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A/N: This is Eren's P.O.V.!!

Do you ever get that feeling of utter tiredness? Not just feeling physically tired, but mentally exhausted too? I don’t really know how to explain myself – I’m not exactly the best with words, you know; no wonder my English teachers are always so pissed off by my essays – but it’s besides feeling drained. It’s this emptiness inside, this lifeless sensation that makes you think you have a hole in your chest and fifty kilos of solid iron weighting on each shoulder. It makes you feel as if you haven’t slept for days straight and as if every damn little activity needs your presence, no matter how silly it is – be it to simply open a jam pot or to run a marathon around the world. And it is as if the only person who can possibly resolve all of these tasks is you; there’s no one around willing to help or to ask help for. It makes you feel like shit and that’s what how I’m feeling right now. Tired. Exhausted. Drained. Empty.

Shitty.

And it’s no surprise at all. As if attending the last year of high school isn’t difficult enough, with all upcoming exams and pressure of what we wanted to do out of our lives, there are also those fucking douchebags, popularly known as Sina Gang, that did every, I repeat, every little thing to piss you off. They seemed to aim for the title of ‘The Stupidest’ and fight for the honor of being the first to annoy the hell out of you. And to better the situation, they seem fucking proud for achieving their goals. That, naturally, is one of the reasons for my extremely bad mood today. So I guess the best is if we start from the beginning. Not the very beginning because it’d take too much time and too many details I’m not ready to tell yet. No, let’s just start from the time I woke up this morning (feeling more like a zombie than the happy and bright high school student I should act like).

I was, surprisingly, having a good time sleeping until the alarm clock on the nightstand went off this morning. There were no nightmares and no crazy flashed images behind my closed eyelids, just a much needed dreamless sleep. It had been a while since I was graced with the opportunity of a peaceful night, where I wouldn’t toss around and scream at the top of my lungs. I’m pretty sure Mikasa’s glad for it as much as I am, because I tend to wake her up more than just once on nights like that. It was really good, no kidding.

But – there’s always a but – the alarm clock started ringing and I was pulled out of my little personal heaven, only to groan loudly and almost punch the damn thing for waking me up. I was having a damn good sleep until now and being waken up from it just to face another fucked up day on my fucked up life wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, much less when I knew the first period would be Chemistry test. Oh, and the fact that I’m a terrible morning person doesn’t help at the least either. Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

For a minute I debate whether or not to just bring the covers up my face and sleep for another 10 minutes before Mikasa comes in and shoves me out of the bed, but for whatever reason my still sleep hazed brain decides, I actually bring myself to move and get up. Miracles happen once in a while I guess.

Anyways, I walk up to the wardrobe and pull it open, revealing a big lack of clothes and I curse lowly for not doing the laundry yesterday, neither the day before it. I groan and take the first thing that comes into view – a pair of dark blue jeans, green shirt and black hoodie – and make my way into the bathroom. I toss my clothes over the toilet’s closed lid and sneak out of my pajama, throwing them over the sink. I turn the shower on and don’t wait for the water to heat. God knows I need the cold water to run over me every morning so I can forget what kind of filthy person lays under this piss poor layer of skin named Eren. I laugh humorlessly and scrub soap over myself, washing my hair with coconut shampoo afterwards. I let the water run for two, three minutes more before closing the faucet and stepping out. I dry myself in a fluffy blue towel and hang it back where it was before I took it.

I reach out for my clothes, but my reflection on the mirror causes me to stop.

I look horrible, really. My normally healthy tanned skin is paler; my freakish green-blue eyes aren’t shining as they used to one year ago and there are forming bags under them. I wander my eyesight to my chest and stomach, noticing the new dark purple marks printed on my skin along the fading ones. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I shift my eyes away and put my clothes on, without looking at the reflecting surface again. I run my fingers through my wild hair and try, unsuccessfully, to fix it – I swear I have Earth’s most bed-ish hair ever, even though Mikasa says it’s cute. I can only scoff at that, because really, my hair is just as messed up as I am, if not more. But, well, nothing I can do about it, so I just let it pass and go on to the next task, that consists on brushing my teeth. Every day I thank my mother for obliging me on using those stupid braces when I was younger; it makes my smile look better and it helps a lot on making people believe that I’m okay.

That’s right. All I have to do is shot them a smile and they are ready to believe me. It’s so simple that it almost amazes me, seriously. How can people be so superficial? How can they be so easily convincible? How can they allow to be manipulated and not even try to fight and see behind it all? If I were a hunter, people would be the easiest prey. So pathetically easy to trick.

But then, on the other hand, I’m pretty good at what I do. It’s as said, practice brings perfection. In one year, one long, painful year, I’ve learned to control and manipulate people as I please, almost as if in a puppet show. And it’s not even a little bit difficult. You flash them a smile – a smile that’s so fake you feel rotten inside –, you greet them with a cheerful voice – a voice that makes you sick to your stomach – you play friendly all along – a play that exhausts you deep to the bones – and tadaa! Congratulations, you officially succeed on brainwashing all around you and they truly believe you’re alright.

Of course there’re those who are a little bit more of a challenge, but it’s always the same principle and eventually they melt into your act. Mikasa and Armin are the only ones who know all of it. Well, Mikasa doesn’t know all of it, simply because I don’t have the guts to tell her, just trust me when I say that’s better this way. Armin knows everything because, uh, well, he’s Armin, you know, super genius with psychic powers of knowing when I’m hiding something (although he affirms that’s because I’m an open book when I’m with him) and because he’s simply my best friend. Yeah, yeah, I already know the ‘But Mikasa’s you’re sister!’ talk, but there are things you just can’t tell your family. That’s why Armin’s there. No matter how many times I tell him to go away and let me alone with my crap he says no and waits for me to open up. Which I do after some time. He’s really a good friend and I cannot think of a reason for him to still stuck up with me.

“-ren?”

I snap myself out of my trance and turn to face the bathroom closed door in horror. Was he already awake? No, no, no! Oh my god, no, it’s only 6:30am, he can’t be awake just yet! Oh, shit, I need to get out of here, I need to—

“Eren?”

I recognize it as Mikasa’s voice, and a breath I didn’t notice I’ve been holding, escapes my lips.

“Eren, are you in there?” she calls again.

“I—” I start with a hoarse voice, so I clear my throat and try again, “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Do you still have some medicine? My head’s killing me.”

“Uhm, yeah, I’ve got it. One sec.”

I finish buttoning my shirt and head out, medicine in hand. She flashes me a small smile which I return with pressing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, sis,” I say and give her what she asked for. She takes it with a sigh of relief. “Is it that bad?” I ask.

“Yeah… No idea why, though.”

I hum knowingly and walk past her, packing some of today’s books into my backpack. “You should eat something first, it generally helps,” I add while fumbling with the zipper of the goddamn pencil case.

“There’s nothing ready in the fridge and I really don’t feel like cup noodles early in the morning,” she shrugs.

“I’ll make you something,” I tell her because, one: cup noodles, despite not tasting bad, sucks to no end, and two: we both know Mikasa doesn’t cook shit. No offense, Mika, you’re perfect on everything else, and I mean really perfect, but cooking is just something you seem unable to do. Just stating facts.

“You’d do that?” she asks and I don’t miss the way her eyes shine in slight surprise. We both know I avoid spending any time more than necessary in this house.

“Of course. I don’t want you getting sick when I can do something to better the situation.”

But I can’t deny that I ignore every screaming nerve on my body telling me that I should get out of here as soon as possible. Mikasa comes first I tell myself. Mikasa comes first.

I must be hiding my inner turmoil pretty well, because Mikasa gives me a full smile, which is genuinely thankful, and I can’t help the guilt forming deep in me. I should spend more time with her.

“Thanks, Eren.”

Don’t thank me.

“You’re welcome, Mika. You know that.”

She nods curtly and rubs her bare foot over the other, “I’m going to take a shower in the meanwhile.”

“ ‘kay,” I agree and watch her make her way out of my room. Once she’s gone I put a pair of black socks and pray for every god I have knowledge of before stepping out of the room myself. I walk up to the living room and freeze momentarily as I see my father sitting on the couch. It’s only when I notice that he’s passed out that I manage to kind of calm my crazy beating heart down. I tip toe my way until I reach the kitchen, and it doesn’t pass unnoticeably by me the fact that there are three empty bottles of whisky laying on the floor next to the man I call dad. Fucking drunk ass man. I’m just glad he’s asleep and probably won’t be waking up any time soon. Actually, if I’d be completely honest with myself, I rather he’d never wake up again. Ever again.

I shiver and close the glass door behind me, out of habit. This is another safe room for me – the kitchen, I mean. It’s the only place here in this house where I can remember her being truly happy. It’s the only place she had always liked being and the only place her eyes shone in that warm golden color. The only place she wore that wonderful smile, where she dropped all worries and concerns. The only place she seemed to fit and act completely comfortable in. I guess I got all this feelings from her. Mom loved our kitchen as much as I do, and the time I spent with her in here was definitely the best. She taught me basically everything she knew about cooking and baking, and the joy she felt while doing it was passed on to me as well. I loved cooking with her. I still love cooking. I feel like is the only thing that still connects her to me.

I feel like if I stop doing it I’ll forget her.

I don’t want to forget her.

So I didn’t drop cooking when she passed away. I surrendered into everything you can think of – depression, anger, sorrow, regret, angst, despair – and I gave up on a lot of things, but not cooking. For her sake and mostly for my own.

It’s probably the only thing that kept me living at that time. The only thing that probably kept me from killing myself.

But sentimentalism aside, I should be doing something for Mikasa and not blabbering about my shitty problems. So I sigh and walk to the kitchen island, picking up the very familiar apron and putting it on. I decide on making some pancakes with syrup and strawberries for her, since I know Mikasa has a weak spot for strawberries, and a quick omelet for me, with tomatoes, cheese, parsley and some more spices.

Not late after and the kitchen is already full of overwhelming scents, making my empty stomach grumble. I take a slice of cheese and stuff it into my mouth, humming appreciatively while chopping a tomato. I hear the door being open and turn around to see Mikasa sniffing the air.

“Holy crap, this smells godsend.”

I laugh lightly and shake my head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” she says and looks over my shoulder. “Are you making pancakes? With strawberries?”

“Yup.”

“And all these are for me?” she asks, pointing at the stack of pancakes with a raised eyebrow. “I won’t be able to eat all of this you know.”

“You can put the rest on the fridge,” I shrug.

“No, I’ll bring it to Gramps on my way to college, I’m sure he’s going to love it.” Mikasa has already graduated, since she’s one year older than me and Armin, and as she has her own car she normally passes every morning by the Arlet’s house to check out on Gramps, even though Armin says that’s not necessary.

So I nod. “Whatever floats your boat, sis. Do me a favor and grab an onion for me, please?”

She does as I ask and sits down on the kitchen table afterwards. I can feel her eyes on me the whole time, but I don’t question it, just keep cooking until I have everything done. It’s while I’m soaking the pancakes with syrup that she speaks up again, gaining my attention.

“You look happier.”

“Huh?” I ask, very intelligently.

“I said you look happier. While cooking I mean.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You were even singing.”

I feel myself frowning. “I wasn’t singing.”

“You were, you just didn’t notice it.”

My brows furrow even further and I scratch the back of my neck. “I really didn’t notice… What was I singing?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of lullaby… It sounded really sad, but beautiful at the same time.”

My eyes widen for a split of second, before I smile a small smile. “I know what it was.”

Mikasa looks questioningly at me, waiting for me to continue. “Vogel im Käfig. Mom used to sing it while cooking.”

“I never heard her sing it,” she states, cocking her head.

“It’s no surprise. She sang it before you were adopted, after that she simply stopped. I don’t know why, though…”

She hums lowly, still looking curious but not saying anything else. We eat mostly in silence, sometimes saying something here and there, but nothing major. When we’re done, we put the dishes on the sink and Mikasa thanks me for making her breakfast before picking the packed pancakes and waving goodbye, saying she’ll be back around 7pm. I just nod and wish her a good day, taking my own things and heading out.

Until this point of the morning my day was good, going really smooth actually, despite the amount of depressed thoughts. It’s only as I step out of the house that Lady Luck says fuck you and gives me the finger. I swear to god I checked the weather forecast yesterday night, and I swear to god it said it’d be a cloudy day but without rain or snow. However, it must be written all over my forehead ‘Please make fun of this boy’, and I’m not walking for three minutes before thick heavy rain drops start falling. I curse a long and loud line of profanities and a woman with an umbrella – fuck her for having a fucking umbrella – gives me a dirty look, covering her son’s ears.

In any other situation I’d apologize, but I’m currently too busy being mad at the world’s injustice. I start running, and thank god my school is only a ten minutes-walk from home so I probably won’t arrive soaked wet for class. Probably.

That’s when a big ass Land Rover passes by me at full speed and of course there has to be a puddle on the street near the sidewalk. And of fucking course the car has to pass right over it and splash it everywhere. Everywhere being specifically me. If this isn’t reason enough to be in a bad mood then I honestly don’t know what it is. But listen well, it gets better.

With my trouser wet up to the knees and rain soaking me more with every passing second, I’m already asking myself why exactly I refused Mikasa’s suggestion of giving me a ride earlier this week. Right, because her college is exactly on the opposite direction of my school. On the other hand, she even insisted, saying that she had plenty of time before her classes started… So you’re a dumbass, Jaeger. Plain and simple.

I shake my head frustratingly, making my legs run faster. It’s three more minutes and I’m finally making my way through the school’s gate. I see Armin waiting for me on the corridor as usual, his own blond hair dropping wet. As he sees me he waves enthusiastically and places a few strands of his bangs behind his ear.

“Hey, Eren!” he greets me with the typical smile on his face and I can’t help but genuinely smile back at him. Armin has this weird talent of making my sour mood go down the drain in a question of seconds and sometimes it freaks me out. But whatever, it’s not like I’m complaining.

“Hey, Armin! Got caught in the rain either?”

“You bet,” he grinned sheepishly, “Did you study for Chemistry?”

“What do you think?”

“That you didn’t.”

“Wow, the amount of faith you have in me is astounding,” I roll my eyes.

“That’s called being realistic, moron. So, did you?”

I look away, my bad mood returning slightly. “No.”

“Eren, you promised me you’d at least try to.”

“I know and I’m sorry. Didn’t have time.”

Armin’s quiet for a moment, studying me with calculating eyes and I try to maintain my face expressionless, but he sees right through it like always. “Your dad?”

I mentally slap myself for flinching at the mention of my old man and Armin doesn’t miss a thing. His face goes livid and he passes his fingers through his hair, closing his blue eyes. “Shit.”

Damn right, shit. He reopens his eyes and behind the layer of momentary rage there’s an ocean of worry and concern and it makes me sick to think Armin has to deal with my stupid problems. He deserves much more than a broken person like me as a friend.

“Eren, what happened? Did he hurt you again?”

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, feeling the rest of my bad mood return completely.

“Eren, tell me. Please.”

“Armin, not now. Just-… not now okay?”

“But that’s sick, Eren! He’s your own fa—”

“I know, dammit! I fucking know it, okay?! You don’t have to remind me every time that that monster is my fucking father, Armin!!” I shout, cutting him off mid-sentence and glaring angrily at him. Some people turn to look at us, surprised with my sudden outburst but I promptly ignore them. All I can see is the silent shock in those light blue eyes; the hurt they’re expressing and the regret in them. And I feel like kicking myself to death for opening my big mouth.

“Fuck! Armin, damn I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you! Argh, fuck my life, you were only trying to help and I fucked up! Shit, I’m sorry, Armin, I didn’t mean to—”

“Eren, it’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have pressured you either. Just… just make sure to tell me when something like this happens again, alright? You know you’re always welcome to stay with me and gramps.”

I feel like shit. Armin is a perfect boy, why does he even try to keep up with me and my morbid life? He could do so much better. He could have a decent best friend who doesn’t treat him like shit and actually makes him happy. I clench my fists. I love Armin, I really do, but maybe he’d be better without me in his life.

“Thanks, Armin. I-… I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay? It was never my never my intention and you’re a really awesome friend and you don’t deserve a fucked up person like me as your friend because you—”

“Eren,” he says, interrupting my rushed blabbering in a soft tone.

“Ye-yeah?”

“Don’t apologize, okay? I know what you’re passing through and I really don’t want you to apologize for me when you’re living in a wreck. Sometimes you just need to let things out.”

“Yeah, but not at you!”

He smiles up at me and I feel a knot in the middle of my throat. “Eren, it’s alright. I’m here for that. That’s what best friends are for, right? I know you’d do the same.”

I bite the inner part of my mouth to keep the tears from coming up to my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I choke out and look directly into his eyes, trying to show him I’m really sorry and thankful at the same time. Armin’s gaze softens even more and he puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t be. And Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me and gramps tonight, okay?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not letting you go back to that hellhole any time soon, Eren.”

“You don’t get it, Armin; it gets worse when I’m out for too long.”

“Why don’t you call the cops already, Eren?” he asks me, but it’s more a rhetorical question than anything more, because he knows exactly why I don’t call the cops.

Even so I shake my head and start walking towards our class room. “You know I can’t do that, Armin; you know what he’ll do if I call them.”

Armin sighs, his hands holding his backpack so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “I don’t like this, Eren. I can’t even think about it without getting sick.”

“I know. I hate it too.”

He’s silent for a few seconds and I feel his eyes on me, although I don’t make a move to acknowledge it. I feel how he pities me and I hate it. I don’t need people pitying me, I don’t need people looking at me as if I’m some kind of lost puppy with nowhere to return to. I grit my jaw and try to swallow the awful feeling.

“Eren.”

I turn my head to look at him, only to see he’s looking straight forward, an unreadable expression painted on his face. I frown in confusion. “What?”

“Meet me in the bathroom after the test, alright?”

“Huh? What for?”

“Just meet me there,” he says and then flashes me a smile.

“…Okay?”

He nods apparently satisfied and starts talking about something completely random. I’m left curious and confused, but soon enough I’m laughing with him about some stupid joke he heard from Connie.

We reach the classroom and keep talking until the bell rings and the teacher comes in, greeting us good (?) morning and telling – more like demanding – us to take our seats.

“Good luck,” Armin whispers and I roll my eyes because luck has long ago abandoned me.

Mr.Shadis smiles darkly, handing us the test paper and I don’t even have to look at it to know I’m screwed.

Fifty minutes pass by an eye blink and he’s already collecting our tests. I don’t make any effort to remember what I wrote on the paper sheet since I know it’s useless and I already failed the subject. The worst thing is that I couldn’t care less. I sigh, resting my head in my hands, and look out of the window. It’s still cloudy and raining and I feel like the water is not only washing the world outside but all of my energy either.

I turn on my seat to talk to Armin when I remember I’m supposed to meet him at the bathroom. Right. I ask permission to leave the classroom since our next teacher has already entered and make my way to the bathroom. Just as I’m about to open the door Jean fucking Kirschtein comes out, nearly bumping into me. “Oi, Jaeger, watch it!”

“Fancy seeing you too, Kirschtein.” I replay dryly.

“Wow, rude.”

“Actually I was being pretty nice.”

“Yeah, right, Eren Jaeger being nice, good joke.”

I groan and rub the bridge of my nose, already feeling the upcoming headache. “Piss off, Jean.”

“Shut up, Jaeger. And by the way, how’s your hot sister doing?”

I can literally feel a vein popping up on my forehead. How dare he speak with that filthy mouth of his about Mikasa? I have the urge of punching him right on the stomach, but refrain myself from doing so – a meeting with the directory is the last thing I need today, really.

“Mikasa is doing a lot better now that she doesn’t have to see your ugly horse face every day, thanks for your concern, though,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“Hey, easy there, bro. I was just asking.”

“Yeah, well, wash your mouth with soap before talking about her like that.”

“Jesus, you sound just like my mom while scolding me, fucking annoying if you wanna know.”

“At least you have a mother to annoy you, Jean.”

Jean’s whole mocking expression drops and regret paints his features, and it suddenly makes me feel a thousand times shittier than I was before. First Armin and now Jean. Awesome Eren, really great.

I admit I don’t have the best of the relationships with Jean; we fight a lot and we argue a lot and we totally don’t go along with each other faces, but we’re friends nonetheless. It doesn't matter if he’s a first class idiot or a fucking annoying horse faced bastard, he’s still – for some reason I’m unaware of – my friend. And one of the few who know that my life is not exactly perfect.

“Shit, I’m sorry, dude, I really didn’t mean to say anything like that.”

“Jean, stop, it’s fine. I’m not feeling well today either, so… ugh, yeah, I’m sorry too.” Sometimes it amazes me how wonderful my capability of forming sentences is. Smoother’s impossible.

Jean stays awkwardly there, looking at his shoes before his pride gets the best out of him and he lifts his gaze and puffs his chest, saying to me “Well, now that we’re good again, excuse my honorable presence, I have class to attend.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and I wouldn’t give him one even if he asked for it, and starts walking away. I shake my head and pull the bathroom’s door open and getting inside. Armin’s already there, fumbling with his phone and scowling lowly, and as he sees me, he smiles and tells me to come nearer.

“So, what did you want?”

“I need you to take your shirt off, Eren.”

“Excuse me?” if I had been drinking something I’m certain I’d have spilled it everywhere. Sweet and innocent Armin was asking me to take my shirt off??

“What’s wrong about— Oh my god, Eren!! What the hell? It’s nothing like that!”

I raise an eyebrow and look directly into his eyes. “No? It certainly sounded inviting for me.”

Armin’s face goes entirely red and he starts stuttering something I don’t get, but it doesn’t keep me from laughing out loud. It’s way too fun to fool around with him and Armin’s a ridiculously easy target. Then again, it’s only me and a few close friends that are allowed to play with him like this, since we mean absolutely no harm by it – anyone else and I’d kick their asses, and believe me, I’ve already done so before and wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again.

Anyways, at the sound of my laughter Armin’s head peeks up and even if his cheeks and ears are still tomato red, he cracks a tiny smile that makes me stop laughing almost completely and warmly smile back.

“So, why do you need me half naked?”

“Shirtless, not half naked!”

“You realize that’s the same thing, don’t you?” I ask, raising my eyebrow once more.

“Of course I know they’re the same thing!” he says defensively, the blush on his cheeks making no move to fade.

“Armin, are you okay? You’re making no sense.”

“Ugh, spending time with you must be killing my brain cells,” he whines and I make a strangled noise.

“I’m so very offended.”

“Serves you right, dumbass,” he retorts and chuckles while I whisper something along the lines of ‘I’m not a dumbass’ and ‘You’re mean’. He shakes his head and points at me, “Now, Eren, shirt off.”

“I’m still asking myself why.”

“Someone must look at your wounds,” he states simply and takes off his pocket an ointment I don’t recognize. I twist my nose at it and fold my arms over my chest, unmoving.

“I don’t need you to baby me, Armin. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can, Eren. Now, do me a favor and collaborate.”

“If I was feeling bad I’d go to the infirmary.”

“Like hell you would.”

“Armin, just drop it.”

“No. Now, please Eren, take your shirt off and show me your bruises. Is the least I can do.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I feel like I’ve done nothing at all. Just accept it when someone’s offering to help you, Eren. Try to understand that there are people who care.”

Try to understand that there are people who care.

People who care, huh? I can’t remember anyone beside him and Mikasa who care. I honestly cannot remember anyone who helped me get up on my feet when my mother died. What I remember is that I was alone and cold. What I remember is being left on my own to deal with my father and my inner monsters.

What I remember is being angry, scared and desperate.

There was never someone who cared, Armin.

I never allowed anyone to care. I shut everybody down.

I’m afraid of losing someone again.

Is that so hard to understand?

A shiver runs down my spine and I brace myself tighter.

“I don’t want someone to care, Armin.”

It’s barely a whisper but I’m sure he heard it, because suddenly his arms are around me, pushing me into an onesided hug, making me rest my head against his chest while his hands tighten into my hair and his chin lays over it. He doesn’t say anything while I sob at his shoulder and grip on his pullover as if the world’s about to end, and I’m thankful for it. He just hears me out, hears as I cry about my fucked up life and my fucked up father. He doesn’t comment when I tell him I’m tired of my life and I’m tired of crying. He just sits down on the floor and pulls me over his lap, never letting go off me, never telling me to let go off him.

I don’t know how long we sit there, missing hour after hour, lesson after lesson, but eventually I stop sobbing and he’s mindlessly caressing my hair. I listen to the steady beat of his heart and wonder if mine will ever beat as calmly as his. I hope it will. I’m tired of having it beating either frantically or not beating at all. I’m tired of being an ambulant mess.

“Armin?” I whisper, because I’m not sure I can trust my voice just yet.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, his hand stilling its movements.

“Thanks,” I don’t argue nor do I apologize. I simply thank him.

For a moment he doesn’t answer and I begin to think the worst, but then he’s pushing me back and searching for my eyes. “You’re welcome,” is what he says once our gazes are locked together.

I nod and push back completely, suddenly embarrassed for my break down. “Don’t tell Mikasa, okay?”

“Wasn’t planning to,” he smiles and I sigh relived.

Since I made such a show, I decide on giving up being a little bitch and let him handle my bruises, applying the ointment over the purplish/yellowish marks on my upper body. As Armin sees them, he’s clearly shocked and angry, but doesn’t say anything, opting instead for gritting his teeth.

When he’s done I put my shirt and hoodie back on and thank him once more. Armin waves it off and smiles at me, saying if anything happens again, I must tell him. I agree, but deep down I know it’s an empty promise.

Before walking out of the bathroom, Armin turns to look at me. “It’s going to be okay, Eren,” he doesn’t smile, but his eyes are soft as is his whole expression. And then he’s gone.

Is it really? I can only stare at the closed door but without seeing it.

I want to believe his words but I don’t know how.

I’ve long learned not to believe anyone after all.

I’m walking out of the school’s building late that afternoon, not because I stayed to study, but because I avoid going home for as long as I can. The rain finally gave a truce so I can just wander around a little before making my way back.

I’m quietly walking around a corner when my phone vibrates. I take it off my pocket and see two incoming messages.

New Text Message: Mikasa – 17:42pm
Hey. Are you coming to the Titan’s today? Sasha’s ill and couldn’t fill in for her shift, so I offered to instead. Just wondering if you’d pass by.

New Text Message: Grisha J. – 17:42pm
Where are you? Get back here right now, you piece of shit.

I shudder and delete his message without a second thought.

Message Send: 17:44pm
Hey, sis. I’m definitely coming. C ya.

Putting my phone into my pocket again, I rub my hands together trying to keep them somewhat warm and pull the hood over my head. I walk forward, my feet bringing me automatically to the all familiar coffee shop.

Before entering, however, I stop and look up at the gray sky above me, his words ringing in my ears, like an undying echo.

‘It’s going to be okay, Eren.’

Description
A/N: This is Eren's P.O.V.!!

Do you ever get that feeling of utter tiredness? Not just feeling physically tired, but mentally exhausted too? I don’t really know how to explain myself – I’m not exactly the best with words, you know; no wonder my English teachers are always so pissed off by my essays – but it’s besides feeling drained. It’s this emptiness inside, this lifeless sensation that makes you think you have a hole in your chest and fifty kilos of solid iron weighting on each shoulder. It makes you feel as if you haven’t slept for days straight and as if every damn little activity needs your presence, no matter how silly it is – be it to simply open a jam pot or to run a marathon around the world. And it is as if the only person who can possibly resolve all of these tasks is you; there’s no one around willing to help or to ask help for. It makes you feel like shit and that’s what how I’m feeling right now. Tired. Exhausted. Drained. Empty.

Shitty.

And it’s no surprise at all. As if attending the last year of high school isn’t difficult enough, with all upcoming exams and pressure of what we wanted to do out of our lives, there are also those fucking douchebags, popularly known as Sina Gang, that did every, I repeat, every little thing to piss you off. They seemed to aim for the title of ‘The Stupidest’ and fight for the honor of being the first to annoy the hell out of you. And to better the situation, they seem fucking proud for achieving their goals. That, naturally, is one of the reasons for my extremely bad mood today. So I guess the best is if we start from the beginning. Not the very beginning because it’d take too much time and too many details I’m not ready to tell yet. No, let’s just start from the time I woke up this morning (feeling more like a zombie than the happy and bright high school student I should act like).

I was, surprisingly, having a good time sleeping until the alarm clock on the nightstand went off this morning. There were no nightmares and no crazy flashed images behind my closed eyelids, just a much needed dreamless sleep. It had been a while since I was graced with the opportunity of a peaceful night, where I wouldn’t toss around and scream at the top of my lungs. I’m pretty sure Mikasa’s glad for it as much as I am, because I tend to wake her up more than just once on nights like that. It was really good, no kidding.

But – there’s always a but – the alarm clock started ringing and I was pulled out of my little personal heaven, only to groan loudly and almost punch the damn thing for waking me up. I was having a damn good sleep until now and being waken up from it just to face another fucked up day on my fucked up life wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, much less when I knew the first period would be Chemistry test. Oh, and the fact that I’m a terrible morning person doesn’t help at the least either. Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

For a minute I debate whether or not to just bring the covers up my face and sleep for another 10 minutes before Mikasa comes in and shoves me out of the bed, but for whatever reason my still sleep hazed brain decides, I actually bring myself to move and get up. Miracles happen once in a while I guess.

Anyways, I walk up to the wardrobe and pull it open, revealing a big lack of clothes and I curse lowly for not doing the laundry yesterday, neither the day before it. I groan and take the first thing that comes into view – a pair of dark blue jeans, green shirt and black hoodie – and make my way into the bathroom. I toss my clothes over the toilet’s closed lid and sneak out of my pajama, throwing them over the sink. I turn the shower on and don’t wait for the water to heat. God knows I need the cold water to run over me every morning so I can forget what kind of filthy person lays under this piss poor layer of skin named Eren. I laugh humorlessly and scrub soap over myself, washing my hair with coconut shampoo afterwards. I let the water run for two, three minutes more before closing the faucet and stepping out. I dry myself in a fluffy blue towel and hang it back where it was before I took it.

I reach out for my clothes, but my reflection on the mirror causes me to stop.

I look horrible, really. My normally healthy tanned skin is paler; my freakish green-blue eyes aren’t shining as they used to one year ago and there are forming bags under them. I wander my eyesight to my chest and stomach, noticing the new dark purple marks printed on my skin along the fading ones. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I shift my eyes away and put my clothes on, without looking at the reflecting surface again. I run my fingers through my wild hair and try, unsuccessfully, to fix it – I swear I have Earth’s most bed-ish hair ever, even though Mikasa says it’s cute. I can only scoff at that, because really, my hair is just as messed up as I am, if not more. But, well, nothing I can do about it, so I just let it pass and go on to the next task, that consists on brushing my teeth. Every day I thank my mother for obliging me on using those stupid braces when I was younger; it makes my smile look better and it helps a lot on making people believe that I’m okay.

That’s right. All I have to do is shot them a smile and they are ready to believe me. It’s so simple that it almost amazes me, seriously. How can people be so superficial? How can they be so easily convincible? How can they allow to be manipulated and not even try to fight and see behind it all? If I were a hunter, people would be the easiest prey. So pathetically easy to trick.

But then, on the other hand, I’m pretty good at what I do. It’s as said, practice brings perfection. In one year, one long, painful year, I’ve learned to control and manipulate people as I please, almost as if in a puppet show. And it’s not even a little bit difficult. You flash them a smile – a smile that’s so fake you feel rotten inside –, you greet them with a cheerful voice – a voice that makes you sick to your stomach – you play friendly all along – a play that exhausts you deep to the bones – and tadaa! Congratulations, you officially succeed on brainwashing all around you and they truly believe you’re alright.

Of course there’re those who are a little bit more of a challenge, but it’s always the same principle and eventually they melt into your act. Mikasa and Armin are the only ones who know all of it. Well, Mikasa doesn’t know all of it, simply because I don’t have the guts to tell her, just trust me when I say that’s better this way. Armin knows everything because, uh, well, he’s Armin, you know, super genius with psychic powers of knowing when I’m hiding something (although he affirms that’s because I’m an open book when I’m with him) and because he’s simply my best friend. Yeah, yeah, I already know the ‘But Mikasa’s you’re sister!’ talk, but there are things you just can’t tell your family. That’s why Armin’s there. No matter how many times I tell him to go away and let me alone with my crap he says no and waits for me to open up. Which I do after some time. He’s really a good friend and I cannot think of a reason for him to still stuck up with me.

“-ren?”

I snap myself out of my trance and turn to face the bathroom closed door in horror. Was he already awake? No, no, no! Oh my god, no, it’s only 6:30am, he can’t be awake just yet! Oh, shit, I need to get out of here, I need to—

“Eren?”

I recognize it as Mikasa’s voice, and a breath I didn’t notice I’ve been holding, escapes my lips.

“Eren, are you in there?” she calls again.

“I—” I start with a hoarse voice, so I clear my throat and try again, “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Do you still have some medicine? My head’s killing me.”

“Uhm, yeah, I’ve got it. One sec.”

I finish buttoning my shirt and head out, medicine in hand. She flashes me a small smile which I return with pressing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, sis,” I say and give her what she asked for. She takes it with a sigh of relief. “Is it that bad?” I ask.

“Yeah… No idea why, though.”

I hum knowingly and walk past her, packing some of today’s books into my backpack. “You should eat something first, it generally helps,” I add while fumbling with the zipper of the goddamn pencil case.

“There’s nothing ready in the fridge and I really don’t feel like cup noodles early in the morning,” she shrugs.

“I’ll make you something,” I tell her because, one: cup noodles, despite not tasting bad, sucks to no end, and two: we both know Mikasa doesn’t cook shit. No offense, Mika, you’re perfect on everything else, and I mean really perfect, but cooking is just something you seem unable to do. Just stating facts.

“You’d do that?” she asks and I don’t miss the way her eyes shine in slight surprise. We both know I avoid spending any time more than necessary in this house.

“Of course. I don’t want you getting sick when I can do something to better the situation.”

But I can’t deny that I ignore every screaming nerve on my body telling me that I should get out of here as soon as possible. Mikasa comes first I tell myself. Mikasa comes first.

I must be hiding my inner turmoil pretty well, because Mikasa gives me a full smile, which is genuinely thankful, and I can’t help the guilt forming deep in me. I should spend more time with her.

“Thanks, Eren.”

Don’t thank me.

“You’re welcome, Mika. You know that.”

She nods curtly and rubs her bare foot over the other, “I’m going to take a shower in the meanwhile.”

“ ‘kay,” I agree and watch her make her way out of my room. Once she’s gone I put a pair of black socks and pray for every god I have knowledge of before stepping out of the room myself. I walk up to the living room and freeze momentarily as I see my father sitting on the couch. It’s only when I notice that he’s passed out that I manage to kind of calm my crazy beating heart down. I tip toe my way until I reach the kitchen, and it doesn’t pass unnoticeably by me the fact that there are three empty bottles of whisky laying on the floor next to the man I call dad. Fucking drunk ass man. I’m just glad he’s asleep and probably won’t be waking up any time soon. Actually, if I’d be completely honest with myself, I rather he’d never wake up again. Ever again.

I shiver and close the glass door behind me, out of habit. This is another safe room for me – the kitchen, I mean. It’s the only place here in this house where I can remember her being truly happy. It’s the only place she had always liked being and the only place her eyes shone in that warm golden color. The only place she wore that wonderful smile, where she dropped all worries and concerns. The only place she seemed to fit and act completely comfortable in. I guess I got all this feelings from her. Mom loved our kitchen as much as I do, and the time I spent with her in here was definitely the best. She taught me basically everything she knew about cooking and baking, and the joy she felt while doing it was passed on to me as well. I loved cooking with her. I still love cooking. I feel like is the only thing that still connects her to me.

I feel like if I stop doing it I’ll forget her.

I don’t want to forget her.

So I didn’t drop cooking when she passed away. I surrendered into everything you can think of – depression, anger, sorrow, regret, angst, despair – and I gave up on a lot of things, but not cooking. For her sake and mostly for my own.

It’s probably the only thing that kept me living at that time. The only thing that probably kept me from killing myself.

But sentimentalism aside, I should be doing something for Mikasa and not blabbering about my shitty problems. So I sigh and walk to the kitchen island, picking up the very familiar apron and putting it on. I decide on making some pancakes with syrup and strawberries for her, since I know Mikasa has a weak spot for strawberries, and a quick omelet for me, with tomatoes, cheese, parsley and some more spices.

Not late after and the kitchen is already full of overwhelming scents, making my empty stomach grumble. I take a slice of cheese and stuff it into my mouth, humming appreciatively while chopping a tomato. I hear the door being open and turn around to see Mikasa sniffing the air.

“Holy crap, this smells godsend.”

I laugh lightly and shake my head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” she says and looks over my shoulder. “Are you making pancakes? With strawberries?”

“Yup.”

“And all these are for me?” she asks, pointing at the stack of pancakes with a raised eyebrow. “I won’t be able to eat all of this you know.”

“You can put the rest on the fridge,” I shrug.

“No, I’ll bring it to Gramps on my way to college, I’m sure he’s going to love it.” Mikasa has already graduated, since she’s one year older than me and Armin, and as she has her own car she normally passes every morning by the Arlet’s house to check out on Gramps, even though Armin says that’s not necessary.

So I nod. “Whatever floats your boat, sis. Do me a favor and grab an onion for me, please?”

She does as I ask and sits down on the kitchen table afterwards. I can feel her eyes on me the whole time, but I don’t question it, just keep cooking until I have everything done. It’s while I’m soaking the pancakes with syrup that she speaks up again, gaining my attention.

“You look happier.”

“Huh?” I ask, very intelligently.

“I said you look happier. While cooking I mean.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You were even singing.”

I feel myself frowning. “I wasn’t singing.”

“You were, you just didn’t notice it.”

My brows furrow even further and I scratch the back of my neck. “I really didn’t notice… What was I singing?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of lullaby… It sounded really sad, but beautiful at the same time.”

My eyes widen for a split of second, before I smile a small smile. “I know what it was.”

Mikasa looks questioningly at me, waiting for me to continue. “Vogel im Käfig. Mom used to sing it while cooking.”

“I never heard her sing it,” she states, cocking her head.

“It’s no surprise. She sang it before you were adopted, after that she simply stopped. I don’t know why, though…”

She hums lowly, still looking curious but not saying anything else. We eat mostly in silence, sometimes saying something here and there, but nothing major. When we’re done, we put the dishes on the sink and Mikasa thanks me for making her breakfast before picking the packed pancakes and waving goodbye, saying she’ll be back around 7pm. I just nod and wish her a good day, taking my own things and heading out.

Until this point of the morning my day was good, going really smooth actually, despite the amount of depressed thoughts. It’s only as I step out of the house that Lady Luck says fuck you and gives me the finger. I swear to god I checked the weather forecast yesterday night, and I swear to god it said it’d be a cloudy day but without rain or snow. However, it must be written all over my forehead ‘Please make fun of this boy’, and I’m not walking for three minutes before thick heavy rain drops start falling. I curse a long and loud line of profanities and a woman with an umbrella – fuck her for having a fucking umbrella – gives me a dirty look, covering her son’s ears.

In any other situation I’d apologize, but I’m currently too busy being mad at the world’s injustice. I start running, and thank god my school is only a ten minutes-walk from home so I probably won’t arrive soaked wet for class. Probably.

That’s when a big ass Land Rover passes by me at full speed and of course there has to be a puddle on the street near the sidewalk. And of fucking course the car has to pass right over it and splash it everywhere. Everywhere being specifically me. If this isn’t reason enough to be in a bad mood then I honestly don’t know what it is. But listen well, it gets better.

With my trouser wet up to the knees and rain soaking me more with every passing second, I’m already asking myself why exactly I refused Mikasa’s suggestion of giving me a ride earlier this week. Right, because her college is exactly on the opposite direction of my school. On the other hand, she even insisted, saying that she had plenty of time before her classes started… So you’re a dumbass, Jaeger. Plain and simple.

I shake my head frustratingly, making my legs run faster. It’s three more minutes and I’m finally making my way through the school’s gate. I see Armin waiting for me on the corridor as usual, his own blond hair dropping wet. As he sees me he waves enthusiastically and places a few strands of his bangs behind his ear.

“Hey, Eren!” he greets me with the typical smile on his face and I can’t help but genuinely smile back at him. Armin has this weird talent of making my sour mood go down the drain in a question of seconds and sometimes it freaks me out. But whatever, it’s not like I’m complaining.

“Hey, Armin! Got caught in the rain either?”

“You bet,” he grinned sheepishly, “Did you study for Chemistry?”

“What do you think?”

“That you didn’t.”

“Wow, the amount of faith you have in me is astounding,” I roll my eyes.

“That’s called being realistic, moron. So, did you?”

I look away, my bad mood returning slightly. “No.”

“Eren, you promised me you’d at least try to.”

“I know and I’m sorry. Didn’t have time.”

Armin’s quiet for a moment, studying me with calculating eyes and I try to maintain my face expressionless, but he sees right through it like always. “Your dad?”

I mentally slap myself for flinching at the mention of my old man and Armin doesn’t miss a thing. His face goes livid and he passes his fingers through his hair, closing his blue eyes. “Shit.”

Damn right, shit. He reopens his eyes and behind the layer of momentary rage there’s an ocean of worry and concern and it makes me sick to think Armin has to deal with my stupid problems. He deserves much more than a broken person like me as a friend.

“Eren, what happened? Did he hurt you again?”

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, feeling the rest of my bad mood return completely.

“Eren, tell me. Please.”

“Armin, not now. Just-… not now okay?”

“But that’s sick, Eren! He’s your own fa—”

“I know, dammit! I fucking know it, okay?! You don’t have to remind me every time that that monster is my fucking father, Armin!!” I shout, cutting him off mid-sentence and glaring angrily at him. Some people turn to look at us, surprised with my sudden outburst but I promptly ignore them. All I can see is the silent shock in those light blue eyes; the hurt they’re expressing and the regret in them. And I feel like kicking myself to death for opening my big mouth.

“Fuck! Armin, damn I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you! Argh, fuck my life, you were only trying to help and I fucked up! Shit, I’m sorry, Armin, I didn’t mean to—”

“Eren, it’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have pressured you either. Just… just make sure to tell me when something like this happens again, alright? You know you’re always welcome to stay with me and gramps.”

I feel like shit. Armin is a perfect boy, why does he even try to keep up with me and my morbid life? He could do so much better. He could have a decent best friend who doesn’t treat him like shit and actually makes him happy. I clench my fists. I love Armin, I really do, but maybe he’d be better without me in his life.

“Thanks, Armin. I-… I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay? It was never my never my intention and you’re a really awesome friend and you don’t deserve a fucked up person like me as your friend because you—”

“Eren,” he says, interrupting my rushed blabbering in a soft tone.

“Ye-yeah?”

“Don’t apologize, okay? I know what you’re passing through and I really don’t want you to apologize for me when you’re living in a wreck. Sometimes you just need to let things out.”

“Yeah, but not at you!”

He smiles up at me and I feel a knot in the middle of my throat. “Eren, it’s alright. I’m here for that. That’s what best friends are for, right? I know you’d do the same.”

I bite the inner part of my mouth to keep the tears from coming up to my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I choke out and look directly into his eyes, trying to show him I’m really sorry and thankful at the same time. Armin’s gaze softens even more and he puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t be. And Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me and gramps tonight, okay?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not letting you go back to that hellhole any time soon, Eren.”

“You don’t get it, Armin; it gets worse when I’m out for too long.”

“Why don’t you call the cops already, Eren?” he asks me, but it’s more a rhetorical question than anything more, because he knows exactly why I don’t call the cops.

Even so I shake my head and start walking towards our class room. “You know I can’t do that, Armin; you know what he’ll do if I call them.”

Armin sighs, his hands holding his backpack so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “I don’t like this, Eren. I can’t even think about it without getting sick.”

“I know. I hate it too.”

He’s silent for a few seconds and I feel his eyes on me, although I don’t make a move to acknowledge it. I feel how he pities me and I hate it. I don’t need people pitying me, I don’t need people looking at me as if I’m some kind of lost puppy with nowhere to return to. I grit my jaw and try to swallow the awful feeling.

“Eren.”

I turn my head to look at him, only to see he’s looking straight forward, an unreadable expression painted on his face. I frown in confusion. “What?”

“Meet me in the bathroom after the test, alright?”

“Huh? What for?”

“Just meet me there,” he says and then flashes me a smile.

“…Okay?”

He nods apparently satisfied and starts talking about something completely random. I’m left curious and confused, but soon enough I’m laughing with him about some stupid joke he heard from Connie.

We reach the classroom and keep talking until the bell rings and the teacher comes in, greeting us good (?) morning and telling – more like demanding – us to take our seats.

“Good luck,” Armin whispers and I roll my eyes because luck has long ago abandoned me.

Mr.Shadis smiles darkly, handing us the test paper and I don’t even have to look at it to know I’m screwed.

Fifty minutes pass by an eye blink and he’s already collecting our tests. I don’t make any effort to remember what I wrote on the paper sheet since I know it’s useless and I already failed the subject. The worst thing is that I couldn’t care less. I sigh, resting my head in my hands, and look out of the window. It’s still cloudy and raining and I feel like the water is not only washing the world outside but all of my energy either.

I turn on my seat to talk to Armin when I remember I’m supposed to meet him at the bathroom. Right. I ask permission to leave the classroom since our next teacher has already entered and make my way to the bathroom. Just as I’m about to open the door Jean fucking Kirschtein comes out, nearly bumping into me. “Oi, Jaeger, watch it!”

“Fancy seeing you too, Kirschtein.” I replay dryly.

“Wow, rude.”

“Actually I was being pretty nice.”

“Yeah, right, Eren Jaeger being nice, good joke.”

I groan and rub the bridge of my nose, already feeling the upcoming headache. “Piss off, Jean.”

“Shut up, Jaeger. And by the way, how’s your hot sister doing?”

I can literally feel a vein popping up on my forehead. How dare he speak with that filthy mouth of his about Mikasa? I have the urge of punching him right on the stomach, but refrain myself from doing so – a meeting with the directory is the last thing I need today, really.

“Mikasa is doing a lot better now that she doesn’t have to see your ugly horse face every day, thanks for your concern, though,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“Hey, easy there, bro. I was just asking.”

“Yeah, well, wash your mouth with soap before talking about her like that.”

“Jesus, you sound just like my mom while scolding me, fucking annoying if you wanna know.”

“At least you have a mother to annoy you, Jean.”

Jean’s whole mocking expression drops and regret paints his features, and it suddenly makes me feel a thousand times shittier than I was before. First Armin and now Jean. Awesome Eren, really great.

I admit I don’t have the best of the relationships with Jean; we fight a lot and we argue a lot and we totally don’t go along with each other faces, but we’re friends nonetheless. It doesn't matter if he’s a first class idiot or a fucking annoying horse faced bastard, he’s still – for some reason I’m unaware of – my friend. And one of the few who know that my life is not exactly perfect.

“Shit, I’m sorry, dude, I really didn’t mean to say anything like that.”

“Jean, stop, it’s fine. I’m not feeling well today either, so… ugh, yeah, I’m sorry too.” Sometimes it amazes me how wonderful my capability of forming sentences is. Smoother’s impossible.

Jean stays awkwardly there, looking at his shoes before his pride gets the best out of him and he lifts his gaze and puffs his chest, saying to me “Well, now that we’re good again, excuse my honorable presence, I have class to attend.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and I wouldn’t give him one even if he asked for it, and starts walking away. I shake my head and pull the bathroom’s door open and getting inside. Armin’s already there, fumbling with his phone and scowling lowly, and as he sees me, he smiles and tells me to come nearer.

“So, what did you want?”

“I need you to take your shirt off, Eren.”

“Excuse me?” if I had been drinking something I’m certain I’d have spilled it everywhere. Sweet and innocent Armin was asking me to take my shirt off??

“What’s wrong about— Oh my god, Eren!! What the hell? It’s nothing like that!”

I raise an eyebrow and look directly into his eyes. “No? It certainly sounded inviting for me.”

Armin’s face goes entirely red and he starts stuttering something I don’t get, but it doesn’t keep me from laughing out loud. It’s way too fun to fool around with him and Armin’s a ridiculously easy target. Then again, it’s only me and a few close friends that are allowed to play with him like this, since we mean absolutely no harm by it – anyone else and I’d kick their asses, and believe me, I’ve already done so before and wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again.

Anyways, at the sound of my laughter Armin’s head peeks up and even if his cheeks and ears are still tomato red, he cracks a tiny smile that makes me stop laughing almost completely and warmly smile back.

“So, why do you need me half naked?”

“Shirtless, not half naked!”

“You realize that’s the same thing, don’t you?” I ask, raising my eyebrow once more.

“Of course I know they’re the same thing!” he says defensively, the blush on his cheeks making no move to fade.

“Armin, are you okay? You’re making no sense.”

“Ugh, spending time with you must be killing my brain cells,” he whines and I make a strangled noise.

“I’m so very offended.”

“Serves you right, dumbass,” he retorts and chuckles while I whisper something along the lines of ‘I’m not a dumbass’ and ‘You’re mean’. He shakes his head and points at me, “Now, Eren, shirt off.”

“I’m still asking myself why.”

“Someone must look at your wounds,” he states simply and takes off his pocket an ointment I don’t recognize. I twist my nose at it and fold my arms over my chest, unmoving.

“I don’t need you to baby me, Armin. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can, Eren. Now, do me a favor and collaborate.”

“If I was feeling bad I’d go to the infirmary.”

“Like hell you would.”

“Armin, just drop it.”

“No. Now, please Eren, take your shirt off and show me your bruises. Is the least I can do.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I feel like I’ve done nothing at all. Just accept it when someone’s offering to help you, Eren. Try to understand that there are people who care.”

Try to understand that there are people who care.

People who care, huh? I can’t remember anyone beside him and Mikasa who care. I honestly cannot remember anyone who helped me get up on my feet when my mother died. What I remember is that I was alone and cold. What I remember is being left on my own to deal with my father and my inner monsters.

What I remember is being angry, scared and desperate.

There was never someone who cared, Armin.

I never allowed anyone to care. I shut everybody down.

I’m afraid of losing someone again.

Is that so hard to understand?

A shiver runs down my spine and I brace myself tighter.

“I don’t want someone to care, Armin.”

It’s barely a whisper but I’m sure he heard it, because suddenly his arms are around me, pushing me into an onesided hug, making me rest my head against his chest while his hands tighten into my hair and his chin lays over it. He doesn’t say anything while I sob at his shoulder and grip on his pullover as if the world’s about to end, and I’m thankful for it. He just hears me out, hears as I cry about my fucked up life and my fucked up father. He doesn’t comment when I tell him I’m tired of my life and I’m tired of crying. He just sits down on the floor and pulls me over his lap, never letting go off me, never telling me to let go off him.

I don’t know how long we sit there, missing hour after hour, lesson after lesson, but eventually I stop sobbing and he’s mindlessly caressing my hair. I listen to the steady beat of his heart and wonder if mine will ever beat as calmly as his. I hope it will. I’m tired of having it beating either frantically or not beating at all. I’m tired of being an ambulant mess.

“Armin?” I whisper, because I’m not sure I can trust my voice just yet.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, his hand stilling its movements.

“Thanks,” I don’t argue nor do I apologize. I simply thank him.

For a moment he doesn’t answer and I begin to think the worst, but then he’s pushing me back and searching for my eyes. “You’re welcome,” is what he says once our gazes are locked together.

I nod and push back completely, suddenly embarrassed for my break down. “Don’t tell Mikasa, okay?”

“Wasn’t planning to,” he smiles and I sigh relived.

Since I made such a show, I decide on giving up being a little bitch and let him handle my bruises, applying the ointment over the purplish/yellowish marks on my upper body. As Armin sees them, he’s clearly shocked and angry, but doesn’t say anything, opting instead for gritting his teeth.

When he’s done I put my shirt and hoodie back on and thank him once more. Armin waves it off and smiles at me, saying if anything happens again, I must tell him. I agree, but deep down I know it’s an empty promise.

Before walking out of the bathroom, Armin turns to look at me. “It’s going to be okay, Eren,” he doesn’t smile, but his eyes are soft as is his whole expression. And then he’s gone.

Is it really? I can only stare at the closed door but without seeing it.

I want to believe his words but I don’t know how.

I’ve long learned not to believe anyone after all.

I’m walking out of the school’s building late that afternoon, not because I stayed to study, but because I avoid going home for as long as I can. The rain finally gave a truce so I can just wander around a little before making my way back.

I’m quietly walking around a corner when my phone vibrates. I take it off my pocket and see two incoming messages.

New Text Message: Mikasa – 17:42pm
Hey. Are you coming to the Titan’s today? Sasha’s ill and couldn’t fill in for her shift, so I offered to instead. Just wondering if you’d pass by.

New Text Message: Grisha J. – 17:42pm
Where are you? Get back here right now, you piece of shit.

I shudder and delete his message without a second thought.

Message Send: 17:44pm
Hey, sis. I’m definitely coming. C ya.

Putting my phone into my pocket again, I rub my hands together trying to keep them somewhat warm and pull the hood over my head. I walk forward, my feet bringing me automatically to the all familiar coffee shop.

Before entering, however, I stop and look up at the gray sky above me, his words ringing in my ears, like an undying echo.

‘It’s going to be okay, Eren.’