Chapter Text
I just didn't understand.
I never really knew why a weirdo like myself was somehow clumped into a group of stoners and idiots.
Really, we were quite an unlikely bunch. We weren't exactly the nicest as well. Of course with the exception of myself. I was kind to pretty much anyone as long as they were nice to me.
Maybe that was my downfall.
Often, I would question how this whole group came to be, and why they even wanted to be my friends. But anytime I would bring this topic up, someone would dismiss my question and say that it was because "You're smart Arlert. We need at least one brain in here". Ah, right. How could I forget.
They would then go back to doing whatever they wanted while I watched. Some would smoke, others would engage in sloppy make-out sessions, and the rest would play video games. It was like a cycle. Each day, a different person would be doing one of those three activities. Our friendship was a machine that was run by cheap gasoline.
In the machine, there was one gear that would remain out of the main cycle. Some might even say that the small gear was pointless. It just sat there on it's phone, speaking every once and a while.
That gear was myself.
I would interject when needed, but either than that, I remained silent for the most part.
It somehow worked though.
With our broken and battered machine, we just ran like we were supposed to. Things may have not felt perfect, but it was how the machine operated.
That is until a malfunction appears within the machine.
When one faces depression, everything falls out of order.
The machine breaks even if that one useless gear breaks.
My grades started to fall just like my mood. I went from having straight A's to fleeting B's. My future seemed bleak and my life just sucked.
My dreams of being a scientist felt like a fantasy to me.
People would try to make me validate my sadness, but I could never explain it.
Everything just felt cold to me.
My life hadn't even taken a turn for the worst yet.
The day had started normal enough. My body was running on multiple anti-depressants.
After third period, I had grabbed my books from my locker and made my way to class. Along the way I saw my group of 'friends' crowded together as usual.
"Yo, Arlert."
I spun around to see them looking at me. Instantly, I felt my books get smacked to the ground. Within two seconds I was on the floor, feeling a warm liquid fill my mouth. My vision blurred for a few moments due to the impact of whatever had hit me. I was confused and terrified, yet it hurt my head to think.
"What the fuck? I failed my math test thanks to those shit notes you gave me. It's like you put no effort into them at all!"
There was a ringing in my ear, but I tried to ignore it as I felt my face pressed against the cold tile.
After the initial blow, I was prepared for something else, but they just walked away. Now I was even more confused, but it hurt to keep my eyes open and it even hurt to breathe.
Within my line of vision, I could see my books spread across the floor along with some loose papers. I wanted to get up and reach for them, but I couldn't move.
Instead, I settled for curling up into a ball and crying. A warm liquid started to dribble from my mouth. I heard what I assumed to be blood drip onto the ground.
I knew what had happened, my friends had left me. I knew this was going to happen, yet I wasn't prepared for it to happen so soon.
I thought I was prepared, but as I felt cold tears slide down my cheeks and mix together with the fresh blood, I realized nothing could've prepared me for this.
I wasn't needed anymore.
With my failing grade, of course I'm of no use.
That's all I can offer to anyone. My intelligence.
Without it, I'm useless.
I pressed my knees farther into my chest and my cries turned into tiny hiccups. My whole body shook as I took in a shallow breath.
My life sucked.
Everyone hates you. No. I know.
You're just too smart for everyone. That's not true. I am.
You're useless. Stop it. You're right.
Everyone thinks you should just die.
"Shut up!"
I felt my voice rip through my throat and burn into my lungs.
Everything felt numb. My body felt empty and I felt more alone then ever.
It was unfair. Life was unfair. I'm unimportant-
"Woah buddy, you alright?"
A firm, yet warm hand clasped onto my shoulder. Thinking that it was a teacher based of body language, I shot my head up to instantly start heading to class.
But when I was faced with the most iridescent eyes I'd ever seen in my entire life, I realized that it wasn't a teacher.
There's no way that a teacher could be that lovely.
The first thing I noticed was his eyes. I noticed the specks of freckles resting against his cheeks, ever so subtly. They made a trail up to his eyes, like constellations. One eye was a crystal green, and the other one was a golden amber.
I was mesmerized.
Heterochromia. "That's what it's called."
I hadn't realized that I had said that out loud until the boy gave me a confused look.
"Huh?" He looked amused, yet concern clung to his expression.
Once I returned back to where I once was, I felt tears slowly filling my eyes again.
"Woah there. Don't cry kid. I don't know how to help but uh, how about a juicebox? No, you probably need some caffeine in your body. Wait, shit you're bleeding man. I got some gauze I just gotta find it-" The boy continued to ramble on as he rummaged through his bag.
I rubbed at my nose, attempting to wipe some of the snot away. It was pretty much useless though, as each breath I took turned into a shaky sob.
Snot was mixed together with tears and blood, which was absolutely disgusting. My sleeve was covered in the mystery gunk, and I was just thrilled for the new stains.
At the moment, I couldn't even manage to pull myself together. There was this boy in front of me, and I couldn't even speak.
That being said, I didn't even know who he was.
While the boy was frantically going through his bag, I tried to figure out who the hell he was. My focus zoomed in on the scruffy haired boy.
Did I tutor him? I think I would remember tutoring him.
Was he in any of my classes? No, someone like him certainly would stand out.
Did anyone in my gro-old group buy drugs from him?
I observed his attire and I came to the conclusion that he certainly didn't look like a dealer.
Of course, that doesn't mean anything.
He wore a maroon jacket with yellow sleeves. It was tacky, yet it seemed to look decent on him. I looked at the fine details on the jacket only to realize not only who he was but also what he was.
He triumphantly pulled out a can of Coke and whispered a small 'aha'.
His jacket read in all caps 'Eren Jaeger'.
I felt my heart flutter and I didn't know if it was out of fear or another emotion.
He was a jock.