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"I know that no matter what you say to me today, you’ll still go back to him tomorrow.”
How's one to know?
And as his hand pulls down in defeat from your cheek, it was like the stars drifting offshore once in a million years. Never have you seen a more beautiful constellation wisping away from your grasp.
He’s been so stripped.
And in the reflection of his eyes finding yours, just for a moment, you saw what he did—you, doing what you always do.
You look and see anyone but yourself, that's not you. You aren't that, you aren't doing this. Please, Eren?
And you see so much that could happen, all tendrils of possibility wrapping around you, tightening before you. It's all on who cuts you from this ivy.
You could go home, footsteps promised to another, and relieve the pain of what would come of this night—a torn broken heart that you'd have to live with, no mending ever possible from Jean's hands—you could say goodbye to the last piece of him you'd ever be able to hold again.
You press your nose into the shirt and breathe in so hard you could fall inside, hoping you'd feel the cuirass of his chest once again, and if not that, then you hoped for the strong, forever lingering scent of vanilla and weathered hot kisses, and soft, warm effluvium of Eren you always mistaken for home, but you didn't even sense that. All that was left there there was the void of what once filled the armor, the mythical power you thought he possessed, and finally the fabric between your fingers. And then Jean throws it away.
Or you could be with the one who'd risk it all for another chance to brush against your fingers each morning.
For the man who didn't deserve that.
He knows, he knows, he knows you'll go back to him.
And you looked just past his shoulder, bare like it's the first time, all you saw was a door left for you to leave through.
Is there any part of you that feels the same?
Yes, and it's tangled up in ivy.
No one can do it for you.
And as he breathed in for what you thought was a goodbye, you sucked in a breath and took the words right from his mouth. You knew what you needed now.
"I'm not going to leave you."
Oh, this.
"How can I," He swallows, "How can I trust you?"
You weren’t going to hold back, okay?
"Oh, my baby Eren," You whisper, the words fall right from you like tears, always coming so easily.
"I'm not your—"
"No, you are, you're my baby. And I love you. Oh, god, I love you. I love you so much it makes me sick. I'm so sorry."
Nothing moved except a faint flame in your chest, the kind you've always felt—rising up beneath ribs and lungs. What you thought was long gone comes back. A small fire inside you to keep him warm.
His jaw twitches and through the warm lit moment, you dare to see what would become. You lift your hand up to his cheek and he falls right into it.
His nose touches yours and then you taste him.
Even though at first you felt the lingering familiar depth of Jean's mouth, you didn't venture any further to that memory, no, not ever again, only sucking deeper into Eren's mouth, eating up the rage, the apologies, the sinful and holy past—the past and present blood between his teeth, you could still taste it.
You bite him, you take him entirely in your mouth, you tell him he's yours. You will fight for him, you promise. Oh, your baby.
He's that ripe fruit between your lips again. Eren, Eren, Eren. Where did you go wrong? What turn did you take that ended you up on your knees before anyone but him? The claw marks, the scratches, the bloodied lips, you fought more than those two ever had, and you're tasting your salvation.
Finally, finally, finally.
You and him were at the still point of the spinning world. This is it, I promise, I promise, that was all you could whisper to him between his teeth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
It's finally a soft painless kiss that stretches on for as long as you can drag your fingers up and down his stature, never ending. Oh my god, He means to say, but you already know. You're nodding and nodding, his hands aren't possessive enough to grab you yet. He's scared. He's nervous. Oh, god, he’s so scared.
You felt him trembling, and you didn't know it at first—the feeling so natural—but he fell into your arms. You held him, you cooed him, you let him cry.
And his weight is falling deeper against your chest, right on to your heart, he's so close; you taste that halah on him.
And then you lean back, everything still, it tightens and goes rigid, you don't breathe.
"It's just not right, Eren. I don't, I just can't, let you go anywhere else and I'm so sorry I hurt you."
And then he whimpers like a hurt puppy and hides his face in your neck. His skin is cool and pressed against yours, like blood dripping down his head, you feel tears.
You'd die to go back. But all you can do is tread forward.
While holding his hand. If he'll let you.
"I can't fuck you," You whisper, holding him from trembling.
"Please don't."