Muse.

The Carlisle

"Woo, The Carlisle? Fancy." Our driver whistles.

Pieck and I let out awkward laughs.

"You know it's the first skyscraper ever built in Shiganshina. Tons of celebrities live in there. It's got a nickname too, Mount Olympus."

Pieck gives me a wide eyed look.

"Oh wow, I didn't know that." Something about us is screaming not from here, I just know it. Why else does every taxi driver suddenly become a tour guide when we get into their car.

"There was a big scandal there a few years ago. Some rich couple who lived up in the got busted for fraud. The wife got escorted out in handcuffs and the husband just disappeared. They were big society people too. Friends in high places and all that."

"That sounds pretty typical to me," I mutter.

The taxi driver asserts in an annoyed tone, "They left the kids to live up in there all alone. It's still unsolved where they went."

"That's really sad," says Pieck.

"Mmhm," I add. 

"Well, here you are."

Once I set eyes on The Carlisle, its reputation seems entirely fitting. I crane my neck up to take it all in. The Carlisle spears into the moonlight, a pillar of pale stone and arched windows. It's the kind of building that would have an elevator operator. Light glows from the windows like a thousand yellow eyes. The top of it is tiered like a cake.  I can only imagine what the view is like from up there. 

We wave down Mikasa in the lobby after the doorman stops us. She is accompanied by a very tall good looking boy I haven't met. His face is narrow, and his gray eyes are sharp. He sports a fair brown mullet with the sides shaved close, total alt boy. His outfit screams alt even louder, a thick beige cardigan over plain white tee tucked into slacks slightly darker than the sweater. Two toned loafers complete the look. 

His hand is wrapped around Mikasa's waist, holding her to him as he mutters into her hair. She leans slightly away from his face. A boyfriend? She sees us and nudges him off her to rescue us from the suspicious doorman. Ex-boyfriend?

"They're with me," she assures him then says, "Hey, Y/n! is this your friend?"

"Yes, this is Pieck." I present my friend.

"From the boba tea shop, right?"

"Yep," Pieck confirms.

"Cool. This is Jean."

Pronounced like the French, of course.

Jean shakes my hand and stares uncomfortably long into my eyes. "Hey, good to meet you..."

"Y/n."

"Y/n," he repeats. "Cute."

"Uh, thanks." I glance at Mikasa. She doesn't seem bothered by the comment. 

He proceeds to give Pieck the same openly flirtatious treatment.

"Ugh. When is Sasha getting here?" Mikasa bounces up and down slightly, clearly agitated. She cranes her neck peering over us outside.

"What's the rush?" Jean pokes Mikasa in the ribs.

"I'm not in a rush."

"You just want to get there before you know who."

"What do you mean? He lives here," she huffs.

"Jesus, Mikasa, you're obsessed. I meant Historia." 

Mikasa blushes like she's in a cartoon. 

"He's not gonna forget she exists just cuz you show up in a slutty dress," Jean says. "He has some concept of object permanence."

"Woah." I shoot him a judgmental look.

"What? You afraid of a little bad word?" He smiles like we're all in on a joke with him.

Pieck and I share a glance. She narrows her eyes, clearly second guessing coming here with me.

Quick heavy footsteps patter up behind us. 

Saved by the bell. 

"Hi, sorry I'm late!" the girl from the boba shop gushes breathlessly. 

"Sasha, yay," Mikasa says half-heartedly. This Jean guy is seriously a dick for decking her mood like that. I'm starting to see why Mikasa was worried about bringing new people along. Commitment and curiosity drive me into the lift despite all the red flags this party is flying. 

In the elevator, Jean pushes the upper-left-most button marked PH. 

"Hey guys!" Sasha greets us. "Omg you both are drop dead, holy shit." Sasha reaches out and touches a lock of my hair. "Wow," she breathes. Then she plucks her hand back and says, "Sorry!" she exclaims. "You have really nice hair," she says sheepishly. 

"Thanks," I laugh, leaning against the brass railing in the elevator. She's so earnest and sweet, like a puppy. I think I'm gonna stick around her tonight. 

I stare down at my boots' dark leather against the checkerboard tile floor of the elevator. This would be a cool pic if they didn't have slush from the street on them.

When I look up again, Sasha is holding Pieck's wrist up and peering at a white lacquer ring on her middle finger. "Eee! Dope!" she squeals and drops her hand. 

Pieck gives me a look that says, This girl!

After a long enough ascent to sow anticipation into my very bones, a tinny ding sounds and the doors slide open into an apartment that could rival Blair Waldorf's.