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Eren is drifting away. Jean can tell.
Each time he scans his face, his blue-green eyes are glazed over and distant. His lips are settled in a firm line. Brows constantly furrowed, like he’s seconds from collapsing under the weight of the world’s problems.
Something in him changed after that day.
Of course, Jean hadn’t actually been there when Eren opened the compartment in his father’s desk, unlocking the secrets of the outside world. But he heard all the information that Levi and Hange passed on. Outside, there were far more people than they’d ever understand. Technology and science the likes of which they’d never seen. An entire world that hated them and wanted them dead.
Now, integrating into that world is presenting a major problem. There’s no clear way to establish themselves as a real “country”. While they wait for Marley’s next “ship”, they’ve created a small camping site at the edge of the coast. They’re trying to gather more information. More insight into a world that’s always been hidden away.
But first, at Hange's orders, they have to contact Marley's water-gliding vessel— their "ship". And they have to wait around, sheltered in small tents, for the ship to arrive. Which also means that Jean is forced to stare at Eren’s tortured face for hours every day. Especially when they’re pitching up tents together for hours, sweat dripping down their arms, eyes stealing glances at each other every few seconds.
“Y’know, you’d think that titan of yours would come in handy right now.” Jean grumbles while carrying the disassembled tent parts. “Useless.”
Eren glares, but says nothing. He turns to his left and starts pounding in a stake with his mallet. His knuckles turn white. Brows furrowed and lips thinned. He’s intensely angry and difficult to look away from.
Meanwhile, Jean glides a few poles through the body of the tent, forming a loose triangle shape. Ideally, they’d set up enough of these tents to house both themselves and the Marleyans. Hange hopes that with direct contact, they’d be able to convince their enemies that they aren’t evil, inhuman beings. That they can form some kind of understanding between the small world inside the walls and the massive one outside.
Secretly, the rest of the scouts are expecting poor results. With the power of the titans, Eldians pose too much of a threat to expect an easy reconciliation. But Hange is determined, and it’s not like they have many other options.
Jean has about half of their tent upright now. He pauses for a moment to sip water and fan away a swarm of mosquitos. Then he stares at Eren, who still has that nasty look on his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” He decides to ask.
Eren looks up from where he’s knelt, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Huh?”
“We got to the ocean. That’s always been your dream, right? You and Armin? But since you saw it you’ve been skulking around like you just left a damn funeral.”
Eren turns away and keeps hitting his next stake. “Because.” His mallet strikes the wood with a dull thud. “There’s more to this world than some huge lake of salt.”
Jean shakes his head. “It’s more than that. You’re mad at something.”
Eren’s hand stills, mallet hovering above the half-buried stake. For a while, it almost looks like he’s trembling, but the movement is so small that it could be a trick of the sun’s blinding rays. He shakes his head and goes back to hitting the stiff wood into the ground.
“We shouldn’t be trying to make amends with Marley.”
Jean hums. “So you’re not happy about Hange’s plan.”
Eren gives a vague nod and focuses back on the tent. Head bent, long brown hair falling over his determined sea-blue eyes. A green shirt sticks to his back, drenched with sweat. His arm flexes as he pounds that wood stake into the earth.
Jean swallows and runs a hand through his hair, swipes the sweat from his forehead. He fusses over his appearance for a solid minute. For no particular reason, he has the sudden urge to look decent.
Then he’s back to business— setting up tents and ignoring angry, piercing eyes.
_______________
The scouts set up multiple patrols around the coast to watch for one of Marley’s ships. Usually, Jean would begin the day on patrol with one of the newer recruits, sketching a bit in his notebook as the sun rises over the endless ocean. But today, the normal schedule is unexpectedly shuffled around, and he’s forced to take the night shift. With Eren.
They’re both used to defending large stretches of land— peering out into empty space, searching for any signs of movement. The task isn’t new to them. Neither is the silence that permeates their space. They’re sitting on a grassy cliff, rifles at their side, legs sprawled out ahead of them. Squinting into the dark, the only light from the distant stars painted over the vast sky. It’s almost peaceful.
Almost, until Eren decides to speak.
“Do you ever feel trapped?”
His eyes are deep blue and pensive and wide. Jean always wondered how a guy could have such huge, expressive eyes. Every time they look his way, his heart hammers against his chest and he feels compelled to sputter out a series of insults.
Jean holds back his irritation and tries to come up with a genuine response. “Sometimes. I guess. It’s easy to feel stuck when you’re not making any real decisions, just following what your Commander thinks is best.” He shrugs. “I have confidence in Hange, though. I know she’ll make the right call when the time comes.”
A few minutes elapse with no words spoken. Jean starts to worry that he’d said something wrong— that he’d sparked familiar anger in those wide-ass eyes again. But then Eren inhales.
“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Jean.”
“Sure.”
Jean swallows. This is one of those rare moments where they actually feel like allies. In the past, even if they’d been on good terms, their words were icy and bitter. Brought on by countless incidents of teasing and insulting and bragging. For a while, Jean was convinced that they’d only be able to talk to each other through stupid arguments.
So Eren choosing to open up on this cliff is strange. Very strange.
Jean pushes past his discomfort and smirks. “Y’know, I hope you’re prepared to be under my command someday.”
Deep blue eyes stare into his soul. “I’d never take orders from you.”
“Oh yeah? It’s not like you’ll have a choice when I become captain of the Survey Corps.”
Instantly, the warm mood between them shifts into something more frigid. Eren’s stare darkens and he leans in closer. So close that Jean can see the slightest downward twitch of his lips, the slimmest furrow between his brows.
“You really think I’d be controlled by anyone? Let alone you?”
Eren’s words are far too serious, even by his standards. Jean frantically thinks of a way to ease their sudden tension. He hesitates for a moment, then holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, Eren. You win. No one can control you, including me, even when I inevitably become captain. Happy?”
Eren leans away and doesn’t say a word. They settle back into an odd, uncomfortable silence. Until, out of the corner of his eye, Jean spots a distant flashing light.
In one swift movement he’s on his feet. Hange had said that Marley’s ship would be more likely to arrive at night. She’d also said to expect some kind of obvious signal announcing its presence— artificial light, excessive smoke, a loud noise. Jean squints a bit more into the darkness.
Sure enough, there’s a white light on the horizon.
Eren must see it too. He’s also standing, poised to bite his hand, prepared to assault the vessel head-on. But Commander Hange was hoping for a heart-to-heart approach, which meant that he’d been told not to transform.
“You’re not attacking them, remember?” Jean reminds him. Then he fumbles for the flare gun resting at his hip. He covers his ear and shoots into the sky. Red, flickering sparks travel through their small camp.
Next to him, Eren’s eyes are dark. “This is pointless. They don’t care about talking. They’ll just try to kill us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I should be dragging them to shore. We should be threatening them.”
“That’s not for you to decide. Have more faith in Hange’s plan.” Jean pauses for a second, then sighs. “Honestly, Eren. It’s not like we have another choice here.”
Eren falls unsettlingly silent. Jean shudders.
They both decide to crawl closer to the shore and find decent cover behind a bush. Jean takes a thin, pointed bullet from his gear and loads it into his rifle. Eren does the same. Thankfully, the approaching ship is slow-moving. As it glides across the water, he watches other scouts getting into position across the perimeter of the coast, guns in hand.
“Marley will either try to kill us or call another ship to come kill us.” Eren mutters, holding his rifle’s stock against his shoulder.
To be honest, Jean doesn’t think this plan will work either, but he keeps his mouth shut. He knows that once Eren’s mind is set to something, he won’t stray from that thought for a second. Encouraging his ideas will only make him more stupid and reckless.
They wait for the ship to drift closer. Eren stops his complaining, but soon Jean notices a bleeding wound on his palm. He startles.
“Eren. What the hell are you doing?”
The thin cut stretches the width of his hand. Admittedly, Jean doesn’t know as much about titans as Commander Hange or Armin or Mikasa, but he understands the basics. As long as Eren bleeds, he can turn into his monstrous form at any moment.
“Jean. Relax.” Eren’s voice is like ice. “I can control when I transform.”
The wound drips a constant stream of red into the dirt.
Jean narrows his eyes before turning back toward the ocean. “Alright. Fine. Just be careful. I don’t want you to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t put you in danger like that.” Eren says very sincerely. “Besides, I’m just following Hange’s orders. I’m supposed to turn into a titan if anything goes wrong. You know that.”
Jean thinks back to the meeting where they’d been briefed on their first contact with Marley. Hange had admitted that their initial reaction to Paradis’ inhabitants would likely be dismal. In the event they can’t forge a good first impression, Eren is expected to act as their show of force.
Jean is suddenly reminded of how ambitious their plans really are. Their lives rest on the shoulders of one suicidal maniac. Like always.
He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. “Damn this. If everything goes well, we should celebrate tonight. Get drunk or something.”
He expects a hostile response from Eren. A quick no, followed by excuses that consist of focusing on the mission and not letting our guards down. Instead, a genuine laugh tumbles out of his mouth.
“Sure. That sounds fun.”
Jean blinks. “Really?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure there’s some liquor we can steal from one of the storage tents.”
“…And you actually want to drink? Without Commander Hange knowing?”
“Why not? It’ll be good for morale.”
Every fiber of Jean’s being is caught in a confused swirl. Eren isn’t acting like a stickler for the rules. In fact, he’s encouraging him to step out of line. He even wants to join him.
Jean is so shocked that he almost forgets that he’s holding a gun, minutes away from confronting an armed ship. The mysterious white light is much closer now. He settles back into position and tries to ignore Eren despite their proximity.
The ship is dull gray and huge. From up above, all of the Marleyan soldiers look like scattered, terrified ants. The sound of their voices carry across the water, mostly coming from the hefty man up front barking orders at his frazzled crew. They must have seen the Scouts’ tents, all clustered together close to shore. Or they’d seen Jean’s bright red flare from earlier. Or they see Hange, now approaching the coast, hands lifted up in surrender.
“C’mon, Hange.” Jean pleads under his breath. “Don’t screw this up.”
The world seems to fall silent as the Marleyan captain approaches the front of the ship. At Hange’s side, there’s a sudden flash of dark green. Levi.
“Ready your weapons!” The captain drills. “If these are indeed island devils, then they need to answer for their sins. We need to kill them before they—”
“Oh, there’s no need for that!” Hange cuts in, her uneasy smile visible from miles away. “See, my friend Levi and I, we’re both unarmed. And very willing to talk, if you’d like to come in for tea.”
“Don’t be persuaded by their cunning tactics! All island devils are pure evil. We need to dispose of them and inform Commander Magath of their breach beyond the walls. Men, prepare to shoot!”
Eren’s deep blue eyes find Jean. There’s a spark forming behind his stare, neon lightning tracing across his skin. And Jean knows that the only way to prevent Hange’s plan from becoming a complete tragedy is his titan.
Eren jumps off the cliff and transforms amidst the sound of staggered gunshots.
_______________
The plan was a disaster. Most of Marley’s fleet dies from the ensuing chaos, and a dozen scouts suffer from critical gunshot wounds. The remaining Marleyan survivors are tied up and banished to the outskirts of their settlement, watched by a rotating guard. Hange, still struggling to collect herself after almost dying several times, insists on a different approach for the next ship. But even she struggles to find an optimistic spin on their situation.
It’s clear that they’d failed.
So, when Eren shows up at his tent that night with a case of liquor in between his hands, Jean is very confused.
“Uh, just what the hell are you doing?”
Eren stretches his arms out, emphasizing the box of full glass bottles. “Drinking.”
He kicks aside some of the clothes littering his floor and sets the liquor down. Jean sits up in his cot and rubs his eyes, utterly bewildered.
“I said we’d drink if things went well. I don’t know if you remember while you were a giant fucking titan, but we killed almost everyone. Five survivors total.”
“That’s exactly why we should drink.” Eren has an uncharacteristic, boyish smile plastered on his face. “We need something to take our minds off of everything.”
Big red warning signs are going off in Jean’s head. Namely, that Eren hasn’t been acting like himself, and that coping with failure by drinking stolen liquor is a very dumb thing to do. Still, he watches Eren pry the case open, and blindly accepts the clear bottle shoved into his chest.
“There was wine too, but I thought you’d prefer something stronger. Is this okay?”
Jean’s mind is shouting a constant no, but he forces an uneasy grin and says, “Sure, thanks.”
His restless hands mess with the bottle. The glass is a bit dusty, and he distracts himself by wiping off the debris while Eren pries his own lid open.
Blue-green eyes pin him from across the tent. “Are you gonna start drinking, or are you gonna keep fucking around with that bottle?”
He’s never seen Eren’s eyes in that shape before. Narrow and focused, but somehow not angry. Like he’s staring at a problem he can’t seem to solve.
Jean scoffs. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll start drinking already, dammit.”
He twists off the lid and takes in a mouthful. As soon as the harsh burn reaches his throat, he sees stars. He releases the bottle and coughs out alcohol-tainted spit.
Eren wipes his lips from his own swig. “Too much for you?”
Jean glares at him. Even in his most vulnerable moments, Eren is still his rival. He needs to remember that.
Unfortunately, Eren drinks some more and walks to the rear of the tent, right where he’s sitting.
“Can I join you?”
Jean flushes red and glances at the empty space on his cot. “Here?”
“Yeah. Not like there’s anywhere else to sit.”
“…Uh, okay. Go ahead.”
Jean takes another huge drink from his bottle. His entire body is going to hate him tomorrow.
Eren sits down at his side. Jean’s skin feels heated, probably from the alcohol, but the unsettling figure next to him isn’t exactly helping. Not to mention those deep blue swirls staring him down. Compelling him to take in another huge mouthful of liquor.
“You’ve always been a coward, Jean.”
Ouch. That’s harsh. And untrue, considering all of the battles he’d launched himself into for the sake of humanity. Sure, his motives haven’t always been selfless, but he’d remained strong throughout his time as a soldier. Certainly stronger than Eren, who needs Mikasa’s power and Armin’s mind to accomplish anything.
“I’m not a coward.”
“Yeah, you are. You want to be a leader, but you wait around for other people to make the first move anyway. Probably because you’re scared.”
“That’s not true!” Jean insists, but his chest feels tight and uncertain.
“Yes it is. And you know it.”
Fuck, Jean wants to punch that stupid smirk right off Eren’s irritating face. He manages to hold himself back by taking another sip from his bottle. The alcohol scorches his throat, takes the edge off some of his anger.
When he looks to his side, Eren is even closer, his eyes thin and slanted. “You have nothing to say to that?”
“I didn’t ask for some fucked up assessment of my life. So, yeah. I have nothing to say to that.”
Eren’s eyes widen, almost to an exaggerated degree. It’s hard to focus on anything but those eyes now that the alcohol is infecting Jean’s head. He’s certain they’ve never been this color before— so dark blue they’re almost black. What happened that evening must have really messed with Eren’s head. His cheeks are flushed, even though he only drank twice from his bottle. Something is wrong with him.
“Did you expect me to come here tonight?” He asks.
Jean wonders if the question is some sort of trick. “…No?”
“Do you mind that I’m here right now?”
“…No.”
Eren leans in even closer. “I see the way you stare at me, Jean.”
Immediately Jean’s mind goes blank. Numb. Maybe it’s a result of the alcohol, but he starts to feel so lightheaded that he grips his knees, trying to stay grounded to reality. But Eren continues to press into his space, so close that their shoulders touch.
“When are you going to make the first move?”
Jean’s heart plummets. He feels like he’s back on that steep cliff, except instead of keeping a healthy distance from the edge, he’s seconds from jumping into the vast ocean. Seconds from immersing himself in wide, sea-blue eyes. Eren is inches away from his face with those goddamn eyes. That soft-looking hair, dark brown and shoulder-length. Perfect enough to run a shaky hand through. His fingers twitch with the urge.
Until Eren puts a hand on Jean’s thigh. “I guess you really are a coward.”
And maybe that’s a fair assumption, considering the way Jean flinches away from his touch. Scooting further away and staying far from the edge of the cliff.
Eren retracts his hand. He scoffs, arching his neck back as he takes a long drink from his bottle.
“You haven’t been acting right, Eren.” Jean says, even though he’s not equipped to handle this conversation at all. Especially when he can’t stop thinking about that rough hand holding his leg.
“It’s the opposite.” Eren’s fingers drum a steady rhythm on his bottle. “I’m seeing things a lot more clearly now.”
It’s a limited view into his state of mind, but it’s enough to make Jean shiver. He tries to remind himself that this is Eren. A massive pain in his ass, but a familiar pain nonetheless. Someone that he’s always hated and admired and envied, all wrapped up into one horrible, conflicting emotion. An emotion that doesn’t need to be explored. Something that can be tucked away so far down that he can go the rest of his life ignoring it.
“I think you should leave.” He whispers.
Eren laughs, then waits a moment, as if Jean might change his mind. His eyes squint before he shakes his head, stands, and walks to the other side of the tent.
“You should start being honest with yourself.”
Jean watches a strange, unsettling version of Eren leave his tent in silence.
_______________
“You look like crap, dude.”
Jean looks up at Connie without fully processing his words. “Huh?”
“Yeah. Like, y’know those depressed old guys from our cadet days? The ones that would tell us about how terrifying the titans were with those huge bags under their eyes? You look like them.”
Jean shakes his head, continuing to eat his lukewarm stew. “Thanks, Connie.”
He’s sitting outside the dining tent, legs criss-crossed in some grass while he stares at the endless ocean. He prefers to sit inside, but that’s where Eren and Armin and Mikasa are, and he’d been avoiding those three as much as possible. Figures that Connie would choose to follow him, sitting at his side despite his foul mood.
He hadn’t slept much since Eren entered his tent two days ago. When he lays down in his cot at the end of the night, all of his thoughts drift to him. The sound of his voice. That long, pretty hair. Those fucking eyes. He can’t even escape him in his dreams. It’s like his hand on his thigh had been permanently etched into his head, sparking all kinds of ridiculous, erotic fantasies.
So, yeah. He’s a bit irritable. He hasn’t been getting much sleep.
Connie hums. “You need to get more sleep.”
“You’re an idiot.” Jean closes his eyes and sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?”
“Uh… yes?”
“There you go, genius.”
Silence while he continues to pick through his food. His stupid, annoying feelings had been bothering him all day. Sasha had kept him company earlier that morning, but even she couldn’t stand his irritable mood after a few minutes. Connie will get the hint eventually.
But at that moment, Eren exits the dining tent, flanked by Armin and Mikasa. Dark blue, haunting eyes trace him from ten feet away. Jean’s stew almost flies out of his hands.
Connie notices his embarrassing startle— he looks him up and down and laughs. “Damn, you’re really messed up.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Any chance it has to do with Eren?”
Jean really does drop his stew this time. It spills into the grass, sinking into the earth. He drags his gaze to Connie, who’s staring at him with wide eyes. Like he hadn’t expected his guess to be correct.
“So that’s why you weren’t at Hange’s meeting yesterday. Something happened with Eren!”
“Stop. It wasn’t about that.” Jean lies. He’s trying to sound convincing, even though his whole body is hot and tight and nervous.
“C’mon, don’t act like it wasn’t! Your face totally gives it away! So, what happened? Did you get in some massive fight again? Did you actually win this time?”
Jean wants to disappear into the grass and die. “Please, Connie. Just drop it.”
“Why? What’s going on with you two?”
“Please.”
Connie’s brows furrow, but he eventually nods his agreement. “Alright, Jean.”
_______________
Jean looks at the list for patrol assignments early the next morning, scanning the sheet with familiar fear.
Night Watch — Jean Kirstein and Eren Yeager
A tingling sensation crawls up his chest. Just like last time, they’d be looking out over the edge of that steep cliff, watching over the island together. He feels unreasonably sick.
He occupies the rest of his day with chores around camp, distracting himself at every opportunity. He polishes plates and silverware, unloads extra supplies, takes stock of their weaponry. Switching between tasks so quickly that he’s able to avoid seeing Eren for the entire morning and afternoon.
But night approaches quickly.
It feels wrong when he sits back on that cliff, waiting for Eren with his arms wrapped around his knees. Like some horrible joke. He’d done everything to avoid him the past two days, and now he’s forced into his proximity once again. Stupid patrols.
He turns around at the sound of soft steps and inhales.
Eren is, for lack of a less dramatic term, gorgeous. His eyes are a stunning blue-green mosaic of color. His hair is straight and soft-looking and long enough to reach his broadening shoulders. The subtle smile on his pink lips, his flawlessly smooth skin— he looks like one of those expensive portraits inside Historia’s castle.
Suddenly, it’s like Jean has been deprived of his face for too long. He stares at him as he walks closer, completely unable to look away.
Eren sits down at his side, his movements so slow and relaxed it’s almost concerning. Meanwhile, Jean is a mess. He runs an anxious hand through his hair and adjusts his seating position about a hundred times.
If only he had a morsel of self-preservation. Or at the very least, the ability to hide his nerves better. Eren notices his preening and smirks. His bright eyes have already gone dark blue.
“Relax, Jean. I’m not going to do anything like I did that night.”
Jean darts his eyes away from Eren. His hands clench into fists.
“Good. I have no idea what the hell you were thinking, anyway.”
“You want to know what I was thinking back then?”
“No.” Jean says, even though he desperately wants some kind of clarification. An admittance that, yes, Eren really was trying to make a move on him. It’d make him feel more sane, at the very least.
Jean spares him another quick glance. Eren is quiet, contemplative. He’s staring out at the vast ocean when he says, “I hope their next ship comes soon. I’m tired of waiting around here.”
Jean exhales and tries to focus on the entire point of their patrol. Now that they’ve sunk one of Marley’s ships, other vessels are sure to make a voyage to their island. This time, Eren is expected to transform into his titan and drag the ship to shore. It’s the exact plan he wanted from the beginning. Because of course it is. Because when has Eren ever not gotten exactly what he wanted.
“I’m sure Marley will arrive right this second. I mean, you just always manage to get your way, don’t you?” Jean mutters.
Eren pins him with a familiar heated glare. “You’re an asshole.”
“Ha. That doesn’t mean shit coming from you. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met in my life.” Jean’s words quickly become more and more heated, “You must be insane. I mean, putting your hand on my leg? Touching me like you did that night? I’ve never met someone so idiotic and selfish and fucking crazy—”
Strong hands shove him into the dirt. He squirms while Eren wrestles him, grass pricking into his skin like faint needles. An elbow shoves into his stomach. Jean wheezes and scrambles and grabs Eren by the shoulders until he’s the one shoving him into the ground. Crowding over him, grappling at his face.
Now Eren is on the defensive— covering his body, writhing away from his touch. He struggles a lot. So much that his legs somehow wrap around Jean’s waist, hands clawing into his upper back.
And, fuck, Jean is hard.
He stops moving entirely, his cheeks turning bright red. Dark shame and genuine arousal pumps through his body at the exact same time. Completely frozen.
Until Eren takes initiative and thrusts upwards.
Jean forgets about everything— the initial fight, their shared hatred, his fierce pride. He doesn’t think about anything other than the tight tent in his pants, rubbing up so perfectly between Eren’s legs that he falls forward and gasps. Then he looks up, catches dark blue eyes filled with relentless heat, and fucking whines.
A rough hand snakes its way around his jaw. “I could always tell you wanted this, Jean. Your eyes. They always gave you away.”
The legs still wrapped around his waist tighten and Jean swears that he goes so hot with pleasure that he melts into nothing. He takes a full, deep breath and tries to steady himself. This is Eren. Despite all the strange behavior and the fact that he’s inches from his fucking mouth, this is still Eren.
But Eren’s expression is terrifying. His stare cuts into him like a blade and his mouth is thin and upturned and Jean can’t breathe, he really can’t breathe, and it only gets worse when he leans in closer. He closes his eyes and clenches his hands and waits.
Warm, soft lips press against his and Jean eases into the kiss like all of this is normal. Even though his heart is beating so hard and fast he’s worried it might escape his chest. Even though Eren is suddenly sweet and gentle, fingers playing up and down his back while his mouth dances a slow, steady rhythm. Even though none of this is normal.
But Jean’s body must reach some level of acceptance, since his tongue swipes into the underside of Eren’s mouth and traces his teeth. A sharp moan bursts from his throat. Some part of him, a deeply primal part of him, has been begging for this.
When he pulls away for air, his vision is so blurry and distorted that he doesn’t see the fierce pleading look in Eren’s eyes for a few moments. Until his chin is pinched and directed upwards and he’s met with pure black pupils.
“Let’s sleep with each other, Jean.” Eren offers up a coy smile. “Right now.”
Jean’s heart plummets out of his chest and into the spiny grass below. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Eren’s eyes manage to go even darker. “I’m serious.”
If only he wasn’t so attractive and confident and wrapped so perfectly around his body. Then Jean would have the strength to refuse. Instead, he captures Eren’s lips once again, and allows himself to drift away. Down the cliff and across the ocean as he sinks into his embrace and becomes absolutely nothing.