseurs instead, if that was the case."

"The danseurs? Why?"

"Because… those, are the male dancers, Mr. Jäger." Arlert explains.

There is an awkward silence between the two of them now, as Eren stares at Arlert in disbelief. While Arlert waits for the other man to react to his answer.

It takes Eren a good few seconds, before it all clicks in his head and now, for the first time in his life; he can’t prevent the way his face heats up. Really, heats up. What’s disturbing isn’t the fact that a male dancer is dressing up as ballerina, it’s rather the fact that it makes Eren more excited… This was not the surprise he was expecting. And he wonders how the Soviet State allowed this. Well, men like Rudolf Nureyev is also pushing the Soviet’s boundaries of artistic expression.

He awkwardly scratches his neck. "You’re-… O-oh- sorry. I didn’t realize…"

Arlert gives him a little nervous laugh, almost like she— he’s trying to reassure Eren. "It’s quite alright, it’s not the first time someone thinks that. I hope you’re not too weirded out now…"

"No!" Eren says, all too bluntly. Then he clears his throat. "No, not at all. It’s— I mean, you’re still a great dancer." Goodness. Eren knows he should probably be put off by it, but this is the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on, and somehow the fact that he’s a man makes him even more attractive. Which means trouble for Eren.

The dancer sheepishly tucks a stray lock behind his ear. Eren can’t look away. This guy is so innocently cute and fragile without a hint of artifice, but at the same time so incredibly attractive. "Thank you. I appreciate your openness."

"Can I— uh… Can I ask why? Why you dance as a ballerina, that is."

Arlert pauses, and Eren can see he probably wasn’t expecting that question. And the look on his face kinda confirms it. "It’s because I’ve always been a bit on the shorter side, and a little frail. It’s not very ideal for a Prince’s role. But my teacher, luckily, thought I was a good dancer, and suggested I’d try it. She said there was something beautiful about my fragility. Heh, sounds a little silly… I didn’t mind dancing female roles, so I just went with it. I just wanted to dance. It was hard learning to dance en pointe, though." he tucks his hands behind his back. "Did you know Nizjinskij also danced in pointe shoes?"

"I didn’t know that…" Eren lowly says. Nizhinskiy (although Arlert pronounces it differently) also danced en pointe… Well, the man was celebrated for his virtuosity and for the depth and intensity of his characterizations. And he danced en pointe. Maybe Arlert is the next Nizhinskiy.

Arlert nods, and now he’s looking more at the floor, his fringe hiding his eyes once more. It makes Eren want to reach out and brush the locks away, so he can look into the blue eyes again. "He did. Uncommon for men at the time. And he was particularly skilled in it. One of my greatest inspirations, actually."

"You have an accent." Eren points out instead. "You’re not from Russia, are you?"

Arlert plays with his hair now, twirling his honey blond strand around his finger, and Eren wonders if it’s a nervous tick the dancer has. "Ah, you noticed. I’m actually a little ashamed of my accent. It always sticks out when I’m talking with the other dancers, I can never hide it. I probably sound silly."

"No, no!" Eren is quick to reassure. "You don’t sound stupid at all. Just… a little unique, your accent, is what I meant. Don’t be ashamed, Russian is hard to learn, so don’t be too hard on yourself now."

"Hah. You’re too kind, really. I can speak a little though, but I can’t always seem to find the right words. My teachers has often told me to work on it. I tend to struggle with rolling R’s a lot as well. I’m from Norway, but we burr over our R’s where I grew up."

"Which is?"

"Anyways." Arlert deflects. "Your name sounds foreign. Jäger… It means ‘hunter’ right?"

Eren clears his throat. "Yeah. It’s German."

"You’re German, I knew it! Norwegian and German have some similar words even if Germany isn’t Scandinavia." Arlert grins, obviously teasing him, and this time, Eren picks up on it. "What are you doing here in Russia, then?"

"I actually grew up here. For the most part." Eren replies. "And I work here. I work with Kirstein, in case you didn’t know."

Arlert’s eyebrows raises. "So that’s how you two know each other. What exactly is it that you do?"

Eren considers what to say for once. It’s probably better to not scare the little dancer so early on. "I work as a debt collector." he simply answers. Not a full lie…

"Ooooo~ fancy, fancy. I assume you’re good with numbers and business then."

The business of violence, yeah.

"I’m more for the hands-on part, if you know what I mean. I like to think I got a natural gift for it."

Arlert hums, like he’s contemplating. "You know, it’s weird, you don’t really seem like a numbers kind of person. If I had to describe you, I’d say you’re more of a… physical kind of man. Like a fighter… or a soldier or something."

"I guess I’m that too."

"I knew it ~ ! I have a good intuition, you know." Arlert furrows his eyebrows and grins, and once again there’s a hint of mischief in that look of his. And that’s when Eren knows, that this man is probably more astute than he gives him credit for. And Eren likes that boyish grin. And he’s about to blurt out something inappropriate, until someone interrupts them.

"Jäger! There you are." Kirstein trots up the red carpet stairs. "Are you done playing pretend-man yet? The girls are hungry."

"Ahah, Kirstein! You jealous I’ve stolen your friend?" Arlert cheers, leaning over the railings. (Making Eren slightly worried.)

"Jäger’s not my friend, trust me." Kirstein says, joining the duo at the top. "We’re just… Well, we used to be good business partners, you could say. Though his temper is too much for me. I’m guessing he’s trying to sweeten me up to start partnering up again. But we’re ready to go out now if you two are done here."

"Do not boast, old man…" Eren warns. "Kirstein’s just eager to get on his honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" Arlert asks softly and looks to Kirstein. "Oh." Then he looks to Eren. "Oh." A silence. "Well, I hope you two will be happy!"

There’s another moment of silence, until Kirstein starts to wheeze, and Eren, Eren stares at the blond in complete and utter disbelief. And Arlert looks so innocent while being so smug!

No one has ever done this to Eren.

"Arlert!"  Eren hisses.

"Aww, c’mon. I’m just teasing a little."

Eren’s never been teased before either!

Kirstein shakes his head, still cackling. "Arlert, Arlert. You never fail to humor me. Poor Jäger. You’re making him blush like a school girl."

"I’m not!" growls Eren. Except he is. Because this is the first time he’s been outsmarted by a more intelligent challenger. For the first time in his life, he looks visibly uncool. And he does not like that. Not one bit.

"Hehe, sorry, Mr. Jäger." Arlert innocently rubs the back of his head. "I’m just having some fun." he sticks his tongue out.

A tease! Arlert is a goddamn tease!

Eren underestimated him. If there’s one thing he’s learned in his line of work, it’s to never underestimate an opponent. No matter what. And now he has to pay the price of that. How can this small, fragile looking little blond be so cunning? It’s official. Eren’s attracted to a man who treats him like a goddamn school boy instead of the ruthless criminal he is. Because he’s the first one to ever put him in this position. Eren has a the urge to punch someone in the face and take a shot of vodka. Or twenty. It's a close call.

Kirstein is enjoying himself, even ruffling Arlert’s hair (how dare he) while encouraging him. Because not many people can outwit Eren Jäger. Not many people dare to. "Seems like you two get along, which is surprising ‘cus nobody likes being alone with Jäger. You’re too good, Arlert! But we must be going now."

"Right. You tell Miss Lenz I send her my regard, and that I’d be happy to see her again." Arlert says, and he looks like he’s about to leave.

Eren is internally panicking, because he hadn’t exactly thought this far along when he came here. And the dancer cannot just leave him now, not like this! Eren won’t let him. He blurts out the first thing he can think of. "You can join us!" The look of surprise that Kirstein and Arlert gives him is enough to make him cringe at himself. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries. I just thought you deserve to be celebrated a little. It’s a special day for you after all. I wouldn’t mind buying you a drink or two…"

Nice save, Jäger…

Arlert tilts his head to the side, and Eren swears the blond dancer is deliberately trying to look cute right now. The man is teasing him again. And Eren actually likes it. What’s wrong with him. "You’re too kind, Mr. Jäger. And if I didn’t know any better… I’d say you’re trying to ask me out."

His intentions have just been put out there. He might as well just roll with it. He doesn’t care that Kirstein is watching and judging him. If he’s going to die, it might as well be in the pursuit of this man. "I am."

Arlert takes a moment to think. Like he’s testing out the idea in his head. And then, he grins like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. "Really? Just like that? You don’t even know my favorite color, or my favorite food. You’re the most straightforward man I’ve ever met."

"Those questions are pointless." Eren replies. "All I need to know is that you’re pretty, and I want you..."

"…That depends, are you asking me out to get to know me better, or because you have... other intentions?"

"A bit of both…"

Arlert hums, while he carefully asseses Eren, like he’s trying to figure him out. "Hm… You’re cute, alright?" Cute?  "And it seems that you like me. But incidentally, I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all."

Eren freezes, and something cracks; his pride. "Huh…?"

"Sorry." Arlert doesn’t sound sorry at all, not when he sniggers like that. "But I’m not interested. You’re… —how should I put this without sounding mean—, far from my type."

The usually so composed and stoic looking man looks like he just got smacked in the face. The worst part, is that he was smacked by someone who’s been sending him so many mixed signals. "N-not your type?"

The dancer nods, a smile of pity, before he continues. "You’re too arrogant, too… rough, too much. You’re intimidating, and I have a feeling it’s not just an act. Men like you always want to assert your dominance, and well… I’m just not into that. I like nice, gentle men. But don’t worry Mr. Jäger, there’s lots of people that like bad boys and dangerous men. It was nice meeting you, though. Kirstein, say goodbye to Lenz for me!" Arlert, all politely waves to the other man (who has his head lowered and is covering his face to stiffle his snicker).

"Wait!" Eren pleads, and he wants to scold himself for being so desperate. And for a man in tutu of all things. His father is probably rolling in his grave. "Just give me a chance. Please."

Arlert halts in his steps, and seems somewhat annoyed by Eren’s persistence. "Listen, I’m not interested in being your play doll for the night."

"Who said anything about just for the night!?"

The blond raises an eyebrow, challenging. "Oh, so you’re looking for something long term, huh? You’ve had many in the past?"

He hasn’t. "Yes."

Arlert doesn’t look convinced. Not at all. "Mhm. You don’t seem like the relationship type. You seem more like a one night type of man. And that’s just not what I’m looking for right now. If you absolutely want it, you can come back here next time I perform. Bring me a rose and then ask me on a date so I know you’re serious."

"I’ll bring you whatever you want! Roses, chocolate, jewels, whatever you want! Name it and I’ll bring it! I’ll bring you a whole damn garden just to see you smile again... When is your next performance? What time? What show? Just tell me, I’ll be there!"

Arlert merely shrugs again, giving Eren a coy smile over his shoulder, disappearing. And just like that, the one person who had singel-handedly captured Eren’s heart with just one performance, leaves. He doesn’t even say anything. Eren is that insignificant to him. So he stands there, drowning in the reality of his failure while the last trails of heaven disappears.

This was not the kind of interaction Eren had planned on having. It was supposed to be a smooth conversation. One where he could charm him, and flirt with him, and not make himself look like a complete fool.

And he would have continued to stand there in his sulking, staring in disbelief, but Kirstein’s laugh peeks up now that the dancer is out of sights. It’s wheezy and whistling, like a boiling water kettle. "Shut up!" Eren snarls, aggitated and humiliated. Being rejected is one thing, but having Kirstein witness it all was even worse.

"Damn, he didn’t even hesitate."

"I said shut up!"

"Oh, come on. You just got rejected harder than a man who’s got a thing for taken women. You expect me to not say anything?"

"I wasn’t rejected, he just—"

"I saw the entire thing unfold, dumbass." Kirstein interrupts. "You embarrassed yourself out there. Now you have to hope he'll forget about it and go out with you another time. A rose, pft- that’ll make him swoon for your ass." he continues to laugh, but it does eventually mellow down to some chuckles. Meanwhile, Eren broods in the silence, both of them resting their elbows on the railings. "You know, he’s probably using you for some big scheme. The Scandinavians love a good trick. He’s probably laughing about it to his friends right now. Arlert just likes to play games."

Every word Kirstein says is just salt being rubbed right into the wound and Eren hates it. He hates that this man knows the dancer better than he does, knows more about him and is more familiar with him. He hates that Arlert’s so distant and unattainable to him, but so close and familiar to Kirstein.

Maybe Kirstein’s right. Maybe Eren shouldn’t get his hopes up.

As if. Eren does what his instinct tells him to. That’s the kind of man he is. He’s been trained to have instincts as sound as a bell after working for the brigadier for so long, and right now, his instincts are telling him to go after Arlert. And if he wants to play a game, then so be it. Eren will just have to make himself Arlert’s number one player. He will tame this little wild flower. He’s the only one who can. No one can escape Adskaya Pyos. Not even the Devil. The only problem now is that he’s not looking forward to his empty apartment, only to fill it with alcohol and fantasies of a man who doesn’t care about him. Again, his father is probably rolling in his grave. Eren’s never been really good at rejection. Especially when he wants something. He's had some awkward encounters with angry husbands coming at him. Either way, he’s not letting Arlert out of his grasp so easily.

The man of his dreams just rejected him. But, it wasn’t exactly “no”. And he did it so easily, too. Cold-hearted and distant. A man that he will never win over.

Which is why Eren, two months later, goes to Arlert’s next performance: Coppélia.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Well. It’s the D-day. Tonight is the night.

Eren is early. Very early. But is that such a crime? He’s eager to see Arlert (though doesn’t want to come across as a creep).

The man is waiting in a fancy Italian restaurant. The place is elegant, with a homey feel to it. A warm, inviting space with the tantalizing aroma of wood-fired pizza and rich tomato sauce wafting through the air. There’s red checkered tablecloths that covers the tables, and the walls are adorned with rustic decor that is obviously inspired by old Italy, like vintage wine bottles and black-and-white photos of the Amalfi coast. Soft lighting and the sounds of Italian music create a cozy, romantic ambience. And the scent of fresh mozzarella cheese and the sizzle of garlic and herbs cooking on the stove transports you straight to the heart of Italy.

It also has a lavish outside part. A garden almost of some sorts, decorated stars hanging above. It would have been a rather nice (and romantic) place to sit, when it’s dark, it’s starting to get cold outside. And it’s a rather windy evening. So inside will do for now. He doesn’t want his date to be cold. 

Carmine is one of those cavalier places for people with wealth. A resturant where pretty girls dressed in formal uniform containing just a simple white button up and black skirt will greet you by the door and escort you. The place is actually owned by some associates. Chef Niccolo knows about Eren. Prakhan actually helped Niccolo and his family out financially, so in return, Niccolo offers them a safe space. They sometimes come here for their meetings, or just an outing since this restaurant is one of the few places they can relax their shoulders in public. Which is the only reason Eren feels comfortable bringing his date here. Niccolo is a loyal man who won't snitch. Fear breeds loyalty.

His waitress for tonight was a Miss Carolina. A woman with long dark hair, kept up by a black ribbon, escorts him to a table. A table in a more secluded section of the resturant. And white tulle curtains. Just a small safety measure. Some privacy.

"Desidera qualcosa da bere, signore?" ( Would you like something to drink, Sir? )

"No, non ancora." ( No, not yet. ) He barely even looks at her as he takes his seat. "Sto aspettando qualcuno. E ´signor Arlert, e sono Jäger. Se lui mi vouele, allora indirizzalo qui." ( I’m waiting for someone. He’s Mr. Arlert and I’m Jäger. If he asks for me then direct him here. )

The waitress smiles, seemingly not offended by his dismissive attitude. She’s probably used to it. Men like him tend to be standoffish, she knows. After years of working in a resturant like this one, she’s probably learnt to deal with those sorts of customers. It wouldn’t surprise Eren if she insulted him behind his back to her girlfriends.

"Certo, signor Jäger. Avete bisogno di qualcosa di particolare mentre aspettate? Forse un fiore... o una candela illuminata?" ( Of course, Mr Jäger. Do you require anything extra while you wait? Perhaps a flower… or a candlelight? )

The comment is small and harmless, and actually considerate, yet it ticks Eren off. It’s like she’s mocking him. It's clear she understands he is a man waiting on a date. But this bitch has no business in that.

His eyes flick up to the woman in front of him in a glare. A part of him wants to put her in her place.

"Non sará necessario. Grazie." ( That won’t be needed. Thank you. )

Not now. Not when he’s waiting for Arlert. He’ll turn off that ”business” mindset of his.

"Allora la lascerò alla sua attesa, signore." ( I’ll leave you to your waiting then, Sir. ) She gives a short dip of her head and disappears back into the resturant.

And Eren is alone again.

He made sure to not keep Arlert waiting for their date. Just a a few days. Which is why they are going out on a regular weekday. Because a lot could happen in a few days. The dancer could lose interest, or change his mind. Or maybe Arlert would just want him around for dinner and nothing more. But Eren is still hopeful. This small crush of his didn’t die down and he’s willing to wait. The fact that he was given a chance to court Arlert made him pleased, a feeling of possession curling inside of him when he heard the words. Eren is very much willing to take that deal. Who in their right mind would ever pass on that?

And it’s cute how Arlert doesn’t believe Eren will be able to do it. The blond honestly thinks Eren will give up after a while. As if.

He also wants to make this good. He wants to impress the dancer with this very first date. Prove that he can be proper and court the beautiful Norwegian with the grace and dignity he deserves.

Which is why he’s made sure to be dressed proper. He’s wearing one of his tailored suits. A rather expensive one. He’s not a huge fashion nerd, yet he’s spent an embarassing amount of time in front of the mirror checking himself. It’s one of his other jet black suits, with a red tie that stands out (hoping the red color will awaken certain romantic thoughts within the blond). The suit sits rather nice on him. It is tailored to his measurements after all. At least he hopes Arlert will notice. He needs to awaken the same feelings within Arlert as he awakens in Eren. Though if there’s one thing Eren has learned, it’s that Arlert is not easily impressed. Still, a guy can hope… He’s tried to make an effort to look like a proper date, instead of one of the many gangsters that run the city he belongs to.

He checks the time on his heavy gold watch for the twelfth time within the last minute.

Any time… Arlert can be here any time.

Eren keeps straightening his tie, adjusting his suit and the silverware on the table. And he feels like he’s going to pass out like a swooning woman from a period drama. Goodness, he’s acting like a fool and the worst part is he knows it. He’s also completely screwed. Not in the good way. He’ll be damned if he blows this. Arlert is his. Yes. All his. For tonight, at least.

This isn’t a business meeting. This is… personal. 

It’s a date. A real date. With someone special. With a pretty little dancer. With Arlert. One who’s sweet one moment, and sassy in the next. A real live human being. A human being that actually —for some inexplicable reason—, seems to tolerate Eren’s presence. His pissed off, gloomy demeanor, and the way he acts like a brute. Something about Arlert just… gets to him on a deep level. Something that makes him act like a lovesick fool.

There’s no business to discuss here. No money to be made. No contracts to sign. No threats. Just the two of them. It’s also just… nonsexual. They’re getting to know each other first.

Eren is a man who likes to jump into things, headfirst. The idea of a long courtship sounds too tiresome, too boring for him. He’s never had a problem finding someone to have relations with… But finding someone who can satisfy him emotionally is something entirely different. And something that can be quite difficult.

He doesn’t know what his future is. Eren has never been one to care for the future. But he knows, he knows, he’ll regret letting go of Arlert so easily. And right now all Eren wants, is to see the man he’s so madly infatuated with.

He doesn’t want a one night-stand. Not with Arlert. He doesn’t want to just “have relations with him”, as he’s done before. He wants more than that. He doesn’t have any words for it yet. All he knows is that it’s a different feeling. And he wants it. Badly. He wants Arlert. Badly. The moment they said their goodnight’s on the phone, Eren knew, this was not some one-night stand. Wherever his life is headed, Arlert's in it.

And hell, he also just wants to know what goes on inside Arlert’s head. He’s been somewhat of an enigmatic entity. And Eren’s dying to get to the root of it. The only source he has that isn’t directly from Arlert himself is… Kirstein. But that bragging man is not a reliable information source. (Eren would kill to just… be able to touch Arlert. He’d kill to just have a fraction of the privileges Kirstein might have had.)

The dancer was the furthest thing from a Scandinavian stereotype, even if he was born in that cursed place. He might have been cold, but the reason to why his heart had not thawed was… unknown to Kirstein. And to Eren. Eren could not accept such an answer.

As much as admitting it makes Eren gag, he can’t exactly deny it. Kirstein is a handsome guy, tall, smooth-talker and wealthy. He’s definitely the “catch”, by all standards. At least Arlert should have been able to appreciate that much. But he didn’t. So Eren has to figure out what Kirstein (and everyone before him) lacked. If he wants to get through the blond.

Arlert is… a mystery. Just like the dances he creates. Eren feels like a man obsessed with figuring out some grand secret. And it's strange. Wanting so desperately to know what’s behind that cold exterior, to know what makes that man tick. Perhaps it’s the challenge in it for him. Or the desire to win over someone who’s not easy to have. Or it could be something more. Something deeper. It’s too soon to tell. But one thing is for sure: he’s already hooked.

The sight of a blond catches his attention and— never mind. It’s not who he wants. His nerves are starting to grate again.

Eren is a man of many habits, and one of them is always being prepared for whatever lies ahead. Yet now, Eren is completely unprepared for what will or will not come.

He looks over at the door, half-expecting Arlert to magically appear, while dreading the moment the blond will arrive. He knows he will be speechless and forget how to breathe the moment he’ll see those pretty eyes again. So it’s a nervous mixture of excitement and dread.

Maybe he should have ordered a drink for himself after all. Something to calm his nerves. Because this is absolutely—

His mental spiralling is interrupted when he feels a finger tap his left shoulder. In a subconcious reaction, he naturally glances to his left side, only to be met with a playful Arlert leaning over his right side.

"Hello, Mr. Jäger." A voice laced with honey and sultriness says.

Eren, being the mess that he is, shoots up from his seat like a lightning (again), nearly knocking his chair over, (and startling Arlert who has to lean back to make room for Eren’s large frame in the process…) to greet his date.

Not many can sneak up on him like that. But Arlert’s sudden, sultry salutation nearly stops his heart.

"Arlert." He gasps out the dancer’s last name in a soft whisper. "You… You’re here."

Arlert composes himself after Eren’s not-so-graceful-move. "Of course, I am." He grins, unbuttoning his very oversized Prussian blue swing coat. "I said I would come. And the image of a poor guy sitting alone and waiting for me was just to sad. That would just be too mean, even for me."

Eren instinctively moves to help him remove that heavy clothing that drowns his figure. "Here." He offers, taking it to hang it on a nearby coat rack, which Arlert seems grateful for.

Elegant, is the first word that comes to his mind when Arlert’s outfit is revealed: he’s wearing a red frilly sweater hanging over some black trousers, with a black hairband. What really has Eren sold is the hair: the short blond locks have been curled at the ends and twirls toward his round cheeks. Even his bangs have been gently curled. It’s very Sylvie Vartan, although Arlert easily outshines any French actresses. The red lipstick is not helping Eren’s nerves.

Eren will entertain the idea that Arlert has specifically dolled himself up all for him.

"You look…" He almost says ‘beautiful’. But stops right in time. "Lovely… Tonight, I mean." He can't sound too desperate.

Arert is flattered by the compliment and it shows. The blond’s lips part into a smile, that hint of shyness showing in those blue eyes. "Thank you. You look lovely too. Very sharp and sophisticated." He teases, taking his seat.

"Thanks." Eren forces out. Taking his seat as well, cursing himself for not being able to come up with anything good to say.

He tells himself to not let the tension get to him. He’s a man. A made man. A boyevik of the Bratva. And a boyevik of the Bratva does not get intimidated.
 
Well…maybe he does. But damn. When the most gorgeous man he’s laid his eyes upon is looking at you like you’re a toy, it’s a bit difficult to keep your cool.

And he’s supposed to make Arlert, a man of elegance and composure, crumble. Make him turn into a blushing, stuttering mess of a guy. But so far he’s the one acting like an awkward schoolboy.

The dancer folds his arms in front of him, resting his chin against his palm. He gives a soft snicker at the sight of Eren, clearly enjoying his inner struggle. "You look a little nervous. Don’t tell me this is your first date?"

Eren coughs into his fist. He should have known his date would be all too eager to play with his emotions. It’s a very Arlert thing to do. "No. It’s- it’s not."

"Oho ~ " Arlert whoos, picking up his menu. "I’m sure you’re very popular where you’re from."

Eren picks up his own menu, pretending to read it in a lame attempt to keep his hands busy. Because he’s not sure what to do with them otherwise. This has never been a problem for him before. "Are you interested in my dating history, Arlert?"

"Not really." Arlert replies, taking in the place. "I would have never taken you for an Italiano kind of guy. It’s nice here."

Well. Perhaps Arlert isn’t interested in his dating history, but Eren is somewhat interested in Arlert’s. He’s more than somewhat interested. But he won’t ask, in case it comes across as too… pushy.

Eren doesn’t mind switching topics actually. He feels like he’s much more on solid ground when it comes to the food or the resturant. Because unlike his emotional life, cuisine is something he knows well. And he tries not to gawk too much, at those blond ringlets framing his face, or those sea-blue eyes, looking at the resturant with genuine admiration in his eyes. The soft light of the resturant makes him look even more angelic than usual.

"I try to look cultured once in a while. Besides, the owner of the place is a friend of mine." Eren explains, peering over the menu and staring at the blond sitting across from him. "It has a more… intimate setting. I figured you would appreciate that more than a nightclub or a bar. At least on a first date…"

"Awww." Arlert scrunches up his nose like a bunny as he smiles. "How considerate you are. And chivalrous."

Eren can hardly handle it. That little scrunch is beyond adorable. "I know this place has the best antipasto around. Would you like to share one?"

"Share food? At an Italian resturant? You’re not trying to recreate Lady and the Tramp with me, are you?"

The usually stoic man tries to not let the heat get to his face. "Of course not. We wouldn’t want to give the guests gossip material, would we?" Eren reassures. Although now the image of sharing food ‘lady and the tramp’ style with Arlert is stuck in his head. He tries desperately to push that image away and focus on the conversation. "I’m just suggesting it since it’s the owner’s specialty. The antipasto is supposed to be the best thing on the menu. You can’t have a good Italian meal without it. At least not in my opinion…"

"I’ll take your word for it then. But I warn you, I’m very picky when it comes to trying new things. At least revolving food. It wasn’t a very good trait to have when I went to the russian schools."

…Maybe Eren can test his luck. "You said you moved here to study ballet... What school did you go to?"

"I actually went to Vaganova Academy, but the Bolshoy offered me a soloist role." He responds, a hint of nostalgia in his expression. "Studied as a full-time student for six years. I lived at the boarding dorms for most of the time. It was a great experience. I learnt a lot there. I studied there under the tutelage of Mistress Brenzska. Very strict, but very skilled. That woman knew how to keep me on my toes." He whimsically smiles. "Quite literally."

Eren whistles lowly. Even he knows. "Vaganova... that's not bad at all. You're pretty much a big shot."

"Hah, you really think so, Mr. Jäger?"

"Don’t try to play coy, Arlert." Eren retorts. "You have to know how big of a deal it is to be even admitted into that school. I don’t know much about dance, but even I know that Vaganova only selects the best of the best. You have to be talented to even be considered for that school. So don’t even try acting humble on me."

Vaganova is not just a place to study, it was a place for the most promising young dancers to be groomed and turned into world-renowned prima ballerinas and the world’s most talented male dancers of the Soviet Union. Yet Arlert says it like it’s so casual. As if it’s not one the most prestigious dance schools that would turn every dancer green with jealousy.

"Well, if you say so." The dancer innocently shrugs. "But I will admit, there’s no better school in all of Russia. At least I think so. Some really great ballerinas came from that school too. Like Galina Ulanova and Anna Pavlova."

Eren huffs. The dancer is definitely teasing him. Playing coy and humble. But if there’s one thing Eren is good at, it’s handling cocky people. "What made you come all the way to Russia to study?"

"Why not? Why do anything at all? I knew I wanted to be a danseur-"

"Danseur?" Eren repeats, emphazising the french accent used by Arlert.

"Danseur." Arlert parrots, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I was around, oh, what? 14, I think? When I moved. It was scary, moving to a country where I didn’t speak the language. But my grandpa used to tell me to go where I fear. I wanted to dance, so I went. Tale as old as time, I guess."

So what? Arlert just up and left to study ballet abroad at the age of 14? That’s….impressive. That’s more than impressive. Barely 14 and already studying for one of the harshest schools in the world. In a country where the language was completely different from the one he grew up speaking. It’s both terrifying and insanely admirable. How someone can have such a clear vision and the willpower to push through and pursue that vision at such a young age, it’s really something.

Or maybe Arlert is simply an insane workaholic. But that seems to be a trait most dancers have in common. Eren can’t remember the last time he met a sane ballet dancer. (Not that he has met many.)

"Not many people would move to a foreign country on the whim of a forteen year old. You’ve got quite the guts, I’ll give you that."

Arlert laughs. "You make it sound more heroic than it really is. It’s more that I wanted it so badly that I would get it one way or another. Maybe the idea of leaving was scary, but the thought of never achieving my dream was scarier, so I just… went. And I don’t regret it one bit, even though it didn’t pan out the way I wanted it to."

"How so?"

With a hint of… something, Arlert runs his fingers through a lock of his blond curls. "Oh. Whatever. It doesn’t matter." His eyes scan the menu again, voice cold and dismissive. "Have we decided on the antipesto then?"

Eren clears his throat, ignoring the comment dismissiven tone in Arlert’s voice. "Ah, sure. If you’re alright with it. I’m not really sure what dancers eat…"

"Mostly dull food. Nutricious, yet non-fattening. But I guess I can break the rules every once in a while."

"I appreciate your act of rebellion for me…" Eren awkwardly says.

"It’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s just food, Mr. Jäger."

Eren opens his mouth to say something.

"Buona sera signori. Avete deciso da mangiare?" ( Good evening gentlemen. Have you decided what to eat? )

A small irritation bubbles in in his chest. Of course this bitch. would return now. And she’s still speaking Italiana. He's not sure if Arlert knows the language. Still, Eren complies, ordering for the two of them. Arlert seems to perk up when he hears Eren order in Italian. It seems he’s intrigued by the language.

The waitress leaves after taking their order and Eren turns his attention back to his date. He finds that curious gaze on him. "What?"

There’s a softness to Arlert’s voice when he speaks, but that notion of distance is still present. "I didn’t know you spoke Italiano."

"Only a bit. My mom was Italian." Eren modestly replies, then dryly adds, "I know more swearing in Italian than anything else."

Arlert chuckles dryly. "I guess I’m no better. We Norwegians really know how to curse."

Oh, that’s for sure. Eren knows how foul mouthed Scandinavians can be— actually, he’s not interested in wherever this conversation is going. He wants to know what’s bothering the man, and why he seems to distant, even sitting here right in front of Eren. "What’s with that look, Arlert?"

"What look?"

"That look."

"Why, it’s just my face…"

The dancers sudden shift in personality made it hard for Eren to read him, his thoughts hidden beneath a veil of mystery. Eren has always been good at reading people, it was an essential skill he had learned in his profession, yet he couldn't read the one person he had an interest in. "Sometimes I didn’t know what side of him I was gonna get." Touché Kirstein… Why is Arlert so far away all of the sudden? How can Eren reach him again?

Eren clears his throat again. "I’m glad you came here to see me, Arlert."

"Of course I came to see you." The other murmurs. Though for some reason, he doesn’t sound that convincing.

"Are you... are you glad to see me?"

Arlert nods. "Yes."

Eren furrow his eyebrows in suspicions, and curiousity. "Then, why do I sense a reservation?"

Arlert shakes his head. As if to reassure Eren. Still smiling with that faraway look in his eyes. "There’s no reservation. It’s just… Well, I suppose there’s one."

"What?"

Arlert shrugs again, forcing the end of his lips upwards. "What’s the good of it?" He lets out, his manicured finger’s fiddling with one another. Just seeing the nervous habit makes Eren grab his hand without thinking, to stop the dancer’s spiral of self doubts, making the other twitch from the unexpected intimacy. Also because he's not in the mood for a sad date.

For a second, Eren is afraid that he has overstepped a boundary, but when the dancer doesn’t pull away, Eren dares to continue, holding Arlert’s much smaller hand in his. "What’s the good of anything? What’s the good of life? We could die tomorrow and not even know it. I’m usually not one to care for such matters, but right now I won’t let you get away with that pessimism." Eren says. He's oddly optimistic. "You know, I’ve never been one to wait for the future. I’ve always dived straight into things without thinking, most of my life. When I was little, I climbed to the top branch of a high tree one day, and then I declared to my very terrified mother, ‘You can’t tell me what to do. We're born free! All of us. And to those who try to take it away, to hell with them!’ Then, I jumped." He pauses, considering sharing the rest. "…I was in the hospital for two months."

Arlert, seemingly in a better mood now, bursts out in laughter. Carefree and light. Eren wants to hear it for the rest of his life. And he lets the sound of Arlert’s laughter rings in his ears. He wants more of that laugh. More of his charming and soft-spoken voice. More and more. Like the windchimes of a temple. Maybe it’s a reminder of something he’s forgetting. Maybe Eren needs to be reminded of something soft after a lifetime of fighting others just to survive. Maybe he needs a break.

"I suppose you were a bit of a wild one, I assume." Arlert chirps.

"Only a bit?" Eren repeats, raising his eyebrows in jest. "Wild doesn't even cover it. I was an absolute terror, Arlert. A rebel without a cause and a devil incarnate. Teachers hated me at school and my parents feared me at home." He squeezes Arlert’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. Something he never bothered to indulge in before. Now, however…  Now he could very well get used to doing this.

And Arlert doesn’t comment on the hand holding. Small and cold hands melts under the the larger and warmer one on top. "You certainly make quite the character." Arlert grins. "Oh, forgive me my melancholia. I’m just… a little sentimental, that’s all."

Eren is not the kind of guy who likes sharing childhood stories, he doesn’t want people to know anything about him. But if it can lifts Arlert’s spirits like that, then… maybe it’s worth it. "It’s fine for you to be sentimental." Eren reassures. "You’re always allowed to be sentimental around me. I will never deny your feelings. But none of that now! I want to see you happy on our date. So be happy for me, will ya?"

"Sure thing."

Their hands remained embraced, and it’s only when Carolina returns with their food that Arlert lets of Eren’s hand, the absence of his hand leaving a cold feeling behind. But it’s washed away by the warmth in his chest.

Arlert seems happy in here, appreciating the place, and Eren can’t help but feel a flutter of pride that it seems to have been the right choice. Even if it’s a place some of his associates have stakes in. Because the dancers opinion for some reason matters very much to him.

The food is exquitsite as always. Such is to be expected by italians. Yet he’s actually more occupied with how Arlert is reacting to the place. He looks so pretty sitting there. Surrounded by the candlelight on the table and the warm colors everywhere else. But Eren keeps that little detail to himself, for now.

"Thank you for the date, Mr. Jäger. It was… lovely…" Arlert swoons sweetly, eyes locked to the cold pavement in front of them in a daze, a shy little smile on his features.

"Was it lovely enough to gain me a second date?" Eren immediately tries, like a stupid, hopeful, spoiled child. He doesn’t want this night to end. Yet he knows the dancer can’t stay up so late. He has his morning rehearsals. So the promise of a second date will have to be good enough for Eren to satiate his greedy heart.

As if Arlert would have that mercy on his heart.

"Already asking for another one before our first date has even finished?"

"Can you blame me? Your company is addictive. It almost hurts me how eager you are to get away from me… What, you don’t want to spend the night with me?" Eren suggests. The comment was expected, this is Arlert after all. But it’ll take a lot more than some teasings to make a man like Eren back down now. He’s a hunter after all. A hunter never gives up once he’s set his mind on a prey, even if the prey is a playful little dance bird.

Arlert eyes twinkle in amusement as he looks at Eren from the corner of his eyes. "I never said that… But I have to be up early. And you’re a menace. We only had one date and now you’re already making me dizzy with all your flirts. At this rate you’ll burn me to the ground. You should be more patient." He chides. "It wouldn’t do you any good to get attached so quickly, you know?"

"I’m not exactly known for being a patient man… And I already told you, I have attachment issues." Eren fumbles into his coat’s pocket for a cheap cigarette and a lighter. "You don’t mind, do you?" He motions, and Arlert shakes his head. Eren lights the cigarette and take a long, calming drag. Letting the warm smoke fill his body and clear his mind. The flickering flame dances against the dark city. And unbeknowst to the taller man, Arlert takes this chance to admire his features. "Then, do you mind if I ask for a kiss?"

"A kiss?" Arlert repeats. "No, dear. I’ve been dying to turn you down all evening." He glees proudly, hiding his hands behind his back, bouncing on his heels.

"Be quiet, Arlert… Not like I really care…" The dark-haired man grumbles, taking another drag before folding his hands in his pockets to keep warm. Of course, that bastard is trying to get a rise out of him. Trying to make him chase to gain a kiss. And he will. He’ll gladly play Arlert’s little game if it means even a possibility of a kiss from those sweet lips.

"You’re breaking my heart." Arlert does in fact not sound like his heart is breaking.

They’re still standing outside the resturant, both seemingly wanting to push the limit of the time, just a little longer. Or maybe admire the colorful lights of the buildings contrasting the dark night sky. It’s only when Arlert tries to coddle more into his big swing coat, (the only thing protecting him from the night chill is that flimsy suit and the teal colored gloves) that Eren snaps out of it. "Oh, are you cold? Do you want me to drive you home?"

The blond shakes his head, insisting; "It’s fine. I’ll just take a taxi. I don’t want to take up more of your time. Plus, taxis are usually faster this late at night. You’d have to take a detour to get me home, anyways."

Eren would have continued, but he has learned that convincing Arlert is impossible. The dancer is as stubborn as a mule. "Very well. Come here then, you little devil, we’ll get you a taxi." He says, slinging an arm around Arlert’s shoulder to get a move on. The recipricant doesn’t protest it, despite his better judgement. He simply scurries along Eren who hails a taxi for him. Small hands weakly cling to the taller one. Such a picture of innocence that feels almost illegal for Eren to hold him like this. "In you go." Eren opens the yellow door cab, a guiding hand pressed against the back of Arlert. "Don’t want to keep you up too late."

Arlert is once again reminded how taller Eren is. As the man looms over him so very obviously. "How gallant you are." He coos, he turns to give Eren a last look. There’s something there in his eyes. "I will give you that kiss when I’ve fallen in love."

Eren’s eyes go wide. Slightly. He didn’t expect that type of response from the dancer. Who’s now looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes like he’s just the most amusing thing in the world. He just stares back, speechless, lips pursed around his cigarette. But he manages to get that stupid, flustered reply out; "I guess I’ll expect one whenever you have time to fall in love, then."

"Something like that, yes." The dancer beams. Arlert seems like he wouldn’t mind standing here on the side walk for the rest of the night. But he becomes painfully aware of the driver waiting for him. "Right." He mumbles, getting into the car, with a very eager Eren who follows, leaning down to the cab’s open window so they can say their goodnights again. "You can call me in three days. And, if I want to see you again, I’ll answer." Arlert softly instructs. Eren doesn’t object it.

"I will. You better be awaiting me. I will call all day if I have to."

"Oh, I know you will. Goodnight, Mr. Hunter."

"Goodnight, monseiur danseur."

With that farewell, the cab disappears around the corner. Leaving Eren alone in the city street to fend for himself. His mind was occupied with only one thought, as he takes a second drag of his cigarette to calm his buzzing thoughts.

There was no kiss given to him after their first date. Yet he’s not disappointed. Not in the slightest. And how could he be? After all, Arlert had said when, not if.

Their second date, is at the flicks.

When Eren was allowed to call, he suggested it, and Arlert had mentioned something about wanting to see an upcoming one. But the motion picture in Arlert’s interests was not what Eren expected.

"Dracula? I wouldn’t have taken you for a horror movie enthusiast, Arlert..."

"And why not? I’ll let you know I’m a very versatile person!" Arlert smiles, in that cat-like way he does when he’s amused by something. He’s dragging Eren down the cinema hall, gloved fingers held loosly at the fabric of the other man’s sleeve. Arlert seems more open to the touch now that they’re out of public. Sorta. And he's wearing that flimsy autumn attire again. Prussian blue swing coat and teal gloves. The colors blend good together. "I’ll also let you know I’m an intellectual. The horror genre is one of the most complex to analyze. There’s more on my palette than just fairytales."

Eren huffs, forced to trail after the petite dancer like a puppy. "You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I suppose it’s fine, I don’t mind horror. I just expected you would be dragging me to a painful French movie without subtitles."

"You’re sounding like a philistine. Maybe next time I’ll make you suffer through a French movie. But now, I’ll make you suffer with Christopher Lee as Dracula!" He grins playfully, pointing a threathening finger at Eren’s face while he stand on his toes, the dim colorful lights from the various movie title plastered on the wall. The lights cast a soft and comforting glow on the dancer’s features.

"I’ll manage." Eren replies, as if he wouldn’t do anything to just watch a movie with Arlert.

He doesn’t do much, mostly just holding their popcorn and colas (Arlert insisted pepsi cola was superior to coca cola) while the other gives their tickets to the ticket clerk. Everything is heavily restricted and monitored by the Soviet State. But some picture classics are still allowed.

When they’re let inside the screening room, Arlert ushers them to the middle so they can get a good view. The cinema is relatively empty (luckily), they’re out on a weekday again after all.

There’s a group of high school teenagers making a ruckus from the second row and an adorable older couple sitting at the far back, stealing hushed whispers and laughs from one another. Other than that, there’s the general friendgroup or mom bringing her older children. And Eren’s fairly certain there’s some high hippies here too. Most of the sounds by people are washed out by the ads playing on the screen.

It’s comfortable in their secluded seats, with only the screen’s light silhouetting the form of the little people in the movie theater, the darkness enveloping them. But not enough for the pair to not see each other.

"You seem distracted…" Arlert comments. "What? Are you afraid? I wouldn’t have expected a big bad hunter like you to be so afraid of horror movies. I can hold your hand if it helps the movie be less scarier…"

Eren doesn’t even have to look. He can hear the smirk in Arlert’s voice alone. "Please. You’re underestimating me, if you think I’m spooked by some silly movie." He scoffs. Obviously he wants to hold hands. Still, there’s a paranoid part of him that fears being seen in public like this by someone he knows. "I’m just not the biggest fan of vampire movies, that’s all."

Arlert gasps, and holds a hand over his chest, as if what Eren just said was a personal jab. "Not a fan of vampire horror? Your stale movie tastes offend me."

Even in the dark, Eren can notice the exaggerated display from the dancer. Arlert, always the dramatic one. Eren’s not equipped to deal with Arlert’s theatrical tendencies. The dancer can be so very extra sometimes. The man was a handful, to say the least. But it’s endearing, in its own way. Eren has never enjoyed being made fun of, or teased, but Arlert’s all playful and good spirits, and… it’s been a nice contrast compared to the other people he has been with in the past. It’s refreshing. So maybe he should just play along, for now. Besides Arlert is adorable when he gets all dramatic and fussy like that. (He would never admit it out loud, though.)

"Forgive me my sacrilege, oh great one. I’m an anti-intellectual by nature, so you can’t expect me too have good tastes and standards, Arlert."

"Hmph. I won’t forget this, you know." Arlert huffs. "The vampire genre was actually my first horror ever." He starts, a sense of nostalgia in his expression and tone as he gets lost in his own daydreams. "It was a silent film from the 20s of all things. Nosferatu. The orphanage I grew up in had one of those little RCA television from the 50s. I snuck up one night because I couldn’t sleep. And I loved watching movies as a kid. I still do. Of course, the Matron wasn’t too happy when she found an eight year old watching a horror picture by himself in the middle of the night." He finishes with a small chuckle.

Eren’s attention is captured. Because, yes, the movie hasn’t started, but Arlert’s story is so much more interesting than a low-budget horror movie. It’s a part of his life he’s never revealed before. That’s why Eren hangs on to his every word like Arlert have the cure to immortality, listening with full undivided attention.

And as Arlert’s story progresses, Eren’s expression softens. He’s been wondering about the other’s past. Where Arlert was before he came to Moscow.

Now things are starting to make sense, like the lack of mentioning his parents, or anything that didn’t revolve around ballet.

"Orphanage…?" Eren carefully tries. He doesn’t want to make Arlert withdraw.

Arlert makes a face when he realises his slip. The cat’s out of the bag now it seems. "Yes. My parents died when I was very young, and my grandfather was too old to take care of me. So I spent most of my childhood at the orphanage. When I wasn’t at the theater, obviously… Are those enough details, Mr. Investigstor?"

He sounds teasing, but Eren feels a sense of sympathy for the other. "Y-yeah, I, er. I’m sorry. I won’t pry. It must have been tough. Growing up in an orphanage, I mean…"

The screen light dims, and the curtains get pulled back even further to reveal the big screen at its full size.

The dancer’s face is turned to that light, but his gaze elsewhere, a faraway, yet comforting look in his eyes. "Oh. No. No, not at all, Mr. Jäger. It was… very warm. I had many friends. We were all outcasts. And we all took care of each other… Well, my only complaint was the strict Matron, heh…"

There’s a feeling of relief from Eren when Arlert smiles. Eren watches the other’s side profile, looking at his distant but soft expression. This was a new side to him. A softer and more sensitive one.

Eren’s seen the other be confident, sassy, seductive and snarky. But this was new. It was like getting a glimpse into this very emotional and fragile side of the other. It feels vulnerable. And it’s all… so very beautiful to see. Like watching a flower he’s taken a liking to blossom before him.

"Warm, huh?" Eren echoes gently, and the other nods in confirmation. He’d love to hear more about Arlert’s childhood. He’s growing more and more curious about how the other lived. But he doesn’t push for an explanation. The picture’s starting.

The film wasn’t that bad, actually. It is a Warner Bros produced picture. The only minus to Eren is the very exaggurated deaths, sometimes over the top acting, and that weird ritual scene. He is… not the biggest fan, but the company he has is really what makes it all worthwhile. Arlert, like the little menace he is, steals a few pieces of Eren’s popcorn, munching on it like an excited, hungry little bunny. He, on the other hand, was having a blast. He’d been giving running commentary of whispers on everything from the effects to the actors and even the camera angles.

The horror was campy, yes. It is, however, charming in it’s own way.

Eren’s elbow was resting against the arm rest, and he didn’t think much of it until he felt the feeling of Arlert’s little hand carefully inch his way to Eren’s, as if silently trying to start something in secret.

The bigger man stiffens with anticipation. His own hand nudge towards Arlert’s, their knuckles leaning towards one another, and finger pads lightly trying to twitch to the other for contact. Neither of them glance down to the endeavour.

Two masses, one high pressure, one low pressure, coming in contact with one another, and—

The loud jumpscare that echoes the movie theater have people letting out their own screams of fright, and Arlert flinches, withdrawing his hand back to the safety of his lap.

What a cliché… The timing couldn’t have been worse. It seems some higher power have interrupted their potential hand holding session. Eren has to hold back a grunt, but seeing Arlert trying to stiffle his own little chuckle and shaking his head at whatever had just happened, is enough to soothe him.

And Eren smiles too. Knowing no one is looking. He keeps his arm resting there throughout the movie’s runtime. Just in case.

Once more, the pair found themselves at a familiar scene, standing outside their date venue, presumably to say their goodnights again. Arlert mumbles a thank you as Eren holds the door open for him. They’re alone again now, (only people walking by and minding their own business) back to the privacy of the night street, where people mind their own business. "This was nice… I hope the picture wasn’t too unbearable for your anti-intellectual taste."

"Shut it you…" Eren grumbles. Again, not a flop. Not good either, but it hadn’t really been about the film. He found himself enjoying the other’s little commentary the most. Maybe the whole experience was a tad biased. "It wasn’t actually that bad." He continues, a little wary about how to chose his wording. "I might have to rethink my stance on the horror genre, if the films are all like that. Or maybe it was just Christopher Lee. This was fine. More than fine even."

"Then, I’m glad. Maybe we’ll do this again…" Arlert says, lowering his voice at the last bit.

There’s a feeling in Eren’s stomach. Arlert said maybe. So he’s open to the idea of a third date... Eren’s a man of pure instinct, and he trusts his instincts when they’re telling him he’s going to have to try harder, if he wants more dates with the blond.

The dark-haired man hums in agreement. He hopes they’ll do this again. Because he’s already made up his mind about this. About the other. "I’m assuming you don’t want me to drive you home…"

"No, that’s alright." Arlert sheepishly bounces on his heels, clutching his own wrist. "I actually came here by foot, I don’t live that far away, you see."

Eren’s frowns at that. Walking home in the dark? In this city? That doesn’t sit right with him. It’s too dangerous for Arlert. The mere idea of the other getting assaulted or robbed, or worse, makes his blood boil. He doesn’t realize he’s clenching his jaw until he’s already doing it. And he has to soften his tone, so he doesn’t come off threatening. "You walked here? All by yourself, in the dark?"

"Well, it wasn’t dark when I walked here, Mr. Jäger..." Arlert points out, like some smarty-pants.

Eren inhales, feeling a bit worked up. And maybe he’s being a little bit overprotective. But walking alone in the night, even for a short distance, isn’t safe. Especially not for a pretty blond like Arlert. He might as well be putting a big ’Kick me’ sign on his back. This does not sit well with Eren.

No, this will not do.

"I’ll take you home then."

"It’s quite alright." Arlert insists. "Besides, I’m tougher than I look! I tie my own shoe laces and everything." He playfully fistbumps into Eren’s upper arm.

The comment is a lighthearted jab, but the fact that it comes with a playful nudge of his arm is enough to get Eren even more riled up. And Arlert’s lack of self-preservation does nothing to soothe Eren’s nerves. "Are you always this stubborn or is this an exclusive thing for me?"

Arlert simply shrugs. Ugh, this little devil. "It’s alright." He repeats. "I like taking a trek in the city. So don’t worry for me. I know my way."

"Then, will you let me walk you home?"

"Oh, you don’t have to."

"I insist, it’s no trouble at all for me. Please, let me walk you home, Arlert… as a gentleman, and… as a friend…"

There’s silence for a moment, and Arlert regards him with a quiet expression. His gaze is studying. It’s like he’s searching Eren’s waiting eyes, as if looking for an ulterior motive, or to see if the man is lying. Until he eventually caves. "You’re as stubborn as always. I suppose you can walk me home, Mr. Jäger."

Eren breathes out in relief. "That’s all I needed to hear. Lead the way, Arlert. I’ll follow you wherever you go."

Arlert lets out a little huff. But his expression softens into a smile in the end, his eyes crinkling and his dimples showing. "You’re impossible…"

The blond leads, and the other follows suit, like a dutiful knight on the heels of a gracious Prince. The dancer’s steps are light and silent, like a doe, but Eren’s are heavy, and full. Full of promises he has yet to make.

He’s already on high alert. It’s just a force of habit. Every little sound and movement has him checking his surroundings for anything suspicious, anything that could be an attack. He keeps himself between the other and the nearest alleyway or dark spot. He’s not going to lie and pretend he’s not a bit on edge, and the worry is probably obvious. But it’s quiet. There’s only the sound of passing cars, the occasional person walking around and the city ambience.

"You seem on edge, Mr. Hunter. Why? Scared your mistress will bust you~?"

Eren almost stumbles over his feet when he hears that word. He should wipe that smugness off the other’s face. But he won’t take bait so easily. "More like worried the one walking around without a guard will be ambushed by some lowlife who’s high on cocaine, or another desperate fool with a gun and a death wish… Only idiots wouldn’t be on edge in this city at night. You think the shadows are where pretty things and fairytales happens?"

"I suppose you’re right…" Arlert eventually (for once) agrees. "Oh, by the way," He peeps up again. "How old are you? I feel silly for not knowing such a basic information about my chaperone."

'Chaperone’. Eren almost wants to laugh. As if he isn’t here to provide the other with an escort due to sheer worry and protectiveness. "How old do you think I am?" He asks back instead, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Arlert shrugs again, not even interested in guessing. That’s fair.

"I’m old. Going on 26."

"So 25 then, you say? Ohohoho ~ "

Eren makes a face, feeling a little awkward (maybe excited) from Arlert's suggestive tone. "…How old are you then?"

"Why, I just turned 21 actually."

Oh. He was expecting the other to be older, if he’s honest. The dancer is not only mature for his age, but his presence and the way he holds himself… Maybe that’s because of his upbringing as a ballet dancer. He seems older. More experienced. And Eren’s surprised to learn he’s actually on the younger end of the spectrum in their age gap. It… shouldn’t be as pleasing as it is.

"21…" He repeats, more thinking out loud than anything.

Arlert hums in confirmation. There’s a moment of silence, allowing the sound of their footsteps to pierce through the air. Then he breaks it with his little chuckle. "Old dog…"

"Respect your elders, Arlert…" Eren comments. He would have added more, if it wasn’t for Arlert suddenly getting all excited.

"Aaaah, looklooklooklook! It’s a cat! Here kitty-kitty-kitty~ C’mere, pretty." Arlert squats down and whispers his pspsps in an attempt to attract the cat to him. "Comecomecomecome!"

Eren almost snorts at the other’s behaviour. Squating down like that, in the middle of the street of all places, and trying to coax out a cat… The man is hopeless. So very, very hopeless.

"Arlert, it’s not a chicken you’re calling. I don’t think cats are attracted to clucking—"

Eren doesnt see it at first, but soon the creature comes into view. The little thing looks like a white calico, presumably a female, based on it’s small build. The tail is raised and curled at the end, seemingly very approachable and social. Arlert extends a hand towards the cat, making cute little sounds and cooes to encourage it. And the cat seems to be warming up to the blond, who has the most excited look on his face. It slowly trots up to the hand cautiously, its nose picking at Arlert’s fingers as a sign of greeting and a check of safety.

Eren rolls his eyes. Though it’s more out of fondness than annoyance. "You’re too soft for your own good…"

"And you’re too hard, so it works out in the end…" Arlert grumbles, too busy with the little creature in front of him to pay Eren any attention.

The cat purrs gently, rubbing its little head against Arlert’s fingers, and its tiny, furry cheek brushes against the dancer’s knuckles. Eren merely sighs. No use in arguing with Arlert. Instead, he just stands there, with a stoic mask on his face. Fists folded into his pocket to make it seem like he could be holding a gun, ready for anyone who would dare even consider taking advantage of the blond’s vulnerability.

While the two are busy in their happy little bubble, Eren takes the time to stay on guard, keeping a mental note of the closest alleys and spots where someone could hide or wait and potentially sneak up on the two.

Arlert takes notice of this. In a careful motion, he scoops the cat into his arms in a princess hug, mumbling reassuring words under his breath in a language Eren is not familiar with and trots over to the stoic looking man. "Look how cuuuuute she is. Go on, pet her. She seems nice, don't you think? Yes, you’re a nice girl, aren’t you?"

Eren raises an eyebrow at this. He’s doesn’t mind them, but he’s not a big fan of cats, if he’s being honest. Not since he was scratched by one when he was younger. He’s more of a dog person, really… "I’m good…" Eren eventually mutters, his gaze still focused elsewhere.

Arlert isn’t having any of the man’s withdrawn demeanor. He switches the princess hold in to a chest and hip support hold, eyes sparkling and lips pouted. "But… look at her little paw-paws…"

… That’s an unfair tactic.

Eren’s not sure who’s pupil is the most dilated; the cat’s or Arlert’s big, expecting eyes. Either way, it’s not looking good for the so-called tough guy. But come on, the sight of the other pouting, holding a cat the size of a small football like its his own child could melt even the coldests of hearts.

The cat gives Eren a curious stare with its clear, wide, yellow eyes from it’s safe spot in the other’s embrace, still purring.

Realizing he doesn’t have any other choice, Eren joins the two of them in their little happy bubble. A few seconds won’t kill him… Arlert looks triumphant and absolutely ecstatic when Eren gets closer, like it was the biggest victory in the world. He grins excitedly and carefully pushes the cat towards the man in the black clad. The tiny thing looks up at Eren, meowing innocently, and curiously tries to pad the air with its front paws. It almost seems to do it slowly on purpose, as if knowing that Eren doesn’t really trust it. Clever little beast…

Eren grumbles again, giving the it a small scratch behind its ear, then immediately withdrawing his hand. "There, you happy now?"

"C’moooon, you barely touched her." He whines, shoving the kitty, who is very pliable and non reactive to the manhandling, back towards Eren’s chest, demanding to; "Give her proper love."

Eren frowns. He’s not really mad. Not at all. The cat meows again, probably wanting more. It’s a menace. That look is a trap, Eren is certain. Those sweet eyes, and the little headbutt it gives is just a trick to make people fall for it. Which Arlert already has. Even so, Eren has no choice but to cave in the their terrorism and satisfy the both of them.

The cat almost seems to melt, it’s eyes closing and its head leaning against Eren’s, who looks utterly done.

"Aww, look at you. Who knew such a big strong man was really just a softie?"

"Quiet, Arlert…" Eren warns, with no real threat. He quickly withdraws his hand again, feeling too vulnerable and the cat looks almost betrayed by the gesture. At this, Arlert laughs out loud.

"I take it you’re not a cat person?"

The taller man just hums as way of confirmation. "No… Never had the best encounters with them. They’re evil little creatures."

Arlert pouts again, before he starts bouncing the kitty in his arms like a baby, and leaving Eren. "Ikke hør på den rare, gamle mannen. Han er bare… sjalu…" ( Don’t listen to that old, weird man. He is just... jealous... ) He coos.

Eren doesn’t understand a single word of whatever Arlert just said to the cat, but, the way the words flow out of the other’s mouth is strangely beautiful. And the dialect? The way the syllables sound, how it feels like he should be able to understand it if he only tried hard enough, but still completely alien to him. The Bergen dialect sounds like Norwegian with a Scottish accent. The dancer’s voice sound even softer speaking in his native tongue.

Right, Bergen. That’s where this pretty, slender thing comes from. A place full of snow and rain. That means Arlert must get very cold. The thought of it fills Eren with this strange need, this desire to pull him close and share some body heat with him.

Eren, very shamelessly so, continues listening to the sounds of the other speaking his mother tongue, letting the words lull him. If he hadn’t been so hyper aware of the present danger of lurking delinquents and junkies looking to steal their money, he would have been tempted to lean in and nuzzle the other’s neck and shoulder and have Arlert whisper sweet nothings, or any random gibberish, into his ear.

"Did you have any animals growing up, Mr. Jäger?"

Arlert’s question pulls him back from those thoughts and out to the reality once more though. "No…" He admits reluctantly. "My parents were busy people. So we never got a pet… I have a dog, though."

Arlert tilts his chin towards Eren, eyes full of wonder. "You have a dog?"

Damn. Eren should have whipped out that card a long time ago. "Yes. Well… I did. It’s with Mikasa now."

"Mikasa?"

"My sister."

"Oooh. So that’s the mystery woman. Is she the big sister out of the two of you~?"

Eren grouses at Arlert’s question. He wish he could say he’s the older brother, but he knows it’s not true. "She is older, but only a few months older. We kinda grew up together. She’s… kind of like an annoying, overprotective older sibling, but also like a younger one at the same time. If that makes any sense."

"Not really." Arlert muses. "But I’ll take your word for it. So she still has the dog?"

Eren nods. A part of him misses having a little four legged companion. But with how he’s been acting this year, it was better for the dog to be with someone who could actually provide it with proper care. And Mikasa was the only one he trusted for that. "Yep. I figured she would have more use for it than me, considering she lives alone. And she doesn’t plan on letting go of it anytime soon, that’s for sure. She loves that thing more than me…"

Arlert chuckles, his grip on the cat, —who is worringly comfortable being held captive by a stranger—, tightening. "That sure sounds like a sister. What kind of dog is it?"

"She’s a black and tan blanket shepherd. Her name is Tasha. She’s about three and a half years old. Pretty large for a female of her breed. She’s… feisty, and she has a tendency to bark when she’s excited. The neighbours were not so happy…"

"Aww, that’s so cute. You know, a friend of my grandpa actually had one too, a saddleback. Her name was Bambi, really sweet girl."

"Bambi?" A German shepherd named Bambi? Eren would never think of someone naming a dog who looks so deadly, after a cute little fawn from a children’s movie. Then again, he’s also starting to realize that Arlert himself is a little bit of a contradiction in that regard. All soft features, but definitely not fragile, with a strong, steel like will.

"Yes, Bambi." Arlert giggles. Then he adds, "I was so devastated when she passed."

"Oh. I’m… sorry to hear that." Eren says. Because he really is. Losing a pet is always hard. Especially a German shepherd, who is known to be such a loyal companion.

"No… don’t be. She lived a long healthy life with lots of love. It was simply just her time. But I do miss her." Arlert pauses, then he turns to Eren with a bright smile. "Maybe we’ll take little Tasha for a walk one day?"

Eren nearly loses his balance from the casual way Arlert suggests it. Take Tasha? For a walk? The two of them? Well… The thought of that is actually kind of nice. A small sliver of an image comes to his mind unbidden; a little picture of the three of them together for a stroll. He’d be holding the leash, Arlert would be walking right beside him, all bundled up in a woolen sweater, scarf, a hat, and mittens, while Tasha happily prances around in front of them.

And the mention of we sends a strange tingle down Eren’s spine. The way Arlert talks about it so casually, as if they’re already a couple or something…

Eren coughs awkwardly. "You sure you’re up for it? Tasha is a big puppy. And she’s… how can I say this… over enthusiastic. She has a lot of energy to burn…"

"So do I, Mr. Jäger!" Arlert grins like a Cheshire cat himself. "Besides, I have plenty of stamina. I’ll keep up. I promise you that."

Eren swallows. He does not doubt that… And now he needs all the willpower he’s got to keep himself from lunging forward and doing something rash and foolish. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

"If you beg hard enough, you will…" Arlert says. The smug way he said that would have been enough to grate on Eren’s nerves under any other circumstance. But the way Arlert’s Norwegian accent made the ‘-will’ sound like ‘-vil’ is unfortunately having a very different effect on him. The mental image of a flushed and panting Arlert underneath him as he’s pressed against a wall is… not helping.

"… Behave, Arlert…!" He eventually forces out, a small warning.

"Oh shush, you’re no fun." Arlert clicks his tongue. "Hey, you’re face is all red again—"

"I’ll make sure to bring Tasha with us some time then." Eren interrupts. "Be careful not to wear that coat. She’ll lose it if she smells a cat."

The blond menace (thankfully) stops his teasing, fondly shaking his head with that knowing smile. "I’ll look forward to that then."

"Yeah… Me too." Eren mutters. And he tries to pretend the image of Arlert playing with Tasha, throwing a ball around for her to bring back, or letting her sleep at the foot of his bed doesn’t make him feel warm.

Chapter Text

After learning Arlert was pretty keen on animals, Eren planned to fully capitalize on that.

He told Mikasa over the phone that he had some plans with Arlert and Tasha. That earned him some questions, but he managed to avoid most of her interrogations.

"Eren." Mikasa quietly speaks up, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you sure you know what you’re doing?"

Eren turned to the woman. The dog is still excitedly hoping around his legs, tail just a blur. "It’ll be fine." He replies, his voice confident. And it is. It will. Whether he’ll be able to keep Arlert, on the other hand, that is a different question.

"Hm." The woman replies, looking thoughtful. Though, she always looks thoughtful. Then she speaks up again. "I hope I’m doing the right thing."

He knows what she means.

Eren was waiting for the familiar lithe figure of the dancer. He’d given him a call only a few days after their movie date, letting the other know he was ready to go out when he had time. Eren had expected Arlert to be on his usual ‘making Eren wait a little’, but the second he mentioned having Tasha, Arlert had practically exploded.

"Really!? You have her? When are you free? We can walk tomorrow after my practice if you have time!"

That little bastard.

He tries to ignore the fact that his dog recieves more attention from Arlert than him. He’s not jealous because his dog seems to be the object of Arlert’s affection, even though in his opinion, the dancer’s attention should be focused solely on him. He’s just sulking because of the cold weather.

It’s only when he sees Arlert form poke out from the brown wooden doors of the theater that Eren’s senses heightens, and Arlert, upon seeing the dog, lights up like a Christmas star and immediately scurries over to them with light and nimble feets, and the most excited smile. The sight of him hurrying over, his steps graceful even while he tries to quicken his pace, is almost enough to make Eren forget his petty jealousy. "Hello!"

"Arlert." Eren casually greets. Tasha, who was sitting on her hindlegs next to him, seems a little wary of the stranger, but relaxes under Eren’s calm demeanor. "Just let her come to you." He instructs, letting go of her dog leash, a silent permission for her to greet the stranger. Arlert instinctivly kneels down and to extend his hand for the dog to inspect it. Tasha took a few more moments to cautiously observe the stranger, before she eventually seems to deem him safe enough, her tail starting to wag as she trotted forward, approaching the newcomer.

"Hiiiiiya pretty girl! Is this little Tash— Ouf! I guess it’s more ‘big’ Tasha." Arlert almost falls backwards as the dog suddenly decided to jump up on him with her front legs. Tasha is a good judge of character, so there was no doubt in Eren’s mind that she would like Arlert. "Oh, she’s gorgeous, Mr. Jäger." He genuienly says. "Yes you are."

Eren watches the two interact. The other IS wearing another coat this time, he’s all bundled up in an 40s style apple-red, frock coat and black winterboots. Even a white scarf tied at the back. He looks very huggable and soft (not that Eren cares). "I’m glad you like her. She certainly seems to like you. She’s not usually so friendly with strangers."

Arlert hums in confirmation. But it’s obvious he’s still very much amused and pleased. He happily rubs both of Tasha’s cheeks, cooing and making little noises, calling her a good girl for just existing, Eren is very much ignored. "Ohhhh, you two have moles in the exact same place!" He points out.

"Huh? Ah, I guess you’re right." Eren nonchalantly replies, but he subconciously wants to scratch at said mole on his face. Eren isn’t typically self-conscious. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always had an ego too big for his own good and a temper to match. But now it’s a bit embarassing, for some reason, that the other noticed such a little detail about him.

"Heh, it’s kinda cute. And very Marilyn Monroe of you two. Although," Arlert starts, casually making his way over to the taller man after giving Tasha a last reassuring pat, (who immediately follows him) "I wonder if it’s real." He licks his thumb and then reaches out to rub it over Eren’s mole, standing on his tip toes for a better look. "Ohohoho~ it seems to be real."

A little teasing was expected. This is Arlert of course. But this? Arlert just had to have the audacity to play with Eren like this like there’s no consequenses at all. And the way he looked when he licked his pink tongue against the tip of his finger, Eren is convinced the other is doing this on purpose. And he tries to pretend it didn’t have such an effect on him. Yet there’s a stubborn flush on his face from the intimacy. The whole ‘standing on his tippy toes’ is not helping.

"And what, you thought I use make up?" The taller man asks sarcastically.

"Hah! Of course not." Arlert rolls back to his heel, a knuckle on his hip and a sassy finger pointed to Eren. "You’re obviously not that glamorous or classy, are you now?"

Oh, this man knows how to flirt. Thinking about how many men Arlert must have practiced on is pissing Eren off. His words and attitude are bold ones, and Eren can’t let the challenge go unanswered. "And I suppose you call yourself classy, don’t you?" Is his smart response. He can’t seem to get his bravado on. Not around Arlert.

"Well, I am a trained in the classical arts. I’ve been trained to be classy my whole life, I’ll let you know." Arlert confidently shoots back, both knuckles on his hips now. He seems so naturally confident and in control, the way every sentence just flows out of his mouth. It’s not fair. Eren, on the other hand, is not that naturally eloquent. He’s good at fighting and taking charge when it comes to his job, but flirting is a whole different situation. Or rather, ‘verbal flirting’ for the lack of a better word. And it doesn’t help that Eren is painfully attracted to him. Confident, quick witted, and flirtatious. A lethal mix.

"Yeah, well, you may look like you’re all class and fancy. But you’re full of sass and attitude."

"Attitude is an important part of ballet, Mr. Jäger!" Arlert points out. He only drops his sassy pose to give Tasha’s head a pat when she looks up to him. It seems she’s found a new master.

"Ah, so the attitude’s part of the performance then." Eren mutters. It’s supposed to be a smartass comment, an eye for an eye. But it lacks its usual sarcastic bite. Maybe because Eren secretly admires the confidence that Arlert is showing, or maybe because the way he breaks his stance to pat Tasha’s head is oddly endearing. "Your words are awfully bratty. I can’t tell if that’s the dancer in you or if it’s just you, Arlert."

"I guess it’s the Kitri in me." Arlert responds.

"Of course." A muttered response under Eren’s breath, in his usual snarky manner. He’s still a bit ticked off. But he can’t stay angry with Arlert for too long. It’s impossible.

"Heh." Arlert sticks his tongue out, just like that time he joked about Eren being married to Kirstein. This guy…! "Let’s go for that walk no—" Arlert doesn’t even get to finish his sentence, because the dog is immediatly perking up and ready.

Eren rolls his eye. It’s not surprising that Tasha immediately whines at the mention of a walk. "Easy, girl, we’re going."

And just as they planned, they finally go for that walk. Eren offered the leash to Arlert, but it seemed he was more interesting in observing Tasha’s behaviour a little first, as if he worries he might harm her (or himself) if he doesn’t know how to handle her. Not that Eren can blame him. She’s a big and strong dog. Eren tries not to snicker at the mental image of a poor blond in a red clad dragged down the streets by a four legged beast.

They’re walking down the sidewalk, no specific destination in mind. It’s the blue hour, and it’s been cloudy due to some snow and rain, but the cozy orange glow from the street lights give the city a nice warmth. The decorative Christmas bells have already been hung up over the street.

"What sign were you born under, Mr. Jäger?" Arlert suddenly peeps.

"What sign?"

"Astrological sign." The shorter proudly announces. "I bet you were born under Aries. Aries people are forceful, dynamic, they dote on noise, and they love to bang things around." He rambles.

As if on queue, Eren groans, confirming all that Arlert has said without meaning to. "Are you serious?"

"Huh?… Are you an Aries!?"

"…Yes."

Arlert eyes light up with a starry gleam and he raises his fists in the air. "Wohohoho ~ ! I told you I had a good intuition, Mr. Jäger!" He grins, a mischivious and boyish grin.

"Lucky guess…" Eren grumbles in response. Of course Arlert is into astrology. He strikes him as the person who’d like all the pseudoscience stuff. And yes, Eren does want to bang something.

"Let me lucky guess even further," Arlert glees, a thoughtful finger tapping his bottom lip. "You’re a march Aries."

…Eren doesn’t like this game. It’s beginning to feel like Arlert has a crystal ball in his back pocket.

"…Yeah." He eventually admits, which earns another woho! from Arlert, making him cringe from his own embarassment. "When is your birthday, Arlert?"

"Hm? Oh, it was just a few weeks ago, actually."

The taller one halts at the information. "What?"

"Looklook, they have a small little bookshop stand there!" Arlert suddenly beams, and then he grabs for his hand, and drags him along.

"Arlert…"

"Hm~?" The blond hums. He doesn’t at all seem fazed by the fact that a dark, 6’0 man is purposely towering over him from his side, hunched over with a glare. He seems more content skimming through a book.

"How come you didn’t tell me it was your birthday?" The glaring one complains, a little grumpy, because he, apperantly, missed the dancer’s birthday.

"It was just too early for that, my dear Mr. Jäger." Arlert replies, voice sweet as a seapearl. "I didn’t want you to feel forced to do something for me, since we’re not there yet."

Eren holds back a whine. The use of yet gives him some reassurance. They’ll get there. Eventually. He hopes. But just the fact that he missed out on celebrating Arlert’s birthday is still upsetting. A part of him, no, his whole being, so desperately wants to be part of his life. "So, let me get this straight. You’re going out of your way to avoid me feeling forced to take you somewhere or buy you something… on the day that celebrates YOU?"

"I sense some sarcasm…" Arlert casually points out. "But don’t worry about it." He takes another book down to read the back of it. "I got lots of ‘happy birthday’ s from my friends and co-workers. So you don’t have to worry about not doing something."

"But I would’ve have liked to do something." Eren retorts stubbornly. They may not be there yet, but he still wants to make the other feel valued. What better excuse to do that than on his birthday?

The blond in red chuckles for himself. "Oh, you Aries people! Always so stubborn. But if you absolutely want to do something for me…" He carefully turns to Eren, holding the book up, below his eyes, and a sheepish expression on his face (the same from that time at the rail station). "Would you mind burrowing me money to buy this? I promise I’ll pay you back. I just forgot my wallet in my bag, you see. Which… I left at the theater…"

"Just this?" Eren grabs the book to inspect it, slightly tilting his head. It’s a rather small, but very pretty book, colored in mahagony red, and a title that reads ‘Little Scarlet Flower’ in gold letters. When he flips over the book, the author’s name is written in bold Russian letters. The tiny price tag says « 2₽ ». ($1.20)

"Yes pleeease." Pleads Arlert, clasping his hands together.

"It’s only two rubles, Arlert. I’ll buy it for you." The dark-haired man says, not giving it a thought.

"No, no." The blond insists. "I can get it myself—"

"It’s for your birthday." Eren interrupts. "I’ll buy it. Think of it as a late birthday present or something. Did you want that other book, too?"

"It’s okay—"

"I didn’t ask you if it was okay, I asked if you wanted this one too." He picks up the green book Arlert looked at earlier, the silvery letters reads ‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’. Written by some Russian Slavist.

"I—" Arlert stops and bites his lip. It’s obvious that he wants to protest against Eren’s act of generosity, yet at the same time, he’s clearly also a bit ecstatic about the idea of a man showing him attention. And it shows on his face, that sheepish, but content smile. "If you don’t mind… Then yes, I’d like that as well..."

"Of course it’s fine, they barely cost anything." Eren huffs. "For your next birthday, I’ll buy you a whole library. Or better yet, I’ll build you one so you can have it exactly the way you want."

A blush paints the blond’s pale cheeks. "You— You’d do that for me?" He asks with a look of pleasant surprise. The look in his eyes tells Eren that he’s more than grateful for the attention. He has the expression of someone who’s not at all used to having people dote on him, like he’s just an accessory to everyone’s life, but never someone to prioritize in any way.

Eren won’t let it be like that anymore. "Yes. Of course I would." He casually says, meeting Arlert’s dialated pupils (and his mind shuts off). "Why wouldn’t I? You have some of the best eyes a man could look in to." Arlert blinks, eyes wide and a small o on his lips. And Eren blinks too, when he realises what just slipped out. His face pales and he has to avoid the round sea-blue eyes of the smaller one, mentally scolding himself. "Here." He gives Arlert the dog leash. "I’ll go buy those books."

Arlert takes the leash in a somewhat shocked daze, still recovering from the unintentional compliment. "O…okay." He manages, watching as taller man flees off inside the small bookshop, only the ring of the small door-bell leaving a trace of the encounter. A part of Eren is praying to whatever higher power there is that his small blunder just now won’t be brought up again. He also prays the bookseller won’t comment when he sees an humiliated looking customer.

Meanwhile, out on the warmly lit street, Armin is over his head in thinking that it had any meaning.

Neither brought it up again. Arlert seemed so content walking there, clutching the little bag in front of him that contained his gifted books, that sweetness of appreciation on his pink lips. "Thank you for the late birthday gifts." He says eventually.

Eren, still somewhat frazzled from his slip up, tries to play it off coolly, and keeps looking straight ahead. "You’re welcome. But are you sure you can read it? I mean… it’s all in Russian…"

The blond lets out a small chuckle. "Oh, don’t you worry about it. I’ve taken a lot of language classes and practiced. So I understand some Russian. I’m still getting used to the letters. I’m just too nervous to try to fully speak Russian with anyone. But reading is a good way for me to practice." He explains, with that same charming smile (that makes Eren pretend he doesn’t feel something). Then a hand comes up to brush a stray lock behind his red ears. "I hope you don’t mind speaking English with me."

Eren resists the urge to grab that hand. "Of course I don’t mind. Plus… I like hearing your accent."

"Pft— Are you sure? People used to tell me my accent was weird when I first came here." Arlert jokes.

"Then they’re stupid. I think it’s lovely. I didn’t know Norwegians were even capable of speaking like you do." Eren responds on instinct. Because it’s true. He’s always had a thing for the accent. That soft tone, every once in a while a little sing-song with a cute pronunciation of words… He can listen to Arlert for hours and never quite get over his soft Norwegian accent. "And why would you care what people say? It doesn’t matter what they think. They’re not important. You should focus only on what I think."

Tasha, the smart girl that she is, seems to have noticed the change of mood in the two humans, and she keeps looking between them, tongue lolling out. But before she can bark or make any noise, Eren pulls the leash harder, a silent warning for her to keep calm that Arlert doesn’t notice.

"You’re so possessive, Mr. Jäger…" Arlert lowly comments, and he’s purposely using that sultry tone. Soft but alluring.

Eren’s fingers on the leash dig further into his palm. He can feel heat rise, and it’s not his face. That tone— He’s not going to let Arlert get away with that. "And I’ll be as possessive as I like. You…" He pauses, collecting his words. "—are very special to me, so I’m not afraid of being possessive."

"How sweet you are…" Arlert coos, a dangerous suggestive look in his eyes, and a coy smile. He casually sways closer to Eren, his shoulder brushing against the taller man’s arm. They’re so very close. Close enough that Eren can smell the sweet fragnance of peaches mixed with lavender scent that seems to be glued onto the blond’s body. "And how special am I, Mr. Jäger..?" He asks, looking up at Eren through his eyelashes.

The proximity, the scent invading his nose, and the way those sea-blue eyes, looking up at him from beneath those golden eyelashes— it’s maddening. But Eren’s a man. (A man who has to mentally stop his blood from flowing down where it’s not supposed to. Not right now, at least.)

"Invaluable." He replies, voice a low rasp.

Arlert looks at him, eyes almost glossy with affection. Then a playful grin pulls at his lips. His steps light and precise, like a feline. "Is that right? Just how invaluable are we talking?" He teases.

"You’re just looking for compliments, aren’t ya?" Eren casually states, but he won’t meet the gaze of his endearment.

"Maybe… Or maybe I just like making you flustered." The blond one answers, all too innocently.

There's a beat of silence, then Eren scoffs, ignoring those sparkling blue eyes. "You're impossible."

"Right, right." Arlert dismisses. "Ah, I guess this is where I’ll go now." He awkwardly announces as they arrive at a railway station. "Thank you for letting me meet Tasha. And, for the books…"

Eren stands there with a stoic expression, ignoring the screaming in his mind. "It was no problem at all."

Arlert smiles, genuine appreciation in it, and then he turns to Tasha instead, bending over to rub her neck, mumbling praises. Eren watches quietly as the blond dotes on his dog. And, despite himself, his eyes drifts down to the other man’s slender, but lean and well built form.

He lets himself admire the view for an uncomfortable amount of time, taking note of the nice curve of his ass. Even with a coat on (a coat that sits very nicely, he might add), its shape is still apperant. It’s round and plump. No doubt such a perfectly carved shape comes from all those years of being trained as a dancer. And with the mix of long looking, spindly legs, it’s a deadly combo, one that would make any man drop dead. And he tries not to imagine what those lovely, long legs— so exquisite, so perfect— would feel like, wrapped around his waist. He might be a trained killer at command, but he’s also just a guy in his 20s.

"Mr. Jäger?"

For a moment, Eren is certain he’s going to recieve a lecture about human decency, but if he’s caught off guard, it does not show on his face. "Hm?"

"Would you…" Arlert carefully straightens his back, hands tightening on his little book bag. "Would you like to see another picture with me this Sunday?"

"A movie?" Eren raises his eyebrows.

"I know it’s very short notice, so if you can’t, it’s—"

"It’s no problem at all." He interrupts. "What movie is it?"

Arlert muses, seemingly happy that the other is willing. "It's an old one..." He starts, fiddling with the red button of his coat, a habit that Eren noticed he does when he's nervous. "Or, no, it’s not that old, but it feels old, like I’m in a different time. I saw it a few years ago, and I've been thinking about it ever since. They show it every year around this time of the year. It’s very much for families and children, and… I'd like to go and see it again. Will you… accompany me? Or maybe you’re tired of my movie tastes." He finishes with a chuckle, sheepishly rubbing his chin with his finger.

"No." Eren replies, remembering what a nice time they had the last time they went to the movies. "Not at all. What’s it called?"

Arlert is actually not expecting that response, but a small smile slowly creeps across his face, pleased with the fact that Eren is interested. "It’s called The Snow Queen. And yes, it’s based on Anderson’s Danish fairytale."

Eren pauses for a moment, processing the information. "A kids movie…?" He asks, unimpressed. A little meaner than he intended.

"Wh—….Hey, don’t be mean! Anderson was my favorite fairytale-teller growing up! I was so happy when I saw the movie here for the first time. The KGB has so strict control over creative activities, so I rarely get to see things from my homeland. Therefore, I was pleased when I saw something that reminded me of home. Besides," Arlert crosses his arms, looking all hussy and fussy. He’s clearly defending something he loves. "—some childish innocence would probably be good for you, Mr. Rough-and-tough." He says the last part with an exaggurated deep voice, making the mocked one pinch his nose bridge.

"I don’t talk like that. And I don’t sound like that either. But alright, you win. I’ll play along. Now hurry off, before your fishes die."

"Yay~!"

Eren merely sighs through his nose. There’s just no winning with Arlert is there? He’ll always have the upper hand and the snarkiest comments. And Eren just takes it. He’s so weak to the man’s voice. And he knows damn well Arlert is using his wits and charm (and body, especially) to lure Eren into a lifelong romance. That’s his endgame. Purposely trying to make Eren fall for him.

And Eren was not opposed to it. Far from it. But…

It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

Eren is a man with a very high libido. And his time alone is usually spent fantasizing about his dancer, even as he tries not to. There’s this constant hunger inside him, that just won’t be quenched. It’s painful right before bed, when his body naturally gets lonely. But it’s at its worst early in the morning, when he wakes up. Such is the way of testosteron.

He’s not an uptight man, and he normally wouldn’t have any reservations giving into his bodily craving, but with Arlert… Eren doesn’t want to do anything without the dancer’s permission. He’s been trained too damn god, and he’ll love Arlert with the same devotion of a dog. Follow him wherever he go. Kill for him. He has no problem setting the whole world on fire if the blond were to ask him. He doesn’t want to please himself without Arlert’s permission.

Which is why Eren will usually hop into the shower, hoping it will help him calm down.

…It never does. So there he stands, hunched over in the shower, left hand braced against the walls, and his trustworthy right hand (the only lover he’s had for these last months) fufilling his needs. Fufilling the need for release, groaning as he’s right around the edge of— well, you get the point.

Every time he gets like this, his brain conjures up so many vivid images. All of them of Arlert. Each one more arousing and more torturous than the last. Sometimes, it’s the very first memory he has of Arlert — he remembers the way his legs looked the first time Odetta strutted onto the stage, ankles so tiny, legs so svelte, it was hard to believe they held so much strength, just like the rest of the beautiful, willowy blond. His every movement was a study in elegant precision, a testament to the beauty and power of the human form in motion. Movements so delicate, as if it could shatter, like glass.

Sometimes it’s Arlert, standing on his tippy toes in front of a bathroom mirror, preferably naked, and putting on that red lipstick. That color that drives Eren insane.

Sometime it’s the image of a naked Arlert on his own silken bed, thrusting into his own fist.

And sometimes, it’s the image of Arlert, the way he was placed on the stage, posing like a swan on a lake, spine bent in impossibly ways, arms extended behind, a pose of complete submission and devotion to the audience, and the absolute look of surrender on his face. His body: a canvas, and a living work of art, as if he was surrendering his whole soul and being, only to the craft of his art. The truest form of an artist, to the very core.

Knowing that Arlert would surrender not only his body but his soul to his art as well. His entire existence devoted. That is some high tier devotion, the kind of which a man cannot hope to replicate. But the blond was made for that. A beautiful, beautiful creature, made only for that. That was Arlert; the build of a true dancer, and the soul of a true artist.

Arlert is a real artist whose gifts include expressive arms, a pliant torso and a meltingly slow, expansive yet detailed style that draws everyone right to him... Arlert is a dream of an Odetta.

He can still hear Arlert’s voice, low and sultry, telling him to come to him. To follow him. A dog following his master. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

"Is that right? Just how invaluable are we talking?"

"You’re like the crown jewels of the Imperial Empress."

So badly he wished to say, wished to see the way Arlert’s eyes sparkles whenever he recieves praise. He’s a star above the sun. And Eren,

his hand is tight, his breath, erratic.

— and he doesn't think before he gasps out Arlert’s name, painting his own hand just as white as the feathers the dancing blond wore on that very day.

By the time he’s done, he looks like a mess, wet hair sticking to his face in awkward angles, and he’s flushed, trembling from the aftermath. It’s like his body doesn’t know how to handle sheer amount of want and need it feels for one person.

It’s a pathetic sight. And all for a man who won’t return his carnal desires. If only he could make Arlert crave him so badly in return.

Eren pretends his little morning endavour never happen.

Not long after he returned home later, he was met with the ringing of his black rotary.

He picks up the reciever. "This is Jäger."

"Hello, it’s me. Me as in… It's— It's just me…" A voice awkwardly says, almost making Eren chuckle. It’s a voice he’s grown all too fond of lately.

"Arlert." Eren greets. "I’m glad you called."

"Me too. I actually tried to call earlier, but it seems you weren’t home…"

"Ah. Sorry. I was out." (Out blowing some guy’s head off at a seedy, out-of-the-way motel, leaving a very poor mistress terrified and scarred from the gory sight.) "But I’m all yours now, Arlert."

He hears the man awkwardly clear his throat on the other end. "That’s nice of you. I was just calling to ask— well, I have a small injury—"

"You’re inju—"

"Before you ask, yes, I’m okay. It’s just some infected blisters. My teacher told me to go to a doctor and take some weeks off. Which… I was not so happy about at first, but what can you do. So I thought since I couldn’t dance this Nutcracker season, it would be nice to go and see it instead. Which is… why I’m calling you."

"You’re asking me to go with you to see a Christmas ballet?"

"Precisely. Only if you’re interested though, if not, then just forget it."

Eren lets out a long sigh. Yet there’s no exhaustion in it. "I'll go with you. On two conditions."

"Mhm?"

"I pay. And you let me pick you up." He replies, with the same firm but gentle tone he always has with the blond.

Arlert fondly scoffs. "You drive a hard bargin, Mr. Jäger."

"I can be a pretty hard bargainer." (Quite literally.)

The other chuckles. "So I see. I guess that’s just how you’ve been trained. But you don’t have to pay anything, I can just comp the tickets."

"Fine. So… Am I allowed to assume both of our plans are dates?" Eren asks, no shame.

Arlert giggles. "I suppose they are. If you asked me, our walk with Tasha was also a date. Is she still with you?"

"Hm? No, I returned her to Mikasa. I probably should have let her stay, I usually sleep better with her around…"

"Hah, are you paranoid or something?"

Not paranoid, more like self aware, Eren wants to say. You never know when you’ll wake up with a knife pressed to your throat. "No, I just don't like sleeping alone."

"Aww…" Arlert coos, although there’s some sarcasm in it. "You poor lonely thing."

Eren rolls his eyes, even though Arlert can’t see it. "Don’t mock me, I like sleeping with a warm body next to mine, you know. And I could have had yours here by now if you weren’t so keen on torturing me with the game."

On the other end, the staticity dies down for a moment. "Right. We’re just playing the game."

Eren senses the sudden change in tone, and it throws him off for a brief second. And the fact that Arlert’s voice actually sounds disappointed, Eren doesn’t like to hear that tone. "That’s not what I meant Arlert. I’m not playing games with you. I do want something long term with you. I want you, nothing else. I want to be able to comfort you when you come home from a long day. Don’t doubt that. Don’t doubt me."

"…Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Hah… It’s still so early, though… What makes you think think I’m your only one?"

"Because I know. I can feel it. If not you, then who? Trust me, Arlert." Eren reassures, a satisfied smile on his lips. He knows. "You’re the one."

You’ve given me something most people spend a whole life time searching for.

Sunday arrived, and as planned, they went to the pictures.

Technically they’re not at the pictures, but the cultural center, because yes, it was very much an arranged activity for families with the holidays right around the corner.

It’s a relatively small auditorium, but still big. And full, Eren might add. It’s filled by mostly families and some couples and teenage friends. There’s children in red clothes and curly hair, and grown ups in cozy sweathers, including Arlert. He’s wearing a brown wolly sweater, and a yellow bow attached to the back of his head of his curly hair. With that cute oversized sweater and a bow, and the way his hair is all puffy and soft looking… Eren can't help but think about what those curls would feel like if he just tugged on them gently, or even tangled his fingers in them.

And Eren… well, he sort of looks like some academic egghead, with his light colored button up, and a grey jumper, along with a pair of black trousers. He knows he’s a handsome man, but he looks like a nerd. He’s definitely not up to the standards of the little fashionista next to him. And he tries to not pretend that yellow bow doesn’t make Arlert look more adorable than he already is.

Eren sits closely enough to Arlert that their arms brush against one another. At this point it's second nature for him. "It's a lot more crowded than I thought it was." He murmurs to his counterpart, in case anyone is looking. They’re sitting in the middle of it all with a few other people on their side on the teal-colored seats. Eren unfortunately sits next to a bratty little boy with fluffy brown hair who won’t stop nagging at his mother.

"Hm? Oh, yes, of course it is, what did you expect, old man? Tis the seasons after all!" Arlert cheers, taking a bite of the liquorice he insisted on bringing.

"I know what time of the year it is, but I was still prepared for half capacity or something." Eren replies, with a light shrug.

Arlert chuckles softly, bumping his shoulder into the taller man’s. "Then you have bad intuition. When me and Marco planned this, we made sure to buy tickets early. It was only a shame something last minute came up for him. But I’m glad you could come instead. Watching Christmas movies is important to me. In Norway, the NRK traditionally puts on Three Wishes for Cinderella on Christmas mornings. The people were reeeeally angry the one year they decided to not stream it for some reason… I can’t seem to find it here, even though it’s a Czech movie."

There was a bunch of new information being spewed —typical Arlert rambling—, but Eren only hears one thing. "…Ah, so Bott was supposed to be here instead." He states, resting his jawline against his fist. He doesn’t sound bitter. (Not at all.)

"Huh? Åh, I didn’t mean it like that, Mr. Jäger!" The blond quickly reassures. But the one with dark hair is already sulking.

"It’s fine. I understand I’m not your favorite person." He grumbles. 

"No, no! Aw come on." Arlert groans. "Don’t be like that, now!"

"You said yourself; it was a shame that Bott couldn't come." The sulking one points out.

That only seems to make the dancer throw his back in annoyance, a sigh escaping him. "Ugh! You Aries people! Always so emotional too. Here." Arlert says, grabbing his hand. "Now stop complaining. I’m excited for the movie. And I want to enjoy it without hearing your whining."

Eren rolls his eyes, letting Arlert grab his hand, holding it back without thinking. He doesn’t say anything back. He doesn’t really have anything to complain at anymore. Because Arlert held his hand through the whole movie.

A few days later, Arlert was happily dragging him along by his wrist. Like it's in his nature at this point. Always dragging Eren around. But Eren is hoping they can get to places already. Before the two of them turn into some cliché in a novel.

Arlert’s still in that red outfit, but a matching fuzzy pom-pom beret hugging his head this time, along with some white mittens.

The town square was lit up by yellow lights and other colorful decorations. The city was pretty lively around this time, with the various stalls around, filled to the brim with people, and the stores decorating their windows and displays with lights and other decorations, even putting up some colorful fake falling snow, and the streets were even more crowded. And the air was filled with the smell of hot cocoa and pastries, and the Christmas music being played by the various stores.

Arlert very much was in the mood for hot choclate, so they had stopped by a small kiosk. Only Arlert used too much time to finish his drink. Because he likes to ‘take his time’. Tch. Can confirm.

They were walking past a small display window when something caught the blond’s attention. "Oh, looklooklook! They have Waterhouse here." He exclaims, hunched over and leaning forward to get a good view of the painting, supporting the weight of his upper body by leaning his arms on his bent knees.

Eren glances to the display in Arlert's direction, raising a confused eyebrow. "Waterhouse?"

"Yes, he’s one of my favorite painters! I went through a huuuge greek mythology phase as a teen, and Waterhouse’s works was right up my ally." The latter explains. Then he tilts his head, as if trying to study it better. "Hm. It feels as if he drew this girl several times. I wonder if he perhaps had a muse in real life. Heh," Arlert smiles, straightening his back and pointing to the artwork. "—maybe we could be like this."

Eren leans in closer for a better look as well. It’s titled ‘La Belle Dame Merci.’ It depicts a woman wrapping her long reddish hairlocks around the neck of an unwary soldier and pulling him in close. Her expression says so much; it’s desire, curiousity, love, yearning. Faux innocence.

"Arlert."

"Hm?"

"It’s called The Beautiful Woman Without Mercy."

Arlert only chuckles, scrunching up his red nose like some rodent. "So you know French, too? What’s the problem here, monsieur?"

"She eats him." Eren deadpans.

That makes the dancer burst out in giggles. "Yeah?" He cocks his head to the side, looking all too innocent, like the little menace he is. "Wouldn’t you like that? Being devoured by me?"

Eren forces himself, (forces himself,) to not flush at the image of Arlert's teeth sinking into his neck (or other not so family friendly images) or the way it makes his spine shiver. But he doubts the dancer means it like that. "No."

"Awww, that’s too bad…" Arlert goes on, hands tucked into his pocket and mindlessly tapping the toe of his boot into the concrete. "You can’t blame a guy for having a few fantasies…"

Eren freezes in place, the words taking a second to process, and his mind goes blank. The only sounds being the everyday sound of the people going about their day being played in the streets and the tapping of Arlert's toe against the ground.

Arlert has never, ever, expressed anything even remotely close to this. At the very least, not towards him. He’s messed with him, yes, but he’s never heard the other outright state his desires. So this means Eren’s physical attraction is mutual… He’s over the moon, but Arlert seems to take the silence as a rejection. "Sorry, that was weird. I shouldn’t have—"

"No! Dont apologize! I’m sorry. It’s not weird. No. Not at all. I was just… I was surprised. No, I’m happy. I’m happy you said that Arlert. I just… I wasn’t sure if you felt the same…"

Arlert blinks, not having anticipated the comment. His mind seemingly starts register the words from Eren, and a small smile is forming on his lips. "Huh?" He tilts his head lightly, an amused expression. "Why would you think I wasn’t into you?"

Eren stutters, trying to find an answer. "I-I don't know. I just figured I was way more into this than you."

Arlert eyes him up and down, then he snorts, clasping his hands behind him and swaying his shoulder back and forth in a slow manner. The Christmas lights gleam, making his hair shine like a flower. "I do. I find you very attractive and… I do want you."

"You… You do?"

"Oh, I shouldn’t say anything further. Nevermind that."

Arlert’s words are like a shot straight to Eren's heart. No. No way he’ll let Arlert brush this off. "Uh-uh." Eren says, stepping up to the man and looking at him. "You don’t get to play with my feelings now. You just made the biggest mistake, Armin Arlert. You’ve given me a taste of your love and now I have absolutely no intentions of holding back how much I want you. If I were you, I’d be careful. Because one of these days, I’m gonna catch you, and when I do, there will be no more ‘Mr. Jäger’ from you. By next year, I’ll have you turned into a Jäger, yourself. You’ll move in with me, and I’ll get you that library."

"My, my…" Arlert coos, shaking his head, as if he still has the upper game. As. If. "Already making future plans for us?"

"Absolutely." Eren doesn't back down in the slightest. He won’t back down, not when he has the blond where he wants him. "You’ve just woken the beast. I'm gonna win you over. You'll be mine soon, and when you are, I’m going to provide for you and do everything I can for you. This is a promise. No. This is a testimony. Next Christmas, there’s gonna be cards with a picture of us and Tasha. And as many pets as you want. This is a very, very well thought out plan. You better be ready to commit to it, Arlert. Because I already have."

Arlert blinks. Once, twice. And then slowly, a cheeky smile takes over his face. "Wow, you really are planning ahead, aren’t you you?" A beat. Then a small, relieved giggle escapes him. "So you’re going to stick around, then?"

"The only thing that’s stopping me from putting a ring on your finger…" Eren starts. "…is the fact that you’re still making me chase you…"

Arlert snickers, as if finding the other man's eagerness adorable. He lets out a soft hum, his hand holding onto his own arm while he slowly rocks his weight back and forth, his eyes fixed on the painting again. "A library… What a silly wedding vow…"

"You'll like it though. You'll love it. You'll love me. I'll treat you so good, you won't know what to do with all the affection and wealth I'm gonna shower you with. It won't be a stupid wedding vow when I get you that library. And when I'm at home, you could read your books, and I'll just… I'll just be in another room, waiting for you to come back into my arms… So I'd say it's a really good wedding vow."

Arlert doesn’t say anything after that, and he doesn’t need to. He only bashfully averts his gaze, a knowing smile there. And Eren doesn’t say anything either. He knows, too.

It’s the night of the Nutcracker, and Arlert; as exuberant as ever.

Eren had picked him up as they agreed upon, and he had to hold back a comment from the ridiculous getup: a big fuzzy white coat of fur ball wrapped around him. And some red over-the-ankle formal boots.

They’re sitting in one of the 1st circle middle boxes, the other people in the box have already arrived. The warm glow of the lamps giving the small, private space a homely feel.

"Here, let me take that." Eren offers, instinctively helping out of his ridiculously oversized coat to hang it up by their privat coatrack. The sight he was met with was not what he expected; the blond is wearing a short, pink, floral cheongsam, hands laced with white satin gloves. And his hair is curled in those outward twirls that makes him look so, so lovely, that Eren forgets he’s starring. He’s not sure about the pink color though. Okay, scratch that. If men like Elvis Presley can dress in pink then so can Arlert.

His first thought was that he looked absolutely stunning. But Arlert (once again) seems to take the silence in another way. "Oh— I figured since we were out on a date, I should dress appropriately. I hope you don’t mind…" He awkwardly chuckles, scratching rubbing his cheek with a finger, in that way he always does when he’s self concious, and secretly wants reassurance. Eren knows.

"No, no! It’s… It’s fine. You look beautiful." Eren says, hanging the (stupid) coat up. When he looks at Arlert again, he’s met with that knowing smile again. "What?"

Arlert taps his boots into the taller man’s dress shoes. "You said I was beautiful…" He reminds, tilting himself.

And Eren doesn’t have it in him to fight it anymore.

"Yes. Yes I did."

They’ve taken their seats, watching as the swarm of people slowly fill up all the seats. The sound of chatter fills the air while the orchestra does some warm up. Arlert was gleefully looking through the program brochure, looking at the cast. "Look, Marco’s dancing the Trepak!"

"You mean the Russian dance?" Eren muses, looking into nothing in particular, only taking a lazy drag of his cuban cigar. Arlert doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe he’s used to being around men who smoke. Or maybe he associates it with the specific man next to him.

"Yes! The Trapak dance is usually a fan favorite amongst the audience."

He looks down at Arlert from his position, eyes raking over the shorter man as he flips through the ballet program. The outfit looks a little too good on him. "How come?"

"Because it's just so fun! It's very energetic, and also very hard to do! It also has a lot of jump and bounce to it, so it makes a lot of the audience cheer and clap." Arlert gushes. His smile brightens up, as a sort of child like excitement takes him, his eyes sparkeling. He loves talking about his world, and it shows. How could someone be this adorable and sweet and wonderful without even trying? "It’s one of the more entertaining dances out there. It really gets the audience going with its liveliness. Not to mention the music is fun to listen to. It has a lot of high-energy elements, and it's often performed with a lot of spirit. That’s what makes the Trepak such a hit. And Marco is just perfect for it. In my humble opinion, of course…" He adds.

"Mh." Eren responds. He doesn’t sound that interested, but he is. He could listen to him babble all day about this stuff and still feel satisfied. This is not Eren’s kind of world, and yet, he likes being in it. Because being in a world that Arlert clearly loves and belongs in, makes him feel closer to Arlert.

"I’m also excited to see my friends dance from an audiences perspective, actually!" Arlert says. "I had… Hah…" He leans back in his seat, looking towards the big stage curtain. "I’d almost forgotten how nice it is to just… sit back and watch a ballet. Especially this one."

Eren raises his brows, taking a lazy puff of his cigar. "This one, hm?" He repeats. Then he clears his throat. "Is there something special about this one?"

"Yes." Arlert breathes out, like he’s just gotten a breath of fresh air. There’s something about his voice when he speaks, the breathiness, the pitch, the innocent sincerity. Eren’s not sure what to make of it. "Like many, The Nutcracker was my first introduction with ballet. I was 4 the first time I saw it. My mother worked very hard as a seamstress, but she struggled a lot considering my dad wasn’t in the picture. It also didn’t help that I used to steal her money to feed the strays, whoops." He obnoxiously adds. Then he goes on. "But she always tried to do her best to make me happy, you know… This one Christmas, these Ukrainian dancers did a tour with their company. It’s surprising they came to such a no-name place like Bergen. But I’m glad they did. Because my mom took me and my grandpa to our local theater. A pretty small one, but cozy and warm. It’s one of my happiest memories." He finishes, a gentle smile and expression upon his features.

And Eren just listens, and listens. And listens. Because that's really all he needs. Just to listen. Arlert's expressions, his voice, it makes it all so clear. He's so... So open. So lovely. "So… this is really special to you?"

"Yes. It’s very special." Arlert confirms.

"Then," Eren starts, leaning back in his seat with his gaze forward, his cigar burning between his fingers. "why am I here, Arlert?"

Arlert looks at him with a look of bewilderment, like he’s caught off guard. And he must be. "What do you mean?"

"You said it was special to you." Eren states. "And from that story you just told, this is clearly not just ‘a show’ for you. So, why am I here?"

"You’re… Y-you’re here because I invited you." The blond awkwardly responds, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Why did you invite me?" Eren probes. He won’t let Arlert get away. And the latter seems to understand that. Judging by the way he sighs and slumps in his seat. A sign of defeat.

"You’re… you’re here because... I want you to be special to me…" He finally admits.

"Special to you, huh…" The dark-haired man repeats, not moving in the slightest. Just staring at the stage. There's no judgment in his voice, no disappointment, just curiosity. "Why do you want that?"

"Because I—" Arlert tries, but he seems self concious of the people sitting behind down (chatting about their own business), and lowers his voice. "I would- I would like to have someone special in my life." He admits again, fiddling with the small paper in his hands. "I’ll be honest, I would like to be with someone I can rely on. Someone who can provide for me. In more ways than physical. And, you seem like a reliable man, Mr. Jäger. But I wonder just how far that reliability goes."

Eren tilts his head, still staring at the stage, but he can't help but glance over at Arlert for a moment. He looks so vulnerable in the moment. A small part of Eren just wants to hold him, and make sure nothing could happen to him. But there are people around. "I’ve already told you. I’m going to provide for you. In all kinds of ways."

"Yes. You’ve said that. You’ve also said so many other things. So many things I want to believe in. But…" Arlert goes on. "You come to me now. When I am this."

"When you are what, Arlert?" Eren bluntly asks. He doesn’t like where Arlert is going with this.

"This." Arlert says again, with a distant voice as looks down on his lap, starting to carefully tear the small program into tiny pieces.

"I’m not lying to you, Arlert. I meant what I said. I’m genuine. Don’t doubt me."

Arlert pauses, seemingly to debate how much to share. He has an air of thoughtfulness about him, like he’s choosing his words carefully. "I’m just a little sentimental…" Eren quirks an eyebrow. Arlert and sentimental…? Arlert is the type of person that would rather cut off his own leg, than express a weakness in front of others. There’s a weariness in the way he held himself, and a sadness in his beauty. "You won’t break my heart if you’re not being genuine. I don’t mind sincerity, just honesty… But will you really be able to give me what you just said? Those big words you used? The promises? What if…"

Eren looks down to the smaller man’s lap. The tiny pieces of paper are basically splayed all over his lap, and the noise is grating. He lets out a scoff. And another. This person is so impossibly contradictory. One second, he’s playful, teasing, and cute, then shy. And the next, he’s cold, cynical, and… so lonely. It’s frustrating. It’s like dealing with several people at once.

So Eren grabs Arlert’s hand. Because he can’t handle the annoying sound of paper being ripped. And Arlert flinches in response. "I'm not going nowhere." Eren confidently responds. "No amount of time's gonna keep me away from you. And you're perfect just the way you are. Don’t doubt yourself." He looks back at the stage, giving Arlert's small hand a firm squeeze. The small pieces of paper go everywhere. Eren's grip is firm, but it's nowhere near rough, and not in the least bit painful.

Arlert seemingly takes the hint and ceases his nervous tic. Then, he turns his gaze forward as well, a sad smile on his face, as if what Eren said was naivly hopeful. "You’re opting for a life of suffering, Mr. Jäger."

Eren rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed huff. "Maybe I like suffering."

"You Aries people…" Arlert shakes his head, there’s a fondness in his tone. And he doesn’t let go of the other man’s hand as lights dim and the overture starts playing.

It’s during Drosselmeyer’s distrubition of presents that something strikes Eren. "Hey…" He murmurs, making Arlert lean in with a small hm? "We’re spending the rest of the holidays together, right?"

"Where else would I be?" Arlert replies simply, putting his head to rest it on Eren’s shoulder. Like it’s most easiest thing.

And that was all it took for Eren to make his promises. What’s made Arlert become like this, he doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to. All he knows is that he wants to be here with this dancer with blond hair and a tongue silver enough to put a poet to shame. Whatever Arlert wants, Eren will get, he could never deny him. The taller man is content knowing he’s found the one, and that he’s right here next to him.

And the promise he makes is to protect Arlert. From all the violence, and horrors of this world. Including himself.