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Eren was used to fuckups. They happened often enough to him that, much though he hated to admit such, it was a good thing Mikasa often chose to run interference in her annoyingly overbearing way.
Just, generally it was Eren crushing down some douchebag or other that had sent him into wordless, screaming rage. Or getting stuck in video game hell with Armin and goddammit we’re clearing this level even if we die do not even rage-destroy your contr-ARMIN YOU ASSHOLE THAT’S MY TV. Or not realizing that no, that person’s not just being friendly when the hell did your hands get down my pants, shitfuckno.
So, yeah. Fuckups were a way of life when you were Eren.
It shouldn’t have been surprising that also applied to matters of the heart. Dick. Whatthefuckever.
School wasn’t great or horrible; Eren did his work, leaning on Armin or Mikasa as needed to keep himself from getting held back or be unable to participate in sports or club activities. Real effort was for things like soccer, swimming, kickboxing, cooking. (Look, his dad practically lived at the hospital and his mom liked working to get out of the house. The ability to cook was a necessity she made sure he and Mikasa knew. Even if it was one of the few things Eren excelled at that Mikasa nearly burned down the kitchen over.)
The only time he ever went into the school library without being accompanied was to drag Armin out for food and potty breaks. So the public library? On a weekend? Yeah, no. It never would have happened if not for his mother’s overdue books that he absolutely could return for her, yes? If he ever wanted to use the car again instead of shelling out the cash for his own? Absolutely, Mom.
Any other time of the year, it wouldn’t have been a thing. But right then, his mom was at work which left Eren car-less in the sticky and humid heat of the day only to find that the library had sweet, sweet air-conditioning. The sort that left most people wanting to cover up in layers because of the chill; it was glorious. So meandering around for a bit, flipping through a couple of magazines in pseudo-interest was a price well worth paying for a little rest in the free A/C.
Which with his luck, of course, that meant Eren was absolutely fucked.
Because there he was; several tables away, headphones blocking out the silence and surrounded by an aggressively organized area of sticky-tabbed books and papers, a ROYGBIV of highlighters and pens fanned to the side within easy reach.
Dark hair. Pale skin. Permanent glare. Tattooed arms that Eren wanted to be restrained by.
It was like being punched in the dick. By love.
Or something.
Unfortunately, in addition to fuckups, Eren was also sometimes prone to obsessions. Though the focus of said obsession being a person he wasn’t planning to beat down at some point…that was new.
Eren had dubbed this particular one Fuckhot Library Guy. Because no, he didn’t know the guy’s name and he didn’t want to get kicked out of the library for coming on too strong or- or like a creepy stalker or something. Which. Valid worry, yeah, if you didn’t know Eren.
Okay, and possibly even if you did. But not in the creepy creepy way. More the lovesick-schoolgirl pitiful of haunting places one knows the object of their crush would be and then never making a move.
(Because, excepting the girl part, that…was pretty much Eren, actually.)
On the other hand, Eren was actually putting some effort into his homework, since that gave him a legitimate reason to be at the library. And after their initial worried freak-outs, his family and friends were too happy with his progress to risk poking into things lest Eren stop his sudden academic interest.
Which was good. He really didn’t need anyone else to notice just how ridiculously gone he was on some guy (fuckhot or not) that he had never even spoken to.
So pathetic.
Okay, so on a regular day it was bad enough that Fuckhot Library Guy was. Well. Seriously fucking hot. Like, can I lick the back of your neck down to the insides of your thighs gorgeous.
But suddenly Fuckhot Library Guy was wearing glasses. Just no, alright, he couldn’t just go and do that to Eren’s life! That was totally cheating!
(Like Eren hadn’t already been worrying about how many times a day he had to masturbate. And how much he was needing to shell out for lube. Goddammit.)
Hange glanced over their shoulder at the teenage boy curled up half-sobbing over a textbook.
“Levi…you’re going to give that poor kid a coronary if you keep this up.”
“Shut your fucking hole, shithead.” Angry slashes of words ran across the page in sparkly pink ink. (What? It was more noticeable than underlining or all caps for later reference, don’t fucking judge.)
“No, seriously. How many years have you been wearing contacts now? You probably had to actually go and buy a new pair of glasses, just to cocktease this kid.”
Levi glared at them over the top of said glasses, which had slid down his nose a bit. His middle finger pushed the frames back into place.
Hange raised an eyebrow at the kid’s resulting whimper. Because. That was what Levi was going with. Really?
Ignoring them, Levi recapped his pen to grab a milky green for the next section.
If his smirk had shades of a pleased smile to it, that was Levi’s business alone and no one the fuck else’s.