Chapter Text
b e f o r e the incident ... June 25.
- art credit: @jyundee
____
Here you are. Alone. No plan. No security. Just the aftermath of a mangled heart.
Meandering through the bustling halls of your brand new school, Trost State University, you breathe in the air of the crowded, stuffy hallway weaving through the sea of students.
Pulling at your oversized brown flannel in nervousness, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. People surround you, but the feeling of isolation still sits heavy on your heart.
The translucent hues of the overhead lights bounce off of the white tile, making the day seem ten times brighter than what it actually is, making your tired eyes burn.
As students pass by, you take notice that almost all of them seem to be engaged in conversations walking side by side with their friends.
Your heavy eyes trace over them, and your ears listen in on the thousands of words being spoken at once. Everyone wholly invested in their own little world.
Making your way to the front of the Humanities building, the automatic doors open, and the cloudy, cool day greets you instantly. You breathe in the crisp air as it hits your face; it smells like anticipated rain.
Rain in Trost is a common occurrence; sunlight here is relatively minimal. This, along with many other things, is something you will have to get used to.
You are used to bright sunny days and very few storms. But then again, there are many things that you were once used to that are no longer.
Change is an unavoidable part of life, but it is said to be something that is necessary.
Honestly, that just sounds like a bunch of bullshit that humans come up with to make life seem more poetic than it really is because, in reality, life is just unfair and full of things people should never have to face.
Starting over is never easy, and it's even harder when you have no one to support you during the process.
From and a rundown tiny town named Stohess to a big college town called Trost that lies smack down in the middle of Paradis, you are doing what you can to find your place in this brand new environment.
However, the tragedy that you recently faced has left you wondering if you even belong. If there is or ever will be a place for you in this stupid life.
Does any of this really matter?
Overcoming the suffering of a significant loss is one of those efforts that take grit, resilience, and determination, all while feeling like you have none. But despite everything, that's what you're doing—or trying to at least.
As lost as you feel, in your current state of mind, you love yourself enough to know that this is something that you have to do. You had to get away from that darkness and unfair circumstances that once consumed your life.
They were eating away at you the way a hawk picks at scraps, and you won't let that part of your life damage you any longer.
Something better lies ahead compared to the weight of your past. It has to. Anything is better than where you came from.
This is where it starts.
Different town. Different college. Different you.
As you wander outside, you take in the view of the big campus, trying your best not to get lost.
In the quad, there is a large grass field known as Titan Turf. It is outlined vastly of succulents and different flowers colored blue and orange, the school colors of TSU.
As you pass through the field, you take in the view. Despite the coming rain, students are still spread all about. Some are talking, others are sleeping, and some are nose deep in their textbooks.
Titan Turf is bustling, but your eyes fall onto one person in particular.
He has ash brown hair with a clean undercut and is sitting on a blue flannel blanket near the flower bed. His face is creased with focus as he sketches on a pad he has placed in his lap.
The pen strokes are harsh and fast as if anger is burning through his fingertips transferring to the paper.
He must have felt you staring because, in an instant, he stops sketching, and his head whips over to you. His eyes lock with yours, but you don't look away. You can't. Your eyes feel stuck with glue.
He is exceptionally handsome, with a sharp jawline lined with scruff, a messy mullet, and light brown eyes. He stares, hardly blinking, but his face stays stagnant, not faltering in any sort of emotion.
Time feels at a halt.
You snap out of your trance and smile at him, but as soon as it forms on your lips, he tears his eyes from you. He goes back to drawing on the sketch that he has set in front of him, not looking back up again.
Shaking your head in embarrassment, the smile from your face drops. Biting the tip of your tongue, you leave the sketching boy behind and continue your walk across campus.
When you reach the library, you find an empty table in the corner tucked away. Private and secluded, you work best that way. You settle down, quietly pulling out your laptop and three notebooks, one for each class.
Today marks the first day of classes of the fall semester. However, with your courses only falling on Tuesdays and Thursdays, your schedule is free for the day.
You decided to use your free time to your advantage and take a trip to the Library to try and get organized before your classes tomorrow since you will be jam-packed.
History at 9 am. Anatomy at noon. Statistics at 2 pm.
Logging onto your campus portal, you pull up the syllabi for each class and begin to jot down the assignments and projects, organizing them by the due date. The library is eerily silent.
Your pen is pressed deeply into the paper, eyes flickering from your computer screen back down to your planner when a voice calls out, cutting through the still air, "Y/N? is that you?"
Your stomach knots around itself at the sound of your name.
How the hell does someone, all the way in Trost, know my name? You think to yourself. No one here is supposed to know me. That was the deal.
Your head snaps upward to see a figure standing before you. Their small hands are rested on the wood of the table, body leaned forward. Your eyes trek up, and you finally meet their face.
"It is you," the voice says again, but this time their tone is coated in disbelief, "I can't believe it."
| ♬ play ... where'd all the time go - dr. dog ♬ |
Your heart drops so far into your stomach you aren't even sure it's in your body anymore. Part of you feels sick, part of you wants to cry, and part of you is fully convinced this is a dream.
There's no way. It can't be.
"Sasha," you say, so softly it sounds more like a breath than a word spoken.
Before you can process anything, before you can even convince yourself that what you're seeing is real, she jumps over the table and wraps her arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.
She smells of strawberries just the way you remember.
Without thinking, like second nature, your arms wrap around in return, squeezing her as tightly as she is you.
Sasha Braus. Your childhood best friend. Your light that was once lost.
You never believed in soulmates, but Sasha, she was yours, platonically.
In elementary and middle school, you and Sasha were an inseparable duo. Everywhere you went, she went too. Your family was hers and vise visa. The two of you would spend days together both in and out of school. She knew everything about you. Any inconvenience or bump in the road you faced, Sasha was there with open arms and a kind heart.
That was until your Father's stupid, selfish decisions ripped you away from each other without so much as a goodbye.
"I never thought I would see you again," she says; her face is buried in your hair, causing her voice to sound muffled.
You open your mouth to speak, but the words fail to come. They keep getting caught at the back of your throat. Pure shock is rushing your veins, making your heart pound heavy against your chest.
Your light once lost has now been found.
She pulls out of your embrace. Turning the empty chair next to you to face you, she plops herself down.
Sasha is wearing an oversized pink sweater tucked into her Levi jeans with a black belt and a pair of black docs.
Closing the distance between the two of you again, she places both hands on your cheeks and squishes them together, causing your eyes to squint and mouth to pucker, "are you actually real? Or am I just really fucking high?"
Finally, you can speak, "I was wondering the same thing." Your voice comes out a little bit shaky.
"I could have sworn my mind was playing tricks on me." She cracks a smile and drops her back down next to her, "what are you doing here?"
"I just moved here. I literally got here yesterday," you inform her, closing your laptop, "I needed a new start. What about you? What are you doing here?"
She digs into her bag and pulls out a bag of potato chips, cracking them open. "TSU has one of the best communication programs, plus their cafeteria food is rated one of the best in the nation." She digs her hand into the small bag and plops a chip in her mouth, "how could I pass something like that up?"
You chuckle softly and shake your head. It seems her obsession with food hasn't let up over the past eight years. Your stomach fills with warmth at the familiarity of talking with Sasha, "My mind is blown right now. What are the odds we would end up in the same place?"
"Well, whatever those odds are, we sure beat them, didn't we?" she swallows down her mouth full of food before digging in the bag to pull out more. "Do you have any idea how much I missed you? I mean, seriously, Y/N, the way you left so abruptly in sixth grade just about killed me. It took months for my dad to convince me that you weren't dead. I tried looking you up for years on every single social media platform, but nothing ever came up. You just vanished into thin air."
You sigh, you can't help but feel guilty, "I'm so sorry. I don't really do the whole social media thing," you leave the reason why out for the time being and continue, "If I knew you were looking for me, I would have made an account on every possible site."
"My eleven-year-old self is so glad you're not dead right now." She sets the now empty chip bag on the table and crosses her arms, eyes narrow like she is running an interrogation, "Why did you leave? You know, I'm still mad at you for not saying goodbye."
Thick saliva fills your mouth, and you swallow hard, "It was my father. He owed debts and decided to run." You shrug, "you know, after my mom died, he just went off the deep end. The guy you knew growing up, he's gone. I have a hard time believing that he even ever existed. I begged him to let me see you before we left, but he dragged Lucas and me out of bed in the middle of the night, grabbed a handful of our things, and just drove until he couldn't anymore."
She nods. Her face has gone soft towards you, "I saw a change in him back then, but I was too young to recognize what it was. What about Lucas? How is he? Is he here with you too?"
Your movements halt, and your eyes widen. You should have known she was going to ask about your brother. Grief rushes over you, causing your head to spin, "I-" you're starting a sentence that you know you can't finish. You try again, "he..."
Sasha tilts her head to the side, and her eyebrows pull together in confusion, "Y/N. What's wrong? What is it?"
She reads you well; always has. At least there are some things that time hasn't fucked with.
"It's Lucas, Sash," You pause, almost choking as the words form in your mouth, "he's dead."
"What?" She hiccups in shock, blood leaving her face, "when?"
"Almost a year ago now," you tell her, fists clenched tightly on top of your thighs. It tastes bitter, talking about the day Lucas lost his life.
You don't speak of it much. Sure, you write about it, the loss, your grief, the burning anger you feel towards him for leaving you that boils inside every inch of your body. But verbally? Never.
The last time the words Lucas and dead came out of your mouth in the same sentence was when you got the call. And you had to go identify his almost unrecognizable body through blubbery sobs and a shattering heart.
But for Sasha, you speak. You force the words out. Because at one point, Lucas was like her big brother too.
She stares at you as if she's still trying to make sense of what you just told her. By the way the light of the room is hitting her face; you can see tears collecting within her bottom lash line. It makes her brown eyes look a bit lighter than usual.
You fully prepare yourself for her to ask you the how but she doesn't, and you can only guess it's because the look on your face is begging her to stop the questions that are about to come.
Sasha quickly blinks the building tears away, "I'm sorry," she says, her voice coated with empathy. She places her hand on top of your own. Your white-knuckled clenched fists soften at her touch, and she interlocks with your fingers with yours, "I am so sorry."
You squeeze her hand tightly, pressing her skin deeply into your own, "Me too."
"Are you okay?" Sasha runs her thumb over the skin of your hand.
Your focus falls down to the ground; the weight of this conversation is heavy on your shoulders, causing you to hunch forward.
"I'm dealing. That's why I'm here. I had to get away." You straighten your back, and your eyes meet with Sasha's again. "Lucas and I were supposed to come here together. That was the plan we made—the promise. But even with him gone, I knew that I had to keep this promise to him. It's what he would have wanted. So I packed and left."
Squeezing your hand, Sasha smiles kindly at you, "I'm so glad you're here. I mean it."
You smile at her in return, it's small, but it's there. "Me too. For once, the universe seems to want to work in my favor."
"You know, I thought about you all the time." Sasha releases your hand, digs into the pocket of her jeans, and pulls out her phone. Flipping it around, she reveals its backside and holds it up to you, "see? Don't think for a second I ever forgot about you."
Your eyes flicker down to her hands, and you feel your stomach flutter with appreciation.
Tucked into the back of her clear phone case is a small Polaroid photo of you and her standing in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree.
The two of you are in matching red long John pajamas with Santa hats on your heads. Sasha is hoisted up on your back, one hand on your shoulder, the other flashing a peace sign in the air. Your smile is so vast caught mid laughter probably from something Sasha said.
You can't remember the last time you smiled like that.
Your throat tightens at the sight of the picture, remembering that day well.
It was the first Christmas after your mother died. You woke up on Christmas morning filled with the kind of excitement that's only achievable when you are young and naive.
You were feeding off of anticipation of spending it with your father and Lucas. Opening presents and watching Christmas movies and driving around the small streets of your hometown, looking at the way your neighbors decorated their homes, with leftover gingerbread cookies and hot cocoa in hand.
The way you traditionally did when your mother was still alive.
But that Christmas, there were no presents, no movies, no Christmas lights, and no sight of your father.
There was only Lucas apologizing for both a failing Christmas and a failing father as you sat next to him in front of the tree that was decorated poorly without a single gift resting underneath. The branches of it almost dead because your father was never home enough to water it.
You remember the emptiness you felt, but it wasn't because of the lack of presents or the lack of tradition; it was because of the lack of family.
You called Sasha that morning crying, telling her that your father wasn't home and it felt cold in your house and that you hated Christmas. She hung up on you, and no more than ten minutes later, she was standing at your doorstep with her father, offering to spend Christmas with their family.
That dark day ended up being the best Christmas that you ever had.
Your eyes flicker back up to her, "I never forgot about you either, Sash."
Grabbing your black backpack, you unzip it and find your wallet. Opening it, you pull out the photo that you have secured in the very front pocket.
It's a polaroid from the same day, but in this one, Lucas stands in the middle in Naruto pajamas, you and Sasha on either side of him, huddled close together, "you've always been with me."
"Look at us. Where did all the time go?" Her eyes light up, and a smile crack through her teeth, "Not a chance in hell am I letting my best friend get away from me again. You're stuck with me. I hope you know that."
"Best friend?" You put the photo back into your wallet and zip your backpack back up, "How can I still be your best friend? We haven't seen each other and spoken in years. Aren't you worried that we've changed too much? That the friendship we once shared won't be achievable again?"
"I don't care where you've been or what you've done. Whoever you are now, you are still my soul sister. Now, quit babbling, Let's go." Sasha says, springing from her seat with urgency.
You look up towards her, "Let's go? Where?'
She grabs your notebooks that are strewn out across the table and stuffs them into your bag. You stand, and she hands you your backpack, "To Dok's. It's the local diner across the street from campus. There are some people I want you to meet. You don't have class, right?"
"No."
"Then let's go."
You never doubted Sasha. Being her friend was always a ride full of unruly behavior and memories that carve themselves in your heart, lasting a lifetime. It's a ride that you've missed drastically. One that you can't wait to be on board once again.
"Okay, you better not get me into any shit," you throw on your backpack and follow behind.
"Sorry," She flashes you a sly smirk, "I make no such promises."
___
Dok's Diner is a small, locally-owned hole-in-the-wall place. It's your typical diner, the kind you see in movies like Grease and American Graffiti.
The outside of it is lit up brightly with teal and red neon lights. There is a big sign in front that reads, "Dok's Diner - Best Shakes in all of Trost."
"That's a big claim," you tell Sasha reading the sign as the two of you head for the entrance.
"It's not a claim if it's true," she says with a nod and laughs, "trust me. They are even better when you're high."
You nudge her in the shoulder, "Well, then it's definitely true if it's coming straight out of your mouth. Trust me. I remember how much of a food critic you used to be. It seems that part of you hasn't changed.. potato girl."
"Potato girl," She repeats, and she wraps her arm around your shoulder, "it's been a long time since I heard that. As for my opinion on food, What can I say? I've always had good taste."
You giggle, shaking your head. Sasha's humor is something that you have missed the most, "And what? You're a pothead now?"
"More or less," she releases you and pulls the door open for you to enter into the diner, "You?"
"Less," you say, stepping forward. "I'm not against it. I just haven't had the time for any of that kinda stuff."
She follows you inside and the door swings shut behind you, the bells tied around the handle ring at the movement. The inside is covered with black and white checkered tile, black and white booths and tables, a big jukebox in the corner, and red walls.
Sasha whips her head towards you and raises an eyebrow, "You won't have to worry about that here. You'll be well taken care of, I promise."
You cross your arms in front of you, "Care to elaborate?"
She throws her head back and laughs tauntingly, "not a chance. But don't worry, you'll find out soon enough." She shoots you a wink, and you roll your eyes.
You open your mouth to respond to her comment, but she grabs your hand and pulls you across the diner, and marches straight for an occupied table, "there you are, you idiot," she calls out. "You were supposed to wait for me in the library."
Your eyes scan the person you're heading towards. He has a grey buzzcut, a yellow hoodie pulled over his head with a pair of light-washed ripped jeans and old-school black vans. He throws his hands up in defense, "what do you want me to say? I was hungry! Alright?"
Sasha halts in front of the table. She scowls down at him and leans in. She takes a deep breath and pulls away from him quickly, "You smoked, didn't you? Jesus, you fucking reek of weed."
You breathe in the air out of curiosity, and the smell of potent marijuana coats the inside of your nose. Sasha's right, the smell coming from him is excessive.
What did he do? Take a damn bath in it?
He shrugs. Holding up his hand, he pinches his pointer finger and thumb together, making it look like he's holding a blunt. He dramatically holds the fingers up to his mouth sucks in the air and blows out, "Hence why I'm hungry."
Sasha shakes her head, "Smoke all you want but learn how to cover it up. If you keep this up, Nile Dok isn't going to let us use his diner as our usual hang out."
"Nile Dok makes all of his money from all the damn food we eat here. He knows better than to kick out his most loyal customers." He glances over and you and gives a slight nod towards you, "and whose this with you? I didn't know you had any good-looking friends besides me."
"Oh Yeah?" She smacks the top of his head, "in what world?"
He doesn't even flinch at the impact. He just quickly rubs where Sasha's hit landed; it seems like this is a relatively common occurrence, "What do you mean? In what world am I attractive, or in what world am I your friend?"
Sasha's eyes narrow, "Both."
"The real fucking one," Connie smirks. His eyes flicker back over to you, "Nice to meet ya. I'm Connie."
You shake his warm hand, "Hi, Connie. I'm Y/N."
His hand drops back to his side, and his eyes widen as he puts the pieces together in his mind, "Wait, hold on a minute. Y/N as in your old best friend?" He asks, eyes glancing over to Sasha.
"That's right. She just transferred to TSU. I ran into her in the library. Isn't that crazy?" Sasha takes a seat on the empty side of the booth, and you scoot in next to her. You shoot your head over to her, "You told him about me?"
"Of course I did," she says, "How could I not? Some of my best stories were spent next to you. These guys know everything about me."
"Wait. You mean there's more than just him that know about me?" you point your thumb over to Connie.
"Ah, come on," he leans in, resting his forearms on the white tabletop, "Am I not enough for you? Does Con Man not suffice?"
Sasha scoffs, "talk in the third person like ever that again, and I swear to God I'll puke." She brings her focus away from Connie and back to you, "there's a whole group of us that hang out with each other. They've all heard your name before."
"I guess you could say we're pretty close," Connie adds in.
The waitress comes over to take your order. Connie orders a chocolate shake and three large orders of baskets of fries. Sasha orders herself an Oreo shake, and you order a strawberry shake.
Connie drills you with questions about things like your major and things you enjoy. You give him your answers like trivia.
In no time, the food is brought to the table, and silence transpires as the three of you indulge in the fresh food.
The bells of the entrance door ring, causing the three of you to turn your heads.
"Oh, look who it is," Sasha leans in and whispers in your ear, "don't worry, this one is so much better than Connie."
"Hey!" Connie yells out, tearing your attention away from the door and back to him, "I heard that!"
He picks up a fry from the basket and throws it at Sasha. She catches in one quick movement and tosses it into her mouth, "how nice of you to feed me."
Connie rolls his eyes and lifts his hand, flipping her off, and she returns the gesture.
Chuckling to yourself at their chaotic friendship, you bring your eyes back over to the diner entrance.
You watch as a blonde guy walks in. He is wearing navy converse, a light blue sweater vest with a white collared shirt underneath, and a brown messenger cross bodied around him. He walks towards the table with his hand tucked deep into his khakis.
As he gets closer to you, you quickly notice how brightly blue his eyes are; as they hide under breath his blonde hair. The bright lights of the diner hitting them perfectly, making them glisten.
He's very handsome, but you can tell that he doesn't seem to know it by the way he carries himself.
"Armin fucking Arlert," Connie says, waving his hand in the air.
He smiles shyly, eyes so blue you want to swim in them, "Hey guys."
"Look at you! Arlert In the flesh!" Sasha singsongs, mouth full of fries that were once indulged in ketchup, "what an honor."
Connie slides out of the booth and stands. He dramatically bows his head to Armin as a gesture, "my good sir."
Someone even crazier than Sasha. Who the hell would have thought?
"Christ Connie, "Armin says, removing his messenger bag. He slides into the booth swiftly, "you reek."
Sasha giggles, "I tried telling him that. Pretty sure he rolled in the weed himself rather than rolling it into a fucking blunt like he's supposed to. He can't pack for shit."
"Back off." Connie takes a sip out of his chocolate shake, "The only ones who can pack are Eren and Jean, and they aren't here right now, so I did the best I could."
Armin shakes his head, brushing out his blue sweater vest that slightly crinkled when he took a seat, "You guys are so ridiculous."
"You love us, though," Sasha says, tilting a french fry towards Armin before tossing it in her mouth.
Connie punches Armin's shoulder, "Me more than her, though, right?"
"How about equal?" Armin picks up a fry and bites off the tip. Chewing slowly, his eyes stroll over to you. You are mid-drink of your strawberry shake when he shoots you a smile.
You attempt to shoot him one in return, biting down on the straw. He chuckles softly at your effort, "I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I was ignoring you. These two are just so distracting. I'm Armin."
"Oh no, I didn't think that," you say, shaking your head, "I'm Y/N."
"As in.." Armin begins, but Connie cuts him off, "as in Sasha's old best friend. She just transferred here."
Sasha tilts her head over to you, "She's gonna be sticking around with us now from here on out. No if's and's or but's."
"Oh hell yeah." Connie smirks. "Of course we'll take her under our wing. We'll keep you ultra safe."
The sides of Armin's lips curve up into a small smile, and you feel your stomach warm. There's something about him that just seems genuinely kind. "It's really nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too, Armin."
"So, Y/N, how do you like Trost so far?" Armin asks.
You swallow the thick liquid of your shake and push the glass over to the side, "I've only just got here, but it's already better than where I moved from. It's different, though. It's an adjustment for sure, but I'm doing my best to settle with ease so I can focus on my studies."
"You're from Mitras, right?" Armin asks, "That's where you and Sash are from?"
Sasha nods. Taking the cherry off of the whipped cream of her shake, she pops it into her mouth. "But Y/N left in sixth grade," she says as she chews, "that reminds me, you never did tell me where your dad dragged you off to?"
"Stohess," you say with a sigh. Even saying the name of it makes your stomach curl. A place you never want to go back to, let alone speak of.
Darkness lives in the cracks of that shit hole.
"I haven't heard of it," Connie says, pulling the hood off his head revealing his short grey hair, "is it close?"
You shake your head, and you begin to twiddle your thumbs, "Not many people have. It's pretty far, about three hours or so depending on traffic and whatnot."
"I know of Stohess," Armin says, resting his elbows on the table.
Your eyebrows raise, shocked that he knows of a rundown town so small, "You do?" You ask, leaning forward in interest.
"Yeah," runs his fingers gently over his blonde hair, "that's where Annie is from. I would ask if you know her, but she moved out of there a long time ago with her father, so the timing of you two crossing paths wouldn't align."
"Speaking of Annie," Sasha says, "How are things going with you and her?"
Armin's cheeks blush a light pink color, and a small smile forms on his lips.
"Is Annie your girlfriend?" You ask. You can't help but smile at the nervousness that is written all over his face; it's so innocent.
Armin hums, "We've only been on a couple of dates. We are trying to see where it goes."
Sasha nudges you in your shoulder, "they are perfect for each other."
Armin covers the lower half of his face with his hand, trying to hide the blush that is already potent on his skin, "enough, Sash."
"Hey," Sasha interjects, "Is anyone else coming to eat with us, or is it just us today?"
"Eren's at basketball practice and Mikasa's at the gym," Armin says, removing his hand from his face since the coloring has gone down.
"What about Jean?" Sasha drums her fingers on the table, "Do you know where he's at, Connie?"
Connie scoffs, "I don't know. He's probably fucking some bitch."
Sipping on your strawberry shake, you almost choke at Connie's remark.
"Connie!" Sasha snaps in the offense.
He shrugs nonchalantly, "What? You know it's true. You've heard the rumors going around, especially lately. Every time I come home or we try to hang out with him, he's out somewhere and doesn't come home until super late. His stupid ass never communicates with me so I'm only left to assume."
With a worried look crossing his face, Armin nods slowly in response and adds, "All of it concerns me."
"You guys know you can't say anything," Sasha tightens her high ponytail, "he's been going through it with what happened this past year as it is and even more so now after what happened a few months ago with Eren."
"I know but that doesn't change my concern," Armin admits. "I wish he would talk to us, like how he used to. I feel like we're learning more about him from the talk of the school than from him."
Connie takes a bite out of his fry and shrugs. "Fuck. I know, man. The guy's my best friend and my fucking roommate and I still feel like even though he came back after going home to his parents, he never actually came back. It makes me sad as hell but I also don't wanna say or do anything that's gonna push him. You know how mad he's gotten in the past. Bro hates that pushing shit."
"All of it sucks so bad but wouldn't you rather it be these kinds of stupid rumors about him than the other ones that were being spread about him before this?" Sasha's head hangs slightly like this conversation is heavyweight on her. "I'm just trying to find a brighter side to all of this."
Connie's body tightens. "I'm so fucking serious. if I ever find out who started that shit I am dead ass going to kill them," he confesses, forehead creasing with tension. "I'm so sick of all of this. I seriously wish people would stop fucking talking about him all together. It's just making it worse for him and he's already been through enough."
"I know, Connie. Me too." Armin blinks slowly. "You guys know that we've done all that can to try and put an end to what has been said but people always talk, especially at TSU. Unfortunately, it's just how it goes. We're powerless when it comes to stopping it from happening especially since he was well known before all of this even happened."
The amount of confusion that is swarming inside your entire being right now is so profuse that it's causing your head to spin. But you respect the privacy of their friend, the same way Sasha respected yours with Lucas.
Sasha's tense shoulders roll back. "I just wish we could get through to him. Help him understand that there are other ways to deal with all the bad cards he's been dealt lately."
"We've done our best." Connie leans forward slowly and reaches for another fry, "Jean will come around... he has to and it's like hell that we're giving up."
Armin sighs. "Connie's right. We can't force him to do anything. All we can do is be there for him, continue to ask him to hang out with us, and let him know we are there for him, even in this screwed up state of mind."
The three of them exchange looks with one another and nod, but they don't say anything else.
You can't help but wonder what they are talking about. Who is Jean? What happened to him? But you know better than to intrude on something that has nothing to do with you, so you just stay quiet.
The one thing you do know though is how much they love him, that much is obvious.
"Anyways, enough about him," Sasha breaks the silence and turns her body to face you, "On a brighter note, I almost forgot, our friend Eren is having a party tomorrow night to kick off the semester, and I want you to come."
"Oh hell yeah!" Connie pumps a fist into the air, "that would be sick if you came, Y/N."
"A party?" You can't help but sound a little nervous. You can't recall the last time you went out. With your life constantly unsettled and dealing with your Father's drinking problems, you never had the time for anything like that.
"Yeah!" Connie expresses, "He usually throws one to kick off the start of the semester."
"Frat?" You ask, taking a gander at the kind of party you'll be dealing with.
"Hell no," Connie scoffs, stretching out his back, "all our homies hate frats."
Sasha belts out a laugh, "No, Eren isn't the frat type. He just," she shrugs, "knows the right people, I guess you could say." Connie snickers.
You turn to Armin, "are you going?"
He nods and smiles, "I never miss a party of Eren's. None of us do."
You are a bit surprised. You only just met him, but you wouldn't have thought him to be the party type. He looks pretty timid, one who plays by the rules, but you can only tell much from someone only after you've exchanged a few words.
"Did you talk to him today? Is Jean going to be there?" Sasha asks Connie and Armin.
"He said he was this morning when I saw him on campus," Armin utters with a yawn.
"I don't doubt it," Connie says, "you know if there's pot or alcohol, he's there, and if he says he's not going, I'll drag his tall horse ass there I don't care."
"Man." Armin lets out a small sigh, "he's just been so fucked since... you know," his voice trails off.
Sasha tilts her head. "Do you blame him?" And the boys shake their heads.
What the hell happened that was so bad?
"So what do you say," Sasha interlocks her arm with yours, "you coming?"
In your head, you debate for a second if this is something you want to do, but who are you kidding? You want to go.
Escape, forget, and have some fun for the first time in a long time. Plus, you can't help but be drawn to the energy that these three offer. It's refreshing to be around after feeling down for so long.
Sitting here in this tiny diner eating greasy food and drinking thick milkshakes is the first time you haven't felt like you were drowning in grief. Breathing comes easily around these people. You no longer feel heavy.
"Alright," you finally say, "I'm in."
"Hell yeah! That's what we like to hear," Connie says. He lifts up his hand in the air towards Sasha.
She immediately follows his lead and gives him a hard high five, "Yes! I don't know why I asked, though, because I would have dragged your ass there anyway. It's tomorrow, at 9, so Mikasa and I will stop by your place to pick you up around 8:30."
"Mikasa?"'you ask curiously. It's hard to keep up with all the names being thrown at you.
"Yeah," Armin nods, "she's my best friend and Sasha's roommate."
"Oh."
You think of your current living situation and instantly remind yourself that it's a place that you don't want anybody to see. "Actually, just give me your address, Sash, and I'll meet you at your place, so you don't have to take the trip. Is there something special I need to wear?" You pull out your phone and hand it to her.
"Okay!" Sasha squeals and types in her information, "Actually, scratch that! Come over around 7. You can borrow something of mine, and we can all get ready together!"
You shake your head, "you don't have to do that."
"I want to!" Sasha says, handing your phone back to you, "it will be fun! Please?"
"Okay, okay," you finally agree, feeling excitement building inside of you.
"I can't wait!" Sasha singsongs, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm, "we get to make up for lost time."
Connie's eyes meet yours, "Be ready, Y/N. These parties will change your life."
You cock your head to the side in wonderment, "In a good way or bad?"
Connie smirks, and you can tell there are a million different secrets that hide behind it, "that, my friend, is up to you."