Title: Your Stereotypical Infatuation With The New Kid In School

Syn: Eren the Jock tells shitty puns and obsesses over Mikasa the New Girl.

A black skirt.

It brushed the backs of her knees as she walked, swishing and fluttering in the breeze. It was as neat and mesmerizing and jet-black as her hair, chin-length and even, bobbing against her jaw and falling in her face when her gaze turned downward. Her eyes scanned the note she'd gotten from the office, crisp and fresh from the printer.

Eren stared in awe from the fountain. He ran a hand through his damp hair and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve, his eyes glued to her every move the entire time. He watched her legs take their even strides, her fingers comb her hair behind her ear, her eyebrows lower as she squinted at the paper in her hands.

"Damn," Connie muttered beside him. "Nice."

"More than nice," Eren breathed.

Connie turned to look at him. "What'd you say?"

"I said you smell like ass."

He grinned and slugged his teammate on the shoulder. "Not any worse than you. Take a shower for once, dude."

"I do, you soap-dodger."

"It's a form of art, Jaeger."

"Your smell is a form of art. It's called fart."

Mikasa Ackerman. From some private school in town. Straight-A student. Won more than a few medals, for various things. On the student council at her old school. A soccer, tennis, orchestra, choir, and wrestling legend. A likely candidate for prom queen.

Eren tried to take the rumors with a grain of salt, but they felt too perfectly surreal. They were as unbelievable as she was.

"You got eyes for her, dontcha?" Sasha asked with a wink. Her mouth was stuffed with Cheetos. She licked the dust off her fingers as he answered.

"She's pretty," he answered simply, knowing very well that that was an understatement.

"You'd make a cute couple," she encouraged. Eren snatched some of her Cheetos in reply.

"She's too good for me. Like, I'm a decent running back, but she's, like, top of our class, and the best in all these different sports, and she plays viola and sings, and on top of that she's that pretty. Too much. I'm not barking up that tree." He solemnly grabbed another cheeto, despite Sasha's silent protests. "Also," he added, "I think Cheetos look like really jacked up dicks. And that's fucking weird. Someone who thinks like that doesn't have any place gawking at that kind of perfection."

Sasha shrugged. "Whatever you say, man. Also, now that you mention it, I think I agree. About the Cheetos thing, I mean."

He nodded. "I'm the voice of the future, honestly."

"The voice of truth."

"Yeah, that."

Lunchtime. Eren sat alone by the window for the first ten minutes, irritated. Armin sure was taking his sweet time.

He'd already finished his lunch by the time the aforementioned best friend arrived. He was about to complain when he caught sight of their guest.

"This is Mikasa," Armin said. "She's new. Mikasa, this is Eren, my best friend. I apologize in advance."

Eren shot a sharp glare in Armin's direction before shaking hands with the living embodiment of perfection. She smiled politely at him, her full lips curling into a pretty shape, and took her seat.

"So Ar," Eren asked, "how'd you meet her?"

"Welcoming committee, remember?"

Eren mouthed an "oh" and turned to Mikasa. "So, uh….what do you do for fun?"

She shrugged. "I play sports and viola. What about you?"

"Football," he answered. She seemed bored. Of course she would be. Even he hated small talk like this.

"And terrible jokes," Armin sighed. "Once you get him started, he won't stop."

Eren grinned and took a bite of the bun on his plate. "I'm currently on a roll," he said.

Mikasa snorted. Eren's entire face lit up. Armin sagged into himself, thinking, Oh god, not again.

"You know, Armin's not very appreciative of my talent," Eren mock-complained. "Every day, he's like, 'Eren, stop', and I'm like, dude." He gestured towards his mashed potatoes. "Why you potatin'."

Mikasa's snort turned into an actual burst of laughter. A thrill of energy scrambled around Eren's stomach.

"Please don't encourage him," Armin begged.

"You're just a potater," Eren dismissed. Mikasa covered her eyes with one hand. Her shoulders shook.

"This is funny to you?" Armin asked incredulously.

"It's just….so terrible…..god," she managed between guffaws. "Oh my god, those were so bad."

"Thank you," Eren said proudly. He showed off the small apple from his plate. "I apple-reciate it."

Mikasa burst into laughter again. Armin buried his head in his arms.

"I could've graduated two years ago," he whispered. "I could've done it. And all of this would've been nothing more than a bad dream."

Things I know for sure about Mikasa Ackerman:

1. She plays the viola

2. She plays sports

3. She loves shitty puns

4. She's even prettier up close

Eren spent the next week lost in his infatuation. He asked Armin about her all the time, doodled crappy pictures of her in his notebooks, made lists of things about her, like what she was wearing or what kind of music she liked to listen to.

He was still convinced she was too good for him, but that didn't change how he was feeling. And he was feeling, if he had to describe it with words, warm and blooming. Energetic. Excited. Flushed. Like he was the personification of the color orange.

And to him, she was as enigmatic and beautiful as a rainbow.

A/N: Yes, a fucking rainbow bc Eren is a small child with overwhelming feelings and he must be protected.

And yes, that's it bc I know nothing of short stories and I'm tired and these feels. They are satisfied for the tim ebeing