"So…" Historia began nervously, eyes still glued to her meal. "Eren and I have some news."
They, as well as everyone else in Eren's group of friends, Armin and Mikasa included, were all gathered at the round eating table they usually sat at, right across the cafeteria's food line. The cafeteria was bustling with the chatter and busyness of every day high school life. The laughter and chatter of several dozen teenagers filled the air; an ordinary lunch day at Shinganshima high.
At least, for most people.
This table they were all seated at held many personal and powerful memories for Eren, according to the stories he'd told her: where Armin had finally confessed to Annie and asked her out to lunch, where Jean foolishly lost his first bet to Sasha over who could consume five cans of Pepsi the fastest, where Eren had seen Sasha and Marco laugh over one of Connie's jokes for the very last time...
"Yeah?" Jean asked. "We're all ears." He and everyone else had their eyes trained on Historia. They seemed to be analyzing her, maybe even judging her, and for a moment Historia felt as if she were back at her old academy.
A lump began to form in her throat. "So Eren and I…" Historia started, then stopped. How does one tell people that they slept with their best friend? "We met when he was staying in Sina for a music Camp. And that's how we… uh…"
Ten pairs eyes immediately trained on Historia, and yet she didn't say anything. Then she opened and closed mouth a few times, as if she wanted to say something but then suddenly stopped herself. Her grip on Eren's hand tightened.
Eren couldn't blame her for being so nervous, but gave her the chance to muster her courage. But after near nearly half a minute, he decided to spare her what he imagined was an unbearable amount of embarrassment. "She's pregnant," he said. "And it's mine."
A most uncomfortable silence followed. Everyone except for Mikasa and Armin collectively dropped their mouths. It was only broken by the soft plop of Annie's yogurt falling onto the table from the spoon she had an inch from her open mouth, which she hadn't eaten because she'd been so shocked by what she just heard.
"You're kidding me," she exclaimed finally, breaking the silence.
"So…I'm assuming this was over the summer?" Reiner asked, nervous. "You can't have hooked up after Eren's accident, right?"
"Reiner," Jean cut in, looking like he wasn't sure to laugh at the situation. "You can't just ask people when they had sex."
"It's okay," Historia said, her face flushed red. "And...yes."
"Jesus, Eren," Jean smirked. "You've only ever gone on one date, and yet after just one summer..."
"We're not like that at all, Jean ." Eren blushed a furious red. "But we are still really good friends."
"So does that mean you're keeping it?" Bertholdt asked. "Otherwise you wouldn't be telling us."
Eren turned to Historia, who hadn't answered and was everyone's gaze. Her hands were hidden under the table, set at her lap. He reached next to her and took her hand in his, gently squeezing it.
Historia's eyes widened, but she smiled and squeezed back. She took a deep breath before finally answering: "To be honest…I don't know. Though I am…attached to it, which is why I haven't had an abortion yet. I'm nearing the end of my second month so it's still fairly early."
"Nobody's pressuring you." Armin said.
"She doesn't need to be pressured for it to be any less of a difficult decision," Annie added.
"Yeah, I guess." Historia nodded.
"This isn't going to go well for you, you know," Reiner said. "Eren was the star of the track team before the accident. You're the daughter of one of the richest and most people in the state. Rumors will spring up like weeds."
"And Eren will deny them, so what's the issue?" Historia asked.
"I still don't want you to get hurt for this." Eren placed a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. A gesture that he hoped made Historia feel more assured and grateful for the support she was receiving. You haven't even made the choice to keep it yet, so there's no point in bringing this out in the open."
Historia nodded. Back at her old school, rumors flew up all the time, creating all sorts of drama between her fellow classmates, some which she hadn't even heard about until someone got hurt for it. She should have expected the same from this school as well. Running into cruel people was about as likely as forging new friendships.
After that, they all started talking about the events of that day. Historia seemed to warm up to her new friends, even throwing in a dirty joke every once in a while. Eren noticed that Mikasa hadn't touched her food since Historia had arrived at their table. She too seemed to be trying not to look at anybody, just staring at the food. Perhaps she was still angry at him? To be honest, given past experiences of facing her wrath, he didn't really want to know.
At least this time nobody had choked on their drink.
"So you can take one of the lockers over there, dear." said Ms. Rico, the school's orchestra teacher; a short but very stern lady who was no less intimidating than some of her teachers back at the academy.
It was Historia's last class of the day, and she was ready to finally do something that didn't overwhelm her so much. Immersing herself in playing the violin was among her favorite forms of escapism. No wonder she managed to get so good at it. "There should be a good three-quarter size violin in it. Do you own one at home?"
"Not anymore." Historia replied, thinking about the old Stradivari replica that she left at her father's home. She missed it so much, there no way any of the school issued violins could ever fully replace it in her heart. But beggars couldn't be choosers.
She sat on the violin section as Rico started up the usual scales, which disappointed Historia because of how beginner level they were. She would only be even more disappointed when she saw the selection they had. Jingle Bells? Song of the South? It had taken her a week to ace the violin solo for Butterfly Lover's Concerto . She winced whenever someone they went off key or when the orchestra itself went off rhythm.
After about fifteen minutes of rehearsing Jingle Bells to the point of lethargy, relief arrived when Ms. Rico put on a documentary on Itzak Perlman, the famous violinist. It turned out to be the same one Historia had seen multiple times, but at least it was less frustrating than playing the music for the nth time. Still, she found herself dozing off after only five minutes into the film, which was sadly a common occurrence nowadays.
"Tired, huh?" a voice whispered under their breath.
Historia's eyes snapped open turned to face the violist to her left. A tall, lanky girl with caramel skin and a freckled, elvish looking face. She wore a simple light beige cardigan and black boot-cut jeans paired with black converse. A pair of pretty but mischievous eyes with pupils of caramel.
Fear immediately rose within her. She recalled a moment from her old girl's academy when she had been humiliated in front of the entire class for snoring during a particularly slow calculus lesson. The girls there weren't particular fond of her father and treated her as such, regardless of how much she tried to explain that she didn't care for his politics. "No, not at all. Of course I'm paying attention, it's all important I'm sure and—"
"Chill, man, I'm not gonna tattle." the girl reassured, placing a hand on Historia's shoulder. Historia tried not to blush; the girl was pretty hot up close. She reminded her a little of Eren; tall, dark haired, someone she could picture hanging out at a skate park. Historia definitely had a type, she realized.
"Nobody cares enough anyway. Plus, I get it," the girl continued. "You came here expecting to play amazing music, instead we're watching documentaries and the pieces we play are so simple a preschooler with palsy could ace em'. It's a tragedy, though getting an A is pretty much guaranteed so long as you hit the notes right." She grinned.
"I've always been in very competitive orchestras, so this experience is… strange to me." Historia admitted.
"You get used to it," the girl said with a shrug. "Ms. Rico's super nice so she doesn't really mind if we chatter a bit sometimes too." She gave her hand to shake. "I'm Ymir by the way."
"And she's the slut who tricked Jaeger into knocking her up."
Historia and Ymir both looked left. One of the cellists nearby, a ginger boy with ridiculously fluffy, messy hair was giving them a disgusted look.
Ymir's friendly grin suddenly morphed into a murderous scowl. "Excuse me, Floch? When did this conversation involve you?"
"Just warning you that this girl's a gold digger. And pregnant to boot. I heard it straight out of the mouth of one of Jaeger's inner circle." Flocke replied with a smirk. His eyes shifted to Historia, who was beginning to feel as nauseous as she did whenever she woke up. "Why the hell would you want to drag Jaeger's good name down with you? Especially given your politician father? No way it's even his ki—"
CRACK.
To Historia, it all happened within the blink of an eye. Before she knew it, Floch was on the floor, whining as he clutched his bleeding nose. His cello clattered to the floor as well, loud enough to make everyone in the room jump in their seats. Though it wasn't anywhere as startling as how loud his nose had shattered from the force of Ymir's fist.
Ymir winced, shaking the reddened hand she'd just punched him with. "You deserve so much worse than that, dickhead. You really think your homeboy Jaeger is going to be happy about this?"
"YMIR!" Ms. Rico bellowed, scowling.
Ymir grimaced, though she did not retaliate with anger. Instead, she pointed at Floch, who was still lying face up on the ground, blood streaming from his nose. "Asshole here called Historia a slut."
"And your answer to that is to immediately get physical?" Rico took the tissue box off her desk and walked over to Floch, handing it to him.
"Could have done worse if I'd tried." Ymir muttered with a callous shrug.
But Ms. Rico was not amused. "And that's the kind of response that earns you a trip to the principal's office. Marla, get Floch to the nurse."
"Thank you, Ms. Rico," gasped Floch in relief. "Seriously, all those street drugs must have seriously messed up her head."
"You're not getting off the hook either," Rico snarled. "I heard what you'd said. You'll be joining Ymir as soon as you've been treated."
Floch turned to Historia. Despite the tissues he was using to cover his nose, she could clearly make out the fury in his face as he glared at her. Thankfully, a black haired girl she assumed to be Marla came over and left with him.
"I'm so sorry Historia," Ms. Rico said. "May I ask why he called you that?"
Historia sighed. She had hoped it wouldn't come to this. But what was the point of hiding it any longer? There was no way the asshole wouldn't tell more people after what had happened today. The gossip had probably spread to others as well. She might as well get the humiliation and alienation phase over with as soon as she could.
She took a deep breath, trying hard not to think of the pandemonium that might erupt when she revealed her secret. "Well… the principal told me that all my teachers would be notified of my condition, but I guess I'll just confirm it myself since you probably all heard Floch anyway."
The entire room fell silent. One could probably hear a pin drop with how quiet it had gotten.
That didn't faze Historia one bit, however. She had already done it once, doing it a second time proved to be much less unnerving.
"It's all true," she said. "I'm pregnant, and Eren Jaeger is the father. He won't deny it if you ask. And that's all you need to know, so unless you want to end up just like Flocke, please respect that."
Everyone immediately gasped and started whispering amongst themselves rang. Historia wondered if anything of them already knew or didn't believe it until now. Much to her surprise, nobody asked her or accused her of lying. Despite having made her threat, she wasn't sure that was a good sign or not.
At least Historia had no trouble keeping herself awake throughout the rest of the documentary: she could sense everyone staring and whispering about her for the rest of class.