Chapter Text
Eren
“Oh, she’s a cutie,” Jean remarks, looking over my shoulder. “You’re not dropping a comment on that? Bro, you didn’t even like the photo. Wait, go back, scroll back up—”
I twist away from him and put my phone face-down on the table. I try to redirect my attention to this impossible board question, but no matter how many times I stare at it, my mind keeps drifting back to that Instagram story. I was three-quarters of the way through viewing it.
“Hey, all I’m saying is that if you slide in, you gotta butter her up a bit. I mean, come on. It doesn’t even need to be a genuine compliment. A heart-eyes emoji or two, smash that ‘like’ button, repeat for three consecutive posts, and you’re home free, bro—”
“I swear to God, Jean—”
Reiner pulls a fast one and swipes my phone. “sh*t, dude. You’re into Hitch now?” he says, tapping through the remaining quarter of the story. “Mad respect, pal.”
I lunge for my phone, but he tosses it to Jean who catches it and whistles.
“Looks like someone’s going for the trifecta,” Jean says, scrolling through Hitch’s grid.
“The what?” I mutter, wondering how much of a dick move it would be to “accidentally” dump coffee over his laptop.
“The three of them are easy on the eyes,” Jean says, showing me a picture of Hitch, Annie, and Mikasa hiking near the Delaware Water Gap, which apparently isn’t even in Delaware. It unintuitively straddles the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
“It’s only unintuitive to lifelong city boys like you,” Mikasa once remarked when she told me about this place. She poked my forehead. “There’s a bigger world beyond New York City, you know. Honestly, I don’t think you’d survive a week in New Jersey.”
I need to stop thinking about her. Reminiscing about these little talks we’d have late at night — this isn’t good for me.
Reiner chuckles, slapping the table. “Oh, picking off a friend group, one by one? That’s degenerate as f*ck, dude. But kinda legendary,” he says. “Eren would have to make his boy Armin the cuckold here.”
“Hey, Jaeger’s made it quite evident that he’s no stranger to pissing all over another guy’s turf,” Jean points out. “Didn’t you do that several consecutive times your sophom*ore year? If memory serves, you were bragging to us about how you even made a game of it. Poor dude. What was his name… Floch or something? He’s probably scarred for life.”
“Man, the three of us were in such a big-dick competition during M1. Thank God, we’ve chilled out since then,” Reiner says, adjusting his ankle boot. He’ll be hobbling around in crutches for several months. Last weekend, he got into a scuffle at a pickup soccer game. Apparently, this “unhinged, six-foot-five hunk of a dishonorably discharged Navy SEAL” went commando on his ass and fractured his tibia.
“If you ask me,” he adds graciously, even though I very much did not ask for his opinion, “Annie might have a nice ass, but that RBF of hers just kills the whole vibe. I think you should just aim for two-for-three and move on to the next friend group you wanna wreck to pieces.”
“Guys, this is so f*cked up,” I growl. “FYI, we’re not in frats anymore, but if you douchebags wanna keep pissing in recycling bins and deep-throating Wawa hoagies, be my f*cking guest. Just leave me out of it.”
I turn down their invite to get sloshed, pack up my things, and make my way back home. When I pull up Hitch’s Instagram story again, she’s added another ten posts. Her steady stream of updates has been my only window into the girls’ spring break trip. Annie has everything on private, and Mikasa still steers clear of social media. Objectively speaking, it’s pitiful. I know I shouldn’t be watching these videos on an endless loop, pausing each time Hitch’s camera catches a glimpse of Mikasa.
We’ve hardly talked since the day I confessed to her. She avoided me the next day, keeping to her room, only slipping out into the kitchen when the coast was clear. I gave her space, listening for her door to shut behind her before I went to the bathroom. I thought I’d be relieved when she went out to play soccer, but when I entered the living room, everything looked so gray — even the red blanket she keeps draped over the armchair. A day later, we exchanged stiff goodbyes at the doorway before she left for New Jersey with Annie and Hitch. She kept our interaction brief, refusing to make eye contact with me. She skittered away before I could hug her and tell her I was sorry.
After her first two nights in Jersey, I received a text from her. It was her two-weeks’ notice. She probably put a lot of thought into this message, even though it couldn’t have been longer than a Tweet. She was gentle and kind about it, since she’s Mikasa, after all.
The text, however, also had an edge to it — which meant Annie had some editorial input before the guillotine was dropped. We were working toward a treaty of sorts. I’d say we were even approaching a budding friendship. Turns out, she’s kinda cool. When we were at CVS, she swore upon her firstborn child that Mikasa would reciprocate if I told her I loved her. I mean, no sh*t. Of course, we’re in love with each other. Still, hearing these assurances from Annie gave me a surge of confidence I didn’t realize I needed.
This impasse with Annie took a one-way trip to the shredder not long after I told Mikasa I loved her. The next day, Annie took the liberty to text me: go f*ck yourself, eren.
After their camping trip, Hitch had basically live-streamed the girls’ day at Mikasa’s hometown hair salon. As the stylist hacked away, I watched long ribbons of her silky black hair collect on the tiled floor. Hitch yelled affirmations, while Annie hung back in the corner of the frame, nodding quietly. Mikasa winced with each snip, but slowly, she began to beam when her new pixie cut took shape. It stung to see her find joy in letting go.
Since then, I’ve been spotting strands of her long hair everywhere—lingering on the kitchen floor, clinging to the shower wall, hiding beneath my pillow.
When the keys rattle and she steps back into our apartment, she greets me with a feathery, “Hey, Eren!” She smiles shyly when I’m just standing in the living room, staring dully at a girl I hardly recognize. This new Mikasa seems lighter. She’s sunkissed across the nose and walks with a bounce in her step. She breezes by me with a certain momentum, pulled forward by the promise of an exciting future away from here. She explains with forced enthusiasm the lead-up to this impulsive haircut, and I can hardly keep up with one-word responses, barely registering the moment when she changes topic and runs through her move-out plan, which involves Levi and a U-Haul.
There's silence afterward. In other words, an appropriate time to tell her I missed her. And probably the right moment to explain everything. She stands there, letting this last chance hang in the atmosphere between us. The air grows stale as I feel the carpet sucking me deeper into this pit of an apartment. I’m small next to her. She bites the inside of her cheek and excuses herself to do some laundry when that fact becomes evident to her, too.
I offer to help move these cardboard boxes, but Levi shuts me down. I stand in the living room awkwardly as he and the girls pack up Mikasa’s belongings, stripping the apartment of her presence. When Mikasa and Hitch head down the stairwell with a floor lamp and two bulging IKEA bags, Levi crosses his arms and stares me down.
“What?” I mutter, shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants.
“You’re dickless,” he says. “Absolutely pitiful.” He’s about to launch into some sort of monologue expounding on that initial thesis statement, but Annie lumbers out of Mikasa’s room, struggling with a heavy box.
“Hey, Levi,” she huffs. “Care to do me a solid?”
He breaks no sweat hoisting the box over his shoulder. When he’s out of earshot, it’s Annie’s turn to kick me while I’m down—except she takes pity on me.
She sticks out an open palm. “Pay up,” she says. “Told you we’d make it to the Final Four.”
I settle our March Madness bet with a twenty-dollar bill. “Go Heels,” I remark.
“What happened?” she asks. “We had an absolutely foolproof plan. How did you fumble this so hard, man?”
I shrug. I brainstorm for an excuse to get out of here. I tell her I have to go study, but immediately, I buckle hearing my own voice sound so pathetic. I start tearing up when Annie rolls her eyes. I cover my face with my sleeve and retreat into my own room. She takes a minute to process this ridiculous reaction I can hardly comprehend myself. She decides to follow me in. I bury myself under the covers like a child and tell her to get out. She sets something down on my desk.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she remarks. “But I’m leaving this. Hide it in your closet for now. After we get out of here, the care instructions say ‘bright, indirect light.’ Water every one to two weeks, got it?”
When I pull my head out from the blankets, I’m staring at Mikasa’s favorite rubber fig plant. “What are you doing?” I say.
“She ‘forgot’ it,” Annie replies, holding up air-quotes.
“Dude, she loves this thing.”
“Too bad she ‘forgot’ it,” Annie grits out, aggressively reiterating the air-quotes. “You should probably reach out and let her know at some point.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “I have no idea what you’re trying to get at right now. Can you just leave me alone?”
“You’re a f*cking moron. I’m giving you one final opportunity for redemption. Not that you deserve it.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“You have a lot of work to do. I mean, good grief,” Annie says condescendingly. Outside, Mikasa’s voice echoes from the hallway. Levi mutters something, and Hitch laughs. Annie turns back to me. “You’re better than this,” she says before she gets up.
Mikasa’s bedroom is barren once the final box has been loaded away. The walls are blank and depressing without her posters and photographs. She takes a final lap around our space, looking for items that didn’t make it aboard the U-Haul. My mind is racing, debating whether I should give up altogether, retrieve her plant from my closet, and let her go completely.
I’m numb and motionless when she hugs me good-bye. Levi and her new roommates have headed downstairs, giving us some space. I keep my arms pinned by my side. If I relent and hold her one last time, Levi will have to march back up here and rip her away from me.
“I’ll miss you,” she tells me. “I’ll… um, see you later?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
She pulls away from me. “What do you mean?” she asks. “We’re still going to be friends, right?”
“Mikasa, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
She’s quiet for a while, loosening her hold on me. She takes a step back. She’s crying.
“I love you,” she tells me before turning around and leaving me in this empty, lifeless apartment.
