"The course of true love never did run smooth," A Midsummer's Night Dream: Act 1, Scene 1
Mornings were the most beautiful yet most unfairly tragic periods of the day. If you awoke early enough, you could see the canvas of a broken heart, bleeding across the sky. The oranges of bitterness, the reds of regret and pinks of longing, melded together in a cruel mixture of heartache. The clouds chased after the colours, ghosts of the relationship, mourning their docile and wounded mistress, Love. Slowly, they drifted, unsure of where to be placed. In the heart to cause more emotional pain? Or in the short-term memory, never to be recalled again.
But amongst catching the beauty of dawn, you struggled to be freed from the clutches the Dusk, the seducer. It lured in countless victims by nightfall and wooed them with dreams of hopeless fantasies. It tortured victims with their greatest desires, most intimate fears all whilst caressing them in the blessing of sleep. Its cradled around unsuspecting souls as they dozed, hoping to keep them with him to combat the loneliness, for he never got to see the beauty of morning, having to shelter away before being able to witness her divine light.
It was why the morning was constantly broken, awaiting a lover whom she could never meet and the Dusk, constantly searching, using dreams as windows to search for her. It was only during the dawn and the twilight in which they could finally meet, love, touch, which is why they were so scared and tragic all at once. With Morning brought the shattering of the illusion that Dusk painted, and in the night came the sorrows of not having a favoured reality. The dark promises secrets and desires, the light promises wisdom and truth. Knowing in which state of you were was the hardest part of the day.
Now, as the last of the lovers touches were shared, the blue skies of clarity forced their way through the clouds of confusion, and you blew out a breath, before taking another sip of your coffee. You didn't have a lecture today, but your roommates clearly did as there was a chaotic shuffle going on outside your door with Hitch Dreyse screaming frantically for her hair straightener. You bit back your snort as you heard she and Jean Kirschtein yell at one another over spilling someone's cereal bowl of Cheerios.
Your room was your unbreakable little cove that none of them dared to enter. Seeing as Sina University did not have accommodation for you, due to your late transfer, you had gone through the harrowing experience of looking for an apartment. And then the advertisement for this little ragtag group appeared like a golden ticket to the chocolate factory, not only being a ten-minute walk from campus, but having a nice little neighbourhood as well. They were looking for another roommate to help with the rent, and you were desperate for a roof. It felt like a win-win situation if it wasn't for the fact you were an introvert stuck in the tightest group of friends to exist.
The group knew each other from way back, Eren claiming to have known Mikasa during elementary and Connie and Sasha who were practically born in the same hospital. Jean and Hitch seemed to have joined their little group a short time later, but they were close all the same. The only one who seemed particularly aloof was a certain Floch Forster, who seemed to know them through a friend of a friend and had moved here for the same reason as you- desperation. He had moved out when you moved in, but still hung by sometimes.
Fingers picking at the lints on your bed, you realised that you probably didn't show your gratitude for these people enough, but it didn't mean by any means you were going to slot yourself into their tight-knit group. One of the things you had learned from an incredibly young age was self-awareness, you knew when you were wanted and needed, and you knew when you were becoming a burden or intruding. The same way you were so fragile about your personal space was the same way you valued that of others, the last thing you wanted to be was a hypocrite.
Sipping up the last dregs of your coffee, that was now rather cold, you stood and stretched, swiping your dressing gown from your hook. It was had been a birthday gift from your mom back when your still in high school, and it still fit like a glove, you cloaked its fluffy, caramel, sleeves around your skin and thought about the last time you had seen her, the last time she had hugged you, those days she used to like and trust you. Deciding it was best not to fall into the rabbit hole of bitterness, you opened your door and ducked into the battlefield.
Hitch was slim girl with a pretty face and her means of flirtation to offer the world. Her hair sandy and short tresses were in a tangled ponytail at the nape of her neck, and you nearly jumped out of her skin to see the slimy, lilac face mask she had smeared all over her face, thinking she had been abducted by aliens. Her phone was clutched in one hand, the other balled into a fist as she glared at someone in the kitchen. You offered her a small "morning" but her seething and sour face did not spare you a glance.
She was quite the hot and cold character, and you had learned that the best trick to recover from her snubs was to give her time to climb off her high horse and apologise. If you didn't get on her bad side, she was one of the most generous souls you could ever meet.
Creeping into the kitchen to rinse out your mug, you finally did jump to see Jean on his hands and knees, scrubbing at the milk that was all over the black and white check tiles.
The kitchen was a terribly cramped space and possibly the only downfall of the whole apartment. Though it was more elaborate than a usual college kitchenette, containing a decent stove and countertop, the fact that the group had forced in a small dining table into it had made the entire place a struggle.
"Shit. Sorry y/n, blame that dragon over there. How are you?" Twinkled Jean, not even looking up as he clumsily threw some towels to absorb the white liquid.
You'd be heavily surprised if this boy told you he had ever stepped foot into a kitchen.
"Actually fuck off, Jean. I'm meeting Marlow's parents for brunch, and I'm going to be late because of you." Hitch practically squawked, slamming hers and Sasha's shared bedroom shut.
You were the only person with your own room, another thing that has attracted you over here. The others were like family and didn't really mind their shared living space but nonetheless they were still strangers, even after having lived with them for nearly four months. The only time you spent with them was when you helped out with dinner, only to retreat back into your room like a hermit.
Guiltily, you thought about Hitch's straightener, that was lying beneath your bed. All of you had been using them to iron your clothes since Eren fused the actual iron and none of you had the spare funds to hunt for another one. It was a sticky predicament, yes, but you were just too nervous to give her the straightener back, after you loaned it from Sasha.
Chewing your lip, you tried your best to step around Jean and his lanky limbs but no such luck. Taking the hint, he stood up, giving you a crooked smile. Things were unnecessarily awkward between you and Jean, and you blamed yourself for it. You remembered on your first week of moving in, Jean had proclaimed that you were easily the prettiest girl in the apartment which had Connie and Sasha breathing down your necks to date one another.
Knowing Jean's notorious relationship history, you had avoided him as much as possible, never wanting him to get the wrong message. In turn, he had done the same thing, fearing that you would develop feelings for him. It was quite the situation seeing as you were resisting a relationship whilst he was resisting being tied down.
"y/n, it would totally owe you if you cleaned that up for me. Connie wanted me to spot him at the gym like twenty minutes ago, and I can't just abandon him." He begged, honey coloured eyes flicking to yours.
They had this narrow, feline quality to them that you heavily admired. He had a handsome face and would make the perfect, swoon-worthy 19th century love interest. From his tall figure to his desirable nature, he possessed some of the most desirable attributes for men of that time. But this wasn't the 19th century, nor were you interested.
"Yeah, that's okay." You mumbled, placing the mug on the dining table as you looked down at the mess of soggy cereal milk.
Any other day, you would have said no, wanting the exercise the fact that the people in this house couldn't just walk all over you because of your reserved nature, but you owed him for taking the fall about the straightener.
"Thanks, you're an angel, y'know that?" Jean charmed, squeezing your shoulder as he shrugged on his hoodie, bolting for the door.
Sighing, you picked up the soaked towels and wrung them into the sink before they started to smell. The kitchen was a cosy space, definitely made from love, and you sometimes found yourself gazing at the printed photos stuck to the fridge. Images of Sasha's foster siblings, Connie's dog, Eren's band posters...
They tasted unfamiliar, like unity and friendship, something you had lost a long time ago. After wringing the last of the towels and tossing them into the washing machine, you finally collected your mug from the side, grabbing the amber, smiley-face sponge, that Sasha liked and scrubbed it down. Whilst you scrubbed, your mind sent you into thoughts of your assignment, and you inwardly groaned.
Pouting as you dried the mug, you mulled over cereal choices when a familiar voice made you jump.
"What's with the long face, Bookworm? Don't start looking like Horse-Face or I might not like you as much." Joked your other roommate, Eren Jaeger.
Brining your eyes upward, you met eyes that were the complete opposite of Jean's. They weren't feline or possessing that constantly lazy-look, they were vigilant; a forest of burning intensity that swallowed you whole if you looked for too long, partnered with some of the longest, natural eyelashes you had ever seen.
"Oh, just nothing." You quickly replied, placing the mug back on the hooks that went beneath the cupboard.
Eren Jaeger was the only one of your roommates who had gone to the furthest lengths to make you feel welcome. He would be the one to incessantly invite you to the group outings, that you always politely declined to. He would be the one to consistently knock on your bedroom door after dinner, checking if you were alright. And he was the only one who did what he did now, ask how you were at breakfast.
"Then why does the kitchen smell funny?" He questioned, crinkling his nose at the foul smell left behind by the towels.
Inwardly rolling your eyes at his comment, you quickly powered on the washing machine, finding a quick cycle to put the gross pieces of cloth. Next, you reached for the cereal box, deciding on something with a little wholegrain to get your brain in gear for the tedious day of editing ahead.
"Jean and Hitch got into a fight with the cereals or something. He needed to spot Connie at the gym, so I agreed to clean up for him." You explained, wiping at the crumbs on the side.
There was a bout of silence for a few seconds, and you heard one of the wooden chairs scrape against the tile as boy behind you sat down.
"Connie, who as of five minutes ago, was still snoring in bed?" Challenged Eren, a smidge of apprehension in his voice.
Your nails dug into the innocent cardboard box as you wheeled around, struggling to contain your fury. That stupid smile had been enough to pull the wool over your eyes. Forget sentimental sweetheart, he was a complete snake. Jean had completely fleeced you.
Sensing the annoyance etched into your usually passive face, you watched Eren's jaw tick. He was seated backwards, toned forearms rested the back of the chair. It always confused you as to why men liked to sit like that on chairs. Did their balls not feel the stretch?
"Don't be mad y/n, we can all get fooled by Kirschtein's stupid face. I mean, take me for example. I thought he was a horse on the day we met." Snickered the brunette, attempting to shed some comedic light over the situation.
You were not impressed at all. Instead of allowing this rage to envelop you or make you grab your phone and call Jean to give him a piece of your mind, you deflated like a balloon. All the vexation dissipated from your system, making you wilt like a neglect rose.
As much as you wanted to blame Jean for the fact he completely took advantage of you, it was also your fault. Maybe if you weren't such a pushover, people could actually look you in the eye and see someone they couldn't mess with. Someone worthy of a little bit of respect, but alas, that person could never be you.
"Oh...well that sucks." You scoffed, trying to downplay the self-disgust bubbling like a witch's cauldron inside of you.
If Eren noticed the switch in your mood, he didn't comment of it. Instead, he picked at the frayed string bracelet on his wrist, eyes flicking all around the room, foot tapping on the tile.
"Don't best yourself up about it. I'll get him back easy-peasy. Look." He instructed, suddenly rising from the chair and reaching for the rota for the dishes.
It was meant to be Sasha's night, but Eren twisted the card pinwheel, making sure the terribly coloured in arrow pointed to the messy drawing of a horse. Mikasa's little motif was a vampire bat, Connie's a mixtape, Eren's a guitar, Hitch's a tube of lipstick, which yours was badly drawn book. It was Eren's little idea, and you genuinely found it adorable.
"I don't think making him so the dishes is enough punishment. Someone needs to slash his tyres." A voice behind the two of you grumbled.
Both of your turned to see Hitch, hair clearly not straightened, in a business casual outfit. The pant legs were green, to match her blazer whilst she wore a cream-coloured tank top to match. She reached upwards, tying her hair into a bun, pulling some flyways around her pierced ears.
Chuckling, Eren hopped back onto the table, this time resting his backside on the flat board.
"Hitch, someone like you could easily pull someone better looking than Marlow." He pointed out, regarding her thoughtfully.
Though you and the other girl knew that there was no way Eren was intentionally flirting with her, it didn't stop the faint pink that crept into her cheeks. Eren being so open and honest was one thing about him that you admired. If Hitch was attractive, it could be said. There was no need to feel hesitant about admitting the truth just because he was dating her roommate.
"Ugly guys try harder. Boys who look like you, Eren, forget to stay grounded." Hitch snickered, blowing the both of you a kiss as a way of saying goodbye as she headed for the door.
You laughed to yourself beneath your breath at the situation before turning back to empty bowl that you still hadn't filled. It drew Eren's attention.
"Why do you always do that?" He deadpanned, jade eyes glancing at you from head to toe.
You tugged your dressing gown around your frame a little tighter, avoiding his demanding gaze.
"Do what?" You replied softly, knowing full well what he was talking about.
"Hide the fact that you're enjoying yourself, hide the fact you're having fun. Every time Connie cracks a joke or something, you never laugh out loud. What's up with that?" He questioned, tipping his head to the side.
Inwardly, you panicked. You didn't think you had ever spoken to Eren for so long, or so intimately. Lengthy talks were for the unwise. The smartest people held their tongues when the time need be. Unable to look at him, you turned back to the counter.
"I don't get what you mean. Oh, uh, do you want me to bring back some more milk, it's getting low? I'm heading out today." You quickly fumbled, desperately changing the subject.
The brunette sighed, blowing a frustrated breath through his well-sculpted nose as he stood, stretching out. The two of your met eyes for a moment, before you quickly brought yours back to you breakfast dilemma.
"Nah, just forget it. I'm going out with Mikasa later anyway, we'll swing by the store before we get back." Eren muttered, clearly exhausted to just say the other girl's name.
Everyone has heard the words those two screamed at each other last night....and the several nights before that. The tension was at breaking point, and you were thankful that you stayed away from the group drama. Fiddling with the milk carton, you nodded, watching him go.
You sank your teeth into your lower lip, stomach rolling with more self-loathing. Why did you constantly sabotage yourself? Why did you not allow yourself the personal necessity like friends? As much as you continually reminded yourself that not everyone was going to turn out he did, you remained doubtful over every situation in life.
It wasn't as if you didn't trust the people around you, it was that you didn't trust yourself to not make the same mistakes as you always did.
•••
Fingers sliding over your phone screen, you internally cursed as you watched an email from Miss Finger pop through. The persistent and nagging dread that had followed you from the apartment swallowed you up once more as you realised that she had now put a deadline for the assignment, to be completed by late October.
Before leaving, you had done a quick skim through the draft you hadn't touched since June and you had fallen into a dismal mood. All it was a simple story, but you were writing something novel worthy. Pieck had suggested for at least a few chapters of work, but you were on chapter forty, too easily carried away and now writer's block had fallen onto you like an anvil.
Maybe the quantity of your work would shield the fact that you hadn't converted it into something different. You cursed Pieck for creating the assignment in the first place. Entering your degree, you had assumed some smooth sailing, marking up some Shakespeare or something along those lines. Creative work had been a bonus at the time, but now you were regretting your existence.
To put it plainly, you weren't interesting. You didn't have the type of life that caused people to stop and listen, you didn't have the persona to excel in other fields, you didn't have the humility to ask for help. You were struggling to deal with the fact that it was probably your pride stopping you getting ahead. Throughout your life, you had been left to figure shit out on your own, and now it had completely backfired.
One thing you always loved September for was its sunshine, and by God was Sina a beautiful city when it was sunny. In mid-city, the city has overflowing with life. The walk beneath the terraced apartments was your favourite part of the trip to the coffee shop. The flower baskets dangled with marigolds, vibrant oranges against the cool flamingos pinks of the more expensive apartments.
Not that you liked to be a peeping-Tom, but it was interesting to see what the families inside were doing. Passing through their open windows during the summer felt like flicking through a soap opera, something intriguing always happening. But now, as it grew a little bit chillier, the windows remained closed and world slowly began to shut, blocking out the warmth of the world. As it grew colder, the world naturally retreated in on itself, a constant cycle of hide-and-seek.
The coffee shop you had headed to was artisan fused with a steampunk style, it was also the biggest competitor of Kuchel's. Many a time had you and Farlan encouraged Levi to move with the newer generation and expand somewhere closer to mid-city, seeing as though as terrible as it was, your elderly customers were going to kick the bucket one day, but he had refused, wanting to keep Kuchel's "authentic" roots.
And now as you ducked inside, you glanced over your shoulder like you usually did, feeling like an enemy of state waltzing into rival territory. You wouldn't be half surprised if Levi emerged from the bins like an undercover FBI agent and forcefully dragged you to Maria. This café was more convenient to your life and plus, you would never get any work done inside of Kuchel's with the three of them arguing about like seven-year-olds.
Inhaling the scents of cake and latte you headed towards the till, moving towards the nice cashier that Connie was constantly trying to convince to go on a date with him. She was a little older than all of you, shoulder-length black hair and tattoos that ran down her left arm like ivy. You knew that she and Mikasa sometimes raved together.
"You want the usual?" She questioned, afternoon light reflecting off of her pale skin.
Opening your backpack, you removed your five dollar bill for your usual order of a cappuccino and cinnamon roll, even when it wasn't Christmastime. She took it from your grasp and placed it into the register, typing in your order into the screen in front of her.
"Okay, so the cinnamon roll is gonna take a short while to bake, we've just made a new batch. You cool with that?" She asked, arching a pierced eyebrow at you.
Nodding, you allowed her to head the work, stepping back from the line to place your purse back into your bag. You turned your head, glancing around the perimeter for a place to sit and conclude your editing when you spotted him. He was sitting at the tables near the back with the varnished wooden seats, absent-mindedly scribbling onto a sketch pad as he stared directly at you.
Armin.
Face becoming exceedingly hot, you forced yourself to come to the conclusion that he must have been staring at you for a long while. You picked at the frayed sleeve of your denim jacket, quickly whirling around as if he hadn't already seen you, and you could make everything go away. You hardly knew him, why was your heart trying to escape through your mouth?
That was it. It was guilt. As much as you had tried to push him from your mind, that crestfallen look of rebuttal that marred his features, after you rudely ran away from yesterday had haunted your dreams. All you had to do was be a good person, swing over to his table and give a casual hello and apologise. But the distance between you had him that was about ten metres felt like an airport runway and your knees were already trembling like you were locked into a freezer!
Would you grow up? the voice inside your head scolded, as you peeked back over your shoulder, feeling the refreshing cool of his eyes still on you, pink lips beginning to twist into a smile. Great, now you were a laughingstock to him too, as well as being a disgruntled bitch, who completely brushed people off.
"y/n?" Called Sally, lifting your cup.
Quickly, you headed over to her, feeling tempted to cancel your cinnamon roll in order to get out of there as fast as possible. She handed you the cup and then chewed on her navy nail, which you doubted was good or hygienic customer service, but you held your tongue.
"Thanks." You smiled, trying to knock some confidence back into your system.
You were a grown woman practically wetting yourself because you were too scared to offer someone an apology! Some life you were living. Sally deliberated before she leaned in close, a secretive smile on her lips.
"Tell Connie it was a great night, and I was thinking something of the same again." She chuckled, sliding you a small note addressed to Connie.
Unsure of what to say, you just dumbly nodded once more, stuffing the paper into your pocket, not wanting to read whatever obscene poetry she had written for him. You lingered by the door, trying your best to ignore the eyes that were still on you, as you waited for your cinnamon roll, fingers clenched around the cup until the tension was finally deflated right at the call of your name.
"y/n?" Signalled Armin, raising a beckoning arm to where he was seated, casual smile on his face.
Stalling for a second as you watched a few people pass their eyes over to you in brief interest before returning to their business, you fought off the mortification as you tried to lift your chin, heading over to his table.
His smile increased as you approached, giving way to the top row of straight teeth, that shone in the daylight. You stopped beside the table, not wanting to sit down without being offered. Deciding it was time to bite the bullet and rip the bandage off, you burst into apology.
"Hey Armin, I just wanted to say that the way I brushed you off yesterday was really rude, and I wanted to say I was sorry because that wasn't like me at all, and it would be awful if that was the impression you had of me." You rushed out, glancing everywhere but him.
He blinked at you, once, then twice before he exploded into laughter, dropping his pencil as he covered his mouth, shaking with delight. His button nose scrunched up as his eyes crinkled with mirth. After an agonising few moments, he wiped at the corner of his eye and cleared his throat, trying to get the pink that flooded into his face to decrease.
"Oh God, y/n, you're going to kill me. I wasn't bothered with what happened yesterday, I understood you had work to get to. Was that apology what was causing you to practically self implode over there?" He snorted, eyes shining brighter than before.
The snub hit you hard, and you automatically folded in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your body in silent defense. The blonde caught on to your shift in mood and corrected himself, pushing his lips to the side.
"Sorry...that wasn't very nice. There was some stuff I wanted to ask you about, actually. Sit down, I swear I don't bite." He smiled, kicking the seat opposite him, so you could sit down.
Awkwardly, you placed yourself down for a reason unbeknownst to you...a reason you unfortunately come to regret with your entire soul. Armin reached down for his pencils that had fallen to the floor, before fixing his hypnotic eyes onto yours. They had this certain speciality that pierced right into your very soul.
"So, have you managed to muster something up for the assignment...or even managed to get a little group together?" He questioned, sipping his coffee.
Your fingers grasped your cup as well, swallowing down the warm liquid, allowing it heat you up from the inside. Instead of looking at him, you dropped your vision to the mahogany table.
"Uh...not exactly. I haven't even finished the initial work. Until I do that there is no way that I can develop it into something else if I don't even have a damn ending." You grumbled, placing your face into your palm.
There was a moment of consideration as Armin rested his chin on his fist, other hand twisting his pencil around his fingers in that clever way that people could.
"Case of writer's block?" He asked, with a knowing smirk.
Inwardly, you found yourself beginning to unwind, leaning closer to the table as you shook your head with self-depreciating laughter.
"Don't even get me started. It just feels like an anti-climax...so much effort just amounting into nothing but another trophy of disappointment on my wall of life." You sighed, kicking yourself for allowing that last sentence to slip through.
The boy opposite didn't judge, he simply leant back, pursing his lips.
"Oscar Wilde said that all art is quite pointless. Sometimes it's not your effort amounting to nothing, it's the work itself crescendoing into complete nothingness. In life, you just have to accept that. But in your case, I want to help you." He offered, eyes flicking to a man walking his dog out of the window.
Taking another sip to buy yourself some time, you hid your eye roll. The last thing you wanted was a pity invite from this boy who thought you were a friendless nobody who needed constant attention.
"Armin, genuinely, it's not necessary. I'll get back into the swing of things, like I said yesterday." You pressed, not liking the way you felt warm all over when his gaze connected with yours.
The last thing you ever thought to have the beginnings of this feeling again. Stubbornly, he shook his head.
"No. Don't restrict yourself for no reason, y/n. As far as Pieck says, you're crazy talented and the last thing she'd want is to see nothing. Do it for her sake, at least. And if not that, maybe for the sake that I want a little bit of a look at this talent, too." Armin motivated, pushing his bangs from his eyes.
Fiddling with the cup, you felt your heart lurching in your chest. This boy wanted to read your work!? You wanted to come up with an elaborate excuse as to why you couldn't accept his help, that you weren't some kind of charity that people took pity on but that look, that goddamned look rendered your tongue completely speechless.
It was that smothering sensation all over again. He was an appropriate distance away, but it felt as if he had invaded every piece of your soul, and you were useless under his divine will. Angelic, ethereal, other.
"I'd like that, too." You replied, daring yourself to look into his eyes.
His nose scrunched as he smiled at you once more, sliding a page of his notebook across the table as he stood. Surprise gripped you as he watched him collect his bag. Were you sad he was going? Did you want him to stay? Were you enjoying his company?
"Me too, y/n, me too." He exited, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as he passed.
It was only until after you watched his elegant frame saunter past the outside window was when you reached across the table for the piece of sketching paper. As your fingers unfolded it, Sally called your name from the counter.
"Cinnamon roll door Miss y/n!" She alerted, but you ignored her completely, fingers unraveling the paper.
It was a sketch of a gardenia, with a little inscription besides it: Sonnet 23. At the bottom, you glanced at his phone number and email address, which was where you guessed that he hoped to have your work sent to.
Your fingers stroked over the delicate sketch, as you pushed back from your seat to collect your order, eyes glued to the sonnet. Did he want you to read it? Whatever for? Tucking it into your other pocket, making sure not to confuse it with the letter you were meant to give to Connie, you shuffled to the till.
a/n: whew, this story has me so emotionally involved and I don't know why. I hope you all enjoyed! ,💜