The sound of fingers tapping against cheap plastic—the clack, clack, clack—echoed quietly in the dim room. A low orange light, obscured by a thin sheet of fabric, created shadows that stood still, like fantasy-play paused in the otherwise quiet room.
Hunched over a rickety, beat-up laptop was Eren Jaeger—seventeen, five-feet and seven inches, brown hair and blue-green eyes that widened with glee as his fingers continued to tap against the keys on the board, words written anew on a digital message.
"How was your day?" He read the new message aloud, breathy voice alight with something fierce, something warm.
"It was alright," he whispered along as he typed, as if his companion was beside him in the stillness of the room and not a thousand miles away. "Math sucked, but I got a B for History. Braun wanted to beat me up again, but I got away before he could sneak in a punch."
The reply was prompt, a simple "Again?".
Eren nodded, despite being alone. "Yeah, but it's okay. I'm used to it by now."
There was no response, but he was not worried. His—friend—was like that sometimes, when he was not sure what to say or if he thought Eren was being an idiot. Sometimes, Eren thinks it's more of the latter. Eren's not sure if he should be offended at how true it was.
He blinked, trying to chase away the sleep from his eyes as the professor droned on and on about carbons and alkyl halides and, well, Eren wasn't sure how to pronounce that so he'll just leave it as something that looked really complicated. Beside him, a classmate—Mikasa—flicked her eyes at him once before returning to the professor, right hand steadily taking down notes.
A quiet ping brought him out his reverie, slipping down his seat to grab his phone from his pocket. He was sure that he heard a quiet sound of reprimand from Mikasa but his slumber-addled brain wasn't up and about to verify that.
Sneaking a peek at the professor, and seeing that the man was busy hitting another classmate of his (His name was Connie, right?) over the head with a ruler, Eren unlocked his phone and read the new message, unsurprised when he took in the sender.
"What are you up to?"
"Dying in Organic Chemistry. I am gonna fail this subject." Eren spoke, typing along the words as the seconds ticked by quietly.
Somewhere from behind, someone let out a small noise of surprise. He glanced at the professor, saw him wringing his hands over Connie, and when he looked behind, he was not surprised to see that it was Marco who made the noise.
Another typical day.
"You? What are you doing?"
As the professor continued on his lecture, from organohalides to Grignard reactions, Eren pocketed his phone and attempted to learn something. A few minutes later, in-between drawing hexagons and disproportionate, man-eating giants, his phone beeped and Eren smiled to himself.
Mikasa made another "tsk" sound and Eren read his message.
"Smith's working my ass off. Petra gave me coffee with cream, hate that shit. Hanji's being her PETA self, screaming about how rats have feelings. Bored as hell here."
He attempted to hold his laugh, but a glimmer of noise reached the professor's ear and a bark of "Got something to share, Mr. Jaeger?" before Eren was shaking his head, pen back in his hand.
The class returned to its slow, wearisome pace. Connie made a gagging expression at their other classmate, Sasha. The professor threw a textbook at the boy's head. Marco gasped.
Another typical day.
Eren raised his trembling hand to wipe the trickle of blood across his chin. Before he even knew what was happening, Braun had picked him up and rammed him against the locker. He grunted, felt the metal locks digging into his back, and he tried pushing the bigger man away.
Braun laughed, a harsh word escaping his lips before Eren was slammed again.
Around them, people passed by. Some paused, sympathetic—pitying—eyes glancing at the quiet boy with blue-green eyes that was being toyed around by the taller, bulkier blond man. A few brave souls let out words of "Stop it, Reiner" and "Knock it off, man" but it was like drops against an umbrella as Braun turned and snapped at them.
Many of them simply ignored the ruckus, already used to it.
Eren wondered if it was alright to get used to seeing someone being bullied. Deep down, he knew it was wrong. He was still working on making himself believe it.
A muttered "You're pathetic" and another slam later, and Eren slowly crumpled to the linoleum floor, the shadow of Braun fading from his vision.
Shoes scurried in front of him, different kinds in different shapes, sizes and colors until there was no more and Eren picked himself up, grasping the pieces in bleeding fingers. He wiped away the tears, pushed down the sadness and turned around. A trembling hand opened one of the lockers, pushing his books in. He took a glance at the one beside, saw the dents his body made as it was repeatedly slammed on it.
Quietly, he spied a blue post-it note and a marker by the corner of his locker. Writing with fingers that hurt, Eren bit his lip before slipping the note into the dented locker's slip, a sliver of the word "Sorry" reflecting off the fluorescent lights before disappearing.
Closing his locker and turning away, Eren took out his phone, seeing five new messages, all bearing the same written question.
"Are you okay?"
He wiped his eyes with his jacketed arm, slipping out of the hallway, his reply a second away from being sent.
"Yeah, I will be."
He was at an ice-cream parlor, a half-eaten cone in his left hand as his right hurried to tap the letters against the screen. Two tables down, a couple were quietly kissing, mostly hidden by the tall plant decor. Somewhere near the gallery where the ice cream was kept, a family of four argued—something about flavours and how vanilla was better than chocolate or sprinkles were for girls and the like.
He was by himself, the melting confection dripping down his fingers, but a bright smile was on his face as he read the messages on his phone.
"What time is it where you are at?" He spoke. He had always spoken the words along as he reads the message, always allowed himself to pretend that the other was there, beside him. He could almost envision it—the other would be frowning, yapping at Eren to finish his ice cream before it made a complete mess all over the younger.
"02:43. AM. Why are you waking me up, brat?" Eren laughed as he read along, a nearby customer turning to gift him a curious glance before returning to choose a flavour.
"I missed you." He replied, the words slithering out of his lips before he could stop them.
The other man pursed his lips, eyebrow twitching before closing his eyes, sighing and replied. A ping, and Eren smiled once again as "I miss you, too. Now let me sleep, you idiot" reached his eyes.
His ice cream was left forgotten.
It was the twenty-fourth of October, when the air had become chilly and the leaves on the trees had flashed from a healthy green into luscious gold. It was when Eren was bundled up in a coat too large for him, gloved hands in pockets, earpods in and walking down a quiet, lonely street when the music stopped and a beep sounded in his ears.
He took out his phone, earpods still in. Read the message.
"Turn around."
Confused, he turned. He smiled.
Before he even knew what was happening, Eren had bundled into his arms a veritable source of warmth, felt two arms timidly sneaking around, resting on his waist and Eren was sure he was no cat but, damn, did he purr.
Leaning back, Eren grinned. He took his phone out, and typed in a new message.
"You've gotten taller. A little."
He felt a boot kick his shin, and he let out a pained mewl mixed with happy laughter. It was quiet between them—always had been. Eren wouldn't change it for anything.
Another ping, another message. Eren looked at his phone.
"I love you."
The breeze was cool, bringing along with it the golden-kissed leaves. It swirled around them, almost like a silent cacophony of crinkling, crumpling and the noise of something rewritten all over again—of starting over—of beginning.
His fingers tapped the letters across the screen, the smile not leaving his face.
"I love you too, Levi."