Respectfully, an Absolute Mess

Sherlock, the Sous-chef

November 13, 2021

"Well -" he yawned on the other line. "You should learn to lock the front door." Another yawn. You had seemingly woken him up with your call.

"Eren I don't think you're understanding the situation." You were still sitting in your closet on a pile of clothes that you threw on the ground when you searched for the bag. You gave up after 10 minutes of searching , cried for another 10 after than, and then called up Eren. He was one of the two that knew you had it.

Well, one of the three if you wanted to include Floch, but no. We never want to include him.

"I think I am." His voice was low, tired. He was probably hungover and here you were calling him in a frantic rage. You were lucky he was such a good friend, as if not he probably would have ignored the call.

"No-" You snapped into the phone, growing frustrated with yourself as well as getting increasingly mad at him for not showing you any sort of compassion. The backpack had so much illegal shit in it - it being gone was detrimental. "-You're not."

"The bags gone. What can you do?"

"I dunno, you tell me." You sank further down into the pile. All your clothes, all of the different fabrics; the cotton, the jean, the whatever the hell material that the shirt you thrifted, were all touching you. And you were overwhelmed by every single one of them. 

You were going to cry again.

"What did you do?" He was softer this time, Eren hearing the sniffle before the sob on his line.

You didn't respond to his question though, not wanting to let him know you had only looked in your bedroom so far. It was one of those situations where you knew what to do next, but your body couldn't quite move you to do them. You knew you should have searched the house before calling Eren, but how good is a search when your anxiety levels are through the roof? Eren was always good at calming you down. 

You heard a quiet, "no Armin, I don't want to go to the grocery store with you again." Followed by a gentle sigh, and then one of Eren's more humble laughs. "Ok, mom."

If you weren't so upset, you probably would have laughed. However the joking on the other line and the fact that Eren was not matching your panic made you tear up again.

You sniffled loudly.

"Shit." Eren heard it again, "Try and look somewhere other than your room." He offered. 

"I just don't get where it could have gone!" You exclaimed, and shot up from the clothes, the fabrics no longer touching your skin. "Like, who the fuck knew I even had it." Silent tears fell down your face, your cheeks wet with the salty drops of frustration. You exited the closet, and started to pace around the room. Aimlessly circling your bed.

"Go to everyone else's rooms and look, maybe you got drunk and moved it." Eren offered another suggestion, one that wouldn't pin the disappearance as a crime.

"I didn't drink last night."

Eren sighed, again. "I need you to leave your room and search elsewhere. I can hear you pacing." You stopped in your tracks, embarrassed. "I promise you will feel better after."

"I wish it could find it's way back to me." You used your sleeve to wipe away the drying tears on your face, then sat down on your bed.

"It's a backpack." Eren gave an airy laugh. "Not a fucking boomerang." He cackled at his own poor joke. Enjoying his sense of humor more than you, the one on the receiving end of it.