☆

THE BUSY AIRPORT bustled when a WIT Studio assistant checked you in for the plane bound for Munich, Germany. Bidding a temporary goodbye to your parents and siblings with promises to video chat with them every day had been a fairly emotional affair.

You did take leaves sporadically due to work and passion, but this was your first time traveling a long distance for a role. It was the beginning of summer break and Eriko was keen on making the most out of your holiday before you'd be pressed with school, which you'd probably do on-set or online once it ended.

You didn't know it then, but you would never set foot in your small-town high school ever again.

For now, you were excited. There were some scenes that required you to travel around, like to the rolling pastures of New Zealand or to downtown Los Angeles for specific film sets.

However, the majority of your scenes for now, which did not include fancy computer-generated imagery, were set in Nördlingen, Germany. This was where Hajime Isayama had apparently taken inspiration for Shiganshina District, and subsequently, Trost—the huge district Y/N resided in with the rest of the Survey Corps.

Gian, your agent, was essentially your guardian. She fussed over your printed boarding passes and made sure you were well-fed, even if it meant buying overpriced sandwiches from the local Duty Free. She made sure you had a soft neck pillow, double-checked your luggage, everything.

You thought she was being a bit too much, but you knew that she was just as pumped as you were sitting there at the boarding gate. Her dark brown fingers tapped on her laptop in non-stop echoes of click-clack-click-clack, answering corporate emails and writing formal letters for documentation approval.

It was natural for her to be proud: you were her most successful client. Plus, you were still underage, traveling on a plane for the first time. She had to take care of you.

"Look, Y/N. Your high school even posted a photo of you wishing you good luck."

When the local news came out reporting that you were taking a leave of absence from school to work as a lead in Attack on Titan, you became an instant celebrity among your peers. Suddenly, everyone was passing your social media handles, eager for a follow-back before you'd "blow up".

All these classmates you had never really talked to before were suddenly patting you on the back and rooting for your success. Your teachers pulled you aside after every class and congratulated you on such a great achievement.

It felt great, but it also felt strange. You had been a normal student in the honors drama club. You had been a leading actress in an elementary theater production of Annie. The videos of you singing Tomorrow were still up online somewhere.

Now, you were not so normal in your classmates' eyes. Your school made sure that they'd keep your old shows' playbills and even records of your creative essays.

You wondered if they did that to Eren Jaeger.

Eren was the lead. You were the other lead, but he was the first one to be cast and introduced in the story, so by that right, his character was technically the first in line. You scrolled onto Instagram and tapped on his profile. His username was already in your search bar as you had previously looked at it the night before.

Eren had little to no pictures; most of them were screenshots from articles or movie posters from films he had been in. The rest were simple mirror selfies or film photographs of his dog. His most recent post was a picture of a stack of Attack on Titan mangas. His highlights were pictures of his family—he seemed to have an older brother in college.

Your messages were brief. After he said hello and sent you an article detailing your casting announcement, he didn't seem to be chronically active. He only ever viewed your stories, particularly the ones where you posted pictures and videos of your friends and family. Unlike your other friends, he did not reply to them. He liked your formal dance photos, but that was about it.

You guessed it made sense. He wasn't really your friend. He was just someone you worked with. You always ended up becoming close friends with your fellow actors since the previous casts you worked with were tight-knit, but that didn't apply to big productions on a WIT Studios level.

This was no student film project. This was a show with an unlimited budget.

You took a picture of the boarding gate and mindlessly posted it on a story just so your friends would know you were finally about to board. Well-wishes flooded your messages, gushing about the First Class sign shining above your assigned gate, which WIT Studios had so generously paid for.

Your phone pinged.

erenjaeger
Hey, what time do you arrive?

Hi! Around 6 am, I think

erenjaeger
Ok
copy

You waited for him to say more. Maybe a "can't wait to see you!" or a more realistic "have a safe flight! take care!" but the tiny green circle indicating that he was online disappeared. You were confused. Ok, copy?

"Hi, excuse me."

You looked up. There was a middle school girl looking down at you, scratching the back of her neck.

"Hi, uh... are you an actress?" she asked. "You're face is kind of familiar."

"Oh, yeah!" you said. "Where from?"

Her eyes lit up. "You played Margaret in Are You There, God?, right? I watched that movie with my sister."

You laughed. "Yeah, that's me."

"That's so cool," she squealed. "I'm traveling with my mom right now, so my sister will be really jealous when I get to say I met a famous person from a movie she likes. Can I ask for a picture?"

"I'm not famous, but—" You were taken by surprise, but it was not unwelcome. "I—sure."

"Let me hold the camera," said Gian, setting her laptop aside.

The girl happily handed her phone to her and let you place an arm around her shoulders as the two of you smiled. The shutter clicked loudly, drawing the attention of the other seated people. They stared at you, wondering why you were supposedly 'famous'. You were somewhat embarrassed.

"There you go."

You still couldn't shake off the strange feeling even on the plane, where the flight attendants smiled at you warmly and constantly rounded you to refill your glass with cold champagne or to fluff your seat into an actual airplane bed so you could watch movies to your heart's content.

You spent hours memorizing your lines until you knew them by heart and practiced the dialogue, whispering with the static plane hum.

"I'm fine, Eren."

"I'm fine, Eren."

"I'm fine... Eren?"

You rubbed your bleary eyes when the plane landed. It seemed so much easier to act when Eren was actually with you. Doing it alone made you feel foolish. Most people messed up when they were in front of others but did well in reciting lines by themselves, yet you seemed to be the polar opposite.

You sighed and hoped that you would do better. This was a monumental role and the show would immortalize you at this age forever. Nearly everyone who read Attack on Titan was a die-hard fan of Y/N L/N the character who was counting on you to bring their favorite girl to life.

You landed in Munich and buttoned your thick coat, although spring was fading into summer. You still had to take a train whose journey lasted about three hours to get to Nördlingen. That gave Gian time to crash out in the fancy coach bed, groggy after the long flight.

On the other hand, you were wide awake, watching the lush green hills and quaint old-school villages of Germany roll by.

You left the train cabin to head to the luncheon-car by yourself, since Gian was asleep. You breakfasted alone while the attendant poured you hot coffee and scrambled eggs onto golden brown toast.

As you were handed a free copy of the daily newspaper, which was written in German, someone unexpectedly slid into the seat in front of you.

Your eyes snapped up to see a pale blonde girl with icy eyes and a hooked nose place her hands on the table.

"You're Y/N L/N, right?" she asked in German. "Hello."

"Ja, yes," you replied in German as well, having studied the language previously in school. "Sorry, I don't know your name. You're..."

"Annie Leonhart," she supplied. She switched to English. "I'm going to audition to be your best friend."

"Ah," you said. "Interesting. I suppose I've been so busy memorizing my lines that I nearly forgot that the rest of the cast hasn't been found yet."

Annie didn't react. You observed that her hair was tied up in a bun like she hadn't bothered with it, too lazy to keep good looks despite riding in a first-class train. Her gray hoodie was clearly ironed, but the sleeves were rumpled like she had slept in it.

"I'm from Germany," she said. "I think a lot of the auditionees are going to be from here or neighboring countries too. You should watch out—there's probably others on this train eyeing you."

"So why did you come to me?" you asked. As if you were some tycoon heiress bracing to be assassinated. "Looking to be familiar?"

Annie's lips curled at you as a server placed a plate of warm cinnamon rolls and another pitcher of orange juice on your table. You couldn't tell if her lips were lined with amusement or contempt. She took cinnamon, placed it onto her plate, and began to slice. A metal ring glinted on her finger.

"Ha. Who knows," she said. "Maybe you just seemed all mysterious reading the German newspaper alone and I wanted to solve you."

"I wasn't lonely—it's summer holiday for me," you said. "My agent is asleep. I arrived just now and it's not so bad to be early."

"Typical Y/N," said Annie. "The good girl of the series—or in the first season, anyway. You're method acting already."

The train plunged into a tunnel, drowning out the other voices. Annie stood up and folded her napkin, dusting her thin hands. She switched to German again.

"Catch you later," she said airily, and left before you could reply. When the train emerged from the tunnel, the speakers crackled to life with a prerecorded voice announcing your arrival to Nördlingen in half an hour.

You took some cinnamon rolls and a glass of orange juice for Gian and left, feeling multiple eyes on you as you exited the luncheon-car. You glanced to the right and saw a group of teenagers whispering among themselves and looking at you. When they realized you caught them, they went silent.

Maybe Annie was right—you were not the only actor on this train. The auditionees definitely knew who you were. And if they had traveled all the way to the town where the set was located, then they were finalists like you were too.

☆

☆

THE FIRST THING you did as soon as you arrived at the old-fashioned train station was take out your film camera and snap a picture. A chauffeur welcomed you. While he and Gian began to discuss safety protocols, your phone buzzed again. Eren had posted on his story.

You were perplexed. Was it for you? No, maybe you were just thinking too much.

Surely enough, you heard someone—a girl—call his name. "Hi, Eren!"

You turned. Your stomach jolted. Eren was standing a few meters away from you. He was squinting at the train like he was trying to find someone. His neck was wrapped in a red scarf, muffling his mouth like he didn't want to be recognized in public. He wasn't exactly extremely famous, but the people of Nördlingen were definitely familiar.

You had spent the past month and the entire trip anticipating his face, and without a single warning, Eren had just manifested, like a ghost.

The girl called his name again, and he looked up hopefully. However, his face momentarily went confused, and then humble resignation when he realized that he knew the owner of the voice.

The group of teenagers who had been looking at you earlier flocked to him and began to sprout greetings and hugs.

"Hi Eren!" Their voices overlapped. "Nice to see you! It's been a while! You've changed since drama school, huh?"

"Hey!" he said, sounding surprised. "Hanna — Franz — Mina. You guys made it."

"Thomas is on his way," the girl named Mina, who had black hair tied into feminine pigtails and the voice that called out his name, said. "He wouldn't ever miss an opportunity to be an extra in your show!"

"Just like the rest of us!" said the other girl, whom you assumed was Hanna. "It feels like we're all in school again. Right, Franz?"

The boy named Franz nodded. "Eren, you won't guess who we saw on the train with us..."

"Y/N, are you ready?"

Gian shook your shoulder. Your stupor broke and you focused on her and the chauffeur.

"You have to get to the hotel as soon as possible. You have to get changed so the next round of auditions can execute some chemistry reads with you. Is that okay?"

"Of course," you said, because you didn't have much room to complain, anyway.

"This way, miss," said the chauffeur, leading the way.

When you glanced back at the spot where Eren was, he was still preoccupied with his old school friends. You supposed you would technically be working with them now, too.

It made you feel like an outsider—Eren was connected to more people than you were thanks to his extensive career, and his home was closer to the set, so it was a given that he'd know more people in the area, but still. You were a performer in a new city.

He was craning his head, trying to look at the faces stepping off the train, half-listening to the others. He had been looking for someone, you supposed, so you shouldn't disturb him, especially since you were busy as well.

You followed your agent.

☆

MORNING DEW crunched under Eren's trainers the moment he stepped out for a jog. He zipped up his windbreaker and stretched.

Eriko said he didn't have to worry about getting into shape yet, but Eren was determined to give his best. It would be silly for him to be the main character whose primary goal was to become a soldier who slaughtered giants in a story and not be physically fit.

He was athletic back in school when he was studying in some rich private academy that specialized in honing talents because apparently, every child was special — if their parents could afford to let them be special, anyway.

He had been quite popular and well-liked in school against his own will because not only was he Zeke Jaeger's little brother, but he was also a versatile actor. He was scouted as a child because a talent agent liked his performance in an elementary production of Oliver Twist, and it didn't hurt that he was on the soccer team too.

Zeke had been something of a legend, praised by teachers for his brilliance in math and science, so Eren didn't want to be chalked off as a second-rate version. He wanted to make his own name.

Zeke often joked that Eren was European Troy Bolton, which was merely annoying banter. First of all, Troy played basketball, not soccer. Eren most certainly did not wear tacky white tracksuits and spontaneously break into a song number during lunchtime, either. Sure, he was edgy sometimes, but where was the real connection in that?

Most of his peers were rich and didn't find it very intriguing that he was an actor, though they were quite supportive of his growing career. His jock friends found it funny that the media was starting to label him as an upcoming teen heartthrob. Eren thought it was absolutely nuts, but his agency encouraged it because fame led to career opportunities.

His mind raced as he lightly jogged through the winding roads. You landed in Munich around 6 o'clock, which meant that you'd be in Nördlingen by 9 o'clock.

Eren meant to see you at the train station to say hello. The idea seemed a lot better in his head. Now that he was here, he felt stupid. He should have messaged you or something, but he felt like you thought he was awkward through the phone. He didn't have your number so he couldn't call you either, and it seemed too unprofessional.

Like you, he had been rehearsing. Only, they weren't scripted lines.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up?"

He grimaced. How Western.

"Hi, Y/N. Let me take your bags."

Stupid, you had a driver assigned to you.

"Hello, Y/N. I'm..."

Huh? You already knew who he was.

He had kept refreshing his social media to see if you had posted anything that indicated you were near—a snapshot of the train car or something. Perhaps you had been asleep.

A fan account claimed you met a fan before departure. The most he ever saw of your life after your audition was through social media pictures and online meetings that briefed you both on your work.

But it wasn't abnormal, right? You were his main coworker. It was only right that he should do his best to be good to you and get to know you. You probably didn't know a lot of people in the area either, while his friends from his school's theater program had snagged minor background roles thanks to their connection with him.

"We saw Y/N!" Mina gushed, finishing Franz's statement. "She's so pretty!"

"She plays Y/N the character, right?" asked Franz. He nudged Eren. "She did that head tilt when she talked to some girl auditioning for Annie Leonhart. Quite intimidating."

"Yeah, that's Eren's Y/N," said Eren. "She radiates the exact same aura."

"Perfect casting."

"Yeah."

"So we can all expect that your relationship's gonna be really good too, right?"

Eren threw him a confused look. "What?"

"Eren and Y/N—the characters."

"Oh," said Eren. "Right. I—I hope so."

He unlocked his phone and saw that you had posted another picture on your story. It was a picture of you posing outside the Kitchturm Daniel, a local tower. Eren had passed it earlier during his jog.

What?! How had he missed you?

In the picture, you were wearing sunglasses and smiling. Your coat had been fully buttoned up because it was cold, just as Eren had zipped up his own jacket to the chin.

The caption read, i'm right here. :)

☆

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Chapter Notes:
Great day for people who are insufferably addicted to fake social media (me)