[ The minutes pass too quickly— even without speaking, it's easy to revel in the presence of another person this close. Warmth and someone tangible, someone alive. He feels him laugh (a heavy, painful noise) against his chest, the 'joke' passing between them like a lead weight, and Jean's hand is in his hair and he can't bring himself to mind.
But he ruins it by opening his mouth again. Idiot. The question goes unanswered for a second. ]
I—
[ I don't know.
The words die in his throat, and he goes into an awkward silence, because Eren's learned that sometimes he can't afford to be honest. And sometimes, he didn't want to be— what he wanted was the best from the world.
And that meant being a little delusional.
So he lifts his head to look him in the eye, then presses his forehead to Jean's, hands wrapping into his shirt until his fingers hurt and his knuckles go bone-white, tone raw. ]
i'm okay with this
But he ruins it by opening his mouth again. Idiot. The question goes unanswered for a second. ]
I—
[ I don't know.
The words die in his throat, and he goes into an awkward silence, because Eren's learned that sometimes he can't afford to be honest. And sometimes, he didn't want to be— what he wanted was the best from the world.
And that meant being a little delusional.
So he lifts his head to look him in the eye, then presses his forehead to Jean's, hands wrapping into his shirt until his fingers hurt and his knuckles go bone-white, tone raw. ]
I think he went home.