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Eren doesn’t like the feeling that’s been eating at him ever since the train conversation.
It’s like he is doing everything not to think about it while his head is working hard to keep reminding him of it.
It’s all he can think about at the moment, as they all gather around their table and drink Marleyan wine as a compensation for a day of hard work. As everyone chatters amicably and carry on with the familiar banter and act so normal and so nonchalant that it makes him restless.
Today, the temperature at the port is pleasant enough to give everyone sleepy eyes. And the wine, Eren has to admit, is so good that even he has had maybe a bit too much to drink. And it calms his nerves, a bit. And yet. He doesn’t want to be here.
They agitate him, his friends. And not because of anything in particular any of them are doing. But because seeing them like this, so… comfortable, makes him feel out of place with how wrong everything has been in his head lately.
Or maybe he is just still embarrassed by his earlier confession. Well, not embarrassed, because he had just said the truth, but rather…unbalanced.
His excuse for leaving early is that he is too tired and already falling asleep. They all pretend to believe him, although they all look at him funny, but Eren doesn’t pay them any mind. Or he tries to. Mikasa gives him a look that means she knows something is wrong, but this is a look she pretty much gives him everytime she looks at him now. Because really, what hasn’t been wrong, lately?
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When he leaves, he doesn’t go very far. He walks by their port, walks past their ships, and ends up sitting on a rock in front of the ocean. The moon shines bright enough to leave its mark on the water. The cold of the night is a pleasant contrast with the searing heat of the day, the ocean breeze already settles the storm of his mind and the endless glassy black of the sea calms him down a bit.
He can sort his thoughts out better like this. It’s so quiet here, there is only his thoughts alone with him. And he already feels like he can breathe better. He loves his friends but they are on an entirely different headspace than he is. All the time. Even Armin and Mikasa. Even Armin, who, while having a handful of years more than him, was still living on borrowed time, just like Eren. And yet neither he, nor anyone there, seemed to be living with an invisible hand at their throat squeezing harder and harder with every day past.
And that is fine. Because Eren doesn’t ever want any of his friends having to live like this.
Everyone of them deserve long lives, they have been through so much and deserve better than living the rest of their lives as a weapon. Maybe it’s selfish of him to think like this, prioritizing his friends above what would be better for the world and their people. He trusts any of them would do an amazing job at being the Founding, but it’s already so painful to look at Armin, knowing the kind of live he was bound to have. He doesn’t want that. For anyone. But specially, not for them .
And again, maybe that means he is selfish.
He felt selfish today.
Outside of wanting the people closer to him to have long lives, he found himself, for the first time since he found out about the curse, wishing to live longer.
That isn’t true, he had wished to have more time since then, but for the first time, it wasn’t because he needed more time to get them all out of the mess they are in, it wasn’t because more time meant more time to fight, it was just because he wanted more time. For himself. To live .
And wasn’t that the most selfish shit he could ever think.
And still, he can’t stop thinking about it.
Then there is that feeling. Like he is suffocating with his own breathing and there is nobody who can help him. Nobody who can understand. It’s not a new feeling, but it’s been steadily growing and growing within him. It will either kill him or search release in any way possible. Eren knows this. He’s been patient but deep down, he knows this. He’s been patient and he has waited, but if nobody gives him answers, he knows he will end up searching them all on his own.
Five years. He has five years to save the world, or their little island. A no-negotiable set of time for his life. A constant ticking sound at the back of his head. There is a lot that can be done in five years, but not much freedom to live by with such a short amount of time. Eren has never feared death, he just fears dying without having accomplished anything, without giving his all for his goals. If he could die, right at this very moment, with the certainty of knowing that his death counted for everyone else, for every single person he cares about, he would expose his nape to the nearest blade, close his eyes and think of his mother for the last time. And he would be content.
So then why, why of all nights, is he thinking about all the things he would be missing, five years from now?
Assuming that he survived until his due time, which he wouldn’t bet on.
He thinks, maybe, thinking about the lives he wishes his friends would have got him thinking about his own.
For Mikasa, he wants her to have the peace and quiet she so much deserves. He wants her to live surrounded by people she loved, without having to constantly worry about them. He wants her to have a family, if that’s what she wanted. Her protector side would always be with her, but he would like for it to be something that gave her happiness, instead of inflicting her with so much pain.
For Connie, he wants him to learn to appreciate himself. Connie had lost so much, everything had been taken away from him and yet he held his head forward. Connie is one of the most selfless people he knows and it was time life started giving to him instead of taking. He sees him surrounded by friends, old friends and new friends, and all of them love him, and all of them admire him. His children, if he had them, would be proud of calling themselves Connie Springer’s kids.
For Jean… he agreed with Connie. He sees Jean commanding the Survey Corps. But more than that, he wants Jean to have the comfortable life he had so wished for at the beginning. Free of danger. Maybe he would have a family, too. An ordinary life. Something Eren had never wanted for himself, but that he would give in a heartbeat to any of his friends if he so could, and if they so desired it.
Sasha should be able to eat all the meat in the world, should be able to hunt wherever she wished.
Armin…
Eren closes his eyes and breathes.
Armin, in the years he had, for as many years since they were finally free and in the time he had left after that, should be able to roam the world in all it’s width. No holds barred. There wasn’t a single thing his blue, smart eyes shouldn’t be able to see. And if using The Rumbling was what it took to be able to achieve that...well, then it was something Eren might need to start considering.
And of course he wishes the same fulfilment for everyone else. Historia, Captain Levi, Commander Hange. No one matters to him like these people. He is aware that the future he pictures for them might not come to a reality, but he will be damned if he would stop fighting for it. For this war to end.
For himself, however, he sees black.
What did it say about him that he couldn’t picture himself past the war? That when he tried, all he was met with was a dark, empty void that held nothing for him save silence.
He wonders if that means he’ll die ending it all.
Somehow, that’s the most comforting thought he has had in years.
“Hey, catastrophe,”
The voice comes from behind him. Someone followed him here. No, not someone. Jean. That’s Jean’s voice. Eren is still sitting in front of the ocean, at their new port, and that’s Jean’s voice.
He has instances when he forgets stuff like this, drifts off too far away to some unknown place.
“What are you doing out here? Everyone already went to bed.”
Eren looks at the dining room from which he had escaped from earlier, the lights were, in fact, off.
“I needed to think about some stuff,” Eren says seriously, hoping against hope that Jean would leave him alone.
From the looks of it, there is a small chance of that happening.
“Like who is going to inherit your Titan? Didn’t we think about that enough for today?” Jean crosses his arms and Eren knows that look. It means whatever he is saying, you are not supposed to take it lightly. Part of what makes Jean a great leader is that he takes his own words, and himself, very seriously.
So Eren doesn’t say anything, and the wind rustles their hair as they stare at each other, because he knows Jean is about to get to his point.
“Look, I know what you are doing. You are out here making decisions on your own--”
“Don’t you think some decisions are mine to make?” Eren cuts in. He knows this argument all too well.
By the looks of it, Jean doesn’t like it. He gives him a hard stare before answering,
“Not without consulting us first,” he says, and Eren looks away.
He hears him walk towards him and suddenly there is a hand extended in front of his face. When he looks up, Jean deflects his gaze.
“C’mon. Thanks to you we have loads of work tomorrow morning, too,” Jean murmurs in what Eren thinks as an attempt to sound irked. “You gotta sleep.”
Despite what people may think, of their own difficult relationship and of Eren’s emotional intelligence, Eren knows Jean cares about him. In his own very blunt, very particular, very Jean-like way, and limited to the confinements of their years-long rivalry, for which Eren doesn’t particularly care for these days.
Jean cares for all his comrades, even the ones he does not particularly like. Like Eren.
That is something Eren appreciates a lot, and unable to find that selfish, full-of-himself guy he had bumped heads with, he can’t bring himself to follow along Jean's attempts to rile him up.
Granted, Jean is still a cocky bastard and still manages to get on his nerves, but alas.
It doesn't make Jean any less important to him.
Eren takes the offered hand and stands up. Even if he is in no mood to start a verbal disagreement with him, he can’t help but tease a bit.
“What are you, my Commander ?” he says light-heartedly.
Jean responds with a smug smirk and he leans close to him when he says, confident and cheeky in his best style, “Not yet .” With Eren’s hand still clasped on his own.
Eren knows Jean is teasing, then. His comment nothing but Jean’s natural responses to anything Eren utters that could be taken as a challenge, but it makes Eren suddenly so sad that is like having a stone lodged deep within his chest, like being pulled under the cold water with the sunlight slowly being stripped away. His dejection must be clear on his face because Jean’s expression alters, too, suddenly, and he has to look away to not subject Jean to the display of his own weakness. He takes his hand away.
He won’t get to be there when that happens. Or if he does, it would only mean Hange’s early death.
There is silence for a moment, although his head is as noisy as ever, until Jean breaks it with a clearing of his throat.
“You know, about what you said earlier…” Jean begins tentatively, and Eren turns to tilt his head at him. “About…”
“About what?” Eren urges impatiently, nerves on edge.
Jean frowns, body tense. He can tell he is uncomfortable. Jean’s body closes off like that when someone talks about feelings, when the conversation gets too sentimental for the tough persona he puts on. And suddenly Eren knows what he is talking about, but his own emotional capacity is already at the brim today. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He is so so tired.
“You know,” Jean’s frown deepens, and now he looks irritated, as if it pains him to put what he is about to say into words, and Eren is to blame for his misery. “When you got all… sentimental and stuff. Started saying you cared about us and shi-”
Eren pushes past him, unnecessarily aggressive in his escape. He doesn’t have the mind, doesn’t have the heart and doesn’t have the soul to let Jean finish whatever he was trying to utter right there. He is mad, though with who he isn’t sure. All he knows is that Jean is trying to get under his skin and Eren doesn’t want him to. Even when Jean is like this, even when his words are jumbled and messy and stupid, he has a way of striking a nerve inside of Eren every single damned time. He has a way of saying just the right/wrong thing at the right/wrong moment and Eren doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to feel.
Thus, he evades, but he should know by now that desperately trying to get out of the water only drowns you deeper, and Jean is a maelstrom he has failed to elude many times past.
Jean grabs his wrist and pulls .
“Hey, let me finish!” Jean’s face is burning, too, he can barely make it out in the moonlight, but it’s there, on Jean’s pale skin, and there is no sunset to mask his embarrassment away. When he talks, it comes out as a whisper between his teeth, “I do, too. I car--”
“Don’t say it!” Eren jumps on him, clamps his hand hard against his lips, preventing more words to come out.
“NGHFF!”
Any other person would have let it go. Any other person would have respected his wishes, but he had told Jean to not do something and so of course the bastard was attempting to free himself of his hold, all the while mumbling intelligibly behind his palm. They are struggling against each other as Eren tries to hold firm against his thrashing, as Jean tries to push his hand away, and they both end up too tangled to stand up, crashing against the ground like two particularly ungraceful sacks of meat.
Eren still holds Jean’s mouth firm in his grasp.
When Jean doesn’t make any other attempt to break free, Eren slowly takes his hand back, staring down at Jean in the ground. Jean glares at him, but with no real heat, or at least Eren doesn’t think he is particularly offended by Eren’s admittedly ridiculous outburst, annoyed was more likely, and his years-long rival/friend releases a long-suffering sigh coupled with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
“You are insufferable,” he declares.
“That’s better,” Eren answers.
Jean snorts, eyes closed, and Eren smirks.
He wouldn’t be able to say, later, what compels him to do what he does next. Eren is not the type to say stuff like because it was impossible in that moment not to kiss Jean’s soft smile, or, because I had waited too long, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll have for this . So he doesn’t think it, he just leans in and presses their lips together. A sorry excuse for a kiss, if the things he has heard his comrades talk about are anything to go by, but enough to send electricity all across his body and pull tight at his heartstrings.
His press is feather-like. He isn’t even sure someone else would call this a kiss save for the fact that their lips are touching, but Eren is curious, for lack of a better word, but he is also painfully inexperienced in this area, so he pulls away when the embarrassment catches up to him and looks down at the mess he made.
To say Jean is dumbstruck would be an understatement.
His mouth hangs slightly open and he stares wide-eyed at him. Eren can almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of the absurd, convincing himself the last ten seconds had happened. He braces himself for the question when it comes.
“Why?” it’s the only thing that comes out of Jean’s mouth.
“I don’t know,” he responds sincerely, and he thinks that something must have broken inside of him, because his voice doesn’t sound like his own. “I just wanted to.”
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He ends up in Jean’s bed that night.
How they make it there is a mystery to Eren, but they manage not to tear at each other clothes before actually getting inside. All six of their group have their own rooms, and each room is a respectable distance from the other, yet still they hold back on their gasps and their groans as if someone could walk in on them at any moment as they press against each other and seal their lips together over and over again.
The urgency and desperation that takes them both over after that first tentative, barely-there kiss is something that takes Eren aback at the same time that it feels like a natural progression of everything that had gone on that day. Hell, everything that had gone on between them for years. Eren discovers that touching Jean in want doesn’t feel that much different than touching Jean in anger, except it’s a hundred times more satisfying, if only because Jean’s broken noises are one of the most amazing things he has heard all his life. And the way Jean touches him back, firm and demanding, like he can’t possibly get enough, like he plans to mark every bit of Eren within his reach with his deft hands, makes him tremble with a need he has never felt before, and Eren, inexperienced as he is, can only encourage Jean with how hard he clings to him, and being who he is, matches Jean’s fervent kisses with his own eager, passionate ones.
It’s.
Different.
To anything Eren has ever experienced before. He is not used to his heart beating so madly for anything other than fury. He is not used to his senses being so overcome by anything other than the need to fight. He is not used to wanting something--no, someone --so much. But here he is, clawing his way to Jean’s body. There is a first time for everything, he supposes.
Eren is so immersed in the overpowering feeling, that he only realises they have gradually slowed down when he is on the bed on top of Jean, both of them finally naked from top to bottom, bare skin tingling at every point of contact.
When Eren pulls back from the sweet, sweet soft spot on Jean’s neck to breathe, he hears Jean chuckle, and Eren tilts his head in confusion, asking a silent question.
“I just feel like we’ve already been in this position before,” he explains with some amusement in his voice.
Eren snorts. Jean’s hair is a right mess against the pillow, sticking out everywhere from the attack of Eren’s unruly fingers. He wishes it wasn’t so dark so he could make out Jean’s expression better, and is half tempted to light the lamp in Jean's room, so he can finally be privy to the way Jean’s body changes when aroused. But he doesn’t want to break this moment, and he doesn’t want to lose their hold on each other, so he settles for learning Jean with his hands, lips and tongue.
“We have,” Eren answers after a moment. “But less bruises are involved this time.”
Jean finds this somewhat hilarious and throws his head back laughing breathlessly, and Eren finds himself laughing along with him, because this is ridiculous. He was just having an identity crisis back there at the port, and now he is sharing a bed and his body with a guy who couldn’t bid him good morning without some sort of quip at his appearance, his behaviour, or anything about Eren he could think of that mildly inconvenienced him. It’s the sort of thing, he supposes, that happens when you are too tired to second-guess everything. In that moment, the way Jean pulls him in promises pleasure and heat and a moment of painless oblivion.
He realizes as they rut against each other and roll around on the sheets that there is a very distinct difference in the way they have sex and the way they fight; when they used to fight, they did so in the hopes that someone would break them apart soon, moved by pure stubbornness and the need to prove themselves. Now, Eren touches Jean as if there won’t be a morning to come, kisses Jean as if there is no war to fight, and as they lose themselves in each other, they both moan their passion as if there weren’t any friends or officers that could hear them.
By the end of it, he is left feeling pleasantly sated and strangely proud. He manages to make Jean come twice, once with Jean's cock in-between his thighs and the other with it's lenght pressed against his own, and the sound of Jean reaching his climax it’s something that will be etched in his memory for as long as he lives. His own orgasm had taken him by surprise, pulled out of him by Jean’s brilliant hand on both of their cocks, something he had never thought would feel so damn good, but he learns, there is a plethora of new sensations he never even knew existed.
He wonders if this means he loves Jean, but he has always thought love means an entirely different thing to him than it does to most people.
They crumble together in a heap of sweat, cum and heaving bodies and Eren cleans them both up lazily with the first piece of cloth he finds as Jean mumbles something incoherent to which he answers with a nonsense of his own.
He watches Jean fall asleep as he traces the sharp lines of his face with his finger and is promptly pulled into a deep sleep himself.
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The sun hasn’t even come out when Eren wakes up. Jean is curled up with his head resting against Eren’s bicep and a leg hooked around Eren’s thighs. Eren has a moment of realization as last night comes back to him and his face heats up in embarrassment when he realizes he is hard again. But Jean is fast sleep and snoring, and it’s already another day. They never said anything about continuing this outside of last night’s delirium. Eren is not even sure he wants to repeat what happened.
He disentangles himself carefully, making sure Jean doesn’t wake up as he puts his clothes back on before silently leaving the room.
He doesn’t go back to his own room right away, instead he sits on the stairs outside their inn, watching as the sun makes its way out of the ocean in a canvas of pink hues that announce the morning. Light comes back to the world even as Eren stills feels left in the dark, as he fruitlessly tries time and time again to find the answers to everything written across the ocean’s horizon.
He doesn’t want to be normal. He doesn’t not want to be their most valuable weapon. He just wishes there was something outside of it, of this. There will be. He’ll make sure of it. But not for him.
Not for him.
Who is he outside of this?
Nothing.
Thoughts of a warm body, hazel brown eyes and a devastating smile come to his mind all of a sudden, and just like that Eren feels colder than he has ever done on a warm summer morning.
He goes back to his room for a new set of clothes, sees no point in trying to catch more sleep before they are all awoken, and goes to shower by himself, hoping the water washes the thoughts of yesterday away.
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When Jean wakes up, he is immediately acutely aware that something is wrong but his brain is slow to catch up with what exactly.
It’s only when he catches a familiar scent on the sheets that he recalls what went on in this bed and who it had happened with.
Aside from that there is nothing else. No clothes, no belongings and no Eren. The empty side of the bed where he knows Eren had been sleeping on not a moment ago stares mockingly back at him.
He is not prepared for the sinking feeling in his stomach that comes with the realization that Eren really left, but he is also only just been made aware of the part of him that expected him to stay.