[ He doesn't smile back, the space between his brows wrinkling as Jean brushes off his apology. But he doesn't want to protest, either, because the silence that settles in is comforting. Eren had stewed by himself, mostly, and Mikasa, sometimes. Otherwise he'd thrown himself into training and combing the city over, grasping at clues and answers of vengeance that didn't exist— which didn't matter. He needed purpose, he needed to fix things. Even if he knows that Jean's right, and that they need to move on and protect who they have left and that a loss was a loss and the dead were staying dead.
Reality was hard, and slowing down to accept it was unbearable. But now they have a novelty that was never afforded to them back home, because there was actually time to revel in emotions, sometimes: to find comfort in someone else's presence for a day and get through it together.
Absently, he thinks it's... nice.
He gets pulled down and his muscles tense automatically, nearly shoving himself away in surprise, hands braced against Jean's chest. But he lands against his shoulder and there's nothing antagonistic about it, and he's a bundle of nerves for a few seconds longer as they just... hug. And breathe, in tandem. Eventually he adjusts his arms, sliding them underneath Jean and clutching to his back, returning the gesture fervently as he digs his face into his collar, voice muffled: ]
seventypercentethanol, the thread
Reality was hard, and slowing down to accept it was unbearable. But now they have a novelty that was never afforded to them back home, because there was actually time to revel in emotions, sometimes: to find comfort in someone else's presence for a day and get through it together.
Absently, he thinks it's... nice.
He gets pulled down and his muscles tense automatically, nearly shoving himself away in surprise, hands braced against Jean's chest. But he lands against his shoulder and there's nothing antagonistic about it, and he's a bundle of nerves for a few seconds longer as they just... hug. And breathe, in tandem. Eventually he adjusts his arms, sliding them underneath Jean and clutching to his back, returning the gesture fervently as he digs his face into his collar, voice muffled: ]
I wasn't either.