AN: I'll blame this sudden upload on the cold medicine later. So enjoy before Future Me flips the hell out, lol. By the way, I don't own Attack on Titan because if I did, well, one word: yuri. Yuri everywhere.
Chapter One- Must Be Something in the Water
The first trait of Ymir's I'd noticed, walking into my history class on that early September afternoon, was how at ease she seemed with the rest of the world. Her shoulders were constantly relaxed, gaze lazy and drifting as if her ego was so inflated that she truly believed she could take on the rest of the world with a mere bat of her eyelashes.
The first time her line of sight grazed past me, then backtracked to meet my own, I knew I was completely and thoroughly screwed. The simple way she held herself made my heart thud in ways I wasn't previously familiar with.
That fateful span of no more than five seconds left my brain utterly buzzing. What the actual fuck, I'd mentally rasped. I am not gay. It was only my third day of attending college classes, and I'd already managed to seriously question my sexuality. This university's capabilities officially scared me shitless.
I was awoken from my internal bout of terror as a group of straggling students pushed their way past me, successfully managing to knock my much smaller body forward and into a desk. Its legs squealed as it was unceremoniously shoved a couple inches across the linoleum by my measly body weight.
After I'd gotten up and straightened everything out in an attempt to keep my appearance composed, I looked back up in hopes of catching the brunette's eyes once more. She was watching out the window, lids blinking blearily as the first sign of sunshine in the past week streamed through the clear pane of glass. I exhaled heavily and shook my head in blatant exasperation.
What I'd picked up from a distance (like a lust-crazed stalker) over the first couple months was that Ymir was surprisingly quite studious. Despite her carefree attitude and haphazard appearance, such as her ripped jeans, threadbare shirts, and reliably messy hair, she seemed to sort of care about what she was paying to be taught. That's more than I can say for at least half of the students absentmindedly occupying the same classroom.
Ymir truly was, when she bothered showing up to class, a genius in a sense. She absorbed new information easily, which could most likely be accredited to her natural skill of observance. She tended to pick up on things that no one else would bother with, or even be capable of noticing.
A shocking incidence occurred late November on the last day before Thanksgiving break began. Most students hadn't shown up in class that day, probably because they'd decided to start their holiday a bit earlier than others.
Our professor was running late and Ymir, growing bored of tossing crumpled paper balls against the windows and listening to the light thunk as the objects collided with the glass, turned suddenly to glance back a row at me.
"Christa, right?" She asked in a tone that boldly flaunted that she already knew her assumption to be correct.
"Yeah" I instantly replied, despite being aware of that prior fact. My blue eyes were widened in surprise at the idea that she had even bothered talking to me. All I ever did in class was quietly take notes, flashing polite smiles here and there.
Something akin to a smirk donned her lips as she noted my innocently interested expression. "What's it like growing up in Georgia?"
I stared at her blankly, unable to recall a time in which I'd ever mentioned where I came from. It was something I simply didn't talk about; the topic was always irrelevant and not particularly interesting in the first place.
"Er, fine, I guess. H-how'd you know I'm from Georgia?" I asked tentatively, subconsciously pushing a lock of blonde hair back while waiting for her reply.
"You tend to look around in awestruck curiosity, like you came from somewhere far away. South, I had assumed. You have that rich, grew up conservative look about you. I figured Florida at first, but by how pale you are, that's not possible. Those Floridian teens practically live in their tanning beds. Plus, you have a slight accent when you're nervous or pressured. I'm betting you try to hide it so you can meld in with these valley-girl Californians. Texas, Alabama, and the like were immediately crossed out. No one escapes those states unless they're married off." Her eyes quickly flicked toward my left hand for confirmation.
I wasn't sure if I should be flattered that she'd been paying such close attention to me, or disturbed that she'd been paying such fucking close attention to me.
"You'd get so rich off of posing as a psychic" I blurted.
She released a short bark of laughter and ran a hand through her hair, an amused grin remaining on her freckled features. "If money's ever tight, I'll be sure to take your advice" she replied with another small chuckle.
I felt a miniscule smile creeping its way up, along with a light blush along my cheeks.I would attempt to repress the foreign giddiness that rested in the pit of my stomach if I didn't know how thoroughly useless repression was. I'd never been much of a fighter, anyway.
AN: I'll apologize for how short this is. The layout of this story is sort of awkward considering how the chapters are more of drabbles than anything else. This first one is actually two combined installments rather than one. I'm hoping that I can upload more frequently if I stick with this weird chapter formatting. *shrugs* Let's wait and see where the yuri takes us.
