His character disappears down the titan's gullet and the words GAME OVER! flash across the screen.
"What?!" He stares in disbelief.
No, this is… It's unthinkable.
He was so close- so close- to beating his personal record and he… he just lost?
Just like that?
"I don't believe this!"
"Too bad," Mikasa says dryly. Her character has just sliced through three titans in a row.
To be expected from an Attack on Titan champion.
She's something of a legend in the community and Eren is more than just a little jealous.
Even more so, because she manages all of it somehow with just a passing interest in the series.
She pats his shoulder in such a manner that Eren is unsure of whether it's meant to be genuinely consoling or condescending. "You'll live."
Condescending, then.
"Just wait," he growls. "I'll put you in your place one of these days."
Mikasa shrugs and tosses the controller onto the coffee table. She doesn't seem to care.
"Will you two just shut up already?" Armin shouts from his side of the room. "I'm trying to read."
He's got his nose in a book.
He's always got his nose in a book.
"You're always reading."
Mikasa smacks him. "Be nice."
/
Historia applies lip gloss, regarding herself critically in the mirror.
She's got to get it just right.
Too little and it's not enough.
Too much and she makes it obvious that she's trying too hard.
There's a happy medium to be found and Historia is nothing if not an expert at happy mediums.
Effortlessly perfect.
That's the image she strives to maintain.
Satisfied, she sets the lip gloss down and runs a comb through her hair.
She'll leave it down, she thinks.
It's awfully becoming that way.
She steps away from the mirror.
Yes, this certainly will do.
"Historia!"
Historia straightens, pretends the pang in her heart doesn't exist.
"Coming, Mom."
Her mother is waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Honestly, would it kill you to be ready on time for once?" she snaps. "There's an important meeting at the firm and it's absolutely imperative that I make a good impression. That means being on time."
Historia sighs.
"We still have fifteen minutes, Mom. There's still time."
"Don't talk back to me," Alma snaps.
Historia bites her lip.
There is, of course, the option that Alma simply depart without her, but that's beyond unthinkable.
The Reiss heiress walking to school?
Simply scandalous.
"I was only thinking of the image," Historia says meekly.
That seems to mollify Alma, but only slightly.
"Historia, if you want to be a Reiss, then you need to put more effort in," she says, flipping open her compact and looking herself over quickly. "Think of Frieda."
Historia winces.
That one hurts.
Alma had despised Frieda Reiss, the eldest daughter from Rod's first marriage.
That had changed when Frieda had been stricken with an aggressive cancer.
It had taken her quickly and all the while, Alma had played the part of a dutiful wife and mother like a dream.
Now, whenever Historia could do better, it's always 'think of Frieda.'
She always thinks of Frieda.
Frieda had been her best friend.
Her only friend, really.
/
"You should be nicer to Mikasa." Armin keeps pace beside him.
"What?" Eren scrunches his brow.
In truth, he really hadn't been listening all that well.
Armin sighs, like he's disappointed in him, which seems to be the norm these days, and pushes his glasses up his nose.
"I said it wouldn't hurt you to be nicer to Mikasa."
"Why should I be?" He shuts his locker with more force than necessary. "She pisses me off."
She hovers over his shoulder, constantly pesters him with questions, practically smothers him with her watchfulness, and, worst of all, completely obliterates him in their Attack on Titan matchups.
"She's just doing it to get close to you," Armin offers up in her defense.
"I wish she wouldn't do it at all. There are better things for her to worry about."
Armin sighs, dropping the subject for now.
"Hey, Armin…" Annie emerges from the crowd, but pauses, glancing between the two of them, uncertain.
"You didn't interrupt anything," Armin assures her. He casts one irritated glance Eren's way, then, with a shake of his head, walks off with his girlfriend.
Okay, so he knows he's being a bit of a jerk. But what else is he supposed to do to get her off his case?
Eren huffs, trudging off to class.
Whatever.
It's not like it matters or anything.
/
Historia folds her arms and stares straight ahead.
"Didn't you wear that skirt last Monday?" Alma asks, giving her a sideways glance.
Historia smooths her hand over it, self-conscious. "It was with a different blouse," she defends. Maybe she should be glad her mom was actually paying enough attention to notice.
Even if it's ultimately only to belittle her.
"It's not the most flattering," Alma continues. "You might want to think about losing some of that chub, sweetheart."
Don't call me sweetheart. Historia crosses her arms over her chest and glares out the windshield.
"Don't mope," Alma snaps.
"I'm not moping."
"You were."
Historia settles back with a frown.
Arguing with her mother just isn't worth it.
"I don't know what your problem is," Alma continues. "You have it pretty good. I mean, what more could you want?"
Parents who care, Historia thinks but doesn't say.
"Am I not doing enough? Is that what this is about? You think I'm not enough? Do you know how much money I've spent on you? And you have the nerve to…"
"Mom, look out!" Historia shrieks and Alma swerves just in time to avoid the collision. She hadn't been paying attention and had nearly rear-ended the car ahead of them.
"Fuck you, asshole!" Alma screams out the window over the blaring of the horn.
Historia sinks down into her seat. "You're going to get us killed if you keep driving like that."
Alma snorts, but she finishes the drive in silence.
/
Armin doesn't miss that Eren is looking for trouble.
Going by the troubled expression on her face and the way she keeps biting her thumb nail, it hasn't escaped Mikasa's notice either.
If they're lucky, maybe they can get through this with minimal damages.
Too bad trouble is all too willing to come along in the form of Jean.
"Seriously?" Armin mutters, eyes fluttering closed.
This is just a recipe for disaster.
Nothing between them ever ends well.
As far as he can tell, there's no real reason the two of them mix about as well as oil and water.
Which is to say… not at all.
Mikasa, if possible, looks even more troubled.
It's no secret that Jean has been nursing a crush on Mikasa practically from the day he first laid eyes on her.
Although, when he notices the pink blush on her cheeks, he wonders if there's a chance the feelings might be mutual.
Not that he expects either of them to be able to do anything about it.
Idiots.
"Stay out of my way, horseface." Eren shoulders his way past Jean.
Oh no.
Armin's stomach drops.
Jean isn't going to just let this go.
"What was that?" He spins around, grabbing Eren by his shirt collar.
Armin moves to step between them. Maybe there's still a chance to stop this. "Wait-"
It happens so quickly, Armin can't even say for sure who the strike came from.
Only that it landed.
"Ow! Guys, you need to-" He steps back with a wince, bringing a hand to his cheek.
Mikasa grabs his shoulder, dragging him back and out of the way. Her expression is grim.
"You asshole!" Eren lunges for Jean, shoving him up against the lockers. "Keep your hands off of him!"
"Stop it," Mikasa yells, but it's hopeless.
This is going to be bad.
