ABSTRACT LINES

bets

EREN POV:

"Yesterday at the club I had an issue with her friend and she punched me in the face!" Historia said with a furrowed brow as she sat on the couch.

"Damn...anyway, why are you here?" I asked as I tried to change the subject to hold in my laugh.

"Who is that woman?" She asked.

"Why are you here?" I questioned again as I stood in front of her in the living room.

Her foot tapped against the hardwood floor as she remained silent and just stared at me with a scoff every now and then.

"If you're not going to use your words then leave. I have a meeting to attend to," I insisted.

"I know your dad is out of jail," she blurted with an odd tone.

"Get out, now."

"Just hear me out! You really need to talk to someone about these things I know you still have-"

"Leave Historia. You've overstayed your uninvited welcome," I snapped.

"Ugh! You're so god damns stubborn you're an exact copy of your dad! You and that damn answer you're looking for needs to be put to rest," she groaned as she walked out through the front door.

Y/N POV:

You distracted your annoyance with starting a painting for you to show at the exhibition. You painted for hours upon hours, you were the most annoyed with him than you'd ever been before and you hated it.

You'd finished the painting around 11 pm and got up to get a drink from your cabinet. You were upset with yourself as well for allowing such a nuisance of a person to have this effect on you. You used your curiosity as an excuse for wanting to know who Historia was but even you knew that was a lie.

You pulled a glass out from your cabinet and poured some alcohol Hitch had given you a while ago into the glass. You sat at the bar stools over your counter and drank while you rubbed your head in stress. All he'd ever done was tell you home much he hated your artwork so why was there a feeling of despair knowing you would avoid seeing him.

It was raining again outside, the trickling of rain against your window only made it harder to hear yourself think. You ran your finger over the crystal rim of your glass as you tried to concentrate and decipher things in your mind.

He'd done nothing but criticize you except when he gave you his jacket while he walked in the cold with his arms exposed, or when he took you to an art gallery that you've wanted to go to for years, so why was it him? Why is he the one out of all people to do things like that for you? It didn't make any sense at the liquor wasn't helping, you sipped the rest out and put it in the sink.

Dragging yourself to bed as you plopped down on your side and fell asleep to the sound of rain from the window behind your bed frame. What an annoyance this entire situation was, you refused to befriend people who were liars or couldn't tell you the truth.

Being honest was a dealbreaker for you and for a sliver of a moment when he took you to the art museum you saw yourself being friends with him, sharing a memory together as one.

Your alarm woke you up loudly in your ear and you got up to turn it off, you got in the shower and pulled some casual business attire on since you were really in the mood today. You grabbed your keys off the counter and walked into your art room to grab the canvas that was wrapped in a cloth. You walked into your car and placed it in the backseat yet again while you made the effort to drive yourself to work.

You parked and as you walked up the steps with your painting you saw Mikasa leaning over the front desk computer.

"Morning Mikasa. Something wrong?" You asked.