the hilt | eren jaeger

t h i r t y s e v e n

His eyes glanced around, taking in the space, "A lot of people think that about me, y'know." He  walked over to the dresser with all the picture frames, dragging a finger along the wood.

She smirked, closing the door behind him, "What, that you're absent?"

He turned to her, shaking his head a bit, "No, that I'm just full of fun surprises."

"You don't seem like a fun surprises kinda guy." She leaned against the closed door, "You seem more like a 'beg for forgiveness rather than ask permission' kinda guy." He put his hands up in defense and widened his eyes.

"Guess you'll just have to stick around long enough to find that truth out for yourself." When he wasn't looking at her, his eyes were glued to the various picture frames. 

She moved over to the kitchen's counter, "Are you not going back?" Her hands were fidgeting with something on the counter. 

He turned to look at her, "Back where?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, "You're clearly not from here." She paused, moving to the side so that he could see what she had been working on at the counter, "You want a cup of coffee? It'll be shit and taste like shit but at least it'll be something."

"Sure," he smiled, lips pressed together, "I'd love some shit coffee." He moved to be next to the small table.

She grabbed a mug out of one of the cupboards, rinsing it in the sink. She grabbed a towel and dried off the outside of the cup, "But as I was saying," she grabbed the coffee pot, pouring it, "You've got a home somewhere else, don't you Eren." 

She extended the mug out towards him, tiny little cuts littering her knuckles and fingers. Her hand was covering the top to hold it, rather than using the handle. It reminded him of someone she used to know. A short, menacing captain held all his cups that way.

He grabbed it from her, taking a cautious sip, "Homes get left sometimes, Jo." The coffee didn't burn him the way he thought it would.

Tension was blistering in the air between them. One of the lit candles started to flicker and crack, pieces of the wick popping off against the rim.

She took a sip from her own mug, "Well we can't always get what we want," she sighed, "Ever consider that a home isn't what it seems?" Her free hand gestured around the apartment.

He moved back to the dresser, picking up one of the picture frames. His eyes flickered when he saw the contents; a mother, a father, a daughter and a son. He turned it towards her, "And this isn't home to you?"

She chuckled a bit, "It's nothing to me, unfortunately." She set down the coffee cup, her pointer finger tracing around the rim.

He set the picture frame back down, "And why's that?" His eyebrows furrowed.

She smiled at him a bit, a sad glint in her eyes, then walked to one of the couches, "A little accident." She grabbed a jacket off of it, and held up the sleeve to show the distinct yellow armband. The mark of being a Warrior Candidate. "Got majorly concussed in training about six months ago. Nothing previous to that is anywhere up here." She tapped on her head and set the coat back down.

He nodded so slowly that she almost couldn't tell his head was moving. His eyes were empty as they bore straight into the insignia of the armband. His fingers trembled. "So there's... Nothing of your past." His ears were on fire, and he concealed the fact that he was nearing tears.

She laughed a bit, brushing it off, "Not an ounce."

He looked towards her, only his left eye visible, "Do you think it's for the better?" His fist curled up into a ball.