5.2 k words: time skip, assurance, cuddling, angst, interruption, crying, memory lane, slight intimate touching, fear, paranoia + potential more. ignore errors; vote!
Nimbleness flaunts its assets, captivating the light-weighted wind. Mindlessly, you occupy the mellowness of the assisting glass — floundering your weight upon such a light part of nature.
Your puffy eyes lay drawn to the conflicting environment, unsure of which one you are fated to ravish — to cast your eyes upon to seal the destiny of your own.
The feeling of the tender grass, merging with the pitiful grass, sewed in a short-lasting sensation of overwhelming peace within you. It drew out and quartered the emotions you aroused from Eren.
A tint of your past, displayed so easily in front of your features, leant you towards the path of seeking an aspiration that tinted with your line of thought. It distracted every, tainted thought you unwillingly nurtured.
To fuel the anxiety that caved the sanity you so desperately grasp, you permit your vision to stalk the lone sight of the distant trees that linger afar. Trees that fail to pose a threat as you observe the life that dulled against its frame, struggling to make a beautiful purpose occur.
It is as if the tree holds a similar connotation to you, simply mirroring the failed characteristics of you that so swiftly came to light.
They are characteristics that you heavily frown upon, twisting and manipulating each strand to coddle the environment of the prison you formulated.
You are a prisoner to the art of your treasured thoughts; thoughts that hold a usual tint of sullenness.
As you relish the sight of the trees, the eradicating sunset, and the hailing edges of the grass, you feel an impossible presence beside you.
At a time like this, many lack the courage to present the essence of wokeness. So, feeling a familiar presence dwindle with the solace, one you so desperately sought, messily altered the resolve that lingered within your eyes.
After the scattered events you had indulged in, you are sure it is the troubled presence of Eren — a presence you are aware is far from indispensable.
He is solely a character that inhabits traits that are rather likely to draw close to the collected cards many have honed, hesitantly expressing a prideful amount of solitude.
"Mind if I join you?" The soft tone, one that plucks at your stings of sanity, activates a softness within your mind, despite the trust you hold waltzing elsewhere from his callous fingertips.
"Go ahead, Eren," Guiltily, an unwritten amount of savoured remorse plagues the sanity of your corroded mind — your words of undying horror etched your mind with unfulfillment.
The words you had paired up with levels with the phrase that induced meaningful harm, smudging your mind with a status of untimely guilt.
"It'd be awkward going to a whole different place," He murmurs, his frame cosied beside your own — leaving you attempting to diminish the feelings that choke you.
"Yeah," You feel his eyes dance across the side of your face, painting you with dirty guilt.
There is no motivation there. There is no motivation towards you glancing at him, meeting his earthy eyes — you are exhausted.
"Dóloraè," At the word Eren releases, your eyes instantly stain his own with enthralment.
What are his words hinting at? Especially as he remains no more than a few centimetres away from you?
"You've never called me that," Your eyes stay drawn to his tender ones, "You weren't around to see that name be born, Eren." He observes as you slightly curl into yourself, refusing to glance at him further.
Why is he so conflicting?
"..." Silence engulfs his presence.
"Did I ever truly mean something to you?" A slight wince departs from his lips as you fail to notice him inching closer, a hand of his settled upon your shoulder.
A tainted whimper erupts from his thinned-out lips, causing the moral you held to crumple — dissipating.
"You mean everything to me," His strained words cause your eyes to blossom with tears. Blossom as his hand remained against your shoulder, planting a warmth he couldn't describe with words.
"..." As silence uses the both of you as frail chest pieces, you feel Eren's fingers scatter to both sides of your shoulder — leaving you to selfishly be embraced by him.
It isn't that you yearn to be within his grasp, but you miss the entirety of it all. Missed being held by someone who once held love for you.
"I didn't take you as someone silent," Eren murmurs, his tone dishevelled as he lets himself find peace in your warmth.
He couldn't help but plant his head against the top of your head, halting. He didn't want to carry on without your approval.
"..." You refrain from answering his words.
"Sure you're okay with this?" His words are a fitting blur.
At his rushed wording, you bring yourself to grasp his firm arms — wrapping them around your nimble waist.
The feeling of his arms leaves you surrendering to the complexity of his adour; not an ounce of it had been plucked at and manipulated manually.
"Don't say anything," His hand linger around your stomach as he intakes the scent of you, grasping onto your present fears.
This moment wasn't one to rekindle a romance, but to seek a sense of closure — to you. To seek closure for the night he brought himself to remain further away from you, his presence untimely and cloudy.
"'Wasn't planning to," His tone flourishes into something that expresses further vulnerability; it is evident that he brought himself to adapt to a persona.
It is a persona that clearly guards the path to the answer that you desperately sought; you are rather lost.
"Have you been with anyone since us?" Eren wonders why you are so quick to request something so personal.
He can't help but feel his heart dance against his holding ribs, knowing that you could feel it all — he knows you could.
"No, I haven't," Oddly enough, his words cause you to relax — you believe him.
He had never told a lie like this to you, so you bask in his company. This is an opportunity you comprehend that you aren't going to be granted again, so you have to relish it. Had to seize the moment and pocket it. If you didn't, you know you would be wounded with a pit of nothingness.
"Okay," A small smile overtakes your features.
Your aching hand flits towards Eren's ring, covering it with your own hand. A connection writhing through, but Eren understands you wouldn't be so keen to try again with him — so much had changed between the two of you. So much that he wasn't exposed to.
"I didn't think we'd meet like this again," His eyes pool with uncertainty, "Let alone, me holding you like this." A chuckle of disbelief leaves his lips; he is allowing the moment to sink in.
"I don't even know why we're holding each other," You place your finger above his gold ring, "But I know that Andreaus would beat me for being like this with you." A small laugh ripples from his lips; he can't help but feel as if this is a home to him.
"He would," You lower your head, feeling his nose nuzzle against your neck, intaking the smell of you, "He fought so I could forget about your dumb ass." Eren could only halt, closing his eyes as he is drawn to the presence of you — this is something he is unable to pull from.
He is desperate.
"It's hard to forget about someone like me," Eren's joke causes your smile to slip; your heart reminding you of the past you had with him.
You didn't want to remember at all, but he clung to you — effortlessly. He still comprehends what parts of you love being contained by him; Eren is aware of all your old pros and cons.
"And, you were the one who left, yet you still wear your ring," Eren sighs as you and him observe your twinkling rings, "I'm guessing you're still so into me?"
"I'm not trying to get fought by you," He halts, yet his thudding heartbeat gave him away, "I've fucked up enough to ruin your life some more." His breaths brush against your supple skin, causing you to slightly shudder, entwining your hand with his loose one.
"Yeah, and you won't tell me why," Your eyes drift to the lonely sight ahead, "You knew I would have done anything to help you, we both promised that we would." His arms wrapped firmer around you, his head burying further — it is obvious he has missed you so much.
So, why was he so keen on leaving?
"I just don't want to hurt you more than I have," His tone scarcely crumbles, "I don't want to crush you further than I have." Eren's unable to release his words with effectiveness; it seems this topic wounds him.
"Don't assume how much you've hurt me," You feel his nose so soft against your brittle skin, "It won't make a difference." Tears brim within your eyes, but they are too distracted to fall.
Eren's confusing the feelings you are attempting to process; the loss is greater than he yearns to process.
"I'm sorry—" As the soft sound of his voice assures you, you hear the swaying wind.
It is as if the wind told you that it is wrong, but you are unwilling to listen to the wind. Unwilling to listen to the melody of something that produced such a sullen fate.
"I was looking all over for you, but it seems your boyfriend has you in check," Andreaus kisses his teeth as his frame looms behind you and Eren.
A part of you knows that he isn't set to take this lightly, but he wasn't one to collide with the process that you are so daring with. You had to heal on your own, even if tragedy etched within you.
"It's not what it looks like, Andreaus," Eren murmurs, slightly shifting his head to view the sight of Andreaus.
He now remains in front of you two, irritation staining his features as he is unwilling to view you being disrespected once more — he doesn't yearn for it to occur.
"Don't even say anything," Andreaus scowls at Eren, "The fact that you still dare to be in love with her, even after fucking her over, is insane to me." Andreaus glances at the both of you with slight disdain, unable to realise how you still desperately cling to him — the two of you hadn't changed at all.
"..." Eren narrowly sits up, his hold on you still firm — implying that he isn't ready to pull from the entirety of you.
He isn't prepared to not process the beauty of your touch; the art of the feelings you paint on him.
"Y/n, are you going to give in to a man who did not give a fuck about you until now?" Andreaus scoffs, his hands twitching with disdain, "For four years, he did not fight once for you, you're better off going with Jean who did give a fuck about you."
"'Dre?" Eren's demeanour is firm at Andreaus' words.
He's unable to process the fact that Jean had chased the spark he saw in you; this altered Eren's moral; it changed a depiction he has endlessly sketched within his book of love.
"Are you really willing to give up all of your hard work for him?" Andreaus suppresses his pent-up bitterness, "He'll hold you now, but he'll be sure to leave you later." You are left cotton-mouthed, your eyes swirling with sullenness — you are unsure of what to do when put in the solitary spot.
"I'm not giving up anything," You murmur; your expression tainted Andreaus with guilt.
But how is he going to be able to get through to you?
"You're better off building the sculpture and leaving," The thunderous rage in his eyes dissipates, converting to sombreness, "I don't want to see you get hurt again. Not by someone who didn't bother to fight for you." He watches as you slowly pull from Eren, your eyes meeting his own.
"I'm sorry, Eren," His eyes are still as you bring yourself to graciously get up, your eyes infected with tears.
Andreaus could only gently carry you away as your eyes are locked upon Eren's torn ones. If he isn't to seek you right now, he knows it informed you he had no reason to pursue you. And if he did, it would inform you that he yearns to corrode your life — to remain as your own.
"Andreaus, I'm sorry," Andreaus fails to glance at you, his eyes not even bothering to linger in your direction. He only yearns for the best for you, and he could tell, through Eren's demeanour, that he, right now, is not the one for you.
He is hiding something large.
"I thought you were better than this?" He speaks as you conceal your tears, unable to rattle the fact that it isn't Eren who held you.
It aches your heart that he is no longer your boyfriend, but you are unwilling to get closer to him — you are risking your guarded heart.
"I'm not even gonna fake it and say I am, I'm just so lost," You sigh as he takes your hand and moves further, "Like, you'd understand if that was someone you were supposed to marry one day, have kids with and live happily." He sighs as you further feed into your delusions.
"I get that, and you're allowed to grieve, but not in his arms, doofus," He flicks your forehead as you grin, clearing your tears as he wraps his arms around you.
He regrets not making sure you avoid Eren at all expense; you deserve the costly peace that Paris should have ignited.
"If you realised how warm he was, you would never leave, 'Dre," Andreaus sighs; his deep cerulean eyes hold the nimble element of surprise.
A small pit of fire lingers, yet it is diminished by how he calms from how devastated you were.
"If I see you with him, outside of working hours, I'm gonna hit you," He lowers his eyes towards your ring, "Since we were kids, I've been protecting you from broken love."
"Man, it's hard out here," You slightly twist your ring, unable to dismiss the thorough emotions you feel.
"I think you should start by selling the ring," Your blood mimics a coldness, your limbs unmoving as you halt. His hold upon you is overpowered by the strength you wield, a sorrowful expression ripping through your careful facade.
"How could you say that?" Your eyes widen, "The ring is something I can't let go of, it's too meaningful, 'Dre." He has never seen you so emotion-stricken, treating the ring as if it is simply a part of you.
This was something he couldn't get through to you with.
"I'm sorry, I should have known," He gifts you a rare smile, "Let's go inside."
—
As night became more present, you rest within the art room — your mind cornered to nothing more than silence. Everyone remains asleep, but you linger in the art room, working on sketches that portray your emotions.
You couldn't help but create a rather melancholy sketch that represents both you and Eren, other wavering sources tearing away the both of you — leaving you in no more than a knotted sense of mystery.
But as your fingers overwork the beautiful canvas, you observe as the door softly opens — welcoming a stoic Eren. You hadn't encountered his presence for an ample amount of time.
"At least knock, Eren," Your eyes fail to meet his own, "I don't like it when people interrupt me." His eyes slightly crumple as he halts, his lips parted.
Naturally, he desires to spew more words, but his mouth breaks, filling with silence, and his movements narrow to avoidance.
"I know you don't," He settles himself beside you, his plush chair awfully close to you, "I'm sorry about earlier, Y/n. It was stupid of me to." His eyes glance down to the ground, causing you to inch closer to him — only to recognise your movements.
You are unable to console him like you used to.
"You've done a lot of dumb things, but this is the least of your worries," A soft smile lights up his lips, "It doesn't matter, Eren." His viridian eyes unwind in such a captivating moonlight, leaving a fervency to circulate against your cheeks.
"You look..." Softness overwhelms his eyes as he prowls closer to you, a prominent rosiness against his cheeks.
It is as if you are both selfishly drawn in, incapable of drawing from one another, but that is what occurs when you are both once so lovesick with one another.
Even now, the slight distance isn't working for the two of you — it still feels as if you are both in a committed relationship.
"We can't keep acting like we're together," He feels as you inch closer to him, your hand upon your thigh, "I barely know you now, Eren." He grows stoic, but his eyes never depart from your own — and his movements aren't ceased.
"I...want to," Your features inch closer and closer, your lips bare and drawn to his own, "Get to know you again." Tears roam your eyes as his hand grazes your supple cheek, a smile soiling his lips.
Selfishly, you crept nearer to his lips, only to press your forehead against his own — dismissing Andreaus' words.
"But we're a broken home, Eren," Your nose tints his own, "You bailed on me when I needed you the most." His eyes are finally overwhelmed with tears as his top lip brushes upon your own, causing you to sense a homely feeling within this feeling.
"We weren't," A straggled breath flees from his mouth, "I left because..." You feel his tears wound your cheeks, gesturing for you to console him. Naturally, you pull from the trance of an almost kiss, leaning over and planting your arms around his neck.
"If you're scared to say, I'll give you time," His shuddering hands tint your hips as he lightly sobs against your chest.
You firm your grasp as he further crumbles within your arms, his loud cries slowly merging with your own — he desperately grasped onto you for comfort.
Sombrely, it is as if, that in itself, informed you of the fact that this is something way worse — but he could have at least attempted to attend to you for moral comfort.
"S-She died," Your hold upon him strengthens, "Carla, she died," You feel yourself also crumple, "The day I left you, it is because I was taking care of my mother. And when she died...I knew..." He's unable to end his sentence, only shedding tears as his hands shape your lithesome hips.
It only made you realise that your harshness is valid, but he should have been willing to share the pain he attempting to carry on his own.
"She wanted to be the one who saw us wed," You carelessly shift your lips to settle against the top of his head; you know this causes him to instantly calm down.
This is Eren's way of being assured, and the inevitable laid within your palms — you determined his well-being.
"She would have killed to see us get married," In an attempt to process the information, you could only cling to your lost lover — pondering on the woman who forever remained as your friend.
Carelessly, you mourn her presence with your lover, clutching him firmly as his hands circle your waist — he couldn't help but imagine what the altered future would have been like.
"She'd come down and kill you for abandoning me," You feel as he cranes his head upwards, causing you to rest a kiss upon his forehead, "She'd be as mad as I am. She was a good friend of mine. I'm sorry for your loss, Eren." You add on, relishing his warmth as he grasps onto any ounce of closure — regret stirring within him.
He regrets abandoning all of the days he could have spent with you, basking in your warmth, attending to secret spots with you, celebrating your anniversaries, smearing tender kisses upon your lips — he had failed to bask within that delicate comfort. Failed to secure the beautiful future he wants with you.
"She is," He exposes his tear-stricken eyes to your own, "I can't help but miss us..." He murmurs, only to gasp as he realises what it is he has released. The forbidden legacy of words that the two of you had refused to refurbish.
"It's not as easy as you think it is, Eren," Your lips crawl to his forehead, "It's hard to love now." He drinks in your words, momentarily falling limp.
He stays limp against you as you preserve your position, gifting him the chance to release his emotions — along with yours. His story gifts you slight comfort, but there is more to the tragic story.
There is something else that has induced Carla into the frail condition and something that caused him to fail to fit you into a dangerous loop.
"And, I know there's more to the story," He gasps at how understanding you remained, "It's easier to hate you than comprehend that a lot of it may not have been your fault," You draw your lips to his forehead, "But it's hard for me to not hate the person who promised me forever."
"I...understand," His lips shone with a quiver; his heart is dainty with love yet heavy solemness.
You are his enclosed queen in a castle, stored within a guarded cage. Her guarded cage of guilt, sorrow and fear of obtaining a sense of hurt and a pang of dreadful pain. Pain that left her doubling over, yearning for her lover to aid her, to no avail, leaving her to be captured by the presence of distasteful death and dull negative entities. Her mind lingers as one.
"I don't recommend it since I'm going to be leaving Paris in less than two months, but you know the way to my heart," He takes the hint at your words, realising that you are informing him to capture you in a way that is worthy of your attention.
You are heavily guarded by the nature of falling in love.
"I always have," He murmurs, his fingers effortlessly toying with the fabric you wear, leaving you to feel comfort — he is slowly slipping out of his mental bounds.
All the grief he lifts on his shoulders, they are beginning to slip down, not easing, but momentarily growing forgotten.
With you, all of his problems are shedding — this is how he grieves. But now, he is further grieving the loss of you — the lack of thinking that caused this to occur.
He broke your heart; he now wants to observe the cocoon bloom; the butterfly tilt to the beastly moth.
"Then, show me and Andreaus that," You plant your lips against his forehead once more, "I want a man that won't run, but will allow us to work on the problems. We both have an understanding of grief, Eren." He halts, his nimble touch so needy against your sculpted hips.
"But no one in your life has died," He stills, "Who was it, Y/n?" Eren sombrely feels you momentarily falter, only to shakily conserve yourself — just to seem as if you are the one who is to counsel the two of you mentally.
"My dad," Your lips are sewn open, "A few months after you left, he died, 'ren," A part of you feels as if you are opening the wound, revisiting the moment — a moment you wish Eren can remain.
Remain during the times you are unable to pull from your room, dazed from your depressive episode. The times when you yearn for his gentle head kisses, his words of assurance, his lungs full of love, his delectable bear hugs, and the way he would try to dilute the route of your sadness. Momentarily redirecting it, so you could freely breathe.
"I'm...so sorry," A subtle panic overwhelms him, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." There are no more than brittle cries that overwork the spacious room.
The two of you cling mercilessly onto one another, your cries deafening as you both attempt to come to terms with the grief — to no avail.
"Apologising won't change anything, just better yourself for you and me," A slither of air departs from your lips, "I know you can do it, no matter how hard it is." He softly nods at your words, his hold impenetrable.
"I couldn't help but notice that stupid tough act you tried to put on me," You squeeze your eyes closed, your back aching as he continues to consume you in the position.
After the ache deepened, you couldn't help but endure it — unwilling to tell him that ache began to lull you elsewhere.
"I knew you wouldn't fall for it," He pauses, "I know your back hurts," He takes a deep breath, "You can sit in my lap. You've been suffering in that position for ages." Eren notes to you, his eyes gleaming with a beautiful vulnerability.
But how could vulnerability be beautiful? Perhaps it is because you are now exposed perfectly to it, aware of how to spot, aid or comfort it dearly?
"Don't make me regret this," Eren's fingers brace your legs, settling your body against him — reeking of comfort.
You linger at a tall height, casting your eyes down upon his own, your forehead so desperately tinting his own with love.
"You can't regret something that you love," His words sew into your inconclusive brain.
His hands fall effortlessly against your tender cheek, his eyes upon your own as your lips are no more than a feeble brush away.
"I know you can't, right until you hate it," Your lips healed ruins against his own.
His nimble fingers easily cupped your supple cheek, narrowly stroking it. His plump lips are covered by your own, leaving a tender moan of delight to plague your ears. His lips, softness still overwhelmed them, labelling them as your lips all over again.
You had broken your boundaries.
"That wasn't supposed to happen, Eren," He listens to you quietly mutter, resting your head against the dip of his neck — relishing the softness of it all.
Despite knowing your heart had to be won over, through an immense amount of trials and tribulations, he still held familiarity towards what it is your body is so desperate to mentally and physically sync with.
"True, but that doesn't mean I regret it at all," He murmurs, his fingers continuing to stroke your cheek — leaving you slipping further and further into his embrace.
The feeling of his fingers induces a comfort coma, allowing you to sink further and further into a warmth you were so familiar with.
Naturally, you could sense every slight disturbance, all from the doubts he wields within his metaphorically wound-scattered hands.
"Who said I did?" You still as he wraps his arms around your waist, "Andreaus' gonna beat my ass." You speak with worry, drinking in his words that reflect on being accepting towards a broken home.
It isn't m something you yearn for, so this moment retains beauty but bottomless conflict.
"To think I'll be next," Eren's fingers discover the back of your neck, "But, are you interested in Jean?" He slips in, attempting to revert the conversation in a much firmer and positive direction — despite it failing to attain its goal.
"I'm getting to know him," A heart's worth of sorrow spews from Eren's aura. It seems as if he is silently worked up about the fact that his friend is slowly in the works of pursuing you, searching for a love that solely isn't his.
"Oh," He lightly scoffs, his grasp firm upon you as you both bask in each other's warmth.
Eren couldn't help but take in the dress you wear; the one he spoke of being his favourite.
Although it was within the honeymoon phase he had with you, he still couldn't help but discover the beauty within. When you first bought it, you were hesitant to sport it — only to do so with his words of encouragement.
But now, as you wore it, it exposed to him how much of your body had also matured — how you had distributed different masses of fat elsewhere.
"You should be crying over this," You mindlessly seal your eyes, "I know you're butt hurt over this." Your subtle projection perks up Eren's ears.
He couldn't help but take note of the fact that you hold interest, but not in a way that could surpass how you feel about him. He knows you aren't capable enough of gifting your heart to another. Either because of his disappearance or because you didn't yearn for anyone that isn't him.
"I'm not going to answer," His willowy finger tints your cheek with a cherished affection, "It won't change the fact that you're still going to be flirting with him." A sentiment of glee overruns your softness, leaving you blind with a slight smugness — treasuring the fact that this stung his burning heart.
It burns with heavy flames, ones that fail to diminish, sporting a beautiful resilience.
"Oh," You gift Eren your words, causing him to narrow his viridian eyes — readying himself to recall a story from an unturned past.
It is as if he is readying himself to define the skeletons in his closet, being sure that you are more aware of the secrets and the potential legacy he decides to fulfil.
"You know, I think it would be better for us to get back to designing," He doesn't gift you the opportunity to leave his lap cold and empty, "Just right after you realise that you have to share more of your ideas with me." He fills in a gap; he pursues his pushing thought requests.
"Just look at the canvas," He grins as he's exposed to the shape of two silhouettes, entwined, but with others lingering, attempting to dilute the extraordinary bounds their love held.
It is as if the others are guarding the woman, other noble people unwilling to expose that they are quite close with the man. And that, with all that occurred, through cleared trial, this painting is the two of you — in the most heart-distorting moment.
"Yeah, but I want to see yours," You murmur, uncaring towards the fact that his arms are now becoming your exhibit — you are becoming guarded in such a homely location.
It is home. A home you are barricading with mental aspects, unwilling to allow him to pierce through the heart of you.
"I'll show you," His tone grows airy, "I want to go show you now." He murmurs with a flustered tone, his fingers threading with his dress of comfort — his favourite dress of jokes.
⌕ guarded.
—