Breathless •Eremika (Love. Me. Now. Or. Never.)

XV: The Black Dress

Eren never excelled in the field of gift-wrapping. In fact, every gift he had ever wrapped was so unpresentable that his parents would have to rewrap it again before giving it to friends or relatives. "Looks like a dog just gnawed at it," his mother would comment. Then after rewrapping it, the wrapper would be entirely scrunched and torn up, thus often receiving queer looks of disapproval and doubt from friends and relatives.

This time, he gave it his best attempt. There were frayed ribbons and bits-and-pieces of fancy-coloured wrapping paper strewn on his desk, along with a plastic container with glue spewing from the mouth. The present was placed in the centre, the protruding 'tongues' of the wrapper sticky-taped together unfastidiously.

"Mikasa," he whispered absentmindedly, tucking the gift into his backpack, "I wish you were mine."

Without bidding his parents a farewell, he slinked to his car, ducking into the driver's seat and hurling his bag to the backseat. With one hand, he ignited the engine and with the other, he slipped his phone out from his jacket's pocket.

There was a peculiar kind of warmth blossoming in his chest, right where the heart was, as he typed in a message to Mikasa.

Eren: Mikasa, do you have any raisins?

Her reply came shortly.

Mikasa: Why do you need them? Anyway, I'll check in the cupboards.

Eren's fingers hovered over the screen, feeling his ribcage constrict in anxiety.

Mikasa: No, I don't. Sorry, Eren.

Eren: Well, how about a date?

It was the riskiest text he had ever sent in his entire life. He could feel a smile begin to spread on his face as Mikasa thumbed in a response.

Mikasa: You're coming to pick me up now, right, to take me to that 'special place'? I'll be waiting for you.

Eren could feel the kindling flame in him die. She had purposefully evaded his question. He chucked his cell aside in disappointment, his mind shrouded by negativity. Were his actions to earn her love appreciated?

Within half an hour, he slammed on the brakes, pulling up in the bricked driveway of Mikasa's residence. Her house was cottage-like, with a rather dimly-lit interior. She was indeed, attired in casual wear, wearing a neutral expression with the straps of a duffel bag draped over her right shoulder.

He unlocked the door, motioning for her to enter. He caught a pleasing whiff of lavender as she settled in and reached behind her shoulder for the safety belt. She was riding beside him in his car and it was perfect for what Eren had planned in mind.

"You look great in your shirt," she complimented, eyeing his outfit.

"I look better without it," he blurted out without allowing his mind to process what he was saying.

Mikasa lifted a dismissive shoulder, "I'm sure you do. Did you buy a book titled 'Pick-up Lines'? Because if you did, I bet the author's still single right now."

"No I made them up on the spot," Eren could feel his cheeks burn, his grasp on the steering wheel tightening. "Ready, Mikasa?"

"Let's go," she folded her hands in her laps to indicate that she was all set. Receiving her silent approval, he stepped on the gas, causing the car to splutter for a bit first before eventually swerving onto the bustling highway.

~

"I'm breathless, Eren," Mikasa muttered, her lips parted in amazement. They were at the peak of a remote mountain, overlooking the bright night-city illuminating before them. Usually, she would simply be one of the ubiquitous spots of light minding its own business amongst all others, but now, she was able to see just how vast her hometown was. The view was broadening her line of sight and it made her think that perhaps, her problems were not that major at all.