Chapter Text
Trembling words don't make my eyes close
And if anyone, then you'd know
I can't find out 'cause you won't show
And it's on and on
Every dream is shot by daylight
And I pray that maybe you're right
But if you don't, maybe I might
'Cause it's on and on
Dinosaur Jr - Get Me
The morning starts as hectic as usual, which suits Eren just right.
He has never been very interested by order. He gets bored easily. Life rushes past him in quick flickers. His brain does not process in sequences, only in photographs flashing in and out in disarray.
Sasha runs past him so fast she becomes a blur, a comet with long brown hair for a tail. Connie comes after, slowed down by the mildly unnerved energy thrumming through him.
Then comes Jean who looks entirely like he’s doing all this against his will.
As Jean runs past (is he really running? He can be so fucking slow, even on the field) Eren has the urge to put his leg out and trip him. He can envision him flying through the hallway but somehow the thought disturbs him.
Bossard comes dead last, practically hacking up his lungs as he attempts to persecute them. Avid smoker and known hater of anything-that-involves-physical-activity that he is, chances are he won't reach them.
Coach Ackerman, on the other hand, will.
He’s basically an apex predator, assessing the situation and rapidly taking action. He runs like his limp is just a minor inconvenience. He glides, practically.
He flies , Eren thinks. He shakes his head because he doesn’t want to think of people flying anymore.
Coach makes it past Bossard, past Jean, past Connie. When he reaches Sasha, he extends his unharmed leg, aiming for her ankles.
That’s what I wanted to do , Eren thinks. But wrong person .
He sees it all in slow motion. Sasha turning mid-air to look at Connie, at Jean. All looking at each other with a sense of desperation. Sasha's backpack soaring above them, potatoes pouring from it.
And one millisecond later, Sasha on the floor and potatoes everywhere.
"What the fuck, Brauss..." Coach exclaims, staring at the mess they’ve made. He kneels down to grab a potato and inspects it carefully. “Did you steal all these from the cafeteria?”
“I wouldn’t do that, Coach,” Sasha assures him, quickly standing up to salute him. “I would never harm the cafeteria ladies.”
“Those are mine,” Bossard says, looking extenuated. Breathing in and breathing out. Eren matches his rhythm involuntarily.
“Why the fuck are you bringing potatoes to class? Are you roleplaying as some peasant from the Middle Ages?”
“I’m teaching these little suckers about the Irish potato famine. I wanted to make it, like, immersive.”
“Since when do you care about teaching anything?” Coach Ackerman scoffs at him. He throws a potato in the air and catches it, turning towards Eren for a second. He throws the potato at him and Eren catches it too. “Why’d you steal them, Brauss?”
"Well, as an Irish person, it felt like it was my birthright to take them,” she points out.
“That is not… You’re American .”
“But like an eighth of my great-grandparents weren’t. So if you divide that by four and multiply it by two…”
“Doesn’t work like that.”
Sasha pauses, exasperated.
“It does.”
“Why did you actually take them?”
Sasha scratches the back of her head, looking at Connie and Jean for an answer. Connie shrugs. Jean looks away, attempting to remain uninvolved.
Coward , Eren thinks. As usual .
"It's a… metaphor," she decides carefully. Coach’s face doesn’t move an inch. Eren grips the potato in his hand expectantly.
"For what?" Coach Ackerman asks sharply.
"We're not sure yet," Connie intercedes.
“It’s for an art project,” Jean attempts, blanching when Coach turns to glare at him too. “It’s conceptual. It’s, uh, performance art?”
“Stealing is not a performance,” Bossard grumbles but he immediately shuts up when Coach lifts one hand up.
“No,” he says, almost smiling but not really. Eren doesn’t think his muscles are capable of such an action. “I want to hear about this art project. Go ahead.”
Jean wavers, starts rumbling about some artsy shit Eren couldn’t care less about.
He is, at that point, simply watching these interactions because he’s blanked out. He yawns, his head feeling fuzzy from the lack of sleep.
And usually he’s so good at sleeping too. He would sleep all day if he could. But he keeps waking up in the middle of the night as if someone out there was pissed at him.
He feels the familiar pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Mikasa, dark eyes staring intently at the scene. She shrugs, brushing half of her silk black hair behind a shoulder.
"We should go. We're late for class," she says. Her voice is quiet, but so crisp it makes something pleasant itch in Eren’s brain. He’s always liked that about her. He thinks that if he paid enough attention, he would be able to hear her from across the sea. Her voice carries like the wind.
That’s a very romantic thought , Eren thinks. You should stop that.
"I'm curious about the potatoes, though," he excuses himself, but Mikasa rolls her eyes at that.
"You’re not,” she calls him out. “You were spacing out.” She snaps in front of his face as if to prove this and Eren gets stuck looking at the chipped, black polish on her fingernails. Coach Ackerman won’t like seeing it. He always scolds her when she doesn’t keep her nails tidy.
"I guess," he admits, walking off, potato still in his hand.
Mikasa follows behind him. Her school shoes make her just about as tall as Eren in his Converse sneakers. Neither of them complies to the school’s dress code, but Eren’s ever more egregious with his violations. Mikasa likes her silent rebellions.
“Jean is…” she says out of the blue. “A very smooth talker, isn’t he? Levi’s always said he had good leadership qualities.”
Eren just hums, not energized enough to start disagreeing.
He spends the way to their class telling Mikasa all about how Jean got so drunk at a party that he threw up inside Marco's car trunk when they were driving back home. She nods at that, seemingly amused and thankfully mildly put-off. He tells her about how the mean Russian exchange girl spent the whole night chatting with Armin just to be less obviously antagonizing.
"So, anyway," Eren says as he opens the classroom door for Mikasa, "I have the theory that she is either in love with Armin or she wants to murder him."
"Perhaps both," Mikasa answers cooly, putting her arm to the door and forcing Eren to go through it first.
“How would that work?”
“Sometimes the things we love the most are the things we have to destroy before they destroy us,” she surmises neatly.
Eren pauses to consider that.
"That's very gothic, Mikasa," he tells her, smiling. When he turns to look at her, she's smiling too, pleased.
*****************
There is something very wrong with my brain , Eren thinks sometimes. There is something very wrong with me.
Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in a dream when he’s awake. Sometimes he feels like he’s awake when he’s stuck in a dream.
Sometimes he looks at Mikasa and he sees her just like she is, but different. Sometimes he considers reading Zeke’s letter but he doesn’t.
Sometimes he catches Coach Ackerman looking at him weird and he wonders if he can see that. The things that are wrong with him.
He dreams that he’s flying. All the time.
*****************
Classes pass much too slowly for Eren's taste. He just wants to finish the school day and get to football practice already. He has enough pent-up energy inside him that’s sure he could power a hydrogen bomb. Or something like that. He doesn’t do well in physics like Armin does. He doesn’t do well in anything, really.
Except running , Eren thinks. He’s pretty fast when he wants to be fast but sometimes he feels like he should be faster somehow. Like his body’s failed him in ways he cannot describe.
Like right now, running circles around their Tree. Mikasa and Armin lazily watching him, used to his boyish antics.
Out of all three of them, Eren’s certain that he’s the one most stuck in place. So he runs a bit faster, just in case he’ll budge some.
“Eren, why art thou so intense?” Armin asks dramatically, clutching his battered copy of ‘Hamlet’ in one hand. He looks older than usual lately. He’s gotten a part-time job at some coffee shop and he’s been acting more maturely. He has enough money to get his hair cut properly instead of opting for his grandmother’s bowl-cuts.
He looks like he’ll succeed in real life , Eren thinks. He doesn’t look like some pathological failure.
"Intense how?" Eren asks while he continues to run around.
"Maybe you should eat," Mikasa advises, taking another bite off her sandwich.
She's the only one of the three of them who's actually using lunch time to have lunch. Armin is intently reading the Shakespeare play that class 'B' is supposed to read for the test, even when he's from class 'A'. He does these things and Eren pretends to be annoyed by them. But he loves having a smart friend. He loves having both his friends excel and shine around him like supernovas.
Eren doesn’t want to be a supernova but he thinks he’s meant to explode anytime now either way.
He knows that he should eat something, or else he'll be hungry by the fourth period. However, he tells Mikasa, if he eats now, he won't be able to keep running because he'll have to wait for digestion to take place.
Mikasa looks unimpressed by this conclusion.
“Why would you need to keep running?”
“Because,” Eren explains patiently. “If I don’t I won’t be able to move again.”
Armin laughs at his theatrical antics, shaking his head.
Mikasa looks less amused.
“Sit down, Eren,” she commands him and Eren laughs.
Shouldn’t we play it the other way around ? Eren thinks. Is she not an Ackerman? He thinks. And then he tells his brain to shut the fuck up.
He does sit down though. He grabs an apple and bites into it with outrageous intensity. Mikasa tells him to chew with his mouth closed. He shows her the contents in his mouth by sticking out his tongue and she recoils in exasperated disgust.
The boy inside Eren is delighted by this reaction, but the rest of him finds him to be pathetic.
Mikasa turns her attention towards Armin then.
Armin just says that he'll have a cereal bar in English class but changes his mind when Mikasa gives him that Ackerman glare. Which is a thing. Practically patented by this point.
Eren chews harder to get Mikasa to glare at him again. She must know of his intentions though, because she very clearly ignores him.
"For fuck's sake, will you ever calm down Jaeger?"
Jean Kirschstein stands next to the Tree, his packed lunch inside a neat, little lunchbag.
Fucking mama's boy, Eren thinks. Fucking asshole with parents that care about him, how annoying.
"What's up, Jean vomit-stain?" Eren greets him, glad to see Mikasa make that same face of disgust she made this morning. He’s very proud of this pun even though he didn’t come up with it himself.
"Cut it off, I’ve seen the way you get when you get too wasted," Jean evades him, brushing his hair back with his hand. He kneels next to Mikasa as he says so. He's trying to act cool but Eren can tell he’s nervous by the almost invisible pearls of sweat forming on his forehead. “Did you hear Sasha, Connie and I got detention for that potato stunt she pulled? Coach wants us to write an essay about modern art and food waste after football practice, so I guess the plans are cancelled...”
"You're invading the Tree," Eren tells Jean, "Outsiders are not welcomed."
Jean barely even looks at him.
“The Tree is for all seniors, Jaeger. You can’t own the Tree. The entire class of 2014 gets to enjoy its wonderful shade...”
“Communist,” Armin accuses him, laughing at his own joke. Jean smirks at him, grateful to be able to center his attention away from Mikasa. He becomes less stilted when he’s not looking at her.
“You’d know about it, wouldn’t you? Mr. Bolshevik loverboy. Heard you spent the entire night prattling with Leonhardt.”
Armin opens his mouth just to close it. Most guys their age would scoff at that, at least attempt to come off as aloof. Not Armin though. He blushes as if he was still a schoolboy with a crush.
Which he is, really.
“We were only talking…”
“She was giving you fuck-me eyes and shit,” Jean continues to rag him on, looking at Eren in some brotherly attempt to have him join in on the teasing. “She wants you bad, Arlett.”
If it was any other guy, Eren would be part of the ritual. But Mikasa looks so unimpressed by the entire interaction that Eren can only submit.
"That’s a pretty gross way to speak of a woman, Jean,” Eren clucks his tongue. Jean’s quick to spare a glance towards Mikasa, confused by the male treason he’s been subjected to.
“I’m a feminist,” he says weakly.
“I don’t know about that. You’re being very shovelistic, dude.”
“ Chauvinistic ,” Armin corrects him gently, but Eren shrugs him off.
“Annie said she liked Armin’s new hair-cut,” Mikasa cuts in, her tone so icy it’s clear she has no intention to let them continue to traverse through this discussion. “I think she likes him too.”
“I don’t like your misogynistic energy, Jean,” Eren continues, finally earning himself the glare he was seeking to begin with. “You should go now. Until you learn to respect women.”
Jean is about to complain when Mikasa leans towards him and whispers a quick ' I'll talk to you later ' in his ear.
Jean freezes at the near-contact before nodding and leaving without saying goodbye to Eren or Armin.
If I was the size I used to be I could smash him into a mess of guts and gore , Eren thinks. But stop thinking of that shit already or they’ll know .
"What's up with that?" he asks, trying (failing) to appear nonchalant.
"What's up with what ?" Mikasa asks, eyeing him strangely.
"Since when are you so close with Annie? I thought you couldn’t stand her…”
“I didn’t say she was my best friend,” Mikasa spits back at him, her tone a bit venomous but still very lovely. "I don't have to hang out with you two only. I can have some girl friends as well. Don’t act so shocked about it."
"Jean is not a girl. Mostly,"
"Was that meant as an insult to Jean or as an insult to girls?" Mikasa challenges him, cocking her head to the side. Her hair pools beautifully around her blue sweater. “You’re coming across as a bit chauvinistic too, yeah?”
"I love and respect women, Mikasa,” Eren replies, allowing for her glare to sharpen. “I’m kidding, Christ. I was just a bit surprised. If you want to befriend horse-face, that's your choice."
"Yes. It is," she assures him cuttingly and then they are stuck in a stalemate of stares, neither of them budging because both of them are stubborn enough to spend their entire lives pretending.
But Eren thinks he’s even more stubborn.
“You two are more dramatic than this play,” Armin intercedes, dropping his smile when he realizes his comment is not taken as the joke it’s meant to be.
Mikasa huffs, her eye-roll coming across a bit brattish. She flicks her hair back again.
“Whatever,” she whispers and stands up to leave.
Eren thinks of stopping her but he knows she’ll take it the wrong way if he makes it as if to grab her.
Sometimes he wonders how she can read him so wrong. Sometimes he wonders how the fuck she even gets what he’s doing, because he doesn’t get it himself.
Mikasa leaves without another word, beelining towards a lunch table where Historia and her preppy posse are all laughing airily while covering their mouths. Ymir is there too, standing out like a sore thumb.
“ Women , am I right?” Armin jokes. “Great, now I have to leave the Tree too…”
“She’s been so weird lately,” Eren complains, taking another bite from his apple. “Have you noticed that?”
Armin smiles, shaking his head as if he was some wise oldman.
“You’ve been weird too,” he supplies. Eren doesn’t reply to that.
He spends the rest of lunch half-listening to Armin speaking about symbolism in ‘ Romeo and Juliet ’ for their exam tomorrow while tearing grass blades from the ground furiously.
He wishes for the school day to end even more ardently.
*****************
“All right. Listen up. Today we're going to focus on… ‘teamwork’ , I guess? And you’re each going to come up with your partner’s warm-up. And you’re gonna correct them when they screw up. Honestly, I think these types of ploys are nothing more than something schools invented to keep children occupied while teachers have a smoke break. Which is what I’m planning on doing. But maybe through this little exercise some of you can learn the true meaning of… I don’t know, maybe learn to be self-sufficient? Does that work?”
Coach Ackerman stares at all of them, all five-foot-three-inches of him looking vaguely threatening even when he doesn’t intend to come across that way.
Mikasa had once compared him to a particularly hungry panther and Eren never quite managed to remove that image from his mind whenever he saw him.
“Is that clear or what? Give some feedback you brats…” Coach threatens and everyone’s quick to comply with a resonant " yes ".
"Amazing," Coach Levi proclaims unenthusiastically, "Any questions before we start..? Oh, God, not you Brauss…"
"Sir," Sasha says, unmoved by Coach’s warning, still waving her hand up in the air, "Could it be that you've perhaps started cursing less than usual?"
"No. I don’t cuss in front of my students. That’d be disrespectful."
"Sir, could it be that you've started cursing less than usual because Principal Smith is helping you coach the team today?"
Mr. Smith, standing so straight his back must fucking never hurt, blinks at Sasha’s question.
Mikasa had once compared him to the statue of some revolutionary hero with his hair coiffed so effectively even the wind can’t move it. This image had also stuck in Eren’s mind.
“I think what Coach Ackerman was attempting to convey,” Mr. Smith says, his smile patient and benign even if a bit tight. “Is that you’re all nearing the end of your highschool experience. And that perhaps now that you’ve demonstrated such wonderful growth in and out of the field, he trusts you all enough to, not only push yourselves to your own limits, but to help your fellow teammates achieve their own training goals too. Am I correct here, Coach?”
"Yeah, it’s the same shit I said, just more pretty," Coach waves him off dismissively.
“Why is Mr. Smith here anyway?” Armin whispers conspiratorially. “Do you think Coach got a warning for his foul language? Or was it the cleaning after class as punishment that cracked someone?”
“It better not be that, or else I’m fucking up the snitch,” Eren assures him, only to get silenced by Coach Ackerman’s withering stare.
"Any more questions?" Coach Ackerman asks, and when he sees a few hands go up he nods. "Great, looks like no questions. Let's divide the teams."
Eren looks at Mikasa. She’s avidly avoiding his stare, fiddling with a strand of hair twirled around her index finger.
Regardless, Eren knows he can count on her for his team. It’s how it’s always been after all. Eren, Mikasa and Armin. They come in a pack, although sometimes Eren thinks he could build a nice duo with just Mikasa for certain things. He doesn’t voice this because there’s no point to it. Because when things are obvious they are better left unsaid, he thinks. Because he doesn’t want to find out whether he gets to keep Armin in the divorce (he thinks he does, but he didn’t last time around or…)
You should really stop thinking about this , Eren thinks for the umpteenth time.
Mikasa does eventually spare him a glance, and that’s enough to assure him that they’ll be alright. Mikasa’s the best in their team, sure. But Eren’s always been the best at playing with her. She creates nice opportunities for all of them, but Eren’s the only one that knows how to appreciate them properly.
They are inseparable. A duo. A pack . Whatever.
“Team Green is Ackerman, Sprauss, Bodt, Reiss, Springer and Kirschstein. Leonheart, Jaeger, Braun, Hoover, Artlet and Ymir you're Team Red"
A murmur of disagreement builds up as soon as Coach Levi finishes building up the teams.
“What sort of configuration is that?” Eren questions him, unable to help himself. “Did you pick it out randomly? It’s two unbalanced teams.”
“Which you will work to make balanced,” Mr. Smith replies evenly, his tone calm but unmovable. “See? That’s a neat little exercise. Good job, Coach Ackerman.”
“I know, I’m a genius,” Coach deadpans, giving Mr. Smith a quick staredown before shrugging. “Start splitting up now. It was an order, not a suggestion.”
Everyone does as instructed, with Eren being the last to settle as a sign of resistance that both teachers seem to ignore. They’re too busy whispering to each other while giving everyone in Team Red a quick lookover.
“What a fucking coincidence…” Reiner murmurs under his breath, bending down to position himself in the height in-between Bertholdt and Annie. “All four of us and Jaeger . Don’t you find it suspicious, Annie?”
“Armin’s here,” she points out blankly, her accent barely impacting her words. Armin turns when he hears his name called, but Annie’s stare is solely set on Eren. “He’s not it yet.”
“You sure? Wouldn't put it past you to lie about it,” Reiner pushes her. “We don’t know enough about… it to make any fucking conclusions anyway.”
“Enough about what?” Eren asks, turning to stare at all of them particularly hard. Only Bertholdt seems to wither at this glance. He touches the back of his neck self-consciously.
“Figure it out on your own, late-bloomer,” Reiner teases him, patting Annie on the back only to have her step away from his touch before he makes contact.
Ymir stretches her arms over her head, lazily glancing at all of them. Uninterested in their squabbles. She doesn’t even register Eren’s presence until they start their warm-ups and she pairs up with him for some reason.
“You really have no clue about it?” Ymir asks, helping Eren work through his crunches. “Or are you just playing dumb like me?”
“About what ?” Eren insists, beginning to feel a bit annoyed. Ymir sighs looking away. Somehow she seems unnerved, which doesn’t suit her. She’s too lax to show any sort of anxiousness. Too cool for all this shit.
“About the fucking dreams, dude…”
Eren stops mid-crunch, considering this.
“What about the dreams?” he asks, but Ymir just shakes her head, clucks her tongue.
“Whatever, dude,” she dismisses him, not bothering to help him finish the rest of his exercises.
Coach Ackerman seems to have made true of his promise, because he’s gone with Mr. Smith towards the smoking corner in the parking lot.
*****************
“This is bizarre, isn’t it?” Eren asks Armin, too busy focusing on helping Annie stretch to even spare Eren a glance.
"I think it's a good strategy, actually," Armin whispers back, his face so pink he could pass out right now and just blame it on the humid spring heat.
Eren rolls his eyes at such a spectacle, pretending like the Russian isn’t glaring daggers at him.
“How the fuck is this good strategy? It feels like an excuse to observe us or some creepy shit.”
“It is an excuse to observe us. Which is smart. I dig it.”
Eren sighs, mildly exasperated.
“Just cause you have a dude crush on Mr. Smith doesn't mean that all he says it right.”
“It's not a dude crush, Eren. I just respect him and his work immensely. A dude crush is what you have for Coach Ackerman.”
Eren punches his friend on the shoulder, half in jest, and half seriously.
“You're just jealous cause my dude crush is much cooler than yours.”
“How can a high school football coach be cooler than a school principal?”
“Dude…”
“They’re both uncool,” Annie assures them, glaring at Armin. He looks mildly sheepish, turning his full attention back on her.
“You just hate authority, Annie,” Eren points out. Annie almost ( almost ) smiles at that.
“Yes,” she admits, “But they are still… just two lame, old men.”
“Are the pretty princesses done gossiping?” Coach Ackerman questions them, somehow manifesting himself in front of them without making a single sound. “Jaeger, why aren’t you doing your warm-ups?”
“Ymir’s lazy,” he defends himself, but the second he turns he finds Ymir suddenly actively showcasing her flexibility by bending down and stretching her hamstrings. She pokes her tongue out at Eren when she catches him looking.
“And you’re what? Insolent?” Coach replies, eyeing Annie before looking back at him. “Get to work or I’ll bench you for the rest of the training.”
Eren swallows, continuing to do his crunches as Coach Ackerman moves away to inspect the rest of his classmates. But when Eren’s eyes search for Mr. Smith, he finds him staring back at Eren.
Eren looks away, feeling like he’s been discovered even though he himself can’t seem to comprehend what’s there to discover inside him.
Something bad , Eren thinks. It’s always something bad.
He breezes through the rest of the warm-up, eager to get to the game.
He doesn’t stop thinking about Ymir’s words until Coach Ackerman blows his whistle, signaling the beginning of the match.
*****************
“Why don’t you shave your head if you can’t fucking bother with your hair, you bitch?” Annie spits out, delivering a torrent of furious Russian that makes Coach Ackerman whistle, impressed.
He’s quick to put himself in between Mikasa and Annie, careful to untangle them without getting himself hurt in the process. Eren reacts just a second later, trying to pull Mikasa away from her. Annie’s hand appears to be knotted to Mikasa’s hair, but the second Coach presses a gentle hand on her shoulder, she lets go. It’s an impressive feat that Eren can’t quite comprehend.
When Annie gets up, her uniform is covered in grass stains and there’s scratches on her arms. When Mikasa gets up she looks winded and annoyed, touching the top of her head where Annie pulled.
“That’s a red card for the both of you,” Coach Ackerman assures them. “And detention for two weeks. And that's just because is the most I can give you.”
“Annie started it,” Eren’s quick to point out, putting a tender hand to a bruise he finds on Mikasa’s leg. “She’s always the one getting aggressive in the first place.”
Coach hums, seemingly not appreciating Eren’s input at all. His eyes travel from Mikasa’s face to Annie’s face, both girls looking back at him with a familiarity and sincerity that confuses Eren. They both seem ashamed to have disappointed him in some way.
“Thing is, Jaeger, you can’t really call someone a crazy Russian bitch just cause they play a bit hard,” Coach says, going back to eyeing Annie now. “And you can’t really slap someone for calling you names, now can you?”
“Like you’re any better…” Annie mutters under her breath, immediately looking regretful of this too.
Coach just tsks, shaking his head. He seems to be angry at the both of them, but just a bit angrier at Annie, which pleases Eren. He puts an arm around Mikasa as if shielding her from something.
“You should send her back, honestly…” Eren adds and this appears to be the wrong thing to say.
Eren often says the wrong things.
Coach’s eyes settle on him, unimpressed.
“You get out of the field too,” he says. He approaches Annie and he takes her by the shoulders to the other side of the field while Mr. Smith simply watches.
Eren finds Mikasa’s expression to be both befuddled and hurt. Annoyed by the way her uncle seems to have forgotten her entirely just to coddle some exchange student bitch.
Eren feels for her, but when he tries to embrace her she immediately stalks off towards the parking lot, her eyes rimmed in red.
“Eren,” Mr. Smith warns him before he can follow her, his presence palpable despite the lack of intervention from his part. “Why don’t you take a walk to calm down too? I’ll accompany you.”
Someone whistles at the gravity of the situation. Connie comments he thinks the fight was hot. Jean chastises him for being chauvinistic.
Eren tries not to laugh because he knows his laugh will come out garbled and nasty. He walks behind Mr. Smith like a baby duckling as they move away from the rest.
Mr. Smith doesn’t say a word until they’re far enough.
“Have you read your brother’s letter yet?” he asks then, turning to analyze Eren’s expression.
Eren swallows. He nods.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I think it’s a private thing.”
Mr. Smith smiles like he finds Eren very funny for some reason.
“You didn’t read it,” he says and Eren nods again.
“I don’t see the point to it.”
“I know you are… upset with him still…” Erwin muses out loud. He withdraws a lighter from his pocket as if to smoke a cigarette, but he seems to remember himself because he puts it back. “Your brother just wishes to reach out to you now because he thinks you’ll understand him better. You’ll understand his reasons for leaving a bit better.”
Eren looks away. He’s tried not to think of Zeke since he turned twelve. He’s tried to force himself to pretend like he didn’t exist after he missed calling for Eren’s birthday that year.
It’s not necessarily a hard thing to do. His dad does a good enough job of acting like he was never part of the family to begin with.
If he ever does slip and he brings him up at the dinner table, Eren’s mom is quick to give him a look and then he’ll change the subject. But usually she doesn’t need to do that. Usually Grisha is eager to talk about his job for the most part. And usually Grisha isn’t home either way.
“I know why he left. Mom’s told me all about it. Dad’s told me even more. I don’t really care either way.” He pauses then, reconsidering. “You were there, weren’t you? When I got lost and he didn’t call my parents. When he called my mom a gold-digger. You were staying at a friend’s house near-by.”
If Mr. Smith is discomforted by all this questioning, he certainly doesn’t show it. He stands straight, almost cocksure in a way Eren is both envious of and annoyed by.
“Yes. You run away and Zeke thought he’d rather find you himself than have your parents worry. You were out in the rain and got very sick, do you remember?”
“I remember the hospital,” Eren admits. But he blanks out on the rest of the experience. “I used to do a lot of running away, I think.”
“You liked that, yes. You were a bit of a nightmare to babysit,” Mr. Smith acknowledges, laughing at Eren’s expression. “I did babysit you a bit. You know I’m friends with your parents.”
“With my mom,” Eren corrects him, because nobody is really friends with Grisha. “Not as much as you babysat Mikasa.”
“Well, she’s family,” Mr. Smith reminds him. “And I’ll be honest, I didn’t know how to deal with you back then. I’m not father material and you were a lot to handle. No offense.”
“None taken,” Eren replies, mildly offended. “Zeke handled me alright. And he didn’t want any kids either.”
“Zeke was… is very fond of you. He was a very good brother to you. I won’t deny that.”
“And you think he was right? About my mom? You think she’s a golddigger for marrying my dad?”
“No,” Mr. Smith assures him calmly, unruffled by Eren’s vaguely accusatory tone. “No, I do think your brother is, and pardon my language, a bit of an asshole. But I do believe he cares about you immensely. I don’t believe these things contradict each other.”
“He hasn’t called me in like six years,” Eren points out blankly. He laughs at that fact but the hurt comes through regardless.
He hates the fact he allows himself to feel things sometimes. It angers him. He doesn’t consider anger a feeling.
Mr. Smith winces just a bit, taking a few more steps for Eren to waddle behind him.
“I think,” he says, “your father hasn’t been entirely honest with you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s not my place to speak of this. I only promised Zeke I’d get you that letter.”
“Do you inform him about me?” Eren insists, watching Mr. Smith intently. Mr. Smith shrugs.
“I just keep him in the know,” he admits.
“I know he’s your friend but…”
“He’s not my friend,” Mr. Smith assures him rapidly, shaking his head at such a thought. “Eren, I don’t even care much for your brother. But I was there. I saw the way he cared for you . And I know… I promised him I’d keep an eye on you when your father requested he leave your family alone. And it wasn’t just because of some stupid fight between him and your mother.”
“What was it then?” Eren asks. Mr. Smith seems to consider how to answer this question.
“They disagreed on the way you should be… educated,” he replies simply. He stops then, not wanting to push the subject matter any further. “How have you been?” he asks instead, his question more analytical but still sincere.
“Tired.”
“You do look tired,” Mr. Smith agrees. He eyes Eren carefully before walking some more. “Eren,” he says, “Have you not been sleeping well?”
“No,” Eren admits. Mr. Smith pauses, waiting for him to elaborate but for the first time in his life perhaps, Eren doesn’t feel like over-talking.
“When Levi… When Coach Ackerman can’t sleep he takes some chamomile tea. And if he still can’t sleep he’ll wake me up just to talk to him. Have you ever talked to anyone when you feel like that? With a friend?”
Eren cocks his head at that question.
“With a friend?” he questions.
“With Armin,” Mr. Smith suggests. “With Mikasa, perhaps? Have you ever asked them if they aren’t sleeping well either?”
“Hitch said mercury’s in Gatorade or something and that makes people not sleep well,” Eren supplies and Mr. Smith blinks at him for a second before bursting out laughing. He composes himself quickly enough.
“That’s not quite what I meant,” he says, mirth still stuck to his tone. “But I believe Miss Dreyse used the word ‘ retrograde ’.”
“Ah, yeah. Probably. I don’t really believe in all that.”
“Me neither,” Mr. Smith agrees, patting Eren’s shoulder. He huffs, apparently disappointed but not entirely displeased. “Go back to class. I’ll tell Coach to let you back in.”
“He’s been sensitive lately, hasn’t he?”
“He’s always been a sensitive man,” Mr. Smith confides in him, and he smiles at Eren like they’re keeping secrets.
Eren is allowed to return with the rest of the class after that talk.
Armin is already looking at him questioningly, insatiable for some knowledge.
“What just happened?” Armin asks, looking still distressed about the fight. Annie has returned too, sitting on the bleachers languidly while Mikasa and Coach Ackerman argue further away.
“I don’t know. Mr. Smith wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“About Zeke,” Eren supplies, and he watches Armin’s face shift. “I don’t know. I told him I wasn’t interested in being in contact with him again.”
“You haven’t read the letter yet?”
“Why would I? It’s probably all fucking excuses knowing him. Blaming my dad or some shit.”
“I’d read it just out of plain curiosity,” Armin admits. “Like, why now?”
“I can give it to you if you’d like.”
“No, dude. It was meant for you to read. Not for me.”
Eren nods, turning towards Historia and Ymir who seem to be busy viciously gossiping.
“Don’t you think it’s bullshit kicking Mikasa out?”
They pause to give Eren a quick lookover. Ymir seems less impressed by him.
“Mikasa likes to play the star role a bit too much sometimes,” Ymir replies, amused. “I think Annie just got mad she kept getting that long hair of hers in her eyes.”
“She is a star,” Eren justifies her.
“Yeah but it’s like… a friendly game. Like, chill a bit.”
“So because she takes shit seriously she’s supposed to be punished? We’re not all as aloof and cool as you are, Ymir.”
“Oh, God, Jaeger. I’m so sorry for teasing your girlfriend a bit,” Ymir says, mockingly pressing a hand to her chest before rolling her eyes at him. “That little calming walk with Principal Handsome didn’t do its work, did it?”
“Ymir,” Historia warns her, and Ymir looks annoyed by being called out but she does shut up. “I think it’s cute, actually. That you’re both so intense together.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Eren mumbles, immediately feeling stupid for saying something like that. “I just think Coach is showing his biases a bit. That’s all.”
“Right, cause he’s unbiased towards his precious, little niece...” Ymir mocks him.
“Isn’t your mom friends with Coach and Mr. Smith?” Armin presses her. “Didn’t they help you get your scholarship?”
Ymir squints her eyes at Armin. She looks like she wants to say something scathing, but she takes one quick look at Historia and clearly backs down.
“Quit it with the sass, Armin. It doesn’t suit you,” she replies, grabbing Historia by her shoulders and moving her away from them as if offended.
“They’re just jealous of her,” Eren tells Armin. “Because she’s the best there is.”
“Yes. But she does… play a bit intensely.”
“Alright, traitor.”
Armin smiles sheepishly, turning to look at Annie before pretending like he isn’t looking at her.
Mikasa eventually joins Annie on the bleachers. They sit close-by and Eren wonders how they manage to be so civilized when mere minutes ago they were at each other’s throats.
Eren’s allowed back on the game and they continue the match. Eren catches Mr. Smith and Coach Ackerman whispering at each other, Coach’s eyes trained on him.
Eren pretends not to notice them.
*****************
"Your uncle’s a fucking dickhead," Eren tells Mikasa as they make their way towards the parking lot. He’s always driven her and Armin back home to spend the least amount of time on his own.
Mikasa always complains about his driving but he doesn’t mind it. He likes it a bit when she gets angry at him and her eyes become lethal.
"Mmm," Mikasa hums, biting the nail on her thumb.
"I mean, since when is Annie his little pet, either way? I’m not saying to give you family immunity but that was such an asshole move."
"Mmm."
"Actually, I think it's fair that you scratched her up, who the fuck slaps someone like that?"
"Mmm."
"And knowing you, you could’ve fucked her up way worse so she should be grateful…"
"Eren... Please shut up," Mikasa suggests, getting on the passenger seat.
Armin shares a knowing look with Eren, getting in his car too.
Eren steps into the driver seat. Looking sideways, he can see Mikasa's small smile hidden underneath her long black hair.
"Okay," Eren says, because he can't really say anything else. "Want me to braid it for you?" He asks while holding a long strand of hair. Mikasa shrugs and Eren watches her shoulders rise and fall like the tide.
"Okay," she says. “Be careful with the bump Leonhardt left.”
Eren nods.
Truthfully, he hasn't done this in a while. He used to do it for his mum when he was little. She taught him how. And he did it for Mikasa in primary. She claims it’s his fault she never learned how to do her hair. He’s always done it for her.
Dividing all her hair into two, he starts splitting smaller strands and intertwining them. Her hair is very long, so he knows it's going to be a while. But he likes taking his time doing these sorts of things. They ease him up.
“Armin took Annie’s side too,” Eren confides in her, laughing when he hears Armin sputtering in the back seat.
“I did not . I just thought both parts made awry choices…”
“Okay, dude. Mr. Justice over here,” Eren teases.
Through the car window, they spy Coach Ackerman and Mr. Smith heading towards his car. Coach pauses, waving a hand towards them. Mikasa doesn’t wave back and he rolls his eyes at her.
“Family is overrated anyway,” Eren tells her and Mikasa snorts out a laugh.
“It’s not. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“I liked how you kept passing the ball to Eren despite being in different teams,” Armin tells them, examining Eren’s work. “Really helped us.”
"That was only once. And it was a knee-jerk reaction. I'm always playing with him the most."
"You did it twice," Armin counters.
Mikasa turns to glare at him, slapping the top of his head gently.
“You wouldn’t call Annie out like that, would you?” she accuses him and Armin covers his face in his hands.
“Stop, please. Does everyone think I’m into her now?”
“She’s hot,” Eren says, immediately regretting saying that in front of Mikasa. “Not my type, but you know. If I were you I would.”
“She’s pretty,” Mikasa agrees, much to Eren's surprise. “I think she’s a cunt but she’s pretty.”
Eren laughs at Mikasa’s language, clearly borrowed from her uncle. Or stolen, really. That’s what Ackerman’s like to do, after all.
“She has an elegant profile. She looks like a Pre-Raphaelite painting,” Armin says, his eyes trained nowhere in particular. Mikasa and Eren share a look and a snicker at that.
"You're still good at this," Mikasa says appreciatively, touching the tip of one of her braids.
"Yeah. And, you know, I could do this for you before every practice, cause I know you don't like ponytails and playing with your hair untied seems to be more dangerous than expected."
Mikasa doesn't reply to that, so Eren doesn't insist.
There’s almost no cars left in the parking lot by the time Eren starts up the car. They make a couple of blocks listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees to calm Mikasa’s temper, before they spot a short, blonde thing standing a few feet away. As if waiting for someone.
“Is that Annie?” Mikasa asks, ever eagle-eyed.
“Does she not have a ride?” Armin says, immediately giving Eren a suggestive look.
“No,” Mikasa cuts him off before he can even voice his thoughts. “I’m not riding with the Russian.”
“You’re going to let a woman walk alone for miles?”
“No,” Mikasa replies. “You walk with her.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Be a gentleman, Armin,” Eren encourages him. “Show her your game.”
Armin scoffs at the suggestion, but he seems to reconsider. He gets out of the car before Eren’s fully stopped and he races towards Annie.
She seems surprised to see him but she doesn’t seem put-off. That’s as good as Eren expects her to react.
They make it a couple more blocks before his eyes meet Mikasa’s.
They both burst out laughing, Mikasa covering her face in her hands to try and reign the laugh in.
She looks so pretty when she laughs I don’t feel like I deserve to witness it , Eren thinks.
"I can't believe he’s getting frisky with the enemy," Eren says, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"Stop. She's not the enemy. She’s just like… a bit insane.”
“That’s every woman, Mikasa.”
“Wow. And Jean’s the chauvinist?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” Eren assures her, still grinning hard enough for it to hurt a bit.
“You’re calling me insane, Eren Jaeger?”
“No. You’re like… a boy with boobs or something.”
“Sorry?”
“Like you’re a bro. A… pretty bro.”
“ Boobs ?”
“You have… you have boobs.”
“I’m aware,” Mikasa promises, shaking her head at him. She’s not smiling anymore, but her eyes are glistening with beautiful joy. “I’m very aware.”
“I’m aware too,” he assures her, hating every word that comes out of his mouth but she seems so amused with them. Eren wouldn’t mind being her little clown for the rest of his life.
They ride to Eren’s house, stopping by a Krispy Kreme for a snack. Eren pays even though both of them are rich enough to feel bad about it at times.
They watch some shitty Eli Roth horror splatfest, then they watch stupid videos on YouTube to cleanse their palate.
Night falls unexpectedly and it catches the both of them stuck together like conjoined twins, snuggling comfortably on the couch.
They cuddle like children, as if they were unaware of each other’s bodies. There’s an innocence to it that is placed there by their lifelong friendship and their desire to maintain it intact.
It’s blindness, really, but they can’t say it out loud. The truth is also mute and deaf to them.
“We could order Chinese,” Eren suggests. “I can drive you in the morning to your house for a change of clothes.”
"My dad doesn't really like it when I stay to sleep here and your parents aren't home," she says.
Eren accommodates himself, shifting positions.
"Why? It's not like anything is going to happen. We're just friends."
But even as he says that, the guilt builds up like water behind a dam.
Mikasa shakes her head and stands up to leave.
"Let me drive you home, at least," he says. Mikasa pauses, touching her braid gingerly.
“I’d rather you walk me,” she replies. “If you feel like it.”
He nods, putting his sneakers back on before heading towards the front door.
It’s a thirty minute walk, so he takes his bike to ride back. He’d offer to ride with Mikasa to her house, but he finds himself wanting to spend the most amount of time with her as he can.
He fears what he’ll encounter in his loneliness.
The sun has already set by then and everything is illuminated by the lamplights and the light escaping from the windows of the houses. It all feels very calm, but it doesn’t suit Eren.
The thing is, he knows he's like a spark. He knows that he jumps and twirls and burns violently at the smallest of altercations. Even now there’s a nervousness surging through both of them. The question hanging in-between them feels almost violent.
Mikasa puts her hand on top of Eren’s, holding onto the handlebar of his bike. Neither of them acknowledges this action.
Right now, everything is enveloped by the dark sky and the quietness. Right now, they walk side by side, both of them in their football uniforms with their knees scratched and the smell of grass and spring venturing between the cracks of winter.
Right now he feels like a goddamn pyre, burning high and steady.
He catches sight of Coach Ackerman walking his dog as they approach Mikasa’s house. Coach Ackerman spares them a glance, but he ignores them otherwise.
“The older he gets, the more of an embittered asshole he becomes,” Mikasa points plainly. “I don’t know how Erwin puts up with him when he’s in one of his moods.”
Eren just hums as a reply. He still finds it odd whenever Mikasa refers to Mr. Smith as Erwin . He finds it odd whenever she brings any teacher up outside of school. When she calls Coach and Mr. Smith her uncles or she rejects spending Christmas with Eren just to visit Mr. Smith's family and celebrate Coach's birthday instead.
“If you’re taking Matcha on a walk I can accompany you,” Eren offers, trying to spend just a second more with her. Mikasa smiles but she shakes her head.
“It’s alright, my dad already took her out. You know she’s his favorite child.”
Eren laughs, nodding a few feet away from her door. He can spot Mikasa’s father looking out the window directly at him.
"Goodnight, Mikasa," he says, feeling observed.
Mikasa looks at him, intently. Searching for something that she knows she will find there if she looks hard enough.
He thinks. He doesn't know. He hasn't been knowing much of anything lately.
She leans over then, and kisses his cheek gently.
"Sweet dreams, Eren," she says. He waits until she’s inside before riding back.
He still feels like a pyre.
*****************
One of the maids left Eren a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes on the fridge. He feels too lazy to order in, so he settles for that. He puts so much ketchup on everything his mouth feels tangy.
He heads straight to bed after a shower but he cannot seem to fall asleep.
Yet his dreams are already waiting for him, ready to pounce. And when he closes his eyes they catch up to him, like predators in the dark.
*****************
Where are you? What is this?
There is blood everywhere. Yours?
No.
The rustle of the trees. They are so tall but somehow you are taller still.
There is the imprint of a face drawn in the blood. Someone must have... The face is not yours.
You are alive.
This isn't your blood.
There is a body. Too mangled to be a body. Too broken down. A pool of blood surrounds it.
It isn't yours.
Someone is dead.
You are alive.
There is darkness at the edges of your vision.
You are alive and someone is dead.
And you know, somehow, you are the one to blame for this.