Chapter Text
Unspoken Truths
Collisions
Jean Kirstein doesn’t believe in fate—not until he meets Eren Jaeger during their first semester of college. Jean’s studying business, and Eren’s passionate about environmental science. Their personalities clash in every conceivable way. Eren is stubborn, fiery, and loud, while Jean is practical, a little cynical, and far too quick to roll his eyes at people who care too much. Eren, with his boundless energy and sharp tongue, is just the sort of person who should drive Jean up the wall.
But somehow, despite their differences—or maybe because of them—they become inseparable.
It starts during an argument, naturally. Jean’s sitting in the student lounge, trying to enjoy a coffee, when Eren storms over to confront him about something he’d said in class.
“You really think people don’t care about the environment?” Eren demands, slamming his bag onto the table. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Jean raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, I just think that caring as an individual doesn’t make a difference.” Jean shrugs. “It’s the big companies that do the most damage. One individual recycling isn’t going to make a difference.”
Eren glares at him, green eyes blazing. “You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re dramatic.”
The tension is palpable, but then Eren’s mouth twitches—just a little—and Jean realizes he’s laughing. The sound is brighter than it has any right to be, and against his better judgment, Jean finds himself grinning back.
From that moment, their lives become intertwined. They argue endlessly—about politics, ethics, the best place to get cheap tacos, music —but somehow, they always end up laughing.
[Yeager]: u should stop embarrassing urself in class fr
[Jean]: Didn’t know being right was embarrassing.
[Yeager]: u dont even kno wat ur talkin about half the time
[Jean]: Oh, and you do?
[Yeager]: obviously im smarter than u horseface
[Jean]: Please stop calling me that.
[Yeager]: nah its accurate ur face long af
Eren is a whirlwind of passion and energy, dragging Jean into debates, pranks, and spontaneous adventures. One particularly late night, after Jean’s attempted all-nighter derails into another argument over Spotify playlists, he texts back without thinking.
[Jean]: You’re exhausting.
[Yeager]: bet ud be bored without me
[Jean]: …Maybe.
[Yeager]: admit it
[Yeager]: im the best thing to ever happen to u horseface.
[Jean]: First of, stop calling me that. Second, no, definitely not.
[Yeager]: sounds like a yes to me
Jean stars the first message in the thread to always be able to find it.
Their friendship solidifies during a shared late-night trip to the library. Eren drags Jean along to ‘help him study,’ though it’s quickly clear that helping means listening to Eren rant about climate change while Jean halfheartedly types up a marketing proposal.
“Do you ever shut up?” Jean asks, slumped over his laptop.
“Do you ever stop being boring?” Eren fires back, his smile quick and sharp.
Jean smirks. “Wouldn’t know. You never give me a chance.”
Eren laughs, startling the few other students brave enough to be in the library at 2 a.m.
“You’re lucky I like you, Kirstein.”
It’s always like this: light jabs, quick retorts, and the kind of laughter that makes Jean forget why he’s supposed to find Eren annoying.
[Yeager]: bet u miss me loser
[Jean]: I literally just saw you an hour ago.
[Yeager] : ya but now ur lonely n sad admit it
[Jean]: You wish.
[Yeager]: ok but fr u bored w/o me huh
[Jean]: Sure, whatever you say.
[Yeager]: SEE i knew it u secretly love me
[Jean]: I’m going to block you.
Eren also has the uncanny ability to drag Jean into ridiculous situations. Like the time Eren insisted on crashing a debate hosted by the Philosophy Department.
“Why are we even here?” Jean mutters as they find seats in the back.
“Because you need to broaden your horizons,” Eren says, completely serious.
“And listening to someone argue about the meaning of life is going to do that?”
“Obviously,” Eren says. Then he grabs a notepad, scribbles something down, and slides it across the table to Jean.
Jean looks down to see: Meaning of life = tacos.
He snorts, earning glares from the students around them.
“Stop making me laugh,” Jean hisses.
“Stop being so easy to make fun of,” Eren shoots back.
There are more because Jean somehow can’t seem to say no to Eren. And so, Eren convinces him to sneak into the campus pool. They’re dripping wet and breathless from nearly getting caught when Eren turns to him, water slicking his hair back.
“You’re more fun than I thought you’d be,” Eren says, his grin infectious.
Jean smirks, leaning back against the tiles. “You’re not so bad yourself, Jaeger.”
Eren nudges him with his shoulder, the movement so casual it feels like second nature.
Another text comes through the next morning as Jean’s nursing the mother of all headaches.
[Yeager]: admit it.
[Yeager]: u had fun
[Jean]: Nope.
[Yeager]: ur a liar
They spend one particularly lazy afternoon sprawled out on the quad, arguing over their road trip destination for the summer between their first and second year.
“I’m telling you, the Grand Canyon is overrated,” Jean says, shielding his eyes from the sun.
“You’re overrated,” Eren retorts without missing a beat.
Jean groans. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
“Are you five?”
Eren grins. “Maybe. What’s your point?”
Jean throws a handful of grass at him.
By the time their first year ends their friendship feels as natural as breathing. Late-night debates in the dorm lounges turn into impulsive road trips, and lazy afternoons become heated arguments over whose taste in music is worse. Eren always wins, not because his arguments make sense, but because he never knows when to back down.
Jean loses to him over and over again, and somehow, he doesn’t mind.
Then, for a brief time, it’s more.
It happens one night when they’re crammed onto Jean’s tiny dorm bed, watching a movie neither of them cares about. Eren shifts too close, his knee brushing Jean’s thigh, and before Jean knows it, they’re kissing like the world might end. Eren tastes like cheap soda and spearmint gum, and it’s the most intoxicating thing Jean’s ever experienced.
It’s confusing. Jean can’t tell whether it’s the moment, the kiss, or the vulnerability of it that throws him off balance. He lies awake afterward, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding as he questions everything he thought he knew about himself.
He tries not to overthink it, but every time Eren laughs or touches him, Jean feels a little more out of control. It doesn’t help that Eren seems to be doing the same things he’s always done—pulling Jean into spontaneous adventures, sitting too close, throwing in little touches here and there like they’ve been doing for years—but now, Jean’s acutely aware of it all. Every smile feels like something more, every word they exchange seems loaded with meaning, and Jean feels himself falling faster than he can manage.
They return to normal soon after—or as normal as Jean can pretend he is—and one day, when they’re lounging around in Eren’s dorm room, Eren flips through a magazine, clearly uninterested. Jean leans over to snatch it out of his hands, and their fingers brush, just for a moment.
Jean’s heart skips. His breath catches, and he quickly looks away, his face burning. “You’re such an idiot,” he mutters to himself under his breath, trying to mask how it’s all affecting him.
Eren doesn’t notice, of course. He never does.
Later that night, they’re texting, a familiar routine that has long since become comfortable. But tonight is different. Tonight, Jean can’t shake the feeling that Eren’s words mean more than usual, even if they’re still wrapped in his usual teasing tone.
[Yeager]: u know
[Jean]: No, what?
[Yeager]: im starting to thnk i culd kiss you again n u wuldnt even mind
Jean’s stomach twists at the thought, but he can’t admit that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, even if he’s not sure if he’s ready for it. He forces a laugh, trying to keep things light.
[Jean]: If you try, I might just punch you in the face.
[Yeager]: u knw better thn to mess w/ my pretty face ;)
The flirtation is playful, but Jean knows there’s something deeper simmering beneath the surface. It’s not that Eren’s being obvious about it—it’s just that Jean can feel it. He’s starting to see the way Eren looks at him sometimes, how his eyes linger just a moment longer than they should, how his smiles are softer when Jean’s near.
Jean wonders if Eren knows what he’s doing—if he has any idea how much he’s torturing Jean just by being himself.
The text messages start coming faster, with more and more teasing remarks. They’re comfortable, familiar, but there’s an edge to them now.
[Yeager]: u looked really good in that hoodie earlier
[Yeager]: kinda want to take it off you
Jean feels the heat in his cheeks flare up immediately, and he curses under his breath.
[Jean]: Shut up, Eren.
[Yeager]: nah
[Yeager]: Just telling the truth
[Yeager]: uve got me thinking dirty thoughts
Jean slaps a hand over his face, the blush now impossible to hide.
He replies quickly, desperate to move the conversation along before his heart explodes out of his chest.
[Jean]: You’re impossible. Why are you like this?
[Yeager]: fr
[Yeager]: prolly because i enjoy messing with u
Jean chuckles in spite of himself, shaking his head. Eren doesn’t know, not really, how much his words are affecting him.
[Jean]: You’re ridiculous.
[Yeager]: u love it
[Yeager]: dont pretend u dont
Jean sighs, fingers hovering over his phone. He knows this is harmless, right? Just playful banter. Nothing more. But why does it feel so different now?
Before he can talk himself out of it, he types back.
[Jean]: I hate you.
[Yeager]: i know you do
[Yeager]: but u can’t stop thinking about me
Jean stands up, suddenly needing to adjust his pants and maybe take a cold shower.
Maybe Eren is right. He hates how much he loves this.
Later that night, when Eren’s finally given his heart a break, he knows that it’s impossible to ignore it any longer. There’s too much between them now, and it’s not just friendship anymore.
But Eren will never see it. He’ll never know how deeply Jean feels for him, how his every touch, every word, makes Jean ache for more.
For now, all Jean can do is let it linger—let it fester, and wait. He’s not ready to say it. Not yet.
And so, he waits, even as Eren continues to send him texts that make his heart race.
[Yeager]: u up
[Jean]: Yeah. Why?
[Yeager]: just wanted to hear ur voice i guess
[Yeager]: uve got this way of making me forget im alone sometimes
Jean stares at the screen, his breath caught in his chest. The words hit him harder than he ever expected. He replies, but the words feel inadequate.
[Jean]: Same. You’re not as bad as you think you are.
[Yeager]: mayb
[Yeager]: but ur pretty great urself horseface
Jean’s heart skips.
The first time, it’s almost accidental. They’re both drunk, both laughing too loudly at something that isn’t funny anymore, and neither of them wants the night to end. Jean is leaning against the doorframe of Eren’s apartment—they both found off-campus apartments during their second year, neither mentioned anything about moving in together—the space between them filled with tension neither of them acknowledges. The air smells of beer and bad pizza. Jean watches Eren as he moves around the kitchen, his movements a little too fluid, a little too careless.
Then Eren turns to him, grinning in that half-cocked way of his, and Jean realises that, for once, there’s no sarcasm in his eyes. Just raw, unfiltered something. He’s close now, close enough that Jean can feel the warmth radiating off of him. The beat of his heart thumps loud enough for Jean to hear, and it’s like everything else disappears for a second.
“I’m not letting you leave yet,” Eren mutters, his voice low and slightly rough.
Jean opens his mouth to protest, to make some joke about how Eren’s always full of shit, but the words die in his throat when Eren steps closer. His hand on Jean’s waist feels like fire against his skin, and without thinking, Jean’s lips are on his.
They don’t talk about it after. They don’t talk about anything. The next morning, Eren is gone before Jean even opens his eyes—a single, frail note on the kitchen table telling Jean to close the door when he leaves—leaving a faint scent of cologne in the air. They don’t talk about it, just return back to their usual banter and it drives Jean insane.
[Yeager]: u up
[Jean]: Yeah, what’s up?
[Yeager]: nothing just bored
[Yeager]: wanna come over and make fun of me for my terrible taste in music again
[Jean]: It’s your life, I just try not to let it affect mine.
[Yeager]: thats a lie u love my music n u love me being a dumbass
Jean rolls his eyes, his heart racing despite himself. The bold confidence in Eren’s words sends a flush of heat to his face. He doesn’t know how to reply, so he just stares at his phone for a moment, unsure if he should ignore it or confront the way Eren’s words are affecting him. But before he can decide, another message pops up.
[Yeager]: i could use some company though
[Yeager]: if u wanna come over
[Yeager]: get a little closer than usual maybe
Jean nearly drops his phone.
[Jean]: I think you're out of your mind.
[Yeager]: u wouldnt be the frst person to say that
[Yeager]: cmon im lonely over here
Jean groans and buries his face in his pillow. It’s just a stupid text. But still... He thinks about it for a second too long.
[Jean]: You’re impossible, you know that?
[Yeager]: took u long enough to figure that out
Jean can’t stop the grin that creeps up on his face. He sits there for a moment, tapping out a reply, but his hands feel unsteady. He knows Eren can’t see how much these texts are affecting him—how much every single word makes his heart beat faster, how every playful comment feels like an invitation to something bigger.
[Jean]: I’ll be there in 20 minutes. But don’t expect me to cuddle you.
[Yeager]: i can live with that...
[Yeager]: mayb
The teasing nature of their conversation is so familiar, but for the first time, Jean can’t ignore how much he wants Eren. He tries to push the thought away, but it keeps coming back.
It happens again and again and again.
They’re both sober this time, though the air between them feels thick, like it’s about to break. They’re at Jean’s place this time, sitting on the couch, a sports game flickering on the screen, but neither of them is watching.
Jean can feel the weight of Eren’s gaze on him, the way his eyes seem to linger a little too long on his lips, his neck, his hands. It’s all just a glance—one that carries so much unspoken meaning—and before Jean knows it, Eren’s lips are on his again, pushing him back against the couch with an intensity that makes his head spin.
This time, there’s no hesitation. No questions. Just the heat of Eren’s mouth on his, the press of his body, the frantic need for more. They don’t say anything afterwards. Neither of them mentions what just happened. The word ‘sex’ is never spoken. There’s no ‘are we okay?’ or ‘what does this mean?’ Just silence as Eren gets up, pulling on his shoes, his back turned as he heads for the door.
Jean swallows hard, watching him leave without a word.
Soon, it’s as if it’s always been like this. It’s almost routine. They don’t even have to look at each other for permission. Jean’s at Eren’s apartment again, one of those nights where they’re both exhausted and a little too comfortable with the space they occupy. The TV’s on, but the sound fades as Jean feels the weight of Eren’s eyes on him, the familiar pull in his chest.
Eren’s already close before Jean even notices, and it’s like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Hands pulling, lips pressing, bodies melding together in a way that feels easy, effortless. Neither of them talks about the awkwardness between them afterwards.
There’s a moment when they’re lying together, skin still warm, the remnants of their connection lingering in the air, but neither of them speaks. Neither of them moves to get up. And when the silence finally stretches between them, Jean looks at Eren, and for a moment, he wonders if this is all they’ll ever be.
But he doesn’t ask. He never asks.
Eren just turns his head slightly, eyes flicking to Jean’s for a second, and then the moment’s gone. The door’s already closed again, but neither of them feels the need to explain it. Not yet.
It’s in their third year it all takes a turn. After one of their fleeting hookups, they lie tangled together on Jean’s too-small couch.
The low hum of the TV, playing some forgettable rom-com neither of them cares about, fills the silence, but neither of them is really paying attention. Jean’s noticed they usually have some form of noise in the background. Like they can’t ever just be together, there has to be a reason—and it’s usually the TV.
But now, they’re both too busy being in the quiet space between words to notice the TV, the kind of silence that only comes after being too close for too long.
Eren’s head is resting on Jean’s chest, his messy hair tickling the skin just below Jean’s chin, and his fingers are lazily tracing circles on Jean’s arm. The soft touch sends a shiver down Jean’s spine, the warmth of Eren’s body against his own a constant reminder of everything unspoken between them.
Jean shifts a little, but it’s mostly because the pressure of Eren’s presence is starting to make his thoughts spin too fast. There’s an intimacy in this, in the way Eren’s hand moves without purpose, the way his body is relaxed and comfortable, like this is something natural between them, something that’s always been this way.
Then, Eren speaks, his voice soft and strangely uncertain, a contrast to his usual confident, almost cocky demeanor.
“Do you ever think about the future?” He asks, his voice low, almost a whisper.
Jean stiffens, though he tries to hide it, tries to keep his voice neutral. He doesn’t want to read too much into this—doesn’t want to let it get to him. But the question, so unexpected, feels like an intrusion into something he hasn’t allowed himself to examine yet.
“Not really. Why?” Jean answers, his voice sounding even more casual than he means it to.
Eren shrugs, his fingers pausing their movement on Jean’s arm for a moment, as if he’s not sure how to follow up. The hair on the back of Jean’s neck stands on end as Eren’s body shifts slightly, his breath warm against Jean’s skin.
“I don’t know,” Eren murmurs. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll still be like this in ten years.”
Jean’s heart skips a beat. He wants to laugh it off, to make a joke about how ridiculous it sounds, but it feels too heavy in his chest. He wants to turn his head, to look anywhere but at Eren, but the words hold him still, rooted to the couch.
“Like what?” Jean asks, his voice tight.
Eren looks up at him then, his face impossibly close, their noses nearly brushing. Jean can’t help but notice how much more serious Eren looks now, how the playfulness is gone from his eyes, replaced with something deeper. Something uncertain.
“Together,” Eren says, the word so simple, yet so loaded with meaning. It hangs in the air between them, fragile and heavy, like it might shatter the moment if either of them speaks too loudly.
Jean freezes. His heart slams in his chest, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden weight of Eren’s words. He wants to say something, anything, to ease the pressure building in his chest, but the words won’t come. The room feels smaller somehow, the space between them feels infinite, and Jean is terrified of what would happen if he lets this moment linger.
Instead, he tightens his hold on Eren, his arms pulling him closer, burying his face in Eren’s soft brown hair, his breath shaky. The smell of him—soap and something distinctly Eren —fills Jean’s senses, and it’s all too much. Too much intimacy, too many feelings he doesn’t know how to deal with.
Eren doesn’t push. He never does. He just stays there, his body warm and solid against Jean’s, his breathing steady as if he hasn’t just cracked open something neither of them is ready to confront. But—he doesn’t move. He doesn’t pull away, just lets Jean hold him.
They’re sprawled out on Jean’s couch again, the same familiar space they’ve claimed a hundred times before. Tonight, though, it feels different, but only because of the way the air shifts between them—a playful kind of tension that’s always there, but now it feels a little sharper.
Eren is lying next to Jean, lazily flipping through channels on the TV. The quiet between them isn’t uncomfortable, just… familiar.
Then, without warning, Eren speaks up, his voice a little more serious than usual, like he's thought about this for more than a second.
“Let’s make a deal,” Eren says, turning his head to look at Jean. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, one Jean has seen countless times before, but this time, there’s something else in it—something unspoken.
Jean raises an eyebrow, looking over at him with a skeptical smirk. “A deal? What kind of deal?”
Eren sits up a little, his grin widening as he sets the remote aside, looking almost conspiratorial. “If neither of us is married by the time I turn thirty… we marry each other.”
Jean blinks. The idea is so absurd, so ridiculous, that he can’t help but laugh—they’re not even really together now, so why this sudden interest in marriage? He doesn’t ask that, though. He couldn’t. Afraid of the answer.
Instead, he asks; “What makes you think I’d still be interested by then?” Jean leans back against the couch, his tone playful but also a little bit defensive—because, honestly, the idea of marrying Eren isn’t entirely... unappealing.
In fact, now that Eren’s brought it up, it’s all he can think about.
Eren leans closer, his grin only getting wider, that familiar cocky confidence creeping back into his posture. “Oh, you’ll be interested,” he says, his voice a teasing purr. “You won’t be able to resist.”
Jean chuckles, his heart skipping a beat at the way Eren’s eyes seem to sparkle with mischief, and maybe something else. It’s the kind of playful banter they’ve always shared—no strings, no complications. Just… a deal. A joke most likely.
“Alright, fine,” Jean says, finally cracking a smile. “I’ll hold you to that. But don’t think you’re getting off that easily.”
Eren’s grin softens for a second, just a flicker of something genuine behind his usual smirk. Jean catches it, and for a heartbeat, he swears he sees something in Eren’s eyes—something more than just a joke. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by that familiar spark of cocky assurance.
“I’ll make sure you don’t forget,” Eren says, the teasing tone back in his voice as he slouches against the couch again.
Jean watches him, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t know what the future holds, but for now, this—this ridiculous, easy friendship—is enough.
And as he glances at Eren, their eyes meeting for a second, Jean allows himself to imagine what that promise might mean. Not in the next couple of years. Not yet. But maybe one day...
But for now, all he can do is laugh, shake his head, and let it linger between them—unspoken and yet somehow understood.