Chapter Text
December 29, 2021
You had not expected this year to turn out like this.
Never had you thought that the last remaining days of your semester could have turned so bitter. It was a chaotic one, for sure, but the way it ended was rotten to the very core. You never, ever, thought a single semester could end with such catastrophic damage done. No one should ring in the new year like this. But you did, you had to.
You sat crowded as usual on the large couch in your shared home. Instead of the usual laughter of your friends and roommates - you all sat in silence. Such a vile silence that all you wanted to do was scream.
You sat next to a restless Eren. The long haired boys legs bounced up and down, a result of the anxious feelings he was harboring deep down. He hadn't been able sit still all day. His mind was frozen with shock, but body unable to do the same. With every jittery jostle of his long limbs his thighs bumped into you.
Absentmindedly you began to mimic his actions. Left and right your legs went, quicker than his, shakier. The rhythm they set matching that of your racing heart.
Last week you all had been planning a New Years Eve Party at your home. It was the first year that you would celebrate here at Trost, rather than someone's childhood home. But now?
New Years Eve was cancelled and no one had any sense of holiday spirit. You were two days away from the new year, yet it didn't feel that way. It couldn't feel that way. It felt wrong to feel like that.
Christmas Day changed you, it changed you all. You could never celebrate the way you used to again. What had happened should never happen to anyone. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy- you couldn't. It was too vile. It was completely, utterly, and absolutely horrid.
Never would you forget what happened the morning of December 25th.
You hadn't eaten in days, as every time you ate you threw it right back up. You felt feint, weak and everything seemed to piss you off. You were irritated, agitated and flat out depressed. It was as if every waking moment of your life, since then, was a cruel joke someone was playing on you.
No one was joking. All that surrounded the incident was very real. From the phone call, to this very instant. You toyed with the possibility that you were living in a false reality, that this was all some sort of lucid nightmare, that you had died and this had been your punishment. As the days went on you realized that this was real life. It was unfortunate.
Looking around the room you scanned your friends faces. Eyes void of emotion, red and puffy from the tears that they shed. Bodies were exhausted from restless nights, from hours spent grieving, heaving, and for you especially - throwing up. Zombie would be too kind of a description for them. They looked empty. They felt empty.
"This...this fucking sucks." Connie finally coughed out, saying the words that you all were thinking. He stood behind the kitchen counter, staring at the group of you on the couch, the boy having gotten up to get himself a glass of water. The dark bags under his eyes indicated that he was just as exhausted as you - if not more. "This really fucking sucks." He repeated, this time to himself. But it was so quiet in the room, that of course you all heard. He sighed into the glass before he brought it to his lips and took a long, slow sip.
In response to his truthful words, scattered sighs echoed around. All of you agreeing with the statement.
Yes.
Yes, this really fucking sucked.
More silence followed, no one daring to speak. But another brave soul decided to act. And in this case, her action spoke much louder than words.
It was Ymir, who stood up slowly from her spot on the couch. It was Ymir who shuffled on over to the kitchen, her feet barley lifting off the ground. It was Ymir who creakily opened up the worn cabinet, crouched down, and shoved her hand far inside - reaching for something in the very back.
Everyone's eyes were locked on her. Brains raking the possibilities of what she was searching for. When her arm came out it held an unopened glass bottle filled with clear liquid. Everyone understood then.
She delicately closed the cabinet, turned on her heel, and walked back to where you all sat. The bottle of expensive liquor was placed down on the coffee table with a clank. Then Ymir sat back down where she had been previously, as if nothing had happened.
You scanned her face, trying to get a read on the emotionless look. But you came up empty, as the girl was locked onto the bottle, lips pressed in a thin line. You swore she wasn't even blinking. Your gaze drifted down to the girl next to her. Who's anxious fingers were clinging to the fabric at the waist of her own sweatshirt, holding on for comfort. But rather than look at the bottle, Historia stared at Ymir with a stunned expression on her face.
You wondered what was going on inside of her head. Both of their heads. All of their heads. You sighed, having decided that you had enough of trying to read the two girls. As you let out all the air in your lungs, your eyes wandered down to the new centerpiece on the table. You hated that all you wanted to do was crack it open and chug the contents down enough so that you could forget who you were at the moment. Forget where you were. Forget everything.
You stopped shaking.
Without thinking, your fingers found themselves wrapping around the hem of a pair of cloth shorts. They gripped so hard on the soft fabric that the boy felt not just the feeling of your fingers brushing against his lower thigh, but he felt the tight tug on his bottoms too.
Eren stopped shaking, staring down at your hand. This was the first time you had initiated anything with him in days. He didn't dare push your fingers away. But the interaction caused something in his hot headed mind to snap.
His nostrils flared at the bottle, dark green eyes darting between it and Ymir. He spat, "-is this necessary?" He motioned to the bottle, careful not to move too much. He didn't want you to pull away.
"Just thought some of us might need it, asshole." Ymir hissed back at him.
"Do-" Eren's aggressive retaliation was held back by an arm slotting itself in front of his chest. He huffed loudly, like a scolded dog.
Armin leaned forward, toward Eren's ear. Removing his arm as he quietly whispered to him. All in an effort to calm him down. You were shocked when Eren actually listened, although as of late Armin had gotten increasingly good at taming the moody boy.
Eren sighed and hung his head down, long chocolate strands of hair framed his face and hid he dull nature of his usual bright green eyes.
You kept your fingers on his shorts. No longer for your own comfort, but his.
Armin let out a soft sigh, one of relief. Glad that he didn't have to result to anything drastic to control Eren's temper. The common crisis of Eren acting without thinking was averted, for today at least.
Silence fell over the room. The bottle still untouched.
You had wanted to be the one to reach out, crack it open, and drown your body with the putrid taste of liquor. The way that it was sitting there, as the centerpiece, enticed your need to flood your mind with drunken bliss as to forget the events of everything that had happened thus far.
What better way was there to get your body to finally feel?
You daydreamed - idealizing a black out. One where you would wake up at the start of the semester, sweat trickling down your spine. All of this could be played off as a bad dream. A nightmare. One that you could come back from.
You thought about drinking more than that. Drinking until you didn't wake up at all. An easy cure for the pain in your chest. It would be the easiest way to end this living hell. The one where all of you were stuck at the very center of the inferno, with no escape in sight. Succumbing to what fate had in mind.
This wasn't fair.
The bottle was tempting. But you did not give in. It was bait, and you would not be the first fish take a nibble. You had to face the reality of life. Drinking yourself into to an early grave would not be a good answer to your problems. Drinking wasn't the solution.
It seemed like hours passed by and the room began to feel like it was a million degrees. You were overheating, your body was sweating and a queasy sensation in your stomach began to form.
You debated leaning back and resting your eyes for a few moments to settle the upset, but you chose human comfort instead. You leaned your head to the side - and softly you placed it on Eren's shoulder, closing your eyes to possibly fall asleep from exhaustion.
He twitched underneath you, shocked by your touch. His tense body relaxed after a moment, the boy angling his shoulder down so you would be more comfortable.
With your eyes squeezed shut, the sick feeling dissipated. You still felt warm, but it was tolerable now. You let out a sigh. Your brain was tired, your voice was fried and your eyes burned from the tears that had fallen from them. You had sobbed every day since Christmas and every night you cried and cried until your over-exhausted body passed out from fatigue. You were a mess.
Exhaustion was finally getting the better of you - and you welcomed it with open arms. You had almost drifted off, Eren's shoulder being quite comfortable. His chest was slowly rising and falling, his own rhythmic breathing was helping you calm down. He was always so good at that - calming you down. Being there for you.
A rustle of fabric had your eyes fluttering open, and in your distant fuzzy field of vision you saw Jean pull something out from his sweatpants pocket and bring it toward his lips. It was long, matte black, and most importantly; not his.
Your blurred vision became crystal clear as your brain processed what he was about to do.
That wasn't a vape, it was a cart. It was his cart.
Was this a fucking joke? Was Jean really pulling that out at a time like this? Was he serious right now?
His eyes closed for a moment as he pressed the glowing green button and took a slow drag. He only opened them to watch what he exhaled out, his amber eyes hazed over, staring at the vapors that cascaded around his face. He was in his own world, sitting alone in the massive bean bag chair. Lost. He was so lost.
His eyes eventually met your own, like he could tell you were staring - glaring. He looked like a hollow shell of the man you once knew.
You missed him.
You and him hadn't had a real conversation in days. You and him hadn't been normal for weeks.
You missed him.
But in this very moment, you pushed away the longing for the past and let rage consume you. You continued to glare, your eyes quickly going between his own and the pen.
Jean payed no mind, if he did understand your gesture, he didn't do anything to remedy the situation. He blankly stared back at you, like he had no idea who you were. Like he was looking through you, not at you. Like he had forgotten the past few months. Like he forgot what he had said to you.
It hurt.
You wanted to scream at him. Tell him to realize what was going on, to open his fucking eyes. To notice everyone else, to finally feel something other than the numb pain that loss overwhelms the body with.
Your body acting before mind - you lunged forward. The comfort of Eren leaving your side.
The couch around you turned hazy, your friends became dark shadows within your sudden movement. The only thing you felt was the soft fabric of a cotton sweatshirt, and the pain in your fingertips from gripping it so hard. The only thing you heard besides a high pitched ringing was your name being shouted out and a tight grip yanking the collar of your shirt back.