aot_hd : twt
eren had many first times–his first time smiling, his first time crying, his first time speaking a word, sentence, phrase. his first time having a meal. his first time on a date, his first time dating a girl. his first time having sex. his first time falling in love.
he had many firsts just as much as he had many lasts.
he enjoyed every single one of those, although he didn't recall a quarter of them. but that didn't mean he was not proud of them all. eren knew deep down that his infant self, toddler self, and boy self cherished those moments dearly. they're what molded him to be the man he became.
his first time loving someone other than his mother or his friends is one thing he'd never forget, which how could that be possible since he can't remember or forget now? with no senses or nerves to help him function, how can he cease to forget?
eren loved hard.
he loved so hard his chest ached and ribs rattled and crumbled right under his skin. he loved so hard he felt out of breath, he felt light headed and dizzy and he could barely keep his hands from seizing and–i'm lovesick.
i'm so fuckin' lovesick, mom. he'd laugh under his breath and shake his head like a damn fool when you came to mind.
eren loved you as hard as he could, it hurt him in the process.
mentally hurt him. why couldn't he love himself as much as he loved you?
for the life of him, he could not pinpoint exactly why he couldn't do so. is it because i'm sick? is it because i'm not worthy of that? is it because there's a mis-wiring in my brain that stops from doing so?
it was probably all of the above. eren had no idea which reason seemed most valid, so, he chose them all.
six months before
the bell rings, it's loud. it startles each student and armin's body practically takes a screenshot of itself.
"how embarrassing was that? jesus christ." he nervously snickers. his hands are delicate when he closes his notebook and the current book the english class is reading. armin has sweet fingers, they're long with neatly groomed fingernails. a silver band envelopes his pinky.
"yeah, that's pretty loud." you contain your giggles and collect your belongings as well.
"so, what's your next class?" he waits for you at the end of the aisle.
you smooth out a wrinkle in your airy cardigan over your shoulder, "i'm not sure, let me take a look at my schedule."
multitasking wasn't a forte of yours, juggling your school materials and attempting to unfold your schedule with your free hand was a hardy task–you drop the piece of paper and armin ends up undoing the tri-fold.
"social sciences," he says, "hmm."
"you're thinking."
"yes."
"what are you thinking?" you hold your hand out, palm facing the ceiling and wait for the rustled paper to fall into it.
"i know who has that class, he could walk you there."
"i can walk myself, i didn't get lost finding mr. jaeger's." finally, armin drops the paper into your hand.
he smiles, he's welcoming in every way imaginable. "come with me." also very determined.
"where to?" you follow behind closely, glancing over your shoulder to the blonde girl, christa. she's neatly collecting all of her materials, careful not to drop any belonging.
her eyelids flutter and she bats her lashes when her eyes meet yours. there it is again, the distant greeting.
"we don't want any possible cringe-worthy stories to tell–i hate being late to a class and then everyone in the vicinity just stares at you, then all you can do is stand at the entrance and smile and look like an idiot–" armin speaks in connected words, he almost loses his breath, he distracts you from christa.
"god, it sounds like you're speaking from experience."
"haha, no. what makes you say that?" he holds the door open for you, now him being the one following behind.
"not sure, maybe the detailed way you put it." you shrug, watching as he stops to look at both ends of the hallway.
"it's this way," he points with a strict finger towards the right. "so, you have any friends who go here?"
"not really–"
"not really or no?"
"no."
he nods, "that's why i'm here, i'm armin and i like the ocean and my best friend is eren and my favorite color is a very subtle blue. i also love blueberry pie."
his attempt at making you as comfortable as he could; telling you about his deepest preferences and sort of privacies. armin was confident with himself, he lacked any sort of insecurities.
"i'm y/n and i just moved here and i don't know anyone here except this blonde boy named armin and i also like pie, any kind actually. i love to read." was that the best you could do? probably.
"read. reading is cool, it's sort of an escape for you quiet people, right?" armin raises an eyebrow, strutting beside you.
"i mean i guess, it sounds sort of lame when you put it like that." you laugh quietly, looking at him and how tendrils of his bangs sway with every step he takes.
"so, this blonde boy named armin. what do you think of him?" he slyly smiles, darting his sight towards you.
"i'm not sure yet, ask me later?" you roll your eyes, voice laced with a sliver of playfulness.
his only option is to nod his head and smile to himself.
you reach the end of the hall and the both of you push the silver of the double doors and escape into the courtyard. the birds are chirping and the atmosphere smells of freshly groomed grass. the sun is bright and it kisses the exposed skin of your legs, it's warm.
a sky scraping tree is planted in the midst of it all, it's lone and it creates a shade for majority of the circular way. students sit under it using their cardigans or notebooks or bags as a seat. or they sit at the nearby wooden benches and lookup and the creeping branches that grow leaves the size of palms.
"now i'm lost, damn it." armin stops, kicking an imaginary rock which causes you to giggle to yourself.
"are you laughing at me?"
"yes, i'm sorry. it's just–"
"aha! let's go, this way." he's dragging you along with a hand wrapped around your forearm, you stumble with the thick soles of your shoes, knees knocking into each other.
"wait–wait, where?" you squeal, widening your eyes as you assume you're about to fall and face plant right under him.
that would be a cringe-worthy moment.
"to our savior!"
eren was only a savior to those around him. everyone he crossed paths with, he became their savior. he doesn't know it, but he saved armin's life just when he thought of giving up. a grandfather's death was hard, especially when you were so close that your heartbeats are almost one. armin probably would've dug himself a grave right beside papa arlert.
eren didn't allow that.
can he be his own savior? or will it have to be someone else?
"eren!" he calls out, jogging with you still in his hold.
the leather material of your shoes rubbing at the back of your heels, causing an uncomfortable friction that'd blister up and welt in a few minutes.
eren smiles, turning his head to look directly at the both of you. he leans against a brick wall that's across the previous exit you took.
his hair is done neater than it was in english class. he seems okay like armin said he was.
now he waves one hand, not losing his smile for a second.
another thing about eren was that he was a hell of an actor. he can act out his favorite scene from any movie he favors. from the body language to facial expressions to voice impersonations–he was talented in that manner.
he puts those acting skills into real life, he's okay if he thinks he is. he's okay if he acts like he is. he's okay if he smiles and laughs and waves and acts.
i'm okay.
and maybe that's why carla doesn't question him as much as she used to. part of him wanted people to ask him what was wrong despite the tender curve on his lips. can't you tell it's fake–that it's all fake?
armin knew. he knew very well the charades of his best friend–like any best friend would.
you both are out of breath when you reach eren. your hair a mess; flyaways and bangs untucked from over your ears. a light sweat at the surface of your forehead that you swipe at with the sleeve of your navy cardigan.
"so–social sciences," armin huffs out, leaning to hold his palm over his knee.
"yeah?" eren questions in a confused tone.
"she's with you, don't want her to get–to get lost–damn it."
eren grows concerned, a hand to armin's back and he pats lightly. "woah, you okay? you have your inhaler?"
"yeah, no. i don't need it, i'm fine." armin nods, coughing softly into a fist when he straightens his back out.
"is he asthmatic?"
"mildly." eren replies to you.
"eren, i'm fine. just take her with you or i'm gonna be late myself."
"hey, walk back. if you're late, screw it." greens eyes search for the little boy in armin–he's there.
"screw it." armin scrunches his nose.
"now, you." eren turns to face you, "let's get going."
you nod. his interaction with armin was very heart felt. he's caring and seems to be a caregiver from your perspective.
-o-
the day eren found out that armin had asthma, he cried. he thought it was this untreatable disease that ate at peoples lungs until there was a cavity of darkness. eren held armin tightly in his arms and prayed to whoever he believed in to cure his best friend and rid him of such unfortune.
"mom, armin is dying!" he weeped, he was ten, a year before everything shifted in his mental health.
carla sighed, she rolled her eyes and knelt down eye level to her distraught son. "baby, he's not dying–"
"i read online that eleven people die every day from asthma–"
she held a hand to her forehead, "stop using your school tablet to search these things up."
"you're worried about that now when armin is dying?!"
"the percentage is so low, please, armin will be okay."
he didn't care about his nose running or vision blurring or how silly he looked sobbing uncontrollably over his dearest friend–brother. he cared about numbers, it didn't matter if it was two or three or even one. it could've been armin any day.
"they gave him this contraption he needs to breathe out of–it's scary!"
"baby, that's an inhaler."
"it's so scary!"
-o-
five minutes late. the hall is empty and silent, but sounds of voices are muffled by white brick walls that make up classrooms. side by side you walk with him, inches apart that seem more like yards.
surely, eren is wondering if you thought it was weird how he walked out mid conversation or if you thought he was weird. that's probably the last thing he wanted you to think, that he was a weirdo who couldn't keep a simple conversation going.
"you're awfully quiet, aren't you?" he says, puckering his lips.
you hum, "not really, there just isn't something to talk about."
"there's a million things to talk about," he stops in his tracks and it catches you off guard. "space, the future, the melting polar ice caps, pollution, the world ending, novels and movies, work and maybe even the sad excuse of prison sentences given to the very evident sick fuckers that commit crimes."
"i'd rather not talk about any of those as i could go on for hours." you continue walking, slowing your pace so that you wouldn't have to raise your voice and cause a disruption.
he nods, smiling behind you. "have you read of mice and men?"
"yeah, it's a good read."
"so lennie, would you have done what george did to him?" eren begins to walk again, steadily and looking down to his feet so he doesn't step on the cracks (he's a heavy believer on the saying, step on a crack and you break your mother's back.)
you shake your head, holding your school materials tighter to your chest. "i don't think i'd have the guts to do what he did, especially to someone who i love so much."
"he was going to die anyway, wouldn't you want to be the one to do it?"
"no."
"so you'd rather have someone else do it?"
"no."
"then what would you have done differently?"
you sigh, turning around to face him and walk backwards cautiously. "i would've ran away with him, very far away."
"yeah, until there's now a manhunt for the both of you–"
"and i'd die happily with my best friend beside me." you shrug as he stops in front of a door.
"very interesting answers, you are a smart girl." his hand turns on the knob and holds the door open, "after you."
you recall what armin said earlier, about how embarrassing it is to walk into a full class minutes late. "no way, you go first." you point at him.
"ah, armin told you his silly little cringe-worthy-walking-into-class-late thing. okay." eren walks in making sure to hold the door behind him.
"oh, eren! welcome to class, you're only like ten minutes late. have a seat–who do we have here?" the blonde teacher asks.
"i'm–"
"this is y/n, and she'll be joining us for the rest of the year." eren answers for you, he must've felt how nerve racked you were.
"y/n, welcome to my social science class. i'm mr. smith." he holds a polite hand out and awaits yours.
"hi, mr. smith." you shake his hand softly.
"please, take a seat anywhere."
eren whispers to you, "he doesn't believe in seating arrangements, mr. erwin thinks it causes behavioral changes."
you don't understand at all, "huh?"
"here, come." he motions you with his hand and you follow behind.
eren approaches some lone seats, one behind the other. he sits in the hind one, letting you sit in front of him. it's something about being in the back that–
"what did you mean about the behavior thing?" you mumble, setting your things down on the wooden surface of the desk.
"he thinks it causes changes in students, he often compares it to prisoners in a cell." he's still whispering. "or animals being kept in a cage."
"psst–hey–"
"hm?" he turns his face to the right, "oh, hey."
"not you, eren. her." she mumbles quietly.
"yeah?" you inquire.
"i like your earrings and necklace."
you hook a finger at the pearl necklace you wore, "thank you, my mom gifted me them a while again."
"they're so cute!"
"shhhhhh!"
"dang, i'm sorry okay." she swats her hand at the students who dared to silence her.
"i'm sasha, where are you from?"
"it's very nice to meet you," you hold your skirt behind your thighs to stop it from wrinkling when you finally take a seat. "i'm from paradis, from here, but not really from here?"
"from here, but not really from here." eren repeats behind you, "that's a cool way to put it."
"ohh, you're still figuring out where you're from. just say what i say when people ask–now ask me." she points at herself then at you, she chews fruity gum in between her bright teeth.
"okay." you nod, "so, where are you from?"
she does a damn good country accent, she's mastered it and it catches eren off guard. he widens his eyes and nearly laughs ear deafeningly.
"i'm from the valley, my father raised me and mama was absent most of the time. i ran away when i was twelve with a bag of clothes and a pocket full of change." she smiles, teeth on full display and she's proud at what she's taught herself to do. "none of that is true, i'm not from the valley–i don't even know where that's at, in fact, i don't care to know and my parents are happily married and i, clearly, did not run away."
"that was definitely something–"
"try it sometime–"
"okay, class." mr. smith interrupts, "the study of human behavior," with a click of a button he turns on the projector and focused it on the white board. "what are the four types of human behaviors, the four basic personality types?"
he walks towards the windows and draws the blinds for a clearer view at the bright projection.
"optimistic, pessimistic, trusting and–damn it, what's the other?" sasha bangs a fist on the desk, innocently frustrated.
"envious." eren reminds her.
"correct, i see you guys have been paying attention to my lessons." he's moving towards his laptop to hit the next slide of the powerpoint he's gotten prepared. "what is optimism?" another click and be reads the definition, "hopefulness and confidence about a future. what are you most optimistic about?"
sasha raises hand and waits to be called on. a handful of other students do so as well.
"sash?"
"to have a healthy marriage one day like my parents." she nods like her answer was correct–not that it wasn't, she was proud.
"that's a good one, all the way in the back." he points.
"getting into my dream uni."
"good, good. eren?"
eren doesn't respond, he only shrugs behind you and sighs. his answer was to be very concerning, so concerning it'd land him a trip to the S.A.F.E. office for some very serious intervention. they'd call his mom and check him into an institute and then he'll have to really take the medicine he's supposed to and he'll have to see that stupid therapist again and–
"i want to buy my mom a house." he says, which is the truth, but nowhere near to what he truly wanted to say.
i'm hopeful that i'll get to see my dad soon.
dead. he wants to be dead. to be with his dad means to die and he's well aware of that and maybe that'll stop this constant nightmare he keeps on living in a loop.
it's so repetitive, it's so exhausting, it's so annoying.
i want to see dad.
"you're confident that you'll purchase your mother a home she deserves, correct?"
"yes sir." eren nods, he brushes his stupid thoughts away and forces a smile to his lips.
"this class is probably the best one yet, you guys have good answers........" mr. smith rambles on.
"what are you most optimistic about?" eren taps your shoulder with a single finger.
without turning around to face him, you smile. "one day i hope to be an author."
"that's very interesting."
"you think so?"
"oh, for sure. tell me, what do you like to write about?" eren raises an eyebrow, testing you.
"very cliché of me to say, but hopeless romantics. finding the light you longed for in another human, as shitty and toxic as it sounds–"
"nah, i think that's very nice." he's now smiling.
"you like romance?" your eyebrow quirks upwards.
"yeah, is that hard to believe?"
"well, i never met a guy who likes to read, let alone romance novels."
he sighs, "don't underestimate me, anyway, i would read your book in the future. just don't kill off anyone important, my heart can't take it." he holds a hand over his heart, playfully groaning in pain.
you roll your eyes, "i won't, my heart can't take it either. i cry for days and i can't explain to myself why i grow so emotionally attached to fictional characters."
"well," he rasps out, "they're far better than real people."
"you have a point there and that's why i like to write–that's why i like to create."
of mice and men. the book that destroyed eren when he first read it and continues to destroy him. once he finishes it, he picks it back up the next morning and starts from the very beginning. it was something about crying and having a sense of feel that somehow felt good, it felt different to cry over something that didn't involve his life or the screwed up wiring in his head.
and when the movie came out, he cried himself into a shallow ocean of salt tears. seeing the death of a comfort character played out by an outstanding actor was traumatic for his own two eyes. he read it, sure, but to witness it at what you call firsthand was far different–it hurt more if that were evidently possible.
"there's a city library a few minutes from here, you should visit it sometime." eren suggests, he taps the pads of his fingers over the surface of his desk. "i go there all the time to hang out and...read clearly." he trails on for the ending of his statement.
eren often hides out at the library to escape in the books he currently reads. he sits alone at a lone table with words carved into the wood and sharpie tags permanently written on. he sits there and reads for hours and gets lost in the endless waves of emotions he swims through.
"i'll have to check it out sometime." you nod, leaning into the palm of your hand.
"i can take you there–if you want, just tell me when it's an okay time." eren corrects himself, he despises men who take the role of a necessity rather than an accessory.
you giggle at the audibly fear in his voice, "sure, only if you give me good book recommendations. i feel like i've already read every book known to mankind. i need something new."
eren has to think for a few seconds, he hums and thinks and hums again then looks around the room.
"i like romances and dramas and some horrors, if that makes it easier for you." you interrupt his thinking.
"alone with you in the ether..."
"what?" you straighten out to look over your shoulder.
he's leaned back against the chair with his hands in his lap and strings of chocolate locks framing his face, "it's a book, romance and eye opening. have you read it?"
"i don't recall, no."
"welp, there's a recommendation. a very good one." he smiles timidly and he needs to look away over to sasha who has been all ears to your boring conversation about books.
"eren, do you ever talk about things that aren't books?" she pitches in.
"sometimes, depends."
"depends?" you ask.
"yeah, it depends if it's worth talking about rather than books."
"you're so boring, what do books do for you that going out and having fun and watching netflix on a couch and partying and–" she whispers the next part, "having hookups–" she pauses, "don't?"
eren evidently blushes and is all flustered over the last part, he crosses his arms and clears his throat and–
"it's the not knowing what's about to come, that's so exciting about books." you answer even though it wasn't a question directed at you.
"yeah, sash." he slyly smirks at her, "what good ever comes from partying and hooking up and wasting time on a couch?"
"speak for yourself, nerds." sasha turns away in her seat and quietly laughs to herself.
"she doesn't like school." eren jokes around, still looking at her back although she ignores his presence.
"i do."
"she hates to learn."
"i don't."
"and most importantly, she–"
"don't you dare say it, jaeger." sasha warns.
"–fucking hates food." eren smirks.
"i do not! i hate you! don't listen to him–"
"sash, is everything alright?" mr. smith looks over at her from his desk.
"sorry, i'm fine."
the class stops their chatter and draw their eyes towards sasha who's in distress over the lie eren spoke because how dare he say that about her?
"that's sasha for you." eren mumbles behind you, turning his head to face you. he eyes the smile on your lips and the balls of your cheeks and how they rise from how hard you simper. a serious look on his face as he concentrates to try and read who you are as a person and what compels you.
a smile is never as genuine as it seems, take his for example.