tch.

I thought things were stabilizing a bit in my life when I started working on that fic but things have gotten hectic once again. These past two weeks I've been dealing with some MORE health issues that have nothing to do with my usual chronic ones (I'm on the mend now dw) but that means I haven't been writing at all unfortunately. The show I'm in currently is also opening in two weeks so I'm pretty much constantly in rehearsal right now when I'm not working at my actual job. Also some new career/job opportunities have recently presented themselves so I'm frantically figuring all that out in between everything so I have been very very busy lately! I promise I'll get working on it soon, but I don't have an answer for exactly when atm!!

You've been up since dawn, the gentle light filtering through floral patterned curtains, rousing you from a fitful sleep.

It feels like waking up into some bizarre dream; in a strange bed, in a strange town, the impossible weight of not knowing settled in your chest.

The room you're set up in is decidedly cute. Everything done up in floral patterns and wicker baskets. You might as well have counted the amount of steps from the door to the large, bright window with how many times you've paced across the room.

You can smell the faint scent of cherry blossom clinging to you from the quick shower you took in the room's small joining bathroom.

And still, the door stands tall and intimidating between you and the rest of the world.

You're not sure what you're so afraid of or why you can't quite bring yourself to leave this small sanctuary.

You don't know what comes after this. That thought keeps turning over in your head, suffocating with the immense weight of it. You hadn't thought that far ahead and now you're not sure you can.

The moment you leave this room, you're going to have to start making decisions. Face a world that feels so much bigger than it did yesterday.

Outside that door, you can only imagine that long, dark road from last night staring you right in the face. Like its waiting out there to swallow you whole the second you turn the knob.

So you wait.

Carefully dialing in the number for the tow truck Levi had given you, giving your best directions to the tired but kind sounding man on the phone, and wincing when he quotes you a price for the tow. When he asks you where you want him to drop the car off, you pause.

You know Levi gave you the number for his shop, but you hadn't had the time to check for the other local mechanics.

The voice on the other end of the line cuts through your thoughts. "If it's not running, you'll probably want me to bring it by Levi's. He's the only mechanic in this town worth a damn anyways."

Well, that makes it easy then you suppose.

"Yeah, that works." You murmur, hating how lost you sound. "I guess, I'll give him a call then."

"Don't bother. He called me up first thing this morning, telling me to get my ass out of bed because he's expecting a blue hunk of junk to show up at his shop."

"Oh, uh, okay." You murmur, even more lost than before.

You're caught off guard by how familiar everyone seems to be with each other around here. You're not used to that at all.

You thank him, giving him your payment information before hanging up.

You're about to return to your agonizing for as long as you can before you're forced to face the day ahead, when you're interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.

Your heart stutters, a familiar sort of panic gripping at your chest as you're stood frozen for a few moments.

You let out a deep breath, slowly opening the door like you're half expecting it to rear back and bite you.

It swings open with a soft creak and you almost flinch at the sound.

Standing before you is a woman; one with warm amber eyes and dark hair thrown over one shoulder. She looks like she was just about to leave, you realize. It must have taken you longer than you thought to force yourself to open the door.

"Oh, I thought I heard you talking in there." She offers with a bright smile, one hand propped against her hip. "I'm Carla. Mikasa mentioned we had a guest in late last night and I wanted to welcome you properly."

You study her for a moment, watching the way her skin crinkles around the eyes, face lined in the way that speaks of years spent smiling.

"Yeah, uh, hi." You respond, internally groaning. You know you must look crazy right now, shell-shocked at having just opened a door to this kind woman.

You offer your name politely, trying your best to seem even remotely normal.

If Carla notices your strange behavior, she doesn't show it, just giving you that smile that feels almost odd coming from a stranger. Motherly in a way that almost melts something in you, lowering your walls at an alarming rate.

"Just wanted to let you know there will be breakfast on the table downstairs in about twenty, if you're interested. Complimentary, of course." she says, still smiling. "No worries either way. The diner down the street is lovely too."

She leaves you with a gentle pat on the shoulder that makes you (embarrassingly) jump a little.

You are left standing in front of the closed door, heart hammering in your chest, mapping patterns in the wood with your eyes.

You feel a little off balance after that encounter.

No one ever smiles that brightly in the city.

No one ever remembers each other's names unless it benefits them to, let alone speak about one another with such fond familiarity. Each person is a ghost to one another; transparent and barely there, floating straight through one another on their way to their own destination.

It makes you feel almost exposed to be somewhere like this, where each person seems to hold some kind of real space. Solid.

It's unsettling.

You're not sure you want to be so corporeal in this place. Breakfast can wait, you think.

Your stomach, however, has other ideas; a deep rumbling that makes your insides clench.

Shit.

You sigh, letting out a low groan.

You think back to the charge on your card for the tow, and the unknown and probably devastating charge to come with the repairs. You're really in no position to be turning down free meals.

You have enough cash put away to last you a while, just until you can settle somewhere and find a job, if you're frugal. But your shitty car is already putting a dent in that particular safety net.

Fuck it. You can handle a few more motherly smiles and soft spoken words. It's not gonna kill you.

The smell of cooking food greets you as you creep down the creaky stairs on your way to the dining room. Eggs and richly spiced sausage floating on an undercurrent of something soft and sweet smelling drift on the air, making your already aching stomach clench. You follow your nose into the dining room, finding it spacious with a few empty tables, all dotted with flower-filled vases.

As if sensing your presence, Carla appears out of a door towards the back, flashing you that bright smile again. "Oh, good. You're here." She greets, wearing a cute blue apron with a floral design. She jerks her head behind her. "Come back this way, sweetheart."

That 'sweetheart' settles funny in your stomach and you're not quite sure why. Not bad, just that same unsettled feeling from earlier.

You awkwardly follow behind her into a smaller space, with just one big table covered in a cream colored cloth and already set with plates and cutlery. The girl who checked you in last night is there too, a book in hand a plate of food in front of her.

"It's slow this time of year, so you're our only guest. Easier if you just eat in here for now." Carla explains, pulling out a chair at the end of the table for you. "This is where my family takes their meals. My husband had an early day at the clinic though so it will just be you and Mikasa here this morning. Sit."

She bustles past you into the small kitchen, retuning a few moments later with a pot of coffee and a plain white mug, the kind you see at cheap 24 hour diners where the coffee is always too hot and too bitter. She sets them both down in front of you. "Cream and sugar are already on the table. Help yourself, dear."

You're a little stunned by all of this, pouring yourself coffee with shaky hands. You'd expected something simple, like one of those complimentary hotel breakfasts; all mini cereal boxes and florescent lighting. But this feels so much more familiar, sitting at this woman's family table, hearing the sounds of her bustling around in the kitchen.

The coffee is good too. Not the bitter, burnt stuff you'd been expecting, but a rich blend with a subtle sweetness undercutting it all.

You fidget nervously at the table, almost reaching for your phone before thinking better of it. Would that be considered rude? You half expect Carla to tut at you with all her motherly charm if you did that.

Mikasa, at the other end of the table, doesn't seem particularly interested in chatting. She offers a polite nod before returning to her book. It doesn't come off as cold either, just quiet. She reminds you of Levi in that way, though her silence is somehow warmer than his was.

It's a relief, really. You're not sure you're ready for much more of this small-town hospitality.

Soon, a plate is deposited in front of you, steaming and heaped high with pancakes, perfectly browned sausage, and a couple of eggs.

You can't remember that last time you had a meal prepared so lovingly. You haven't eaten anything that didn't come in takeout boxes in probably months. Actually, you're struggling to remember the last time you ate at all, a fact that your stomach is painfully reminding you of.

It tastes as good as it looks and you don't think that's just your empty stomach talking.

"How long are you going to be staying with us for?" Carla asks, wiping her hands on her apron as she ambles around the room, tidying and wiping things. "Mikasa has you booked as an indefinite stay, so I was just curious."

That is the question you've been asking yourself since last night. "Just until my car is running again."

Her expression lights up at that. "Oh, so you've got Levi working on it then? You know, my son — he's about your age— has been working over at the shop as his apprentice. He's here for breakfast some days, but that Levi does like to put him to work early in the morning."

Oh, here we go.

You've never quite understood the motherly instinct to pitch their son to every woman of eligible age, but you have a feeling you're in for just that.

"He's always been a handful, that boy. But he works hard. You two would probably get along if—"

"Carla."

You'd almost forgot Mikasa was here, but her exasperated voice mercifully cuts her off. You glance over to see her click her book shut, setting it down on the table.

Carla lets out an unrepentant chuckle. "Oh, sorry. Can't help myself sometimes."

Oh, thank god. You're pretty sure that she was about to start shoving pictures in your face any moment and you're not sure you could handle that.

"It's fine, I'm sure he's wonderful." You say, setting your fork down politely next to your empty plate and pushing away from the table.

You suppose you'd better face the day sooner or later. The world isn't getting any smaller and your problems aren't getting any further away.

"You heading out, dear? Mikasa here can give you a lift to the shop, if you'd like." Carla smiles, tucking a rag into her apron pocket.

Is everyone in this town so eager to help out strangers? Or do you have something taped to your forehead that says 'lost puppy, please pity'? Either option makes that uncomfortable feeling coil in your stomach again.

She must notice your hesitation because she continues; "I was going to send her over there anyways to bring Eren something to eat. It's no trouble, is it?"

Mikasa just shrugs, already standing up and tucking her book beneath her arm, effectively backing you into a corner with no good reason to refuse their help.

The drive over is short and mostly quiet, tucked into the passenger seat of Mikasa's small car.

"Sorry about earlier. Carla can be a bit overbearing. She means well though." She breaks the silence as she makes the drive down quaint little streets lined with charming old buildings and planters that look beautiful and well-tended, like whoever does the gardening here does so with love and care.

You shrug it off, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She seems nice."

Mikasa nods once. "The nicest, really. She has a habit of taking in strays."

She makes a face at that, as if immediately regretting the words. "I mean she took me in when I was a kid. I wasn't saying that you were…"

It's not like you can even be offended. You are basically exactly that, though you had hoped it wasn't so obvious. It really must be written all over your face how lost you are.

"Levi is great too." Mikasa adds, clearly looking for a change of subject. "Takes a while to warm up, but he's actually a softie."

Soft, huh? You hadn't gotten that impression from the man. Kind, for sure, but nothing about him read to you as particularly soft.

Though you did have one question that's been bothering you since last night. "Are you related at all?"

"Distantly." She responds, like this is a question she gets asked a lot. "He's my second cousin or something like that, though it's not like I really knew him before he rolled into town a few years ago."

"He's not from here?" You ask, surprised. You'd gotten the impression that this was the kind of place where everyone sprung up from roots generations old.

"Not originally, no. Good luck getting anything else about that though. He's not really a sharer."

Yeah, that tracks. He seems like the kind of guy who'd rather pull out his own teeth than make small talk.

Mikasa pulls up in front of another old looking building. Were all of the buildings here built at the turn of the century? You don't think you've seen anything new. The exterior is all peeling blue paint and windows that look like they need a wash. There's not even a sign to signify that it's anything but a dilapidated building but from the way Mikasa confidently strides up the the door, you have to assume that this is the place.

A bell jingles over the door as you enter into an unassuming lobby; a couple of threadbare armchairs in various shades of gray and a small reception desk that looks like it needs some serious organization. A half-dead plant sits next to an archaic looking computer covered in a mess of sticky notes.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming." A low male voice calls from the back room.

A man emerges from the door, wearing a set of grease-stained coveralls and a scowl on his face, like he's annoyed at the interruption to whatever he'd been doing.

"Oh, it's just you." He says as he locks eyes on Mikasa, the disgruntled look on his face easing some.

"Your mom sent some food over." She says, lifting up the paper bag Carla sent his way.

"Sweet." He takes the bag, before finally casting his gaze your way.

So this must be the son Carla was gushing about earlier. Looking at him now, you kind of understand. He is handsome, in a rebellious sort of way; angular features framed by messy brown locks tied haphazardly up in into a half-bun, and eyes a vibrant shade of green. You think that maybe underneath all that grease, there's probably a face better suited to magazines than a dingy mechanic's lobby.

"You the blue car that just got dropped off?" he asks, leaning back against the desk. "Levi said you'd be by soon. Told me to just send you back. Garage is just through that door." He jerks his chin int he direction he just came from, seemingly uninterested in you entirely.

You thank whatever god there is for the one person in this town that small town sensibilities seem to be lost on.

He turns back towards Mikasa, tearing open the brown paper bag she brought and chatting like he's already forgotten your presence completely as you awkwardly shuffle past.

The smell of oil and metal hits your nose as soon as the door opens, greeted by a spacious garage that's more organized than you expected based on the state of the front desk. The walls are lined with perfectly organized tools and there's an old BMW suspended on a large lift, it's mechanical underbelly on perfect display.

Sunlight fills the space from the wide open garage door as you move further in, catching the familiar sight of your car, hood open with Levi leaning over it. He's wearing the same green coveralls that Eren was wearing, only his are bunched down and tied around his waist, leaving his upper body clad only in a white tank top that shows off the way the corded muscles of his back flex as he moves around under the hood.

You don't even realize you're staring until he turns around, breaking your trance. He leans back against the car, fixing you with a look that's a little too intense for a polite greeting.

"When was the last time you had your oil changed?"

That's hardly a 'hello' and it throws you off enough to give you pause. "Uh…"

"That was a trick question." He says before you can get your thoughts together. "There is no oil in this fucking thing. How long were you driving around like that?"

Your cheeks burn. His tone is exasperated, chiding in a way that makes you feel a bit like a scolded kid, his brows drawn together in disproval.

You stumble over your words, feeling a little flustered. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out the actual answer to that question. You know that little light had illuminated your dashboard for far longer than you should've let it, but you just never had the time to get it taken care of.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a long suffering sigh. "Don't answer that. It will probably just piss me off."

Maybe you should be offended by the way he's talking to you, but you just feel scolded. And a little bit embarrassed. Before you can scrape some words together to from a sentence, he's speaking again.

"Whole engine is shot. You're lucky it didn't actually fucking explode." He says, wiping his greasy hands on his coveralls.

Your heart sinks into your stomach at those words, panic beginning to gnaw at your insides. "That sounds bad. And expensive."

Levi nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Would need to import the parts too. Honestly?" He lets out a long breath, like he already knows you're not going to like the next words out of his mouth. "It's probably not worth fixing. You'd be better off buying a whole new car."

Your brain is already spinning faster than you can get a handle on, trying to make calculations in your head. Your entire life savings didn't end up amounting to much, all things considered. You're already eating through them quicker than you'd counted on.

You'll figure something out. You don't have any other choice. But fuck if you know what that looks like right now.

You nod slowly, doing your best to pull yourself from the brink of utter meltdown. "Okay. Got it. Thanks for checking it out, I guess. How much do I owe you?"

He scoffs, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. "I'm not charging you just for looking at the damn thing. Took about two seconds once I had some actual light to work with."

You let out a relieved breath. There might be something to this whole small town thing. Any mechanic in the city would've charged you out the ass just for breathing in the general direction of your car.

"Oh, uh, thanks." Your voice sounds hollow, even to yourself. You wince. You don't mean to wear your emotions so loudly, but no matter how hard you try to flatten them down they always find a way to write themselves on your sleeve.

Levi watches you thoughtfully for a few moments, doing that thing again where he seems to look through you. He pushes off your car, turning to shut the hood with a bang loud enough to make you jump. There's something final in that sound and it sets your teeth on edge.

"Do you have anyone you can call? Not sure how far out you are from home but you're pretty much stranded."

Home.

The word smacks you in the chest and sinks in wrong, like someone tore the corner off of that particular puzzle piece before trying to jam in back into place.

"No." It's all you are able to come up with, the word coming out a little too loud, like you're scared of the sound of it.

Levi quirks an eyebrow, but his expression remains unchanged otherwise. He's quiet for a moment, like he's chewing on that answer and cataloging it in his brain. He doesn't push though, just accepts it with a nod. You're grateful for that at least.

He lets out a long breath before speaking again.

"I've got an old car I can sell you." He says, jerking his head in the direction of the lift behind you. "I can let it go for cheap too. It's just an old project car I've had Eren working on. Just need a few more weeks to get it up and running."

You turn his words over in your head. On one hand, the prospect of a discount car that actually runs sounds like a godsend, but on the other…

"Weeks?"

It's not like you had much of a plan, but you certainly hadn't factored an extended stay in this nowhere town into any of your calculations. You'd been doing research on cities far enough away to feel safe and you'd hoped to make it to one in the next few days at most. You shouldn't have a hard time finding work once you get there but out here? Your skill set probably doesn't mean much in a town like this. If you have to rent that room for weeks you'll burn through your meager funds quicker than you're comfortable with.

Levi shrugs. "Best I can do. Otherwise, there's a dealership in the next town over, if there's somewhere you need to be." He eyes you and you get that eerie feeling again, like he sees right through you. "But I'll give you half off if I can take that shit box off your hands. Might be good for parts, at least."

Half off of an already cheap car. When you're in desperate need of a car and strapped for cash. Can you really afford to say no?

"How much exactly?" You ask warily.

The number he gives you almost makes you groan audibly. Yeah, you'd be stupid to turn this offer down. It's a good deal. Certainly better than you'd get anywhere else, but its still going to be tight.

"Yeah, I can make that work." You say finally, not quite sure how but knowing that you have to.

"Then why do you look like you're shitting your pants still?"

Damn it, how is he like that?

"I'm just thinking." You grumble, defensive at being so thoroughly read once again.

"About?"

You let out a long breath. You're not about to spill your guts all over the cement floor of this garage. "Logistics."

"Right." He nods slowly. "You're still worried about the money, huh?"

"No." You respond too quick.

Just because you're broke and desperate doesn't mean you want him to know that.

Levi rolls his eyes. "You always this full of shit?"

You're not sure why you're still so shocked by his bluntness. He seems to just be like this but that doesn't stop that indignant little huff from rising in your throat. "Excuse me?"

He rolls his eyes again. "Oh, stand down. You're so obvious. Look, I can knock a little more off the price if you—"

"No." You don't let him finish his sentence. You're getting really sick of being everyone's charity case in this godforsaken town. You may be a little lost but you're not pathetic. "I can pay it."

Levi scrubs a hand over his face exasperatedly. "You didn't let me finish."

You open your mouth to tell him that you don't care what he has to say, you're not about to let him help you out more than he already has, but he silences you with a wave of his hand and a sharp look.

"My last receptionist just left town for college and I could use someone to answer the phone for a few weeks while I look for a new one. I'm not offering you a discount. I'm offering you a job."

You freeze, processing his offer. That would definitely relieve some of the pressure this whole thing is causing. The extra money could at least cover your room for the next few weeks. You might actually come out of this with enough to comfortably settle somewhere once you get out of here.

"You want me to answer the phone?" You sound a little dumbstruck, blinking at him in confusion.

"Mostly, yeah. I've had Eren doing it, but he's no good with the customers." He shrugs and yeah, you can see that. Even in the short interaction you'd had with him, he didn't seem like the most sociable type. Though, its a bit funny coming from Levi. Something about glass houses and stones.

"You'd be managing a few other things. Nothing too complicated. And just until we get this car fixed up and then I'll find someone to replace you. Think you can do that?"

You pause for another moment. You can't think of any logical reason to turn him down. He's literally handing you the answers to all of your problems, just like that.

So why do you have that feeling in your chest? The one that's like you're standing at a cliff's edge and looking down.

You wonder if every choice you make from here on out is going to feel this way.

Finally, with nothing else to do, you nod. "Yeah, I can. Probably."

It's a world away from the kind of work you're used to but how hard can it be? You can sit at a desk and answer a phone.

"Atta girl." He says approvingly, before heading back towards the door you came from and holding it open for you, gesturing you in.

Eren is slumped at the desk, scrolling on his phone, his lunch half-eaten and strewn across the already cluttered space. He doesn't move when you enter, but practically jumps out of his skin when Levi appears behind you. He shoves his phone in his pocket, immediately moving to straighten things up around him.

It's almost comical, watching the grown man react to Levi's presence like a teenager caught slacking in class. It's not like you can blame him though. Levi seems to have that affect on everybody, yourself included.

Levi scowls but says nothing about it. "Congrats, you're off receptionist duty. Not that you were any fucking good at it."

Eren blinks a few times, looking between the two of you while he tries to put the pieces together. Levi saves him the brain power, explaining the situation quickly.

"You show her the ropes here and then you can drive her back to the inn when you're done."

Your instinct to refute the help that everyone seems to eager to provide here kicks in again and you shake your head. "Oh, that's okay. I don't need a ride. I can just—"

"He lives there." Levi cuts you off with one of those glares you are starting to get used to already. "Stop being difficult for no reason. No one is going out of their way."

It's like he knows exactly what's going through your mind. Or maybe you're just that easy to read. You're not a fan of either option.

"It's no problem." Eren says with a shrug.

Backed into a corner again, you nod. "Thanks."

"Clean up in here before you go too." Levi mutters, scowling at the state of the desk. "Let's not have her start work in this god damn pigsty."

With that, Levi retreats back into the garage, leaving you alone with Eren who immediately relaxes in his absence. Levi must really run a tight ship with his apprentice.

He quickly runs you through your duties, which seem simple enough. Answer the phone, take appointments, plug them into this ancient computer.

"Okay, but I don't have a single clue about cars." You say as he writes down the computer password on a sticky note.

"Doesn't matter. Neither does anyone who calls. Anyone has any annoying question, you can just shoot them to me or Levi." He sticks the note on the front of the computer with a shrug. "I just hang up on anyone who decides to cop an attitude though. Levi doesn't like it, but what are they gonna do? Go somewhere else?

He laughs, like the idea is ridiculous.

Levi's comment about Eren not being good with the customers in making more and more sense the longer you talk to him.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket while he talks and you flip it to silent without looking at it. You're sure your phone will become more of an issue as people start to notice your absence in your usual places, but you'll cross that bridge when you come to it. It hasn't been long enough for anyone to truly start worrying yet.

Eren finishes up, giving the space a quick (and frankly, half-assed) pass with a Clorox wipe. "Fair warning, the man is a nut case when it comes to keeping things clean around here. Like we don't spend the entire day coated in grease and oil anyways."

"Clean freak. Got it."

You file that information away for later, making a mental note to give this room a proper clean tomorrow. You might not be at this job for long, but you'll be damned if you let yourself screw it up over something as simple as your slightly disorganized nature.

"I'm parked out back." Eren says, leading you back through the door to the garage.

You scan the space to find Levi, or rather, the bottom half of him stuck out from underneath a different car. You can't help but notice the way his thighs seem to fill out those mechanic's coveralls, thick with what you can only imagine are ridiculous muscles.

"Heading out, Levi." Eren calls. "Sure you don't need me for anything else today?"

Levi rolls out from under the car to glance up at you, dark hair sticking to his forehead and a smudge of grease marring his pale cheek. "You're done for the day. I'm almost finished here anyways." He mutters, that persistent scowl present on his mussed face. "But I'll see you both in the morning, yeah?"

"Bright and early." Eren mutters, giving a less than enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Don't sound so excited." Levi grumbles back, already retreating back under the car he was working on. "Little shit."

You follow Eren out of the open garage door, towards a small parking lot. You don't get a few steps before Levi calls your name.

You pause, waiting.

"You're gonna do fine, quit shitting yourself."

"I'm not—"

"I can hear your expression from here. Unclench."

You splutter, half-annoyed and half something else. Something unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable. It's a feeling that's been cropping up more than you'd like in the last twenty-four hours.

You make your escape back to Eren's car. You have to kick away a concerning pile of empty energy drink cans as you settle into the ratty passenger seat of his old Honda.

"Sorry about the mess." He says, offhanded and not all that apologetic as he twists the keys in the ignition.

You're not bothered by the mountain of discarded cans. If anything, it's comforting, in a way. A familiar sort of chaos that just makes sense, like nothing else has since your car gave out on you.

Eren peels out of the parking lot faster than he probably should, and you appreciate that too. Something about the way he drives is incongruent with this lazy, stuck-in-time little town. A small taste of the familiar speed of city life.

"So I guess you're stuck here for a while then?"

"Yep, seems like it." You're not particularly good at this kind of small talk; the kind that's just there for the sake of politeness, with nothing to gain from either party.

He drums his hands against the wheel awkwardly, like he's just trying to fill space in the the cabin of the car. "You don't have somewhere else you're supposed to be? Don't get me wrong, I'm relieved to not have to take calls anymore, but it kinda seems like you were just passing through?"

Your situation is bizarre and you know it. It's not like you can just explain yourself either; not without giving away more than you'd like to. "I am just passing through."

"Yeah, but it's not like you planned on sticking around here. Don't you have like a job or something you need to get to?" There's genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I'm kinda…moving." You say, and it's the best you can do. It's true enough, without explaining more than you have to.

His brows are still furrowed in confusion but he doesn't ask any more questions, just shrugging it away, flicking on the radio to some classic rock station. "Car is old as shit, doesn't have an aux or nothing."

You shrug as the music fills the car, saving you from answering any more questions that you don't have the answers to.

"Y'know, since you're stranded here for the time being, you might as well have some fun." He says, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. "Not a whole lot to do around here until summer, but me and some friends are going to shoot pool at the tavern later if you wanted to tag along."

You freeze, taken aback by the sudden invitation, by this stranger's willingness to immediately pull you into the fold of his social life. You're used to people who keep to themselves, mind their business. That concept seems to be lost on the people here.

It's almost refreshing, if strange and foreign. Maybe under different circumstances you would've felt drawn to the novelty of it, back when things felt lighter. Before you learned to distrust on instinct and never ask questions.

"Oh, uh…"

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad though. Everyone you've met so far has been pleasant enough and you are stuck here for the time being. A drink or two doesn't sound too bad either. Your nerves could use it.

You finally settle on something noncommittal. "Maybe, I had a late night. I'm pretty wiped."

Eren pulls up in front of the inn, killing the engine. "No pressure, we do this a lot. You can always catch us next time."

He pulls his phone from his pocket and shoves it at you, presumably to plug your number into. You almost laugh when you catch sigh of the cracked screen. Something about it just fits what little you know about him.

He takes it back and fires off a quick text. "There, now you have mine too. Just let me know how you're feeling later and I'll come grab you if you're up for it."

He keeps talking as you exit the car, walking up the front porch steps. "Otherwise, I'll just grab you at breakfast tomorrow. Gotta be at the shop by like nine, because Levi is a fucking sadist like that."

You part ways in the lobby where Mikasa is once again posted up at the front desk. Eren immediately comes to her side, pulling up a second chair and propping his feet up on the desk. You don't catch what they're chatting about as you head straight up the stairs, back to the relative safety of your room.

The room doesn't feel quite as suffocating now. You're still lost, but as you cross the threshold, you realize that your heart is beating at a steady pace for what feels like the first time in the past twenty four hours. You still don't have a clue what comes next but, for now, you at least know what you're doing.

Still scared, but steadier now.

You sit down on the edge of the bed. It's still mid-afternoon. Maybe you'll get yourself settled and go for a walk, familiarize yourself with this strange place. Maybe grab some lunch at the diner Carla mentioned earlier.

You pull your phone from your pocket, opening Eren's message from earlier to save his number in your phone. You're still considering taking him up on his invitation for tonight.

But then your eyes land on another message, the one you received earlier. It's also from an unknown number, but that's not what make you freeze.

You immediately know who it is.

It's alarming how quickly your hands begin to shake, your pulse starting up all over again, the room tunneling into something small and unbearable as you nearly drop your phone. Anxiety rolls over you like nausea, twisting your stomach into tight knots.

You want to set the phone down. Throw it. Smash it. You want to run all over again.

But you don't do any of that, your trembling hands glued to the screen, like they've suddenly forgot how to listen to your brains commands.

You read the message over and over again, bile rising in your throat with a thousand questions.

Come home. Now.

That word, 'home' again. It felt wrong earlier, but now it feels like something sick and twisted. Some cruel joke being played on you.

There are more messages, a whole slew of them, each one making the room spin a little faster, but you barely comprehend their meaning. Because clearly, blocking the number wasn't enough. You should've known he'd find another way to get to you. Should've known better than to run.

Your phone finally clatters from your fingers, bouncing across the hardwood floor.

It doesn't so much as crack. Which is ironic, really, because you're pretty certain that you are, all over again.

tysm for reading <3

Your breaths are coming easier; surer with every mile passed. You're starting to feel the stiffness in your back now, the one that comes with hours on the road.

You never liked driving.

The feeling of controlling something so much bigger than yourself, awkwardly trying to understand it's shape as you navigate the other behemoths around you. Cars are a thousand moving parts and you're just one person, trying to wrest power over more than you can wrap your head around.

But when you're moving this fast? When there's no one around to account for; to skirt around or collide with?

It's a little bit like flying.

Isn't flying just how it feels before you fall though? The crash will come soon, like iron bars slammed back down around you. The ground always catches up in the end.

Your heart thumps hard in your chest again. The shake is coming back. You keep catching yourself checking your mirrors, just to make sure nothing has caught up just yet.

The car makes a noise you almost don't notice beneath the drumbeat of your pulse.

But it does it again, louder this time, a ticking that mimics the one in your chest. You feel the beast shudder beneath you and around you. Not good.

You quickly jerk the wheel, pulling off onto the shoulder of the road.

The smell of smoke hits you like a knife between your ribs.

You know you probably shouldn't, but you try to start the car again, just to check. The engine barely even tries to roll over.

God damn it.

The night air is cold, biting through your sweater as you step out of the car. A tangle of machinery awaits you under the hood, revealed in a plume of black smoke that nearly chokes you. You're not sure what you expected. You're pretty certain the smoke is a bad sign, but beyond that, you're completely lost.

Cursing under your breath, you check your phone.

Not a single bar of signal.

You're stuck in the middle of nowhere, on an empty stretch of road with a car you don't entirely trust not to burst into flames at any moment.

Great.

You glance back into the darkened stretch of road behind you and then at the pitch black in front of you. Small, once again.

Slow.

Grounded.

Maybe far enough away from where you came from, but not close to anything near safety. The corn fields on either side of you are just as endless and, honestly, really creep you out. Something uncomfortable coils in your stomach as you process the horror movie scenario you've landed yourself in.

You slump back against your car, breathing deep.

There's still another hour or so at least until the sun comes up. You aren't sure how far away you are from anything, but you suppose you'd better start walking.

The darkness stretched out in front of you is terrifying. It makes something in your bones ache, some primordial fear that lingers at the back of your skull as you stare it down.

You brace yourself, forcing each of your muscles to unlock one at a time. Slow, agonizing. But you know this feeling; know the time it takes to force your body to catch up to what your mind already knows.

It's time to move.

You spare one last glance behind you, out of habit.

And, like some eldritch monster, the darkness sprouts a pair of eyes.

Burning towards you so quick you think it might just miss you, deciding the frozen little rabbit doesn't look appetizing tonight.

You swallow hard, whole body tightening as a shabby looking pickup truck comes into view, whooshing past you.

But then it slows, pulls off onto the shoulder just a little ways ahead.

Your heart thumps.

You watch as the door swings open and a man steps out. It's too dark to make out any details, but you see the broad set of his shoulders and the close crop of his hair. On the shorter side, you notice, but still definitely a man.

Really, the last thing you want to see in a situation like this.

Your mind catches up to the fear in your body, suddenly spinning faster than you can grab a hold of. What are you supposed to do? Not like you can get in the car and drive away. You think you have a bottle of pepper spray in your purse; years old probably and crusted in makeup and god knows what else has spilled in that bag. Do you have time to dive for it in the passenger seat? Does pepper spray expire? What would you do after that?

You imagine a chase scene, sprinting down the empty road with a monster hot on your heels. You've never been a fast runner, even when there is somewhere for you to run to. Maybe you'd have a chance if you darted into the corn field and hid. Can't get more horror movie than that.

He must notice the look on your face or see the way you're coiled, ready to bolt. Hands fly up in a surrendering motion as he comes more fully into view.

His voice cuts through your startled silence; low, resonant, clipped.

"Hey."

You can make out his features now, in the barely there moonlight. Sharp jaw framing slightly softer cheeks, light eyes narrowed like he's assessing something. He approaches slow, stopping several feet away.

You don't find your voice right away; fear having stolen too much of the breath from your lungs. You just stare at him, realizing with an uncomfortable jolt that you're unsure you could force your body to move if you tried.

It wouldn't be your first time as the deer in the headlights.

You really thought you were learning how to run.

His eyes flicker up and down your trembling form. He doesn't look like he's sizing you up, more like he's trying to figure something out. There's nothing in his eyes or his posture that says he's about to lunge.

But you've learned that about men. The dangerous ones never show their teeth. Not at first.

Noticing your silence, he tries again. "You okay?"

"Fine."

A lie, automatic and choked out. You can hear the panic in your own voice and it makes you wince.

The man huffs out a short breath through his nose. "Right."

He lowers his hands, settling them across his chest. "Your car just smokes like that normally, huh?"

Something about that dry note in his voice grates at your nerves. Because, yeah, obviously you're not fine. Fine is what people say when they want you to fuck off. Not that he appears to be getting the message.

You wish he would just get on with it. If he wants to kidnap you, murder you, wear your skin or whatever; you just wish he'd skip the polite preamble. This part is really stressing you out.

You jaw clenches as you take an involuntary step back, pressing against the cool metal of your car. "I'm just waiting for a tow."

Maybe he'll leave if he thinks someone's coming for you already.

He shifts his weight, head tilting as he regards you with a bored sort of amusement. "That so?"

"Yeah, so, I'm good. Don't need any help, thanks."

There's a slight tremble in your voice, but you hope to pass it off with the shiver that runs through you at the chilly breeze that cuts to your bones.

He raises one thin eyebrow. "You must have one hell of a carrier if you're able to make calls all the way out here. Been driving this road for years and never managed to catch a bar."

You stiffen. "Guess I'm just lucky then."

"Guess so."

The silence stretches a few long moments and you almost think he's going to give up on you and leave. His arms uncross and your throat tightens, waiting for him to move. He doesn't.

"Look, I'm not here to snatch you or anything. You can relax." He mutters, letting out a heavy sigh.

That's exactly what a serial killer would say.

"I'm fine." You repeat your lie from earlier, too quick, the reflex to shrink your fear into something small and manageable to those around you all but carved into your bones by now.

The man lets out a long breath. "Stop saying that. You're not." His eyes scan your form once again.

Not hungry like you're used to; assessing still. Like before.

"It's dark. You're shivering. And the only tow truck in town doesn't answer the phone this late at night so I know you're bullshitting on top of everything."

Fuck.

Of course he'd see through your lie.

You pause, looking him over. Assessing him right back.

He's kept his distance; at least a good ten feet of it. Like he's drawn an invisible line on the asphalt he refuses to cross. You can appreciate that at least. You're alone out here, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. If he'd wanted to try something, he really had no good reason not to yet.

Unless he's the type who likes to play with their food. You know that type.

You refuse to let your guard down just yet.

"Oh."

It's all you can manage, still a little nervous and, frankly, embarrassed he saw through you so quickly.

"I can take a look at your car if you want. Save your imaginary tow truck driver the trip."

There's that dry condescension again. It chips at your pride, making you grit your teeth. The offer is innocent enough though and it's not like you have any other options at the moment. "You think you can fix it?"

He glances over at your still slightly smoking car and then back at you with a shrug. "Probably not. Not out here, at least. But I can look."

Your heart sinks. You could have figured as much, but hope has a funny way of clawing at your chest. Even when you know damn well you should have learned by now. "Then what's the point?"

He rolls his eyes. "Just let me look."

He doesn't move though, staying safely behind his imaginary line, like he's waiting for your permission to even step closer.

You let out a long breath, considering. It can't hurt to let him poke under the hood.

You nod towards the car, taking a big step back, like you need the distance to breathe right. He seems to take that as permission to move, still slow, like he's trying not to spook you.

You watch with baited breath as approaches your car, rolling up the sleeves of his gray Henley to reveal forearms corded with thick muscle. Your eyes linger for a moment, almost surprised at the strength that must be stored in those arms. It isn't exactly comforting, but you can't seem to keep yourself from looking.

"Flashlight?" he mutters, brows pinching together as he leans over the tangle of machinery. "Can't see shit out here."

It takes you a moment to register that he's asking you to do something. You pull your useless phone from your pocket with a soft sigh, silently cursing your luck. If this guy is trouble, there's not a person in the world you could call for help.

You move to stand next to him, flicking the flashlight on. You watch as he pokes around for a few moments, and you can't help but wonder if he's actually doing anything.

Up close like this, you can see him a lot clearer, though you try not to look.

He's got an interesting look to him. Sharp in the set of his jaw, the narrow of his eyes — which you can see now are a soft silvery color — but there's softness there too. You can't seem to place his age either, between the subtle lines beside his eyes and the youthful plumpness in his cheeks, he's almost ageless.

You have the fleeting thought that if he does end up being a murderer, at least it won't be the worst sight to be your last.

You push that thought right back down. Focus.

He finally steps back, his frown deepening almost imperceptibly.

Sighs. "You want my professional opinion?"

You nod.

"You're fucked."

You exhale sharply at the blunt assessment, letting the arm holding your phone drop down to your side. "Figured."

He turns, leaning back against your car, silent for a few more moments. Letting you process.

"Where were you headed anyways?"

You slump back against the car as well, a small distance away from him. "Does it matter?"

Because it's probably a bad idea to give this strange man any real details on where you're going.

Not because you have no idea. You haven't even allowed yourself to think about that part just yet because every time you do, your heart kicks up into that frantic hum again.

He shrugs. "I'm headed back into town anyways. There's a half-decent bed and breakfast there and you can actually get a tow in the morning."

Oh, so this is the part where everything goes wrong. You've heard enough stories. Hitchhiking is like the way to get yourself chopped up and made into a human skin suit.

That, or he's just a genuinely nice person trying to help. You're starting to forget that those exist anymore.

"No, thank you. I'll figure it out."

His jaw twitches and he shifts his body to face you more fully. "You're gonna what? Walk twenty miles in the middle of the night?"

"I might wait for the sun to come up at least."

"I'm already heading that way. You could just come —"

"No. I said I didn't need any help." You cut him off sharply. It's been the single longest day of your life and you don't have the patience to argue with a stranger. Even if he might be well-intentioned. He might also be a murderer.

"It's really not safe."

You huff. "Neither is getting in a car with a stranger."

His patience seems to snap a little at that. He pushes himself off the car with a groan.

You flinch, just slightly, pressing your whole body backwards against the car.

He seems to notice, his whole body locking up.

"I'm not gonna—" He sighs, running his fingers through cropped black hair. "Fine."

You're almost relieved as he stalks back towards his truck. Or you would be if the reality of your situation didn't fall back against your chest full force. You're still stuck out here; no phone, no car, really no idea where you are.

Not nearly as far away as you'd like to be from where you'd left.

He may have been your last hope. But you've learned better than to trust in a hope anyways. That kind of thinking always gets you burned.

You glance back up at his retreating form and frown.

He isn't getting back in his truck.

He's just standing there, leaned up against the tailgate with his arms folded.

"What are you…?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Not about to leave a girl stranded out here alone." He grumbles. "You don't trust me? Fine. You wanna figure it out yourself, go for it. But I'm gonna stay right here. Not like I'd be able to sleep tonight anyways."

You balk at him.

"That is so not necessary."

He pins you with a hard look, hands flexing against his biceps as he leans more of his weight against his truck. He looks like he's settling in. "No, it wouldn't be if you'd just get your stubborn ass in my truck."

You bristle at the attitude in his voice. Serial killers were supposed to be charming, you thought. His lack of social grace doesn't exactly rule anything out, but weirdly, does make you feel slightly better.

"I'm not being stubborn." You huff right back at him. "I'm trying to be smart."

"Yeah, real smart."

The sarcasm in his voice isn't lost on you.

You groan and slump against your car, mirroring his stance. He's bound to get sick of this and leave eventually. You just have to wait him out.

Besides, you can't help but feel slightly safer with him here. You notice your heart has ticked down slowly, now just a beat too fast instead of the roaring in your ears it was before. Stupid, probably. But true none the less.

You just don't know how to trust your body's judge of character. You've been wrong before and you're done making that mistake.

So you wait.

The minutes tick by slow and the air doesn't seem to get any less biting. You hug your arms closer to yourself, trying to shield against a shiver.

He, annoyingly, doesn't seem to notice the chill. Or, if he does, he's got one hell of a tolerance.

You might have a thicker jacket somewhere in the car, but you doubt it. Everything you brought with you is stuffed into two bags in the backseat and you didn't exactly pack well before you left.

He breaks the silence first.

"Name's Levi, by the way."

You glance up at him, rolling the name around in your head. It suits him, you decide. Short and sharp sounding, just like him.

You almost give him a fake name out of sheer force of habit but you just barely bite it back.You're not really sure you should give him your real one either right now, so you just stay silent.

Levi shakes his head, letting out a sharp breath through his nose. "Stubborn."

Thing is; it doesn't quite sound like an insult. Not really. Even with that dry, exasperated tone in his voice, it doesn't come off as an admonishment. More of an observation. Like he's looking at you and trying to piece something together.

"You look cold." He says, jerking his chin in your direction. "Should at least wait in your car."

"Thing won't even turn on." You mutter, your whole body deflating slightly at the admission.

He nods, like he should have expected that. "Figures."

Another big sigh, this one sounding like it was pulled deep from his chest. "Heat works just fine in my truck."

You open your mouth to shoot back another refusal, but the words are stolen by a very visible shiver.

Is it getting colder.

Stuck between the prospect of freezing to death and the potential of a saw movie ending, you're pretty well and screwed.

People always say to trust your gut and yours is telling you that this man is safe. Or at least that he means what he says. Problem is you can't quite remember the last time you put your trust in anything that didn't end up biting you in the ass, let alone yourself.

You're only here because you trusted your gut for the first time in years. You remember that twisting feeling you had, the one that urged you to just go. The mad scramble for whatever you could stuff in your bags. The way your hands shook against the door handle.

For a while, it almost felt right. Back when you were on the road. Before that flying feeling inevitably dropped into falling again. Your gut gets you knocked down every time.

But standing here, miserable and cold, isn't getting you anywhere either.

You break before he does.

The sound of your name, spilled from your own lips, fills the silence. Just the one word, short and clipped.

His head jerks up and he looks at you. He doesn't offer a smile, just a nod. Parrots your name back at you, like he's matching it to your face. "You ready to get out of here then?"

You don't respond but your shoulders drop. You stand up straight and shrug.

He helps you get your bags out of your car, places them carefully in the back of his truck's cab before opening the passenger door for you.

You can feel your heart pick up as he shuts the door, sealing you in. You're used to that though; the way panic settles like an itch beneath your skin; a dull pressure in your chest you never seem to shake anymore. Levi looks over at you for a short moment, but if he notices the tremble in your hands, he doesn't make mention of it.

Levi drives in silence. Doesn't touch the radio or try to make small talk. The air isn't heavy in that awkward way it is when someone just doesn't know what to say. No, this feels more like his natural state. It's nice in a way, being around someone who doesn't talk just to hear the sound of their own voice for once.

It's another twenty minutes of nothing but the steady thrum of the engine between the two of you. You watch out the window as corn fields give to wide pastures. The smell of manure hits you hard as it filters in through the windows. Yeah, you're definitely not in the city anymore.

Levi seems to notice the scrunch of your nose, letting out a sound that could be a laugh, you're just not sure. "You get used to the smell."

"God, I hope not." You mutter back, earning another one of those sharp almost-laughs.

Soon, though, buildings start cropping up around you. Short houses, wooden with faded paint and yellowing lawns seem to pop up out of nowhere. The road narrows off as you pass a slightly crooked sign at the towns entrance, weathered and peeling. It almost looks like some letters have fallen off but you can just barely make out the town name.

Welcome to Paradis

The first thing that greets you past the town line is a small but severe looking church building. One of those old ones, with stained glass windows and walls made out of stone. Small towns always seem to have a church standing dentinal like this, a label in big bold letters about just what sort of place it is. A welcoming to some that says this is a good place. A place of morals, of piety. But to others? It's a barbed wire fence.

It makes your chest tighten, unsure just which category you fall into.

Levi takes a turn down a street lined with little shops. The buildings look old, but not in disrepair. Quaint little lights are strung between lamp posts, bathing the street in a soft warm glow, even at this hour. It's got that shabby, forgotten by time look that small towns always seem to have. Charming, in it's own right.

A whole different world from the city you came from.

You break the silence after a few moments. "You live here?"

He nods, eyes still on the road. "Yeah."

"Is it nice?"

You're not exactly sure why you ask. Curiosity, maybe. You've never spent any real time in a place like this and you can't help but find it interesting. That a place like this can exist in conjunction with the chaos of asphalt and skyscrapers and too loud voices that you came from.

He considers your question a moment, letting out a long breath before speaking. "Nice enough. Quiet. Good people."

He pauses like he's chewing on the words, making sure they fit. "It's a small town. Has small town problems."

"Like what?"

You can't imagine they're anything like the problems you're used to. This place seems too quaint, almost idyllic.

He shrugs. "People are nice enough, but they love to talk. Narrow minded too, some of them."

You know the type. "You said the people here were good."

"Most of them are."

It doesn't seem so bad to you. People talk everywhere. You've never been anywhere where gossip wasn't on people's tongues or judgment in their hearts. Must be human nature, something as deep as fear or hunger. Though, you can see how the scale of the place makes it worse. When the gossip got to bad at any place you worked, you simply found somewhere else to be. It usually doesn't follow far in the big city. Here though, things must be different.

You're quiet again until he finally stops the car, parking on the street in front of an old-looking two story building. The lights are on still in the front windows and a garland of those same string lights from the main street hang above a wooden porch. It's cute.

He cuts the engine and hops out, quickly making his way around the cab to open your door for you.

"The Jaeger's run a pretty decent bed and breakfast. Carla will take good care of you." He says, holding out a hand to help you out of the truck.

You swallow hard and climb out on your own. Rude, maybe. But something in you recoils slightly at the though of accepting a hand from anyone right now.

He huffs, but drops his arm, giving you space to step away from the car. He doesn't seem offended by the snub; just assessing once again. He does go for your bags though, carrying both up the front porch steps.

"Jesus, you pack your whole life in here?" He mutters as he tests the weight of them.

"Pretty much."

He pauses at that, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, like he's storing some bit of information away for later. It's a little unsettling. You hadn't meant to give anything away, but something about that look on his face makes you feel almost…exposed.

The interior is cozy. A few floral patterned chairs dot the edges of the room, wicker end tables with vases perched on top. It's like something out of a travel catalogue, boasting small-town charm and a quiet stay.

A girl with dark hair lounges at the front desk, glancing up from her book as you step inside. A look of surprise crosses her face, sharp brows knitting together like she's surprised to see anyone at this hour.

Levi greets her by her name. They seem to know each other well enough, chatting a moment (as much as Levi seems capable of chatting). Quick pleasantries really, the kind of thing that seems to bore him more than anything.

Levi jerks his chin at you. "She needs a room. Figured you'd have plenty this time of year."

She turns her attention on you, offering a small but not unkind smile. You notice then that her eyes match Levi's — that same shade of pale moonlight silver. You wonder if there's any relation there.

The girl, Mikasa, checks you in without asking too many questions. She, apparently, isn't the chatty type either, but there's a warmth to her smile. You hand over your card details and she types them into a obscenely old computer diligently before handing you a plain metal key.

The key feels heavy in your hand, like it's burdened with much more than the action of simply opening a door. The little plastic flower attached to the key chain a faded sort of yellow that promises a safety you're unsure you've earned quite yet.

"Upstairs, first door on your left." Mikasa says, already standing from her seat, presumably to show you up.

"I'll take her." Levi cuts in and Mikasa nods gratefully, returning to her book.

Levi carries your bags up for you, dropping them in front of the door.

"Thanks."

He shrugs. "You only made it a massive pain in the ass."

Once again, you don't hear any real heat in his voice. Just an exasperated sort of amusement.

Before he leaves, he scribbles down a couple of phone numbers and slides them into you hand. "This is for the tow truck. Says he opens up at 8, but don't bother calling before 10. He won't pick up the phone."

You nod, taking the scrap of paper gratefully.

"This one is mine." He continues, pointing to the second set of numbers. Your brows pinch together, confused at why you'd need that. "Have that hunk of junk towed to my shop tomorrow. I'll see what I can do to fix it up."

So he must be a mechanic then. Explains why he wanted to look at your car earlier. "You think you can?"

"No fucking clue. That thing is a nightmare." He mutters, shaking his head. "But I'm your best shot in this town."

You try not to think about how much that is going to cost you. You have some money saved up, but pricey car repairs are certainly going to put a dent in it. "Okay. Thanks."

He nods, stepping back. "Hopefully get you back on your way soon enough."

You try not to get hung up on that part either: On your way.

On your way where? You still don't have the answer to that question. When you'd left, you hadn't had the chance to slow down enough to think about it. Adrenaline had carried you this far but now it seems you have some time to contemplate that massive question mark.

And as you sink into an unfamiliar set of sheets, in an unfamiliar place, you realize just how much it scares the absolute shit out of you.

Because you may have made it…somewhere. But as you close you're eyes, you're back on that empty stretch of road.

Still dark.