Chapter 2
It had been a week since your forced early morning Taco Bell hangout with Yeager bomb, and you never once brought it up to Jean—but that was mostly because you had been avoiding him.
Most of his calls, messages, and not so coincidental run-ins around campus we're ignored or answered with a dry response. It was childish of you, maybe even dramatic! But you didn't care, avoiding him was the only way you knew how to get over what he said that night of the party.
So, you stayed holed up in your shared apartment with Annie. As soon as your classes ended you went straight home, crawled into bed, and barely left the place. It sounded way more depressing than it actually was.
If you were hungry, you ordered in and the only thing you entertained was your phone—except for Jean's notifications, which you usually swiped away. Annie never questioned it. She didn't have to. She'd known you long enough to recognize the pattern: if you were shutting yourself off like this, it meant Jean was an idiot. He did something or said something stupid—something you couldn't bring yourself to say out loud yet.
However, one day, instead of going back to the apartment, you switched things up and headed to the library. Annie had mentioned a few days earlier that Armin was coming over and honestly, the last thing you wanted was to sit through the inevitable Will they? Won't they? Awkward tension between the two of them. And if something did happen, you didn't want to be there to hear it. So the library it was.
You found a spot that was somewhat secluded, away from the usual noise, and started setting up to study. But just as you set your bag down on the table, the unmistakable and obnoxious sound of lips smacking broke through the silence.
Shit.
With an already exasperated sigh, you turned your head—only to be greeted by none other than Eren Yeager tangled up with some girl and full-on devouring each other like they were in the privacy of a bedroom and not in a very public, very quiet library.
Your expression immediately flattened. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid back at home.
Of course, it had to be him.
So, with zero hesitation you cleared your throat, loud enough that it could be heard from the next aisle.
Eren finally detached himself from the girl, though his hand still held her chin like they were in the middle of some dramatic, romance movie moment. His green eyes flickered to you, amused and not the slightest bit embarrassed. But then again, when was Eren ever embarrassed about being caught with a girls tongue down his throat or di—
"Hey gorgeous," he said casually, smirking. "You wanna join in?"
"I'd rather eat glass."
The girl huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes at you and Eren before fixing herself up. "Ugh, whatever. Let's go somewhere else." She muttered, glaring at you before storming off.
But Eren didn't even blink, didn't follow her out of the library, or attempt to smooth things over. He just stood there, hands stuffed into the pocket of his pants.
“You’re not leaving?” he asked, watching as you set your things down with a little too much force.
“No, unlike some people, I actually study in the library.”
Eren chuckled, “You wound me.”
“You’ll live.”
But, of course, instead of taking the hint and leaving, he just made himself comfortable—like he had all the time in the world to be your problem.
For a brief, blissful moment, there was silence. A long one even.
You took it as a sign that maybe—just maybe—Eren had finally decided to shut up and mind his own business, even though he sat right next to you. So, you started studying, focusing on your notes, flipping through pages and highlighting the most important points.
Finally.
But, you should've known better. Eren doesn't do silence. At least not with you.
"Is something going on between you and Jean?"
You didn't bother looking up. He had no reason to be in your business the way he always was. "None of your business." You could feel his stare burning into the side of your face without having to look up.
"Just saying, I haven't seen you at the house much. Kinda missing you."
Your pen paused for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to keep writing. Maybe if you don't amuse him he'll stop.
All Eren could do was chuckle, clearly entertained by how hard you were trying to ignore him. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table.
"You're still coming to the party next Friday, right? It's safari night or some shit like that?"
You sighed, finally looking up. "Safari night?"
"Animal print, jungle vibes—whole thing's dumb, but you know how these themes go." He smirked. "You should wear something cute."
"Bold of you to assume I'm going."
Eren tilted his head, clearly unbothered by your attitude. "Oh, you're going."
"I really don't think I am."
"We'll see."
You rolled your eyes and went back to your notes, praying he'd find someone else to bother, but he didn't. This time the silence went on unbroken.
A couple hours had passed in no time and at this point, you were waiting for Annie to text you that Armin had finally left. He'd arrive while you were still in class, which meant they had been hanging out for a while. You weren't about to go back and walk into whatever awkward sexual tension they left lingering in the apartment.
Now, it was 8:47 and just as you were starting to wonder if Annie forgot about you, your phone finally buzzed across the table.
Annie: He's gone. You can come back now.
(Y/N):I thought you forgot about me. I'll be home soon xx
Annie: Be safe weirdo.
You exhaled in relief and started packing up, sliding your notes back into your folder and ticking everything neatly into your bag. Next to you, Eren took his AirPods out and stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jeans.
"Let me walk you back. The weirdos are out."
You barely spared him a glance. "Yeah, and he's offering to walk me home."
"C'mon I'm being serious (Y/n). Just let me walk you. Jean would be upset if he knew I'd let you go by yourself." His tone was different—serious, no trace of flirtation or his usual smugness.
You hesitated for a second before sighing, your voice less defensive than usual. "Fine."
Keeping an easy pace beside you, he walked you home. The usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by something more neutral—calm even.
He asked questions like how you were doing. Whether school was stressing you out. If you'd been eating properly. Even making a joke about eating Taco Bell at four in the morning.
Simple, considerate things.
And for once there were no smug comments, no teasing remarks, and no attempts to piss you off just for the fun of it.
It was nice, having a conversation with him without the usual flirtation. No games. No ulterior motive. Just two normal people walking under the streetlights, talking like normal.
The next morning you woke up earlier than usual, feeling refreshed for the first time in a while. You took a long, hot shower, letting the steam wake you up completely before throwing on some comfortable clothes and heading to the living room.
You made yourself a cup of tea and curled up on the couch, mindlessly flipping through Netflix until you settled on some random show about saving humanity in an alternative universe. The apartment was quiet, peaceful, and for once you didn't feel the weight of whatever had been dragging you down the past week.
Annie, of course noticed.
She emerged from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before shooting you a suspicious look. "What's up with you?"
You took a sip of your tea, "What do you mean?"
"You're awake. It's barely nine. What happened?"
You shrugged, "Just feeling better today."
Annie grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen, twisting the cap off before leaning against the counter. "Does it have anything to do with Eren?"
You blinked, shocked that she would even correlate his name to you feeling happier than usual.
"I saw him walk you home last night. It was fucking weird. What's up with that? I thought you didn't like him."
You sighed, eyes drifting back to the TV. "We just ran into each other at the library."
"And he stayed with you?"
You hummed in response, not offering anything more because the interaction you had with Eren was nothing—it meant nothing. It was an innocent run-into-each-other type of situation and you didn't think Annie would think of it as something else.
Annie didn't respond right away. Instead, she took a slow sip from her water bottle, watching you like she was trying to piece something together.
You focused on the screen, pretending to be interested in whatever was happening on the show, even though you weren't really paying attention at this point. The tea in your hands was still warm, the steam curling into the air, but suddenly you weren't in the mood for it anymore.
Annie finally sighed, pushing herself off the counter and making her way over to the couch. She plopped down beside you, pulling her legs up and resting her chin on her knee. "Does Jean know?"
Your fingers tightened slightly around the mug. "...Know what?"
"That you and Eren are hanging out?"
You exhaled sharply, finally turning to look at her. "We're not hanging out Annie." Your voice was firm, but not defensive—at least not too defensive. "Just give it a rest okay."
She watched you for another second before shaking her head and muttering. "It's weird as fuck (Y/n). And what about Jean? Have you spoken to him? Armin said he's basically dying without you."
You ignored her, turning up the volume on the TV, trying to focus on anything other than the mature conversation she was trying to have. But even as the show played, Annie's words lingered in your head, gaining at the back of your mind like an itch you couldn't quite scratch.
And she was right. When was the last time you had an actual conversation with Jean? You'd been ignoring him for over a week now and whatever conversation you did have with him was dry.
You sighed, finally setting your tea down on the table with a small clink. There was no point in dodging Annie's questions—she was going to make sure to bring it up every couple hours.
Leaning back onto the couch and rubbing a hand down your face in defeat you muttered. "Fine, I'll talk to Jean later, okay?"
Annie gave you a slow satisfied nod because although it was a silent battle, she won. "Good. I was gonna tell Armin about this later."
You groaned, tilting your head back against the cushions. "You suck."
"I know." She stretched her legs out, grabbing the remote and switching your show back to hers like she hadn't just completely picked apart your life. "But you'll thank me later."
You highly doubted that.
Still, you knew she had a point. There was nothing going on with Eren, but avoiding Jean and letting things fester wasn't doing you or him any favors.
It only took minutes for your peaceful morning to be ruined.
(Y/n): Let's meet later?
Jean answered instantly...you were clearly the fucked up one. He'd been waiting for your message for days now. Just once he wanted you to reach out first.
Jean: Of course ml, where?
(Y/n): I'll go to you. Be there soon.
Jean: Okay, I'll be waiting.
You left him on seen. On fucking seen. Jean just felt death waiting for him.
Finally, you arrived at the all too familiar frat out that was unusually quiet and clean, yet the faint smell of stale beer lingered in the grass. It just made you wonder how much spilled beer kept the grass watered.
With a deep breath, you walked up the steps and knocked. It didn't take long for Jean to answer, swinging the door open with his familiar, easy smile—his eyes lighting up like he wasn't expecting to see you but was more than happy you were here.
"Hey," he grinned, practically beaming. "How are you? You good—you look good."
"I'm good," you replied quickly, shifting on your feet. "Let's just go up to your room okay?"
His smile faltered slightly—just for a second. But Jean wasn't the type to let things slip that easily. So, he nodded, stepping aside to let you in before leading the way upstairs.
Jeans' room was exactly what you expected. Clean, but not organized. It looked like he had done a last-minute scramble to shove things out of sight before answering the door. His bed was made, but the blanket was slightly crooked, and his desk was clear, but you could see a pile of clothes peeking out from his closet.
He sat on his bed, his posture slightly slouched and his hands resting on either side. Jean was watching you closely, picking up on the shift in your energy, even if you hadn't said anything about it yet.
You were the talker type, but you were never this quiet with Jean.
Suddenly—
"Do you miss her?"
Jean blinked, confused. "Who?"
You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall across from him, "You know who."
His jaw tensed for a second before he exhaled, sitting up straighter and running his hand across his face, annoyed almost.
There was a long pause—Jean thinking, you watching.
Waiting.
The silence that stretched between you both was thick with unresolved tension. Jean stood there, hands still at his sides and his jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grinding. You weren't sure if he was fighting with himself or if he was simply trying to hold his ground, but it felt like the air in the room had become too heavy to breathe.
You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding as you leaned in just slightly. "So, you're telling me that I'm just imagining this, huh? That I'm just—what? Overreacting?!"
Jean's eyes flared. His patience was slipping and the edge to his voice was becoming more noticeable. "No. I didn't fucking say that. But you keep—" He cut himself off, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "You keep bringing her up like I can't be with you unless I've erased everything from the past. That's not how this works, (Y/n)."
"You don't get it!" You felt yourself getting worked up, fists tightening at your sides. "You act like everything's fine and like I should just forget that you had all these unresolved feelings." Your voice raised higher with every word, your frustration finally breaking free. "And you think it's okay to just expect me to be fine with it? We've been dating for three fucking years Jean."
Jean's face hardened and he stood up, taking a step towards you, his gaze narrowing. "Oh so now I'm the one with unresolved feelings? Do you even listen to yourself? I told you I love you goddammit! But you keep pushing me to choose between you and the past—"
"I'm not asking you to choose! I never asked you to do that." you shot back, barely holding yourself together. "I'm asking you to be honest with me Jean! Do you miss her? Do you miss Mikasa?" The words came out more bitter than you intended, but you couldn't hold it in anymore.
Jeans chest rise and fall, his frustration building as he stood in front of you, just a few inches away. The intensity of the moment had shifted, and you could see the struggle in his eyes. "Why the hell does it matter?" he spat, his voice rising now, husbands coming up to rub at his face. "We're here. Right now. Why can't that be enough for you?"
You took a step back, feeling the sting of his words.
"Because it isn't Jean. Because you called for her that night. You said her name you said—" You hesitated, voice trembling with frustration, trying to put the words together. "You're still holding onto something that's not me! And its killing me.."
There was a brief moment where you thought maybe he'd say something to make it better, but instead, he clenched his jaw even tighter and glared down at you. "Maybe I'm not the one holding onto something. Maybe it's you, (Y/n), still dragging shit up from the past that's already over." He stood up straighter, eyes wild now. "I'm trying to move forward with you, but you can't seem to let it go. How am I supposed to deal with that?"
The air between you felt charged, like electricity buzzing with every word. "So now this is my fault?" You shot back, your anger flaring. "You're telling me it's my fault that I'm feeling insecure about you still thinking about her while I'm here?" You're the one who can't let go of your high school sweetheart." Your voice cracked, but you didn't care right now.
You just wanted him to understand. You weren't trying to make him the villain of your relationship. You wanted reassurance.
Jean froze. The words stung harder than you expected, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something else, but then the flicker of hesitation disappeared as quickly as it came. "I'm not doing this with you," he muttered, his voice low and angry—he was done. But there was still something unresolved in his eyes. "I don't know what you want me to say, but you need to get over this. I can't keep going in circles with you about her. I'm here, aren't I?"
You swallowed hard, feeling the sting of everything hitting you all at once. "Yes, but I'm starting to wonder if it's enough—you called out for her Jean. Mikasa."
The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Neither of you moved, but you could feel the weight of the argument between you, like a wall you didn't know how to tear down.
And then, just as quickly, the fire seemed to fizzle out, leaving an ache in its place. The fight hadn't solved anything, hadn't made anything better either. You turned, feeling the rawness of the moment deep in your chest.
Your silence must have said enough because Jean groaned, running a hand down his face before gripping the back of his neck. "Fuck, I don't get why you're doing this."
That made your head snap toward him, "Doing what, Jean?"
He was staring at you like he was trying to figure something out, his expression torn between frustration and something else—something that looked an awful lot like regret. "Why do you keep trying to find a problem when there isn't one?"
Your jaw clenched. There isn't one?
"You really don't get it, do you? I'm not looking for a problem, Jean. It's right in front of me."
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "No, what's right in front of you is me. The guy who's here, the guy who's choosing you. And somehow, that's still not enough."
That did it. The anger simmering under your skin finally boiled over and you jabbed a finger against his chest. "Don't you dare make this about me not appreciating you. I've been nothing but patient with you, but how the fuck am I supposed to believe I'm the one you really want when you still—"
Your voice broke and you cursed yourself for it. Jean's expression softened for half a second before he masked it with that same expression again.
"I still what (Y/n)? Say it."
You swallowed hard, looking up at him, and finally, finally said what had been clawing at your insides for months... years maybe.
"You still want her."
The words sat heavy in the air and for a moment, neither of you moved. Jean's breath hitched, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something to deny it.
But he didn't.
That was all the confirmation you needed.
You stepped back, the finality of it setting deep in your bones. Your chest ached, but you forced yourself to push it down, to keep your expression neutral even as your heart shattered.
Jean reached for you, his fingers grazing your wrist, but you pulled away before he could get a grip.
"(Y/n)," he started, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.
But you shook your head, forcing a small, bitter smile. "I think I got my answer."
You turned before he could say anything else, before you could break down right in front of him. Your hand wrapped around the doorknob, and for a brief moment, you thought maybe—just maybe he'd stop you.
But he didn't.
The second you turned the knob and pulled open the door, you were met with a familiar pair of green eyes.
Of course he was home.
Eren stood outside Jean's room, his gaze was unreadable—calm, but alert, like he'd been standing there long enough to hear at least some of the argument.
You froze for a moment, swallowing back the lump in your throat as you quickly wiped your cheeks with the sleeve of your hoodie. But there was no point in pretending you were fine. The tears had already betrayed you.
Eren didn't say anything. He didn't crack some stupid joke, didn't tease you like he usually would. He just watched. His brows drew together slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned over your face, taking in the way your breath hitched, the way your hands trembled at your sides.
For a split second, it almost looked like he was about to move. Like he was going to step forward, maybe reach for you, maybe say something that would make all of this feel less like a gaping wound in your chest. Maybe even—god maybe even just pull you into a hug, hold you when it felt like you were falling apart. And his lame excuse would be because Jean wouldn't want you to feel this way...but Jean is the reason why.
He just stood there, standing in the dimly lit hallway, watching as you shook your head and pushed past him without a word, marching straight out of the frat house and shutting the front door with enough force to make it slam behind you.
Inside, Jean was still sitting on his bed, processing everything, running a frustrated hand through his hair like he always did when he was stressed.
What did he just do?