Archive of Our Own

You meet on a not-so-special Tuesday, a few weeks after you turned 22.

Since you opted for a quiet evening in, Ymir declares that you’re overdue for a night of partying and drags you out to a bar that has upbeat music, bass rattling your bones. Your energy picks up as you get your first round of drinks, and apparently your dress makes you look like sex on legs as Ymir so bluntly puts it after you all cheers. You meet with Marco, joking about boy hunting while Ymir surveys the women and sighs that she’s going to be single forever.

“I’ve tried setting you up with friends,” you remind her.

“I don’t like college girls.”

“You are a college girl,” Marco points out.

“Only for this semester! And then we’re done!” She wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Well until you get into grad school and outshine us all.”

You indulge her antics for a moment good-naturedly before you move back to your seat, taking the opportunity to scan the room.

He is there on the far side at the wall, on his own, standing tall and handsome with his brown hair in a bun. When he meets your gaze across the room with those stunning green eyes, he returns your timid smile just as you turn back to Ymir.

She’s already got her eyebrows lifted at you, eyeing you over the rim of her glass.

“You’re so obvious,” she tells you, and Marco chuckles at how you splutter.

“I am not.”

When she scoffs, Marco saves you - somewhat. “I can introduce you. We had classes together in college.”

Your jaw falls open, your insecurities filling your head - what if he thinks you’re weird? or boring? maybe even dumb? - but Marco is waving at the man. Ymir rolls her eyes at you, but you smack her arm lightly. It’s unnecessary, really, considering she’ll always look out for you first, but you can’t help but hide behind your banter for a moment as the handsome stranger approaches.

“Good to see you, Marco,” he says, clapping Marco on the shoulder with one hand and shaking Marco’s with his other. 

“Definitely. Girls, this is Eren. We had biology classes together in undergrad,” Marco introduces his friend. “This is Ymir - we promise she won’t bite - and then…” He gives your name when the attention is shifted to you.

Eren shakes Ymir’s hand first, and she’s nice enough, though you can see her give a very firm handshake. When he turns to you as Marco says your name, he breaks into a smile that you can’t deny returning.

“Nice to meet you,” you say politely.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he assures you, his touch lingering for a second longer than normal. You don’t mind - his palm is warm on yours, long fingers curling around your hand.

Marco launches into a retelling of how he and Eren met - a story you’re actually familiar with, considering you met Marco your freshman year of college, but you just never encountered his former lab partner Eren Yeager.

“So you’re the kid that got banished from the lab with Dr. Dawk?” Ymir exclaims in disbelief.

“Guilty as charged,” Eren confirms sheepishly.

“You’d get kicked out too if you burned off the professor’s eyebrows,” Marco defends the decision, though he’s laughing while he talks.

You’re all too aware of Eren’s wandering eyes landing on you far too often, but you don’t mind, because you’re quite distracted by how lovely his laugh sounds and how charming he is as he casually brings you back into the conversation when you’re too quiet.

Perhaps he can help bring you out of your shell.

*

Because your friends wouldn’t let you go home with a stranger, the night ends with you parting ways with him, stating that you’re responsible for getting a now somewhat drunk Ymir home with the help of Marco.

He gets your number before you leave, though you add with the condition, “Only if you actually text me.”

“Oh, believe me - I will,” he promises.

Two hours later, Marco drops you off after you both got Ymir to her place, and then you get a text shortly after you’re inside.

This is Eren. It was great meeting you. Maybe we can get coffee sometime?

*

After exchanging texts all day (or, well, more like a mixture of memes and emojis), you agree on a coffee shop. It’s out of the way from classes, but you make sure you get ahead in homework the night before so you don’t have to worry about anything after, letting you head straight there when your last class of the day ends.

You arrive first, and Eren runs about ten minutes late when he finally enters. Your leg is bouncing under the table when his eyes land on you, a relieved look taking over his face.

“I was worried you’d leave,” he admits.

“It’s fine,” you dismiss his concern, assuming he got tied up on the way. You don’t ask, and he doesn’t offer an excuse, but you both order coffee and sit down.

You’re awkwardly skirting through small talk when he sits back in his seat, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“I have a confession to make,” he begins.

You brace for him to say that he has a girlfriend, that he thinks this is a bad idea, that he has somewhere else to be - and he throws his hands up in mock surrender.

“I hate coffee.”

“Uh - “ You stammer out a series of consonants, not entirely positive how to respond until you devolve into a fit of laughs.

Eren is laughing, too, color filling his cheeks in embarrassment.

“You strike me as a coffee person, and I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you,” he confesses, a boyish smile stretched across his full lips.

Butterflies fill your belly, and you cross your ankles under the table, feeling a need to fidget but not wanting to appear restless.

“We don’t have to stay here,” you say. “We can maybe go to the park? It’s a few blocks away.”

He considers your suggestion, but he gestures to your coffee cup. “Finish that first, and then we can go. I want to learn a little more about you first.”

Unable to resist, you indulge him because he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room when you talk.

*

The park becomes a regular meeting place. Being fairly equidistant from both places, it’s easy to send an impromptu text saying Meet me for lunch? and knowing that the other will agree, assuming class permits for you and work for him.

Today, it’s cold, but it’s not snowing, so it’s actually nice outside by your standards. You both walk around, arms bumping together, when you have to step closer as you pass someone walking the opposite direction. He eventually also takes your bag from you, insisting on carrying it since you met him at his request today.

“Hey - the ducks are out!” Eren interrupts you talking about your most recent assignment to point at the bushes by the pond, where sure enough, a few ducks are huddled together.

You’re not sure where this sudden interest in ducks came from, but Eren grabs your hand and tugs you in the grass toward them.

“Eren!”

His fingers are cold, but yours probably are too, and he tightens his hold when you stumble along. You stop a few feet away when the ducks grow nervous at your new proximity, and you stand together, watching them watch you.

Eren spouts off a few random facts off the top of his head, but you don’t really listen to him.

Instead, you lace your fingers together.

*

He finds excuses to spend time together.

You have a fairly routine schedule, so when he knows you’re out of class after him, he insists on meeting you so he can walk you home.

“I like being with you,” he explains nonchalantly when you point out that he doesn’t have to do so.

Your face is hot at his casual honesty, but he’s unbothered on the surface. You don’t notice how he’s wiping his hands - clammy from nerves - on his pants when you’re looking ahead, noting that the door to your building is in view. When you reach the entrance, you turn to him, knowing that you have an essay to write as soon as you’re settled in. Eren knows this, too, so he doesn’t ask to come in.

You are about to ask him to come over tomorrow when he moves, catching you off guard when he kisses you.

His lips are chapped because of the brisk air, and he steps closer, bringing a cold hand to your cheek. You don’t mind, reaching up to touch his chest, inching higher to the back of his neck. You forget that your bag is heavy on your shoulders or that your heart is beating so hard that it hurts, because you’re focused on Eren.

“Come over tomorrow,” you ask when you part.

“Of course,” he replies, grinning with all his teeth at you.

You get on your toes to steal another kiss before going in, a skip in your step.

*

You text Ymir about the kiss.

She replies within seconds.

ABOUT TIME.

You send a middle finger emoji, and she sends a rolling eye one in return, followed by a separate message.

Happy for you, nerd.

*

You meet his friends, and you feel yourself tumbling headfirst for Eren.

His best friends are kind and welcoming you into the fold - Armin and Mikasa - and you find yourself growing close with Mikasa. You pair up when the large group of friends all get together, particularly when Eren gets roped into conversations without you.

You don’t mind, considering Mikasa is good company. While she’s quiet, she’s a dark horse, chiming in with witty remarks or dry humor that makes you snort.

One evening, you’re sitting on the sofa beside her while Eren is rehashing some debate with Jean and Armin.

“You’re good for him,” she tells you. “He’s a little calmer. Not a lot, but just enough.”

You beam, swelling at the compliment.

Eren looks at you and grins, making your heart race.

*

The first time you fuck, it’s rushed and full of heated passion.

He kisses you hard, moving you both until you’re pressed to the wall. Your dress is pushed up to your waist, panties long discarded, and he holds you up by your thighs, digging his fingers into the meaty part of your legs.

You marvel how he manages to hold you and line his cock up to your cunt, but your eyes roll back when he makes quick work of finding home inside of you.

Driving into you, you claw at his shoulders, desperate for purchase as he snaps his hips to yours. Your back will probably be bruised, being pressed against the wall like this, but you don’t care as long as he keeps fucking you so deeply.

“Eren,” you moan.

“Yeah?” he asks, breathy and chasing recklessly after his release.

“Yeah.” Your voice comes out in a whine, and you drop your head on his shoulder, feeling like putty in his hold.

When he has to adjust his hold on you, he seems to make a decision and brings you over to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously. He’s quick to pull at your legs, yanking you to the edge, and wastes no time in pushing back inside. You look up at him, wondering how you managed to get someone so fucking hot to want you like this, reaching down to touch his abs that flex when he thrusts.

You shut your eyes, losing yourself in the way he makes you forget your own name. All you can manage to say when he tells you he’s going to cum is a needy please. When his movements grow messy, his orgasm imminent, he circles your clit with his thumb. You’re left a blubbering, sensitive heap of nerves as he makes you cum on his cock before he follows suit.

In the afterglow of your orgasm, you’re suddenly faced with reality - do you leave, or will he invite you to stay?

After cleaning yourselves up, he offers you to stay.

“If you want,” he says casually.

So you do.

*

You get accepted into graduate school.

After some further correspondence, you get offered a position as a full-time graduate assistant to wave tuition.

The letterhead from The Department of History at Sina University is embossed in expensive gold and green ink, and below are the words typed to congratulate you on can pursue your Master of Arts degree, and how you’re going to be a fantastic addition to the program.

Your friends all celebrate with you, and Eren has his hand on the small of your back for part of the night until you pull him closer. He takes your hand in return, and hope blossoms in your gut that maybe - just maybe - you can make this work at a distance when you move in the spring.

*

“I just don’t see what the big deal is,” he says dismissively, shaking his head as he avoids looking at you as you both clean up the kitchen.

“I’m going to be in another city, Eren,” you explain for the third time as you scrub at the plate in your hands. “I won’t be just a train ride away across Trost.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he insists, taking a glass from the drying rack to put it away.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Holy shit, really?” His hands are thrown up in exasperation after putting the glass up. “I don’t get why we have to plan things out now. This is a few months away, right? What’s the fucking rush?”

You set down the plate in the sink and turn to him, your heart pounding and your pulse ringing in your ears as you stare at him. He finally looks your way, green eyes ablaze as he regards you.

“What?” he asks, his patience clearly growing thin.

You search his expression, looking for some iota of confirmation that he’s not saying what it seems like. When it comes to Eren, you’ve quickly picked up on how to read between the lines, picking up on the implications of his frustration, and how determined he is to avoid the discussion at hand. You can’t find it, and he stares back at you, waiting for you to say something.

So you do.

“Do you love me?” you ask him, your voice hardly above a whisper.

The irritation dissipates, and his jaw falls open, but no words follow. Your breathing quickens, your heart racing like you’ve run a marathon, but you haven’t moved from your spot in front of the kitchen sink, fingers curled so tightly around the sponge that your knuckles hurt. You feel moisture well in your eyes when the chasm between you seems to grow with every passing second that Eren doesn’t say a damn thing, only staring at you with those brilliant eyes and slumped shoulders that give you the answer you’re terrified of.

When you feel your chest tighten and tears roll down your cheeks, you drop the sponge in the sink on top of the plate and spin on your heel, all but running from the kitchen. When you reach the bedroom - Eren’s bedroom - you sit on the edge of the bed and hold your head in your hands.

There’s clinks coming from the kitchen, and your shoulders shake when he doesn’t follow after you.

Your face is hot and your temples throb as your heart breaks, and you don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to say.

You just sob until your eyes are puffy and run dry.

He’s not deliberately missing the point of the conversation - to figure out what you are, since you’re not really dating - but he’s been avoiding this for the last few months. While you fell hard and fast for him, he’s been keeping you close enough for you to be satiated, but not enough to step into a proper commitment with you. You going to graduate school is a perfect out of this relationship, but the idea of being unable to hold his hand and kiss him like it’s the first time when you see him makes you nauseated.

After some time passes - you don’t know how long, since you’re too fixated on trying to slow your breathing down - Eren follows you into the bedroom.

You don’t meet his gaze, unwilling to burst into tears all over again. He sits beside you, though he leaves a few inches of space between you.

“I - “

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you ask hoarsely. “Please.”

He pauses, taking a slow breath. “Okay.”

Silence settles in beside the thick tension that’s filled the room, and you can’t bear the possibility of this being how it ends, so you speak up. “Maybe you’re right. We can figure this out,” you mutter, turning toward him carefully.

Apprehensively, he meets your gaze. You can see how tight his jaw is. “I’m actually not so sure, anymore.”

You feel like you’ve been hit in the sternum with how abruptly the air is stolen from your lungs.

Eren, in his refusal to meet you halfway in this relationship (fuck this idea that you’re not together simply because he hasn’t asked you to be his fucking girlfriend), brings you to your next move.

You stand up, and your hands shake as you throw your jacket on, looking around for your scarf.

“You’re leaving?” He sounds so bewildered at the idea that you’re walking out right now that if this were any other time, you would laugh.

You don’t, though, letting out a hollow scoff. “What else would I do?”

He stares at you with round eyes for a moment, saying, “It’s cold out.”

“Seriously, Eren? Is that all you have to say right now?”

Your arms drop to your sides, dumbfounded, as he opens and shuts his mouth once, twice, but doesn’t dare to speak again.

Taking the hint, you grab your bag from the top of the dresser, nearly forgetting your phone in your haste to get out.

He lets you leave, making no move to stop you, nor does he call after you to stay.

The chill of the night air keeps you from crying as you walk home, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

*

You’re barely in your apartment when you break down.

You drop your keys on the counter, tossing your bag aside, and you make your way to your room. You’re falling apart when you drop onto your bed, sobs shaking you.

*

You’re only gone for about five minutes when Eren returns to the kitchen, knowing there’s still some to put away. Perhaps he’ll clear his mind when he cleans up - if he’s learned anything from Levi, it’s that cleaning is a good task to busy the mind.

He dries the plates sitting in the clean side of the sink, putting each one away.

The last one is a drinking glass, and he opens the cabinet where they go - and the bottom shelf is full of coffee mugs that he’s accumulated, both from friends and ones he’s bought himself.

At the very front is one you gifted him.

He sets the glass on the shelf above it, though the mug stares back at him. It’s a cheesy mug - a stupid one, really, because it has a cat with a grumpy expression and it says “this is my happy face”. You had given it as a surprise, telling him that it reminded you of him, to which he rolled his eyes and kissed you.

His heartbeat rings in his ears, and in an angry bout of impulse, he grabs it and whirls around, throwing it against the far wall. The glass shatters, sending shards of glass across the kitchen floor, and as soon as the damage is done, he realizes that he’s crying.

“FUCK!” he shouts, and he’s hyperventilating as he stares at the broken pieces on the floor.

Your face is all he can see, wide eyes and a pleading expression as you asked if he loves you.

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes as if it’ll stop the tears from falling, and he presses his back against the counter. He slides until he’s sitting on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest, gasping for air between choked sobs. He hides his face in his hands while he cries, wondering if there’s any way to salvage what he’s just done.

When he finally picks up the pieces of glass, he knows better than to call you and ask.

*

Ymir comes over two days later. 

She left a bottle of wine on the counter, intending to cheer you up, but her usual light-hearted demeanor vanishes when she finds you in bed, clutching your comforter as you try to force down your sobs.

Rushing to your side, she rubs your back and pushes your hair from your face as she mutters soft words of encouragement, promising that you’re not alone in this.

The stabbing pain in your chest is somewhat eased, and you roll over to face her.

“Aw, sweetie,” she shushes you when you feel like you’re about to break all over again. “Hey. Let’s get you out of bed at least - have you eaten today?”

You’re too tired to protest, letting her guide you out of bed for the first time all day.

*

A week later, Eren calls you.

You ignore the call, tossing your phone on your bed and walking into another room, fighting back tears.

They spill over anyway.

*

Ymir continues to come over unannounced, helping you keep busy lest your mind wanders to the way your heart is bruised and broken.

“Look at me,” she says curtly while you’re both tidying up your kitchen. You do as your told, and she places her hands on your shoulders. “None of that bullshit, okay? I can tell you’re overthinking everything.”

“Easier said than done,” you quip, but you don’t have any venom behind it. She’s right, but you’re too numb to argue. After a moment of her just giving you a deadpan stare, you sigh, shoulders slumping under her palms. “Okay. Yes. You’re right.”

“Good. I’ll grab us some snacks.”

*

Mikasa is there for you, but things have shifted. She’s careful not to mention Eren unnecessarily, knowing that your eyes sting when you think about how he’s apparently doing fine. You don’t want him to be broken, not like you feel, but you had hoped that he would realize how shattered you feel in the aftermath of your fallout.

You want to know if he asks about you, but you can’t open that door.

Mikasa knows better and indulges your thinly veiled interest.

“I told him that you’re excited for the move,” she tells you. “I think a fresh start will be good for you. You won’t have all these ghosts following you, like you do here.”

“Hm.” You sigh, noting how fitting it is to call him a ghost for you, now. You nod in agreement, resolving to look ahead to the start of the new chapter of your life. “No more ghosts.”

*

After a long week of packing, you look around at your near-empty apartment after arriving home from being at Ymir’s all day. The room is barren save for your furniture too big to pack, 

There’s a hollow space in your chest where your heart beats, and you shut the door behind you. You lean back against it, and your bury your face in your hands.

This should be a new start, but it feels more like you’re running away.

You have to remind yourself that the truth is far from that; you’re simply moving on.

*

When you move, your closest friends all show up to pack your car. Ymir, Mikasa, Armin, and Marco.

Eren is nowhere to be found.

That’s fine.

Everyone hugs you so tightly that you might bruise, with Ymir going last. You cling to her, and when she buries her face in your shoulder, you know she’s hiding the fact that she’s crying.

“None of that bullshit,” you parrot her words back to her. She laughs, sniffling, before lifting her face from your shirt.

“Let me know when you get there,” she tells you, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Like, the second you park.”

Rolling your eyes dramatically, you agree anyway.

Hoping to leave before you start to lose it, you clamber into your car and set off, leaving behind Trost and all of the memories it holds.

*

5 years later

Your apartment is a one bedroom, once again, but you’re in a nicer area, with a bigger space, and a lovely view of the city. You’re no longer living out of a half-unpacked setup, with everything in its place, and you’re settled in.

Two months back in, and you’re in a routine.

Work, home, friends.

“Come on,” Ymir calls impatiently by the front door.

You share a look with her girlfriend, Historia, as you tie your boot laces. “I’m almost done, calm down,” you retort.

“It’s winter, not the fucking army.”

“Sorry that we believe in sensible winter boots that happen to have laces,” Historia quips. “Now stop being grumpy and come here. We have a selfie to take.”

You stand, shoes now laced, warm leggings covering your legs, topped with a tunic sweater and scarf. Historia puts you between her and Ymir, and you hold up your phone to snap a picture. After a few in rapid succession, Ymir breaks the line first.

“Alright, alright - now can we go?”

“Fine,” you concede. “Let’s go.”

On the walk over to the bar, you post the photo to your social media before tucking away your phone in your pocket. 

An hour later, you’re all at the bar and a drink in when other friends run into your group.

Mikasa doesn’t hesitate to run up to you, throwing her arms around you.

“Hey! I thought that was you!”

“Hey, Mikasa!” You welcome her embrace, and when you break apart, you notice how shortly cropped her hair is. “I love the haircut - wow, you rock it.”

“Thanks.” She blushes, squeezing your bicep. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to find a time to meet you yet - work is just crazy.”

With a few inquiries, you coax Mikasa to launch into a spiel about work. She’s a dancer, and she’s in the ballet at the theater downtown, and get a rundown of the politics of dancing and the arts. Ultimately, you’re not surprised Mikasa is successful in this venture; she’s always been athletic, but she’s also so graceful that something like ballet is right up her alley. Ymir and Historia provide some additional context when Mikasa goes on a tangent about a situation you may not be familiar with, and you wonder how close everyone has remained in your absence - or how far apart they may have drifted.

“Sorry, I can go on forever about this,” Mikasa eventually waves off her story.

You laugh. “No, it’s okay, really. What else is new? I know Ymir found her soulmate while I was in Sina.”

Ymir sticks out her tongue, and Historia just beams at the comment. When Mikasa laughs, you notice how her eyes wander behind you, and her smile falters.

“Listen, I should tell you - “ she tries to speak, but then another voice cuts in.

“Mika, where did you - there you are!”

Your heartbeat stutters, and Mikasa can see the instant your body tenses, eyes going round in disbelief. Her expression is apologetic to you before sliding over to the person behind you.

“I thought you left, you were gone so long,” he continues, and you realize he doesn’t recognize you from behind. “I - “

You look to your side, where Eren stands, and he’s stopped mid-sentence. He says your name, and you force a smile - one that he returns with genuine warmth.

“Long time no see,” he says, and you notice how he moves his hand as if to touch your arm before he tucks it into the pocket of his coat.

“Yeah,” you reply lamely.

“She moved back recently,” Mikasa offers, glancing between the two of you.

Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, and he smiles at you in a way that makes your breathing catch in your throat. “You graduated, then?”

“I did,” you confirm. “I got hired at our old university in the library. Special Collections.”

“That’s perfect for you!” Eren says encouragingly, and an ache settles in behind your sternum, but luckily Ymir saves you from being the center of attention.

“We’re thinking of getting a dog,” she declares.

Mikasa and Historia take the hint - you wonder how much Historia knows of your past with Eren - and you lose the desire to linger in the conversation superficially.

Eren stays beside you, towering above you, but he doesn’t try to interject and pick back up the discussion with you. After a while, you’re relieved that he doesn’t focus on you; five years ago, he’d have chased you to the ends of the earth for your attention, but now he remains subdued. Calm, even.

Your heart is wildly beating as you laugh at the right times, smiling all the while. You order another drink, hoping to keep your hand from trembling as you cradle the glass. You’re all too aware of Eren at your side, how his arm brushes yours only once. His hair is tied back in a bun, flyaways framing his handsome face. His shoulders are broader, telling of his age, and you can see how his green sweater is pulled taut across his chest.

You think of all the times you wanted to check his social media, but didn’t.

If he kept up on you, he doesn’t let on, asking polite questions about the last five years. You keep from doing the same, not wanting to show that you’re interested in anything beyond this interaction despite yearning to ask him so much.

Unlike the first time you met, he’s not vying for your attention. He seems content to simply be near you, and you’re unable to ignore how he manages to draw you in with a quick glance and lop-sided smile mid-conversation.

Another half hour passes, and when you finish your drink, you force a smile after setting it on the tabletop.

“I’m going to head home,” you announce.

Ymir looks over at you instantly. “Can you wait a few? I’m almost done with my drink, and we can walk you home,” she suggests.

“No need,” you try to assure her, making her quirk an eyebrow at you.

Cautiously, Eren speaks up. “I can walk you? It’s late, and you should walk with someone.”

You look at him, and you can see the apprehension tense up his shoulders.

Despite your better judgement, you say, “Sure.”

Ymir shoots you a look that says what the fuck are you doing that you ignore. You look at Historia, telling her that you’ll text them when she’s back. You hug Mikasa for a long time, and she knows that there’s a hundred unspoken words in that embrace.

Soon enough, you’re outside, walking with Eren.

You don’t live far, but the walk is spent mostly in silence. The night is cold, and flurries begin to fall; when you steal glances at Eren, white flecks of snow dot his dark hair, and his ears are red from the chill.

On the fourth glance, you catch him already looking at you.

“It’s not much further,” you try to fill the dead air between you. “Just another block.”

“The red brick?”

“Yeah.”

He hums in appreciation. “Nice place.”

The quiet that settles between you is a little less awkward, but you can’t help but notice how you have to keep yourself from anxiously talking about literally anything. Worse even, you have to keep yourself from asking him to come up for a nightcap.

You approach the front of the building, where you both stop walking, and you turn to face him.

His cheeks are red now, too, and you want to chastise him for not having a hat.

You’re not sure if you should hug him. A handshake is too formal. A wave feels ridiculous.

About twenty seconds into seriously debating just heading inside without a word, he takes a deep breath, and you brace for a curt goodbye.

“Listen.” He looks down at his feet, eyebrows pulled together, before raising his gaze back to you. “I owe you an apology.”

Your chest rises and falls in hurried breaths, but you try to maintain your composure. “It’s been five years, Eren.”

“I know.” He doesn’t move toward you, hands still in his pockets, but he doesn’t waver. He meets you head on. “I just want to be friends, but I can’t do that without making that part right.”

You nod, wanting to think about anything other than that night. “Well, consider yourself forgiven. I forgave you a long time ago, but it’s all good. Okay?”

He searches your face, looking for an indication that he’s not welcome anymore, but you can’t bring yourself to shut him out entirely. So, you smile, and your cheeks sting from the cold.

“Okay,” he affirms, and he shifts from foot to foot. “It’s cold, you should go in.”

“Yeah.” You move to turn, but you pause, looking again at him. “I’ll see you around.”

This time, he smiles back at you. “Anytime you want. Have a good night.”

Before you get the bright idea to invite him in, you hurry inside the building, replaying the conversation over and over again in your head as you go up the stairs. You don’t normally like taking the stairs - being six flights up makes you reluctant - but you warm up with the movement and it gives you time to think. Eren seems to be genuinely remorseful, even after all this time, and you wonder where this leaves you both.

Once you’re inside your apartment, you shed the outer layers of your outfit, hanging up your coat and scarf. You can’t bring yourself to focus on any one thing, moving on autopilot as you keep imagining Eren’s eyes as he implores you to believe him.

He seems to have a quiet confidence about him that he lacked back then, now standing tall, but humble.

When you’re climbing in bed, face washed and pajamas on, you pluck your phone off your nightstand to scroll until you decide to sleep.

A notification from Instagram is at the top of your screen.

erenyeager has requested to follow you.

You stare at the words for far too long until you tap it, opening the app. Sure enough, Eren’s icon is there next to his username in your follower requests.

Before you lose your nerve, you accept, and then go to his profile to do the same.

For the first time in five years, you’re looking at his page.

His posts are a mix of photos of himself, of his friends, and artsier photos he’s taken. You scroll, peeking at pictures of friends that you recognize and others that you don’t. If he’s in a relationship, it’s not apparent by his page. You’re not sure why you notice this, but you refuse to unpack that at this moment.

What you’re focused on is the fact that now you’re following each other, and he just liked your most recent post - a selfie you posted just before you left for the bar earlier, sandwiched between Ymir and Historia as you all grin at the camera.

The action of following you makes one thing abundantly clear: Eren wants to be friends.

You can do that.

*

The first time he asks you for coffee, you’re skeptical.

“You don’t like coffee,” you point out as you talk into your phone, setting down the wooden spoon you’re using to cook.

“No,” he says. “But you do.”

You stare into your pan of mixed vegetables, acutely aware of how the spices smell as you rapidly think of all the ways to turn Eren down. He waits, patient on the other side of the call.

“Coffee sounds good,” you agree. “There’s a spot near campus that I like.”

“Awesome. I’m off Sunday, if you have time that day?”

You don’t want to tell him that Sunday is also your day off, so you settle on, “Sure. I’ve got about an hour or so at noon.”

“Noon is perfect.”

You swallow, not trusting yourself. “Great. I’ll text you. I’ve gotta go - in the middle of cooking dinner.”

“Gotcha. Yeah, we’ll talk. See you later.”

You hurry out a bye and hang up, and you decide that perhaps you need another side, burying yourself in cooking to avoid thinking about how you’re going to get through the next three days knowing that you’re going to have coffee with Eren.

*

He’s already there when you walk in. He sits at a table near the window, though he hasn’t ordered yet, the table empty.

“Hi,” you greet him when you approach.

“Hey.” His smile is far too wide, too bright, and your heart skips a beat.

Maybe two. “You didn’t order?”

“I was waiting on you,” he tells you, and you nod.

You both get in line to order, the wait awkward and silent, and it’s not until you’re both seated with your drinks that the conversation actually begins properly.

Eren asks you what you do for work specifically, and you ask the same - turns out he’s working for marketing in some company - and it gets easier from there.

At some point, you’ve transitioned from topic to topic, and it’s when he’s talking about how Armin is thinking of getting his doctorate that you find yourself staring at his hands.

You remember how his hands felt on your bare skin, tracing up your waist to your ribs and reaching around your back.

When he speaks, your eyes snap to his.

“Hm?” You hope he doesn’t notice where your attention is.

He gives you a lop-sided grin, but he doesn’t let on that he saw you zone out. “I asked if you wanted another coffee, since I was going to grab another.”

“Oh. Yes, please.” You straighten, redirecting your gaze to the window as he stands up.

He gets in line, but he keeps glancing at you, admiring you from afar.

When he sits back down, setting two fresh cups of coffee on the table, you both talk freely and openly.

Another hour passes, and it comes time to leave. You give the half-truth of an excuse that you have errands to run, but you linger on the sidewalk when it’s time to part.

Eren is having an internal conflict of his own, but he appears to settle it, and he asks, “Is it alright if I hug you?”

A piece of you is amused he had the same dilemma you had the other day, but you let him close the distance and gently pull you into a hug.

The instant your cheek meets his chest, you’re hit with a wave of nostalgia and yearning that has been long-since buried.

He smells like cologne that’s woodsy and mature, but the same that he used five years ago. You’re unsurprised that he uses the same cologne, but you’re mortified at yourself as you settle further into the embrace, your heart pounding as you’re pressed to his.

You feel like you’ve properly returned home, and fear grips you as you’re faced with a glaring fact: despite everything, you still want this man.

You love him, and you have all this time.

And now, you can’t have him.

“It’s good to have you back in town,” Eren says, his voice rumbling against your ear. 

“Yeah.” You gradually force yourself to break away, giving him a genuine, shy smile. “It’s good to be back.”

*

A Christmas party is held at Sasha and Niccolo’s house, because they’re the only ones in the group that have a house. Benefits of Niccolo being at the top of his profession, you suppose, and you’re admittedly a little envious. On the outer edges of the city where it gives way to suburbs, their street is quiet, with the neighboring houses lit up with different arrangements of lights and yard decorations. You admire them as you sit outside on the front steps, huddled in your cheesy Christmas sweater and matching Santa hat pulled over your ears, and a cup of spiked cider in your hands. It’s really too cold for you to be out here without your coat, with flurries beginning to layer the ground, but you’re warm from the alcohol and pleasant company of your friends.

The entirety of the group came out, including some of the lesser seen members of the odd circle of friends - the eccentric Hange, quiet Levi, and strikingly handsome Erwin - and the regulars, of course, meaning that Eren is here.

Your confusing feelings for him float in your head, and you wonder if he’s dealing with the same.

As if summoned, the door opens and Eren steps outside.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Go right ahead.” You pat the spot next to you as an invitation, and he obliges. Because of the narrow steps, his side is flush to yours, but you relish the heat he brings.

“You should have a coat on,” he tells you, bringing his own drink to his lips - eggnog, it looks like. “You’ll freeze.”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Maybe, but not with you out here. You’re a space heater.”

He laughs, the sound bellowing and deep, and you feel like you’re floating. He doesn’t refute you, and you don’t comment further. Your eyes are forward, watching the flickering lights on the house across the street. With the comfortable silence,, you drink from your cup again, and when the alcohol warms your core you glance sideways at Eren. 

He’s admiring the lights, too, and the dots of white reflect in his eyes like stars.

Emboldened by his proximity and the bourbon, you lean against him to rest your head on his shoulder.

After a moment, he tilts his head to rest atop the crown of yours.

You stay like that, with the backdrop of the muffled noise coming from inside the party, entranced by the glistening snowfall on the lights.

*

Originally, you planned to spend Christmas on your own. You don’t have family in the city, you have no intention of traveling, and you even bought a bottle of red wine to nurse while watching cheesy Hallmark movies.

The clock hits one o’clock in the afternoon when there’s a loud banging on your door.

“Open up, you Grinch,” Ymir shouts from the other side.

You answer the door in your Christmas cat pajamas to find Ymir and Historia each carrying a bag of gifts and another of food.

“What are you guys doing?” You ask, and Ymir makes an obnoxious sound of offense as she shoulders past you, and Historia looks at you fondly.

“We can’t let you spend Christmas alone. Not when it’s your first one back home.”

She’s so earnest and kind that you want to cry.

Luckily, you don’t, taking the bags from her in an attempt to distract yourself.

“Thank you guys,” you say as you set the items down on the kitchen island. “I…I don’t - “

“Don’t get all sappy on me,” Ymir cuts you off sharply. “Just pour two glasses of wine. I know you’re doing your usual tradition of Hallmark movies and your girl is ready for some cheesy, manufactured love stories.”

You and Historia share a look of amusement, but you do as Ymir says and gets them both wine.

*

Later in the evening, while picking at a charcuterie board with the girls, Eren texts you.

Merry Christmas! I hope you had a lovely holiday. I’m happy that we’ve been able to reconnect since you’ve come back to Trust.

He adds a Christmas tree and Santa emoji, but you know that the sentiment is there. You type a message out to him.

Merry Christmas, I hope the same for you! It’s been nice, yeah. Ymir and Historia are here to keep me company. Also, question: would you want to go to the park to see the tree before it gets taken down?

You send your reply, and you look up to see Historia giving you a knowing look while Ymir builds a stack of all the cheese and crackers available.

She doesn’t comment on how she caught you smiling at your phone, so you don’t, either.

*

The evening after Christmas, you meet Eren in the park, and you’re both in awe at the Christmas tree in the park very much still decorated and lit up.

“There’s something about lights in winter,” Eren says, eyes wide as his head is tilted back so he can look at the towering tree. His smile makes your stomach flip-flop when he turns to you. “Isn’t it kind of magical?”

You swallow thickly, appreciating the hue of his irises in the warm light of the setting sun. “It’s my favorite part of the holidays.”

His expression shifts, an unreadable emotion flashing across his handsome features, and then he grabs your hand.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

Your heart is in overdrive and you wonder if he feels how sweaty your hands are in his. He doesn’t comment if he does, only tightening his grip when you lag behind, leading you down the path away from the tree. You recognize where he’s headed - to the pond you’ve been at with him countless times - and panic begins to rise in you when you see that it’s frozen over and people are skating on it.

You both stop walking, but he still holds your hand in his. You adjust the hold so it’s more comfortable, and you stare at the people skating relatively well, save for one who clearly does it as a serious hobby, spinning in the center of the ice.

“I don’t ice-skate,” you tell him.

“I’m aware.”

Eren pulls you toward the commotion anyway and pays for rental skates, shoving a pair your size your way. You put them on with every ounce of attitude you can muster, though it’s in vain as he’s entertained by your aggressive aversion to ice-skating.

When you step onto the ice, you feel like a baby deer as you slowly skid along.

“I broke my arm when I fell doing this as a kid,” you explain to him when he shows off by skating backwards in front of you. “Forgive me if I’m not jumping at the chance to do it again.”

“You won’t fall,” he promises you, returning to your side and facing forward again. “If you do, I’ll catch you.”

You want to read between the lines, but you decide to look down at your feet to make sure you don’t trip up.

“Look up,” Eren encourages you. “Don’t watch your feet. You’ll lose your balance. Let the momentum carry you forward.”

You barely manage a glare at him as you do what he says, unwilling to admit that he may be right. He only grins, pleased that you’re apparently getting the hang of it.

The success doesn’t last long. You both make it around the pond once before, halfway on the second loop when you’re beginning to relax a bit, you lose your footing and slip. A firm arm comes around your waist and your side comes to a firm chest - Eren’s chest - and you can feel his uneven breathing before you look at him, eyes slowly meeting his. His face is flushed, possibly from skating or from the dropping temperature; you can’t help but hope that it’s because his arm is wrapped around you.

“Careful,” he murmurs, though no teasing or chastising edge is in his voice. He’s breathless, and you find that you are, too.

Wordlessly, you separate, but you’re emboldened by the enticing color in his cheeks and you grab his hand.

“For balance,” you clarify, but your smile is a little to shy for that to be true.

Eren doesn’t let you go the entire time.

*

He sends a text to you that evening.

I hope this isn’t too bold, but you looked beautiful tonight. 

*

On New Year’s Eve, you all end up at Sasha and Niccolo’s once more, given that they’re the eternal party hosts.

Connie is quick to put on the television to watch the ball drop in New York City. Everyone takes turns critiquing the different musical performances, though the television is mainly on for background noise until midnight approaches.

When the countdown begins, you grip your glass tighter and your smile grows tight as time passes at an agonizingly slow rate. Couples stand close together, loudly counting down. Even those who are single but okay kissing a friend for the strike of midnight.

Three!

You sip the champagne, wanting something, anything to do other than this.

Two!

Anxiety rolls in your gut, unsettling you further, and you’re left feeling painfully alone despite being surrounded by your friends.

One!

As there’s a mixture of cheers, shouts of Happy New Year! and a few kisses, you release the breath you’ve been holding in.

You give into the urge to look over at Eren, and you catch him staring at you.

He blushes, and you both turn away from one another.

An ache tugs at your heart, but you ignore it, draining your flute of champagne.

*

The routine of meeting up in the city and ending with him walking you home becomes just that - a routine.

You take comfort in the predictability of Eren as he is now. He calls and texts you when he says he will (and then some), he takes the time to walk you home because it’s an excuse to spend time with you, and he finds reasons to be close to you all the time. His arm touches yours, or your knees will bump under a table, or (your favorite) he’ll find a reason to hold your hand.

Despite the obvious chemistry between you, you’re resolutely in denial over your feelings.

You refuse to admit that you feel for Eren the same as before, but silently yearn for him, your heart aching when you’re teased with the idea that he might still have feelings for you, too. He’s been adamant on showing you the many ways he’s grown up in the last few years, how he’s not the boy he used to be, how he cares in a way he couldn’t show you before.

Naturally, it all comes to a peak when he’s bold and daring, hinting at the impulsive instinct he used to carry.

He walks you home, again, but you’re standing outside your apartment building when you hug each other in goodbye. He doesn’t let you go, and he moves toward you. He leans down, his lips coming to yours, and sparks crackle under your fingertips when you bring your hand to his cheek, inching to rest slightly under his ear. His hands find your sides, and you’re hit with an onslaught of pent-up emotion you had bottled up over the years. You feel like you belong here, in his arms, your mouth to his. How you held back this entire time, you don’t know, but it doesn’t matter anymore because you’re finally able to kiss him again.

“Wait.”

Eren is the one who speaks, breaking away. You wait, expecting something, though you’re not quite sure what.

He just keeps looking at you, eyes fixed to yours. Your gaze wanders to the snow that speckles his hair, and some falls on his shoulders in a thin layer of white. You zero in on how he licks his lips when he finally breaks, speaking clearly.

“I love you.”

You’re taken aback, abruptly sending your heart into overdrive. You hold your breath, waiting for more words to follow, but none ever do. You shiver, the biting cold keeping you grounded, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, betraying his otherwise composed demeanor.

It becomes apparent that he’s waiting for a response, and when he pieces together that you may not have one, he sighs, his shoulders begin to sag.

“I don’t expect anything,” he says. “But I feel like I should honest and tell you.”

You remember the look he gave you when you asked him if he loved you, back then.

“Eren.” You aren’t sure how you’re able to speak, but you do. “I’m not going to just let you in like that again so easily.”

“I didn’t think you would,” he replies swiftly.

“I fell for the charm before,” you remind him. “I did this before. I won’t settle for a half-assed commitment until you get bored and give up again.”

“This isn’t a half-assed decision.”

The firm tone tells you that he’s thought about this - that he knows what he’s doing - but your walls slowly rise. “Why are you telling me now?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because I mean it.”

You feel like you’re winded, but realistically, it’s just that your heart is beating so hard and your breathing has quickened so much that your fingertips are tingling. You open your mouth, trying to argue more, but you’re at a loss for words.

“Did you love me then?” he asks you directly, eyebrows raising slightly.

You want to tell him that he has no right to ask that of you, but instead you manage to get out, “Yes.”

This is enough for him; his shoulders lower, and you note how his hands are open, fingers loosely curled into a hold on your jacket, as if he expects you to disappear any moment. You wonder if you will, too, and the way he looks at you makes you see that his decision actually isn’t impulsive at all.

“If you’d let me,” he doesn’t pull you closer, granting you the space to think. “I’d like to be your boyfriend.”

There’s something about how he offers up himself rather than an inherit need to claim you that reassures your flighty instincts. You want to argue and tell him to fuck off, to tell him that he lost that opportunity years ago, but you don’t.

You can’t, because it would be a lie. 

“This isn’t going to be the same as it was,” you stipulate.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want that, either.”

“Then prove it to me. “

“That’s all I want - a chance.”

You can feel the air shift between you, and before you can turn tail and take back anything you’ve said, you kiss him again, relishing the way his lips mold to yours.

*

After an arduous day at work for the both fo you, you end up at his place for dinner.

Eren has shed his outer layers, leaving him in a button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he chops up vegetables. You “supervise” with a glass of wine in hand, and he relays details of his day to you.

When he’s done with his task, he dumps the vegetables in the pan on the stovetop, tossing aside the cutting board and then moving toward you.

“What - “

He lifts you easily, startling you with the casual display of his strength, and places you on the counter.

Heat fills your face and you squeeze your thighs together instinctively, but Eren stands between them, hands on your thighs, your knees on either side of his ribs. He moves them to the outside of each leg, but he stays there, looking at you with a knowing smirk.

You cradle the glass to your chest, but with your free hand, you grab his collar and pull him closer - as best you can, considering he hits the counter - so you can claim his mouth with your own.

He makes a sound of approval, instantly parting his lips for you, chasing the taste of wine on your tongue. You loosen your hold on his collar, inching your hand to the nape of his neck. He runs his hands along your thighs once, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders when you thread your fingers into the loose hairs that fell from his bun. He presses his hands firmly onto your legs, and you have half a mind to ask him to forget about dinner and take you on the counter.

There’s a sizzling sound, and you smell something burning.

You break away, but he pulls you back in, unwilling to part just yet.

“Um, Eren.”

You push at his chest as you try to divert his attention, and he catches on, scrambling away from you to save the burning food.

*

On an especially cold Saturday night, Mikasa comes over, and you guys split a key lime pie while drinking some beer she stole from Armin’s fridge with the excuse that “he doesn’t even really like it anyway.”

You find the elephant of Eren in your conversations isn’t avoided anymore, but it’s you bringing him up. You talk about what’s happening with you, and Eren pops up in your stories - you went to the park and found an awesome coffee vendor on the west side, mentioning that the meme you’re showing her is actually from him, and that you have plans with him next week to check out a new bar that opened if she’s interested in joining.

All the while, she has a small, amused smile on her lips, regarding you with warmth in her slate eyes.

“What?” you ask, fork stuck into the pie as you hesitate.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, taking another bite herself. “You’re just cute, is all.”

You sputter, disarmed by her casual compliment.

“You know,” she kicks you gently under the table, her socked toe touching your calf. “Eren is happier, recently. Wonder why that is.”

You want to shake Mikasa for her dig, considering that she knows Eren better than anyone, really, but you just return her light kick instead. “Yeah. Who knows.”

The both of you know all too well why, but she doesn’t tease you further, letting you mull over her words.

*

You both had shitty days at work, and it took a simple phone call between you to figure out how to de-stress.

“Want to go for a drive?”

You forget that Eren has a car, considering he still walks most places, but he claims he needs it often enough to necessitate owning one.

As he awaits an answer, you glance over to the stack of dishes beside your sink that need to be dried and put away. You should probably be responsible and stay in, but you’re too tightly wound to focus on such a menial task.

“Count me in.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re in the passenger seat of his sedan, making your way out of the city. You let out some frustrations about your day at work, and Eren rants about his idiotic supervisor who seems to think Eren doesn’t do anything other than complain. As the buildings give way to the suburbs, and then to foliage and trees, the ranting turns into singing along to the playlist he put on. You wonder when he got into artists like Arctic Monkeys and Modest Mouse, but the curveballs are Adele and David Bowie. There’s songs about heartbreak littered throughout the playlist, and he turns up the volume when Deja Vu by Olivia Rodrigo comes on, driving through the night with you at his side.

As you cruise, at some point one he reaches over the console to place a hand on your thigh, just above your knee. He taps along to the beat during some songs, and his other hand grips the steering wheel, occasionally turning it with a smooth motion while his other remains on your leg.

When he glances over at you, a broad smile on his lips as he sings along, you feel yourself falling harder for him.

The song changes to You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift, and when Eren shouts along very enthusiastically, you’re enthralled by his impromptu performance.

“I knew it!” You exclaim, sitting forward in your seat. “You’re a Taylor Swift fan!”

He keeps his attention on the road, but you note how his ears are red. “And? What about it?”

“I just - “ You grin, and you realize that you can’t divulge too much without outright telling him that you’re enamored with him. “I love it, it’s endearing.”

He just gives you a side-eye, squeezing your knee in the exact spot that tickles so you jerk away with a giggle.

You resume singing along, unable to tear your eyes from Eren for most of the drive back.

*

When you arrive back in the city, he parks a block away from your place. You insist that you can make it back the one street to your apartment, and he reluctantly agrees, though not without a goodbye kiss.

Snow has begun to fall, but you linger in his warmth, arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your back. His fingers spread, holding you in place against him, and you get on your toes, letting out a small noise as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

The wind cuts through you both, and you shiver; he holds you in those strong arms of his, encircling you with his embrace. Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, holding you there for a few breaths, his chest moving against yours. His brow is pulled together in thought, so you wait, content to be in his arms.

“Can I come home with you?” He asks, pulling back enough to look at you properly.

You take in the way his face is flushed, a blush painting his sun-kissed features pink, and he’s worrying his lower lip in his teeth. You don’t mull over his question out of a lack of trust; you wonder if this is truly the moment you have been waiting five years for. 

You find yourself answering clearly. “Yes. Of course.”

As if he belongs anywhere else.

You enter your apartment with a hammering heart, hands shaking as you lock the door behind you. Eren is beside you, a hand at your waist, waiting for you to lead.

In your old apartment, you’ve rushed things plenty of times - he bent you over the kitchen table, sat on the sofa while you went down on him, laid you out on the rug when he dove between your legs. 

Here, though - this new home you’ve made for yourself is yours.

Now that he’s found a place with you again, you want to share it with him.

*

He looks at you like you’re something divinely made, emerald eyes drinking you in with awe as you lay nude underneath him. His hair falls forward, forming a curtain between you and the room. You squirm under the intensity of his gaze, but he drags his fingers across your stomach, up your chest, to your collarbone.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him.

He shakes his head, leaning down to kiss you. You shiver when he trails his hand back down, between your breasts, making you gasp.

“No.” His voice is soft, his breath tickling your neck as he plants gentle kisses. You tilt your head, and he presses his lips just below your ear. “Everything is perfect.”

A warmth erupts in your chest, heavy with unspoken emotions, but you focus on the calluses on his palm when he cups your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. He slides his hands around your back, and you arch into him, whispering his name.

He understands - because, even after all this time, he knows you - and he presses his cock to your entrance. You’re so wet, and you’re aching for him, so he fills you with a slow, single motion. His breathing is slow, measured, but he doesn’t give way to urgent and needy fucking.

No, he stays there for a moment, turning to claim your mouth again in a languid kiss. His strong body lays atop yours, the weight pressing you into the mattress deliciously, but you can’t get enough of him while he’s still, cock buried deep in your cunt.

Impatient, you rock your hips, and he responds with controlled thrusts.

The kiss is clumsy, his coordination focused now on hitting that spot inside of you that reduces you to a whimpering mess under him. He grabs at one of your legs, hugging your thigh as he shifts, fucking you from a slightly different angle. You squeeze your eyes shut, focused on how perfectly full you feel when he thrusts in, heat coiling in your abdomen.

He moves so his cheek is pressed to yours, and you hear his heavy breathing as he grunts, murmuring praise that helps bring you closer to your climax.

“So beautiful - fucking perfect - like you’re made for me, all mine - “

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yours.”

You hear good girl distantly through the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, but Eren keeps fucking you through it, and you’re all moans and trembles when his pace grows erratic.

When he finishes, you can feel how his cock throbs when he cums inside you. He slows his thrusts to rest inside of you, slick with your shared release. Inwardly, you’re grateful to be on birth control so you can indulge in the feeling of Eren’s cock in you through the entirety of his orgasm, but your thoughts are silenced when he kisses you again.

His tongue slides along yours and he pushes your hair back from your forehead after tucking his own behind his ears. His body is glistening with a sheen of sweat, but yours is too, and you’re unwilling to separate just yet.

“I love you,” he tells you softly.

You just kiss him again.

*

You fall asleep in his arms, laying on his chest.

His heartbeat is steady under your ear, and he’s hot against you - eternally a furnace, you think - but you’re unwilling to roll over and give into sleep.

You think about how it sounds to hear him say those three words to you, whispered like a prayer.

*

Eren wakes up first.

You’re asleep on your side, facing away from him. He notes the expanse of your back, bare skin on display as the sheets drape loosely at your waist. The heat is on full blast, but he still takes the moment to pull the covers back up to your shoulders. Your figure rises and falls slowly with even breaths, and he wants so badly to kiss the skin at your shoulder, to wrap his arms around you and hide in your warmth.

He takes the moment that you’re asleep to look around at your room from his spot on the bed.

Your room setup is simple, with a vanity organized with your hair and beauty products, and a few decor items that give glimpses into your personality. There’s photos on your walls, all an assortment of friends and a few of family.  There’s some that he recognizes you from five years ago, but there’s some that are well before that - your earlier college years, and one of possibly you in high school - and there are others from the five year gap that you two fell out of touch.

Guilt pushes on his sternum, and he returns his gaze to you, asleep beside him.

He knows that he fucked up before. He’s absolutely determined to not do the same, now that he’s connected with you again.

*

Two days later, you’re sitting in your living room, on your sofa, pressed side-by-side with Eren. Your head is on his shoulder, and the arm you’re leaning on holds his phone between you. He’s showing you TikToks that he saved, specifically because he thought you would think that they’re funny. Some of them are actually funny, and some are just silly but your heart is skipping a beat every other instance because he did this solely to see you smile.

Making a decision, you’re halfway through one when you sit up straighter. You turn to Eren, who’s giving you a curious look and asks, “You okay?”

You smile.

“I love you.”

His lips curl up, hesitant at first, but then it blooms into delight. He drops his phone and surges toward you, and you giggle when he peppers kisses to you over and over, muttering I love you in between every one.

Through the showering of affection, you make sure to repeat it back to him just as much, not wanting to hold it in any longer.