Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was close to seven in the evening when Mikasa’s phone rang. Checking the screen, she immediately answered.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come? I really don’t want to go alone,” said Sasha, her best friend.

It was the third time that day Sasha had asked the same question, and it was about to be the third time Mikasa gave the same answer.
“I don’t think so. I already told you I have to wake up early tomorrow,” she replied, nibbling on the end of a pencil.

“Come on, Mika, it’ll only be for a little while. This is the first time we’ve been invited to a college party.”

Mikasa tilted her head back against the desk chair, sighing as her eyes drifted to the ceiling fan. Sasha was always the one pushing her into social life; Mikasa herself was shy, far more comfortable within the four walls of her room.

“There’ll be plenty of hot guys. Just say yes,” Sasha pleaded, using the tone she always fell back on when she wanted something.

Mikasa glanced at the clock. It was still early. Luckily, her grandmother wouldn’t be back from her trip for another two days—so sneaking out wouldn’t be a problem.
“Fine. I’ll go. But only for a little while.”

She had to pull the phone away from her ear when Sasha squealed, followed by a rapid: “I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes!” and “Wear something sexy!” Rolling her eyes at the last comment, Mikasa hung up. With no real rush, she stood and went to get dressed.

She caught her reflection in the mirror: gray eyes shining intensely, cheeks still flushed with the youth of her seventeen years—months away from adulthood. Yet that youth carried a constant shadow. Her mother had died when she was ten—not from accident or illness, but by her own abrupt, unexplained choice. The woman who had once held her with tender care had taken her own life, leaving behind a void impossible to fill. As for her father, he was little more than a fading echo—he had left shortly after she was born, leaving only a note confessing that fatherhood wasn’t for him.

It was her maternal grandmother who took her in, though never with true closeness. The Azumabito family business consumed nearly all her time, and whenever Mikasa sought affection, the answer was always the same: “It’s for the good of our family.” Eventually, Mikasa stopped asking.

Still, she never lacked material comfort. She grew up in an elegant house in an affluent Shiganshina neighborhood, surrounded by pretentious neighbors whose lives revolved around flaunting wealth. In the midst of that loneliness, she found refuge in herself—and, more recently, in an unexpected passion: photography. She had managed to convince her grandmother to set up a small darkroom, a private sanctuary where she spent hours after school. She had even planned a trip outside the city the next day to capture new landscapes—though now she wasn’t sure if she’d keep to that plan.

Dressing quickly, she pulled on tights, a black skirt with a wide belt, a pink sweater, and dark ankle boots. She tied her shoulder-length hair into a half ponytail, letting a few strands fall to frame her face. Makeup was a debate, but in the end, she chose the bare minimum: mascara and a touch of lip gloss.

Moments later, Sasha texted that she was outside. Mikasa gave herself one last glance in the mirror, dabbed on a bit of perfume, grabbed her bag, and left her room.

“Don’t you think that’s enough?” Mikasa asked as she watched Sasha down her third shot of tequila with unshaken enthusiasm.

“Not at all. At last week’s party—the one you ditched me for—” Sasha gave her a reproachful look, “—I drank strawberry vodka. Believe me, it was way stronger than this. And I still made it home just fine.”

“You say that because we’re still young,” Mikasa replied seriously. “I doubt you’ll feel the same in a few years.”

“Then let’s enjoy it while we can,” Sasha grinned, offering her what looked like a mojito.

Mikasa hesitated. She’d never been drunk before—never drank more than a few polite sips at family gatherings.
“I don’t know if I should…” she murmured, uneasy.

“Come on, just one. Relax a little—you’re always so tense.”

Finally, Mikasa took the glass and downed it in one go.
“Not so fast!” Sasha protested with a laugh. “You were supposed to taste it, not make it disappear.”

Mikasa frowned at the fresh mix of mint and rum lingering on her tongue. Maybe she had rushed it a bit.

“In a few weeks we’ll be in college,” Sasha said, spinning her glass between her fingers. “Might as well start making friends now.”

“So that’s why you dragged me to a party where ninety percent of the people are over twenty?”

“Exactly. Most of them know Connie, anyway. Speaking of…” Sasha stretched up on her toes, scanning the crowd. “Haven’t seen him yet.”

Connie—her classmate and Sasha’s best friend—was one of those effortlessly charismatic people everyone liked. A few minutes later, Sasha’s phone buzzed.
“It’s Connie,” she announced. “He’s on his way—something came up.”

Mikasa nodded, feeling her body loosen. The initial tension was fading, and before she realized it, she was moving with the rhythm of the music. Most of the crowd were college students, which unsettled her; in two weeks, she would be one of them, though the thought left a bitter taste. Her grandmother insisted she study business administration to inherit the family empire, but Mikasa wanted nothing more than to become a doctor. Just thinking about it made her chest tighten.

Without giving it much thought, she grabbed a rum and Coke and drank it in a gulp. For at least one night, she wanted to silence those worries.

“There you are!” Sasha waved as Connie finally arrived, a blond boy with bright blue eyes in tow.

“Good evening, my lovely ladies,” Connie greeted with his usual flourish. “This is Armin—my friend and the host.”

Both girls said hello. Armin seemed kind, maybe even a little shy.
“Nice to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves but…” His eyes flicked to their empty glasses. “Are you sure you’re old enough?”

Mikasa and Sasha exchanged a look.
“Almost,” Sasha replied with a cheeky smile. “And besides, we’re responsible girls.”

“Don’t worry,” Connie cut in, slipping between them with his arms over their shoulders. “I’ll make sure they don’t drink too much and get home safe.”

“We don’t need a babysitter!” Sasha snapped.

Armin chuckled softly, shaking his head at the exchange.
“Then I’ll leave them to you, Connie. I’ve got more guests to attend to,” he said, disappearing back into the crowd.

The night flowed with conversations and introductions. Most were students from different majors, which helped Mikasa ease her shyness—though never completely. That was when, on her way to get some air, she saw him.

At the far end of the room stood a tall young man, dressed almost entirely in black, hair tied back, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He leaned casually against the wall, radiating a dangerous calm.

There was something about him—something beyond his obvious good looks—that drew her in more than anyone had before. She couldn’t tell if it was simple attraction at first sight or something deeper. But when he lifted his head and his piercing green eyes locked on hers, heat rushed to her face. She quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed, and slipped away to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water.

When she returned, Sasha gave her a curious look.
“Are you okay?” she shouted over the music.

Mikasa shook her head quickly, pretending nothing was wrong. But it wasn’t long before she felt it again—that gaze. She turned slightly, and there he was, still surrounded by people yet positioned so he could watch her without effort.

She tried to ignore it, though the tension betrayed her. Not even the alcohol gave her the courage to approach. Until, to her surprise, he started walking toward her. Mikasa’s heart pounded; she pretended to look elsewhere, though her eyes trailed him in secret. He was only steps away when Armin appeared, whispered something in his ear, and the boy’s expression hardened before he walked off with him.

Mikasa froze, caught between confusion and disappointment. The rest of the night, she saw Armin several times—but the boy with the green eyes never reappeared.

Chapter Text

Raindrops hammered against the pavement; the sky, heavy and overcast, seemed to mirror Mikasa’s mood from the past few weeks. Two things weighed on her. The first was university—her grandmother had won the argument—and now she was enrolled in business administration. It had taken only a single week for her to feel the urge to quit. She had dreamed of studying medicine all her life, but a private university was out of reach without her grandmother’s financial support. Now, she could only watch the medical faculty from afar. The second problem also revolved around her grandmother, though it was something even further beyond her control.

Sitting in the campus café, she rested her cheek against her palm, staring at a cup of coffee gone cold. Her phone read nearly ten o’clock; more than two hours had passed since her last class ended. Waiting for the rain to let up, she sighed, gathered her bag, and left. Hands tucked into the pockets of her trench coat, she walked home, fully aware of the routine her life had become: waking early to eat breakfast alone, returning late on purpose so she could also eat dinner alone. A quiet torture she chose for herself—if only to avoid her grandmother, and someone else she had no wish to face.

“Hey, Mikasa!” a voice called from behind. She glanced over her shoulder and quickened her pace.
“Mikasa!” he called again. If he said her name one more time, she was ready to shut him up with her fist.
“Miky!” he tried a third time.

Mikasa stopped dead in her tracks and turned, frowning darkly.
“What did you just call me?” she spat, furious; no one had ever dared call her that.

The boy hit the brakes on his motorcycle, taken aback by her reaction.
“Miki?”
“You don’t have the right to call me that,” she snapped. “Leave me alone.”

She started walking again, but soon heard the engine behind her.
“Come on, it doesn’t sound that bad. And hey—it worked, you talked to me,” he teased, almost laughing.

Mikasa exhaled sharply through her nose and spun back around.
“What do you want, gigolo?”

His brows rose. For the first time in two weeks, she had said more than just a curt hello or goodbye.
“Gigolo? No, wait—I’m not—”
“Oh, shut up already!” she cut him off, her voice rising. “I don’t want to hear you or see you. The fact that we live under the same roof is more than enough.”

Instead of taking offense, he held her gaze calmly. This was the very reaction he had expected, even hoped for.
“I get it,” he said evenly. “I’ll give you space. But since it’s late, I thought I could give you a ride home—to our house.”

The word our followed by house made Mikasa’s anger boil over.
“Help! This guy’s harassing me! He’s a pervert!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Pedestrians froze, heads turning toward them. The boy stared at her in disbelief as people began muttering and edging closer. Under the pressure of the stares and whispers, he kicked the motorcycle into gear and sped away. Mikasa watched until he disappeared, a fleeting smile tugging at her lips. She had wanted to keep things civil, but if he wasn’t going to make it easy, she certainly wouldn’t either.

“So, how was your first week in culinary school?” Mikasa asked from her bed, propping a pillow behind her back.

“Amazing, I swear! I loved every single day—and my classmates are so interesting.” Sasha’s enthusiasm made Mikasa feel a sharp pang of envy; she could never speak about her own studies that way.

“And Connie? Please tell me he’s at least trying to behave himself.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. He barely pays attention—I don’t even know what he’s doing there.”

Mikasa chuckled under her breath. It was no surprise Connie had enrolled in the same program just to follow Sasha around, though Mikasa still wasn’t sure if it was pure friendship—or something else.

“And you? Everything okay?” Sasha asked cautiously, well aware of her friend’s discomfort with her chosen major.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Mikasa answered curtly. “Let’s change the subject.”

There was a brief silence on the other end.
“Mikasa… I feel like it’s not just school that’s bothering you. Something else is going on. What is it?”

Mikasa swallowed hard. Not even Sasha could be trusted with what had happened at home two weeks ago—a problem that still weighed heavily on her.
“It’s nothing in particular,” she said at last, forcing her voice into neutrality. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ve got something to do.”

She hung up without waiting for a reply. She knew the truth would surface sooner or later, but she wasn’t ready yet. Sighing, she sank into a weariness that was more emotional than physical. It was nearly nine on Saturday night. Her grandmother was at a business meeting and, as always, would be home later than usual.

Seizing the silence, Mikasa went to the kitchen. She poured herself a café au lait, though her unsettled stomach barely let her drink it. With the cup in hand, she walked out to the garden, letting the calm of the night wrap around her as she gazed at the dark sky.

Then came the last voice she wanted to hear.
“Getting some fresh air?”

She turned her head to see the very person who had upended her life in the past two weeks. He was crouched over his motorcycle, adjusting something on it.

“I thought no one was home. I’ll go back to my room,” she said coldly. She didn’t want an argument—only sleep.

“Wait… can I talk to you?” His tone was surprisingly conciliatory, absent of mockery.

Mikasa paused but didn’t look at him.
“I don’t know what you think you could possibly say to me, but it’s better if we stay out of each other’s way. Good night.”

He took a step forward, his voice calm.
“Don’t you think, if we’re going to live under the same roof, we should at least try to get along?”

Mikasa let out a short, bitter laugh. To her ears, it sounded like a cruel joke.
“Are you serious?” She faced him, taking a few steps closer. “How am I supposed to live peacefully with a complete stranger who showed up out of nowhere in my house—and who, on top of that, is connected to my grandmother?” Just saying it twisted her stomach even more.

He sat on the motorcycle, slipping both hands into his pockets. His tone softened, almost casual.
“I get that you’re angry. But hey—that’s just how things go sometimes.”

“Are you mocking me?” Mikasa snapped.

“Of course not. I told you, I want to give you space. I really do hope we can at least get along. But if you keep this up, it’ll be tough.”

Mikasa gave a dry, humorless laugh.
“Did you just imply I need to behave? I’m not the one fooling around with someone twice my age.”

He tilted his head, smirking with a challenging look.
“Let the one without sin cast the first stone.”

Mikasa’s blood boiled. The fact that she had once felt attraction toward him made her fury burn hotter; now, all she felt was contempt.
“I don’t ever want you speaking to me again. You’re a…” She hesitated, scrambling for something sharp. “…You’re a seducer of millionaire old ladies!”

His green eyes widened, and for a second she thought her words had struck him. But then he burst into laughter, doubling over as he coughed from laughing too hard.
“That insult is so bad it’s good,” he wheezed, still laughing.

Mikasa rolled her eyes and stormed off.
“Hey, wait—sorry,” he called between coughs, struggling to compose himself. “But I swear, I’m not some creep. I’d never do anything to Kiyomi—and that should be enough to put your mind at ease, right?”

She froze, lips pressed tight. It was a cursed situation. She had already spoken with her grandmother, and her answer had only made things worse.

“Or is it that you’re afraid?” he added suddenly.

Mikasa looked back over her shoulder, frowning.
“Afraid? Of what?”

He gave a shameless grin.
“That someday I might become your grandfather.”

The laughter exploded again. Mikasa’s fists clenched until her knuckles turned white.
“Bastard!”

She rushed into the house, slammed her cup onto the counter, and ran upstairs two steps at a time. Bursting into her room, she locked the door, flung herself face-first onto the bed, and buried her face in the pillow. Only by screaming into it with all her strength did she manage to release even a fraction of the frustration boiling inside her chest.

Chapter Text

Two Weeks Ago

Mikasa woke up convinced it was the perfect morning to talk to her grandmother. She knew her routine by heart: up before eight, yoga on the terrace—according to her, every hour of the day had to be used for something productive. That’s why Mikasa had planned to surprise her with her favorite breakfast, hoping it would put her in the right mood to listen to her arguments about why she should study medicine instead of business administration.

But when she headed toward the kitchen, she froze. Sitting on the sofa was a man in a black leather jacket. Strange—no one ever visited on Sunday mornings. Instinctively, she thought of retreating back to her room; after all, she was still wearing her white cat onesie, and dying of embarrassment if anyone saw her like that seemed inevitable.

Before she could slip away, her grandmother appeared, perfectly dressed, with no sign of having done any morning yoga at all.

“Mikasa, I’m glad you’re already here. Saves me the trouble of calling you,” she said brightly, her smile radiant.

The man on the sofa rose and turned to face her. Mikasa’s eyes widened as heat rushed to her face while a chill ran down her spine. Standing before her was the emerald-eyed boy she had seen at Friday’s party. His surprise flickered only for a second before he masked it effortlessly. Mikasa, however, was caught between the mortification of her outfit and the weight of his gaze, and could barely stammer.

“Grandma… what’s going on here?” she whispered, her voice trembling. For a moment, she wondered if she was still dreaming.

Her grandmother smiled again and, with a calm step, went to stand beside the stranger who never looked away from Mikasa. That fixed stare only deepened her confusion.

“Mikasa, I know this is sudden, but there will be time to talk things over. For now, I just want to introduce you to someone.” Her grandmother’s hand slipped gently around the man’s arm, a gesture that twisted Mikasa’s stomach into knots. That was when she noticed the suitcase on the floor—definitely not one of theirs.

Her throat went dry.

“This is Eren Jaeger, my lover. Starting today, he’ll be living with us.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Mikasa could barely process what she’d just heard, while his emerald eyes—deep, enigmatic—never left hers.

Present Day

Mikasa jolted awake. That dream again… or rather, that nightmare. She glanced at her phone: just past four in the morning. Rubbing her face, she tried to convince herself it wasn’t real—but it was.

Her grandmother Kiyomi, nearly sixty and still in full vigor, had brought a man into their home—her “lover,” Eren Jaeger. Not only was he much younger, he was also the same boy who had caught Mikasa’s attention at the party. The shock had been so great that, on the day she met him, all she could do was mumble an apology and lock herself in her room, ignoring even his polite greeting.

She remembered how that very night, unable to hold it in, she had stormed into her grandmother’s study.

“Have you lost your mind, Grandma? If Grandpa knew, he’d be rolling in his grave!”

“Well, they say the dead are gone, and the living must go on,” her grandmother replied breezily.

“Grandma! What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s my life, Mikasa. I’ve been a widow for fifteen years. I raised a daughter, then I raised you. Now it’s my turn to be happy.”

Mikasa could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“But why him? He could be my age!”

“He’s twenty-three,” her grandmother said calmly. “He’s an adult. And we’re together because we want to be.”

Those words haunted Mikasa for days. She knew Kiyomi had every right to move on, but like this? The thought of her grandmother with a man so young was unbearable. Worse still: that man was the same one who had awakened feelings Mikasa couldn’t ignore. When she asked if Kiyomi wasn’t worried about gossip, her grandmother had answered bluntly: ‘I don’t live off other people’s opinions. They can shove them wherever they please.’

Yes, her grandmother was determined.

But Mikasa wasn’t. Her mind circled around one name: Eren. She couldn’t see him as genuine. To her, he was an opportunist, exploiting a wealthy, lonely widow to secure a place in their home. The idea that he might actually feel something real for Kiyomi was absurd.

In the two weeks since his arrival, Mikasa had done her best to avoid him, praying he’d get bored and move on. Until then, she’d have to endure. But the mere thought of him being intimate with her grandmother made her sick, and she forced herself to shove the thought away.

She lay back down, trying to sleep, trying to quiet the storm in her head. But it was useless.

“What about your first week at university?” Kiyomi asked over dinner, pouring herself a glass of wine.

Mikasa forced a smile.
“Fine.”

“You’ll see, you’ll grow to love business administration. Just give it time.”

“Of course,” she replied flatly.

The atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife. The three of them sat there, pretending to be something resembling a family. Mikasa didn’t even want to think about that word. To make matters worse, “Mr. Gigolo,” as she privately called him, had cooked dinner that night: lamb with mushroom sauce and steamed vegetables. She hated to admit it, but it was delicious. Still, she ate in silence.

Kiyomi, either oblivious or indifferent to the tension, placed a hand on Eren’s arm.
“And you, dear? How was your week?”

He smiled calmly, dabbed his lips with a napkin, and answered casually:
“Excellent. I’ve just started classes at the medical school. The university’s huge—so much to explore.”

Kiyomi’s eyes lit up with pride.
“That makes me so happy.”

Mikasa froze. Medicine. He was studying what she had always dreamed of, and her grandmother was the one funding it. A bitter knot lodged in her stomach. Suddenly, the food had no taste.

She set down her fork abruptly and stood.
“I’m not hungry anymore. Excuse me.”

She walked away without looking back, feeling as if she’d lost more than just her appetite.

On her way upstairs, a strange noise caught her attention. It came from the room across from hers—the one that had been empty until two weeks ago. Now it was his. At least, she thought bitterly, her grandmother had given him his own room; she couldn’t bear the idea of them sharing one.

She considered ignoring it, but curiosity won. The door was ajar. When she peeked in, the sound grew louder. She flipped the light switch and found a room surprisingly tidy, almost bare. The only thing that stood out was a small cage on the desk. Inside, a golden hamster with white spots ran endlessly on a wheel.

Mikasa frowned. She had never liked rodents, though she had to admit—this one was… cute. She tapped the cage, and the little creature scurried closer.

“His name is Erwin.”

The voice behind her made her jump. Eren leaned casually against the doorway, watching her.

“He’s shy. Doesn’t usually come near just anyone. Looks like he likes you.”

Embarrassment flushed through her—she had barged in without permission.
“Sorry… I heard a noise and just wanted to see what it was.”

He nodded slowly.
“I noticed you seemed upset at dinner. Did I say something that bothered you?”

She tensed instantly, remembering the mention of medical school.
“No. What could possibly bother me about a gigolo like you?” she shot back, folding her arms defensively.

Eren sighed, tilting his head.
“I’m just trying to be nice, and you’re acting stuck-up,” he muttered.

The air between them grew heavier.

Mikasa opened her mouth, indignant.
“For a second I almost thought you weren’t just some freeloading parasite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

“Wait—you mean about the university? If that’s what this is—”

“Forget it. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

She was about to step into her room when he spoke again:
“I don’t think I’ve had the chance to say it, but that cat onesie of yours is really cute.”

Her cheeks burned. She remembered all too well the day he’d seen her in it. And now, not only would she run into him at home, but also on campus.

“That’s none of your business!” she snapped.

“Relax, it was just a joke.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Don’t you want to spend some time with Erwin?” He gestured at the hamster, now standing on its hind legs, sniffing curiously.

Mikasa hesitated, but exhaustion and the throbbing in her head won out.
“No thanks. Why don’t you keep him company yourself—clearly rodents understand each other.”

“Did you just call me a rat?” he asked, feigning outrage.

Mikasa smirked faintly.
“Who knows? Maybe my grandmother”—she emphasized the word—“will buy you a giant wheel so you can work out.”

She meant to annoy him, but as always, her words only made him laugh.

“I didn’t know you were such a comedian.”

“Are you calling me a clown?” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. But another stab of pain in her temple forced her to stop. She sighed, exasperated. “That’s enough. Glad I could entertain you, but leave me alone now.”

Without waiting for his reply, she shut herself in her room. On the other side, Eren stood still for a moment before retreating as well—both of them left with thoughts they couldn’t silence.

Chapter Text

The “Introduction to Business Administration” class had started half an hour ago, and Mikasa was fighting not to fall asleep. The professor’s monotone voice wasn’t helping, and the lack of sleep from the past few nights was wrecking her. It was already hard enough not being at peace at home—and now she couldn’t even find it at university. She felt like she had no refuge left anywhere.

When she finally left the classroom, another sharp throb in her temple forced her to stop. She decided to use the free time before her next afternoon lecture to clear her head and take some photos—something she hadn’t done in weeks.

She walked with her headphones on, eyes fixed on the ground, when a pair of shoes suddenly blocked her path. Looking up to see who it was, she sighed in frustration; she didn’t have the energy to deal with him. She tried to walk around, but Eren’s voice stopped her.

“You left so fast this morning, I didn’t get a chance to give you this.”

He held out two aspirin tablets in his hand.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been getting those headaches lately.”

Mikasa eyed him warily but eventually took them.
“Thanks, but I don’t think this is the real cure for my headache.”

He gave a faint smile and offered her a bottle of water.
“I know. But it might help a little.”

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the medical faculty, his calm pace unsettling her. Mikasa watched him go, confused, until a tug on her sleeve snapped her back to reality.

“Who was that?” Sasha asked, curious.

Mikasa swallowed the pill with a sip of water and replied coldly,
“Nobody important. Just a gigolo.”

The weather was perfect, and sunlight filtered softly through the trees—ideal conditions for the photos Mikasa had been putting off for weeks. But this time, nothing was going to stop her. She adjusted her lens, about to take a shot, when Connie stepped right in front of the camera.

“Connie!” she protested.

He laughed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to photograph me? It’s free.”

“When I’m interested in photographing strange phenomena, I’ll let you know,” she shot back with a half-smile.

Sasha, leaning against a fir tree, sighed as she gazed at the landscape.
“It’s been so long since I came to the forest. We should go camping sometime.”

The three of them had come after classes, driving in Connie’s car—the only one of them with a license. When Sasha wandered a few meters away to admire the view, Mikasa seized the moment to ask what had been on her mind for days.

“Connie, that night at the party… there was a guy with medium-length hair tied back, green eyes, dressed in black. He seemed to be friends with Armin. Do you know him?”

Connie frowned, thinking.
“Uh… I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “How well do you know Armin, anyway?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow.
“Met him at an event last year. We get along, but we’re not that close. Why the sudden interrogation?”

Mikasa lifted her camera and, without warning, snapped a picture of him.
“There. You’ve got your photo. I’ll give it to you once I develop it.”

“Hey! That’s cheating!” he complained.

Before Mikasa could laugh, Sasha came running back, nervous, hiding behind her.
“I heard something over there, between the trees,” she whispered, pointing.

“Probably a squirrel,” Connie teased.

Then a low growl rumbled through the air. Connie jumped and let out a decidedly unmanly squeal. Sasha arched a brow.
“Who’s the scared one now?”

Mikasa handed her the camera and moved toward the sound, picking up a stick to push aside branches.

“Wait, what if it’s not a squirrel?” Sasha warned. “Let Connie go instead.”

“No way! I’m not going to be the sacrifice!”

“Coward!”

“Scaredy-cat!”

“Would you both just shut up?” Mikasa snapped, exasperated.

The dense undergrowth made it hard to see. She prodded the bushes with the stick, and the noise came again—sharper this time, almost like a squeak. Then, suddenly, something dark leapt out from the leaves.

Sasha and Connie screamed; Mikasa flinched more at their reaction than at the small creature now crouching before her. The “monster” stared back, fur bristled and eyes glowing.

“It’s…,” Sasha gasped, panting, “a cat?”

“So it wasn’t a squirrel?” Connie muttered.

The black cat backed away at first, but Mikasa approached slowly, whispering softly. To everyone’s surprise, she managed to scoop it into her arms. The poor thing was thin, its fur scruffy.

“Poor innocent thing,” Sasha murmured. “What’s a cat doing in the middle of the forest?”

“We could take it to a shelter,” Connie suggested.

Mikasa shook her head, gently stroking the animal.
“No. I’ll take it home.”

“Won’t your grandmother have a problem with that, Mika?” Sasha asked.

“I don’t know. But I’m not leaving it here—or risking it ending up somewhere no one ever adopts it. I’ll take it to a vet first and figure out the rest later.”

“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission,” Connie grinned.

The cat purred weakly against her chest, and for the first time in weeks, Mikasa felt a flicker of peace.

Eren came home exhausted, though it had only been two weeks since classes began. The workload was intense, but he consoled himself knowing he was finally studying what he loved—and he’d already met a few people he got along with. Otherwise, he might have given up already. There were still plenty of things in his life that needed sorting out, but he always remembered Armin’s advice when he’d first arrived in Shiganshina: “One step at a time.”

He checked the time—it was a little past eight. On his phone, he found a message from Kiyomi saying she’d be home later than usual, followed by a kiss emoji that made him laugh quietly. Without thinking much of it, he climbed the stairs to his room.

The space was still half-empty, suitcases piled beside the door as if he’d never fully unpacked. On the desk, however, there was a personal touch: his medical books from Trost neatly lined up beside a couple of worn notebooks.

He was halfway through removing his jacket when he turned and froze. A black cat sat on the desk, one paw pressed against his hamster’s cage. The creature was trying to slip a claw between the bars, while Erwin—the hamster—ran frantically on his wheel, blissfully unaware of the danger.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” Eren shouted, startled, shooing the cat away. He had no idea how it had gotten in—or where it had come from.

At that moment, the door burst open. Mikasa appeared, alarmed and half-asleep.
“What’s going on?” she asked quickly.

“There was a damn cat on Erwin’s cage!” he exclaimed, pointing at the culprit now hissing at his feet, fur bristled.

Mikasa frowned.
“What did you do to Levi?!” she demanded, outraged, crouching protectively by the cat.

Eren stared, dumbfounded.
“He’s yours? I didn’t even know there was a cat in this house…”

Mikasa swallowed hard—she’d been caught. Her plan to hide the cat until she could talk to her grandmother had just fallen apart.
“Well… I found him today and brought him home,” she murmured, scooping the cat into her arms.

Eren frowned, clearly displeased. He’d never been a cat person.
“Does Kiyomi know about this?”

“Not yet… I was planning to tell her tomorrow—or when I got the chance,” she said evasively.

“Well, I don’t want a cat in this house,” he said firmly, “especially not near my hamster. Get rid of it.”

Mikasa lifted her gaze sharply. She’d intended to negotiate calmly, but his tone lit a fuse inside her.
“And who put you in charge?” she snapped. “Just because you sleep with my grandmother doesn’t mean you get to give orders here!”

The words burst out before she could stop them. The instant they left her lips, guilt twisted in her stomach—but it was too late.

“Mikasa…” Eren said evenly, though his hardened expression betrayed how much the accusation stung. He took a breath before continuing. “First of all, my private life isn’t your concern. Second, that cat leaves this house by tomorrow.”

Mikasa clenched her jaw, furious.
“That’s for my grandmother to decide, not you. I’ll only do what she says… unless you plan on convincing her to do whatever you want.”

Eren clicked his tongue and stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
“Maybe I will.”

Mikasa felt the urge to shove him, but the cat in her arms reminded her to hold back. Still, the sinking certainty that her grandmother would take his side hit her hard. With a defeated sigh, she lowered her eyes.
“Don’t tell her yet… Give me three days. I’ll try to find someone to take him.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end.

Eren felt a pang of guilt. He’d just made her feel worse, and though he wanted to take it back, it was too late.
“Fine,” he said simply.

Mikasa turned to leave for her room.

“Oh, and by the way,” Eren added before the door shut, “keep that cat away from Erwin. I let him out at night—I don’t want your pet eating mine.”

She turned slightly, eyes flashing with restrained fury.
“Don’t worry… Levi doesn’t eat garbage.”

And with that, she slammed the door.

Eren stood there, speechless, the bitter realization sinking in that he’d only managed to make everything worse.

Chapter Text

DAY 1

Even though Levi had only spent one night in the house, he had already made himself comfortable. He slept curled up in a corner of Mikasa’s bed and even purred softly. The vet, the day before, had assured her that he wasn’t suffering from anything serious—that with proper care and affection, he’d be fine.

Still, Mikasa couldn’t stop worrying. She couldn’t keep him. She’d have to find someone to adopt him soon, and the thought weighed on her so much that she even skipped her morning classes. A few hours later, a message from a group of classmates reached her phone: the Organizational Design professor had assigned a group project, and since she hadn’t been there, she’d been randomly added to a team that was missing one member.

She didn’t know any of them, so she had no choice but to contact them right away.

Before leaving, she made sure Levi had everything he needed—water, food, and a makeshift litter box in the corner of her room—then headed to campus to meet her new teammates.

When she arrived, she found them sitting on a bench: two girls and two guys who barely exchanged a word.

“Hi,” she greeted politely. “Sorry I’m late.”

‘I didn’t even want to come,’ she thought, but kept that part to herself.

“Hey, Mikasa, right?” asked one of them, a dark-haired boy with freckles.

She nodded slightly.

“I’m Marco Bodt,” he said with a friendly smile. “These are Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger, and Jean Kirstein.” He gestured to each one in turn.

Everyone mumbled a quick hi. Mikasa noticed that Annie looked as bored as she felt, while Marco and Pieck seemed a bit more approachable.

“So… what’s the project about?” Mikasa asked, taking a seat beside Pieck.

The others exchanged uncertain glances.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t really pay much attention in class,” Pieck admitted, resting her cheek in her hand before looking at Marco. “You know anything?”

Marco, ever patient, began explaining the topic. It was obvious he was the most invested in the subject. Jean listened with partial focus, throwing in comments here and there, while Annie stayed silent, observing with her usual detached expression.

“I think that gives us a solid starting point,” Marco concluded. “Any questions?”

Silence. No one spoke.

Mikasa, however, was miles away—thinking about the small creature waiting for her back home. Without really meaning to, she blurted out:

“Does anyone want a cat?”

DAY 2

“Are you sure you don’t want a cat?” Mikasa pressed again.

“I told you already, I’m allergic,” Jean replied.

She groaned and flopped back onto the couch. The group had agreed to meet at Jean’s house the next day to work on their report, and after two hours of effort, they were now sprawled across the plush gray carpet, taking a much longer break than intended. Jean had brought beers, and Mikasa—unused to drinking—discovered that the one he’d handed her wasn’t half bad.

“Really?” she insisted, the anxiety of her deadline gnawing at her. She had just one day left to find Levi a home. Neither Sasha nor Connie had agreed to take him.

“I swear,” Jean said. “And even if I could, my mom would freak out if a cat started scratching her furniture.”

Mikasa sighed in defeat. If she didn’t find someone soon, she’d have no choice but to take him to a shelter.

“Well, guys,” Pieck said lazily, lying back with her usual calm, “since we’ll probably be stuck seeing each other for the next few days—or even years—why don’t we share something about our lives?”

A long silence followed as they exchanged glances.

“I’ll start,” said Marco with his typical enthusiasm. “I’ve always wanted to study business. My dad and granddad both did, and I like the idea of following in their footsteps.”

“We’ll see if you still think that way in two or three semesters,” Annie muttered dryly before taking a sip of her beer.

Jean chuckled under his breath.
“I can see that happening to me too. But so far, I’m actually enjoying it.”

“I didn’t really find a major that convinced me,” Pieck said with a shrug. “This one was my last option. Still not sure if I like it.”

Mikasa listened intently. It was oddly comforting to know she wasn’t the only one uncertain about her path—though her reasons were different.

“What about you?” Jean asked, turning toward her.

Mikasa hesitated, but Pieck jumped in with a half-smile.
“Come on, whatever you say stays between us. Besides, who actually cares why we chose this major? Not even the professors who ask that every semester.”

Mikasa lowered her voice.
“I wanted to study something else… but certain circumstances pushed me to choose this.”

“And do those circumstances have a name and last name?” Annie quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess—your parents?”

“My grandmother, actually.”

“Ah, I get that,” Annie muttered, tapping her can gently against Mikasa’s. “I’ve changed majors three times already.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up—especially Marco’s—and from there, the conversation loosened up. They started laughing, talking more freely, and by the end decided to postpone the rest of the project for another day.

When the clock struck seven, Mikasa gathered her things. She didn’t want to risk arriving home late—especially if her grandmother got back first and found the cat.

“See you tomorrow in class,” Marco said with his usual cheerful grin, echoed by the others.

Mikasa nodded and was about to leave when she turned back for one last attempt.
“Are you sure none of you want a cat?”

“NO!” they all shouted in unison.

DAY 3

Eren came home in good spirits after his last class, though a recent message on his phone had left him slightly uneasy. He went upstairs, took off his jacket, and smiled when he saw Erwin drinking water. He let the hamster out of its cage to run freely around the room, enjoying the moment—until he suddenly remembered something.

He scooped Erwin back up and placed him safely in the cage, then crossed the hall and knocked on the door across from his.

“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Eren sighed and opened the door anyway.

“Hey!” Mikasa protested, sitting on her bed with the cat on her lap. Levi bristled, hissing as soon as he saw him.

“So the cat’s still here,” Eren said, glaring at it.

Mikasa stood up quickly, facing him. She was aware of how tall he was, but refused to be intimidated.
“The day’s not over yet! Leave us alone.”

Eren ran a hand over his face, tired of how every talk between them turned into a fight.
“Fine… but that cat’s time is running out,” he said, tapping his watch before throwing another disdainful glance at the animal.

He left the room, leaving her fuming once again. He knew he was acting like a jerk—but he couldn’t help it. Something about that cat gave him a bad feeling.

An hour later, Kiyomi arrived home. As soon as she saw him, she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Good evening, dear,” she greeted warmly.

“How was work?” Eren asked, helping her with her coat and guiding her to the sofa.

“Exhausting. Tomorrow I’ve got a meeting with all the board members—it’ll probably drag on for hours,” she sighed, leaning her head back.

“I made dinner,” he said. “Thought it’d be nice for the three of us to eat together.”

“Of course,” Kiyomi smiled. “Mikasa’s in that stage where everything feels like the end of the world. Don’t take her attitude personally. I’m sure she’ll go back to being the sweet, calm girl she used to be.”

Eren tilted his head. So far, he’d only met the prickly, defensive version of Mikasa.
“I can understand her frustration,” he said seriously. “I’ll go get her. Otherwise she won’t come down.”

“Go ahead, I’ll rest for a bit,” Kiyomi said, closing her eyes.

Eren climbed the stairs and approached Mikasa’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and just as he was about to knock, he froze. Through the crack, he saw her lying on the bed, the cat curled in her arms. Levi purred loudly under her gentle strokes, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

He was about to knock—but then he heard her voice, soft and weary. Words not meant for him, but for the cat.

“I’m sorry you have to leave, just when I was starting to get attached to you,” she whispered. “These last few days with you have been easier than being alone. I wish that jerk was the one who had to go, not you.”

Eren swallowed hard. The words hit him more deeply than he wanted to admit. He realized, with a dull ache, that after this, Mikasa’s hatred toward him would probably be permanent.

Finally, he knocked.

“What?” she said in a muted tone.

“Dinner’s ready,” he replied, restraining the usual sarcasm in his voice.

“I’ll be down.”

She brushed past him without meeting his eyes. For the first time, Eren thought he’d rather see her angry than this sad.

He watched her descend the stairs, then lingered for a moment before opening the door again slightly and following her down.

During dinner, Kiyomi and Eren chatted animatedly while Mikasa stayed silent, as always.

“This is delicious, dear,” Kiyomi praised. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

Eren was about to answer when a loud crash from the kitchen cut him off.

They all turned just in time to see Levi on the counter, having knocked over a glass pitcher that now lay shattered on the floor.

“Is that a cat?!” Kiyomi cried, horrified. “How on earth did it get in here?”

Mikasa jumped up to explain, but Eren beat her to it.

“I’m sorry—I meant to tell you earlier,” he said, scooping up the struggling cat. “I found him wandering around outside. I couldn’t bring myself to throw him out, so I thought maybe he could stay.”

Mikasa stared, speechless, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“A cat? In my house?” Kiyomi frowned. “And a black one at that—you know that’s bad luck.”

“Just superstition,” Eren said easily. “Besides, I thought Mikasa could take care of him. Might do her some good—to have a bit of company.” He glanced sideways at her.

She could barely hold his gaze, still too stunned to react.

Kiyomi hesitated for a moment, then, seeing how calm and pleasant Eren looked, finally relented.
“Well, let him stay,” she decided, turning to her granddaughter. “Mikasa, do you want to take care of the cat?”

She cleared her throat before answering.
“Of course… yes, I’d love to.”

“Good,” Kiyomi nodded. “But if he breaks anything, he’s out. And make sure you take proper care of him.”

“Thank you, Grandma… I’ve always wanted a pet,” Mikasa said, smiling genuinely—though her expression faltered when she noticed Eren watching her.

She stepped closer and took Levi from his arms. The cat, as if understanding the situation, went quiet and calm in her hold.

“Looks like there are five of us living here now,” Eren murmured just loud enough for her to hear. “Just so you know, I still don’t want him near my hamster.”

“No promises,” Mikasa replied, shrugging as she turned away.

For the first time in weeks, she felt happy.

Chapter Text

The week had flown by for Mikasa. Between classes, group projects, and caring for her new pet, she barely had time to think about anything else. Keeping her mind busy had done her good—she felt less lonely, less trapped in that heaviness that used to follow her around. Even Levi, with his meows and soft purrs, had become her little refuge.

It was Thursday, and their group presentation had gone better than expected. They’d gotten a high grade and even a positive comment from the professor, though Mikasa still couldn’t bring herself to feel even a shred of enthusiasm for her business major.

As she left the classroom, Pieck suddenly appeared beside her.

“Hey, Mikasa,” she said, grabbing her by the arm with a surprising familiarity as she guided her down the hallway. “I’m throwing a party at my place tomorrow. A bunch of our classmates are coming—and I want you there too.”

Mikasa looked at her with mild hesitation. She had never gone to a party alone before; Sasha had always been her partner in crime.

Pieck noticed her doubt and tugged lightly at her arm.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise you won’t be bored.”

“Well… alright,” Mikasa agreed at last.

Pieck’s smile was instant.
“Perfect! I’ll send you the address, okay? See you tomorrow!”

Mikasa watched her disappear down the left corridor. Pieck was a whirlwind—unpredictable, charismatic, and nearly impossible to say no to.

“So, you’re going to Pieck’s party too?”

Mikasa jumped and turned around, startled—but relaxed once she saw who it was.

“Looks like it. You’re going too?”

Jean stood there with his hands in his pockets, wearing a cap that read in bold letters above a green leaf: I Love Marijuana.

Mikasa couldn’t help raising an eyebrow.

“Pieck can be very persuasive,” she said with a faint smile. “I think she invited Marco and Annie too.”

Jean nodded. At least there would be familiar faces, which gave her a small sense of relief.

“This’ll be my first official college party,” he said, stressing the word with a touch of irony—remembering that chaotic one before the semester even started.

“Guess that makes two of us,” Mikasa replied casually. Then, after a pause: “Do you know how to get to Pieck’s place?”

“She said she’d send me her location. I just hope I don’t get lost,” Mikasa chuckled softly.

“I don’t know where she lives either,” Jean admitted, shrugging. “But… how about we go together? I can pick you up, that way we don’t risk getting lost.”

Mikasa thought about it for a moment. It was definitely better to show up with someone she knew than to walk in alone—she hated that feeling.

“You’re right,” she said finally.

“Great, then I’ll swing by your—”

“No!”

Jean blinked, startled by her sudden reaction. Mikasa quickly cleared her throat, trying to recover her composure.

“I mean, that won’t be necessary,” she corrected at once. “I can go to your place and we’ll head there together.”

She forced another polite smile. The last thing she wanted was anyone finding out she lived with her grandmother… and a gigolo.

“Ah… alright, whatever works for you,” Jean replied, still a bit puzzled but choosing not to press further.

When Mikasa got home, she noticed a suitcase by the door. For a moment, she found it odd—until a sinking feeling hit her, and seconds later, her grandmother appeared.

“Are you going on a trip, Grandma?” she asked, slightly confused.

“Yes, it was last minute. Something important came up in Trost,” Kiyomi explained, adjusting the suitcase handle. “But I’ll be back early Sunday morning.”

Mikasa nodded. It wasn’t unusual anymore—her grandmother often left on sudden business trips.

Then she remembered something.
“Um… Grandma, I—” she hesitated, “I was invited to a party tomorrow. Can I go? I promise I won’t stay out too late.”

Kiyomi’s expression turned thoughtful.

“Please,” Mikasa insisted, looking at her pleadingly.

“Well,” Kiyomi finally relented, “you can go—but be responsible.”

Mikasa’s relief showed instantly as she nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ll see you Sunday then. I already told Eren about my trip,” Kiyomi added as she lifted the suitcase. “And please, try to be a little nicer to him.”

“Of course,” Mikasa said, forcing a smile.

She watched her grandmother get into the car and drive off down the street.

Yeah, sure. Of course not, she thought bitterly.

The next day, Mikasa only had morning classes, so she went home to have lunch. She wasn’t exactly a culinary expert—her idea of a proper meal was heating up instant soup in the microwave.

Once it was ready, she carried the steaming bowl to the living room. She wanted to relax and watch something before getting ready for the party—she’d be heading to Jean’s around eight, so she had almost five hours to kill.

Levi was curled up beside her on the couch, purring softly.

Almost two hours later, the door opened—it was Eren.

Mikasa saw him come in but decided to ignore him. Even when he greeted her, she just gave a small nod, hoping he’d head straight to his room as usual.

Instead, he dropped his backpack on the sofa—right next to her—and sank into the cushions.

“Kiyomi won’t be back until Sunday,” he said after a few minutes, sounding distracted. When she didn’t reply, he added, “Which means it’ll just be you and me.”

Mikasa kept her eyes on the TV.
“You’re wrong. Erwin and Levi are here too,” she replied calmly.

Eren gave her a half-smile, amused. She, however, refused to say another word.

“Wanna play something?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Mikasa frowned.
“Play? What, exactly?” She finally turned to look at him.

“Anything,” he said with a teasing smirk. “Even hide-and-seek.”

Mikasa let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Sure—how about I count while you go hide somewhere outside this house, and I’ll look for you when I feel like it?” she said with a sharp, sarcastic smile.

“Ouch… you really want me out of here that badly?” he teased, raising his eyebrows.

“You have no idea.”

Eren clicked his tongue, pretending to be offended. A few seconds passed before he spoke again.
“What about cards?”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ve got a deck right here.” He pulled a small box from his backpack, opened it, and spread the cards out like a magician showing off.

Mikasa eyed them skeptically. Playing meant spending time with him… and she wasn’t sure she wanted that. But his persistence was more exhausting than the idea itself.

“So? You in?”

She sighed.
“Fine—but I pick the game.”

“Go ahead.”

They both knelt on the carpet, leaving space between them for the cards.

“We’ll play Donkey. It’s easy, and just one round,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eren grinned.
“Wanna make it interesting? A bet, maybe?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he insisted as he shuffled expertly. “How about this—whoever loses has to answer a question from the other.”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She didn’t like the idea—but she wasn’t about to look scared, either.

“Fine,” she said finally. “Deal the cards.”

Eren smiled in satisfaction and began distributing the cards between them.

The game started off lighthearted, with a few offhand comments and some subtle smiles, but soon the tension grew. Mikasa bit her lip each time her hand grew larger, while Eren, clearly enjoying himself, seemed annoyingly confident.

Until the final moment.

“Ah, damn it!” Mikasa burst out as Eren threw his last card onto the pile with a triumphant flick. She still had three left.

Eren leaned back on his heels, grinning smugly.
“Looks like I win.”

Mikasa glared, folding her arms.
“Alright, what do you want to know?” she muttered, resigned.

Eren gathered the cards calmly, pretending to think.
“Besides me,” he said finally, more serious than usual, “what is it that makes you so unhappy?”

Mikasa pressed her lips together. A loaded question—she knew it. Talking about her personal mess wasn’t something she did.

“What makes you think there’s anything else bothering me?” she countered, trying to deflect.

“The deal was you answer, not dodge,” he reminded her.

She slumped her shoulders. No escape.
“Fine! I hate my major, alright?” she blurted out. For a moment, she felt a strange relief… one that faded as quickly as it came.

Eren stayed silent, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected that—but he understood what it meant.
“Does Kiyomi know?”

Mikasa let out a weary sigh.
“She must suspect. I’ve tried talking to her so many times, but she never cared.”

“You should try again. Maybe—”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve tried,” she cut him off. “It’s always the same: she says I need to prepare to take over the family business someday.” She rubbed her temples in frustration.

Eren studied her for a moment, curiosity softening his expression.
“So… what would your ideal major be?”

“Medicine.”

His eyes widened.
“You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about that,” she said flatly, not looking up.

Eren leaned back, thoughtful.
“I get it,” he said finally, exhaling softly. “But don’t lose hope. Someone once told me—nothing’s truly unsolvable… except death.”

Mikasa glanced at him sideways. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or trying to comfort her—so she decided to stay quiet.

“Let’s stop talking about depressing stuff,” she said, stretching a little. “Let’s play another round.”

Eren smiled knowingly.
“Same bet?”

“Same bet. But this time, you’re losing.”

He accepted with a grin, realizing he wouldn’t get much more out of her if he kept pushing. So he just focused on dealing the cards again.

They played about ten more rounds—neither of them wanting to be the last loser. In the background, a random playlist Eren had put on was playing, and The Breakup Song had just started.

“I’m exhausted. I’m done playing,” Mikasa groaned, lying down on the couch.

“You’re only saying that because you just won,” Eren teased.

“Not my fault you’re the donkey this time.” She stuck her tongue out at him, tapping her foot to the beat of the song. She was starting to enjoy it—until the lyrics mentioned dancing and the dance floor.

She jolted up.
“What time is it?”

“Uh… almost seven, I think. Why? Something wrong?”

“It’s late!”

Without another word, she dashed upstairs with Levi trotting behind her, leaving Eren sitting in utter confusion.

Mikasa showered quickly and started getting ready. She hadn’t realized how fast time had flown—and mentally blamed Eren for distracting her.

She dried her short hair, brushed it, and slipped into a blue floral dress that fell just above her knees, a cropped denim jacket, and black ankle boots.

As she prepared, she kept an eye on the clock. Luckily, she wasn’t running too late. Before leaving, she texted Jean: “On my way.”

She poured some kibble for Levi, gave him a couple of affectionate pats, and sprayed a bit of perfume before stepping out.

“Where are you going?” Eren asked when he saw her crossing the living room. Seeing her all dressed up made him frown in surprise.

“To a party.”

“With whose permission?” he asked, folding his arms.

“With my grandmother’s—the only one that matters,” she shot back firmly. Then, before he could respond, she added, “Don’t wait up.”

And just like that, she walked out, leaving him speechless. Clutching her purse tightly, Mikasa headed toward Jean’s house. Tonight, she was determined to make the most of Pieck’s party—and forget everything else for a while.

Chapter Text

Jean opened the door and found Mikasa standing there, greeting him with a faint smile.
She was slightly out of breath, which made him wonder if she’d come running.
“Ready for the party?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.
“Ready and willing,” he replied, returning the smile.

Mikasa gave him a quick once-over. He was dressed casually, but looked surprisingly good in a white T-shirt, a green jacket, and jeans. They were just about to leave when a woman’s voice called out from inside the house.

“Jeanbo!” the woman hurried toward them. “If you’re taking the car, don’t you dare drink! You know how dangerous that is…” Her eyes then landed on Mikasa. “Oh, but look at that! I didn’t know you’d be bringing company. Is she your girlfriend?”

“What? No!” Jean blurted out, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “Mom, this is Mikasa, a classmate. Mikasa, this is my mother.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Mikasa said politely, though she had to suppress a laugh at the woman’s enthusiasm.
“Me too! You’re such a pretty girl.” Jean’s mother grinned from ear to ear, then leaned closer to her son, lowering her voice—though Mikasa still caught part of the whisper. “Don’t forget the manners I taught you, young man.”

“I know, Mom, you don’t have to remind me,” he grumbled, exasperated.
“Well then, have fun, you two.”

They stepped outside, and Jean quickly opened the car door for Mikasa before circling around to the driver’s side.

“Your mom seemed really nice,” Mikasa said as she fastened her seatbelt.
Jean chuckled. “Sorry about that. She can be a bit intense sometimes. She’s probably already convinced we’re dating.”
Mikasa raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. “Well, at least it’s obvious she cares about you.”
“That’s true,” he said, starting the engine. “And she loves embarrassing me whenever she gets the chance.”

Mikasa smiled softly. For a brief moment, she thought about how much she would’ve loved to share moments like this with her own mother—especially now, at this stage of her life. Jean, unaware of her shifting expression, opened the maps app on his phone, entered the address, and started the car.
“All set. Off to the party.”

The car rolled down the street, disappearing into the glow of the city lights on their way to Pieck’s house.

“Jean! Mikasa!” Pieck greeted them as soon as they walked in. “I’m so glad you came—come with me!”

She led them upstairs to a spacious room with access to a terrace. A few people were already gathered there, though Pieck mentioned more were still on the way. Amid the chatter, Mikasa recognized some classmates: Marco and Annie.

“It’s good to see you here, Annie,” Mikasa said, raising her voice over the music. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
“Pieck was persistent enough,” Annie replied with a shrug.

Mikasa smiled knowingly. The music was catchy—the kind that made your body move even if you didn’t want to.

An hour later, alcohol was flowing freely. Mikasa tried to limit herself to small sips of her blue drink, which tasted stronger than she expected. She even let herself dance a little with Marco, who’d managed to stay sober so far—until Pieck’s friends cornered him, chanting and laughing:
“Marco’s a good friend, and he’s gonna prove it! Drink! Drink! Drink!”

After his first shot, Marco loosened up quickly—so did Annie, though she seemed to have a higher tolerance. The glass was about to reach Mikasa when Pieck reappeared, this time with a red-haired boy in tow.

“Guys,” she announced with a grin a bit too wide to be sober, “I want you to meet someone. This is Floch Forster, a friend of mine. He’s studying Law.”

Marco and Jean shook his hand, Jean being the most sober of them all. Annie only gave a slight nod. When Floch reached Mikasa, he greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a half-smile. “What’s your name?”
“Likewise,” she replied, a little charmed. “Mikasa Ackerman.”
“Come on, Floch, I’ll introduce you to the others,” Pieck said, taking his arm. Before leaving, he gave Mikasa another smile—and she found herself watching him as he walked away.

“I didn’t know Floch would be here,” Annie murmured beside her.
“You know him?” Mikasa asked curiously.
Annie sighed. “Yeah, he was my classmate last year when I studied Law.”
Mikasa raised her brows; she’d forgotten Annie had switched majors twice before settling on Business.
“And you two are close?”
“Not really. That guy’s only friends with himself,” Annie said with a dry laugh, leaving Mikasa a bit puzzled. “Don’t mind me. We’re not friends.”

Hours passed, and eventually Mikasa felt the urgent need to use the bathroom. The house was more crowded now, music pounding louder, lights flashing with the beat. Still, she couldn’t help but smile—she hadn’t felt this free, this light, in ages. At least, she thought, she’d have something fun to tell Sasha later.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, her phone buzzed.
Eh, Mikasa, it’ll be midnight in an hour. I hope you’re home by then.
She narrowed her eyes at the message and typed back: How did you get my number?
The reply came quickly. Kiyomi gave it to me for emergencies.
Mikasa rolled her eyes. I told you not to wait up for me. Relax—I’m having fun.

Another message came, but she ignored it, slipped her phone into her purse, and kept walking without looking up—until she found herself on the terrace. There were only a few people: a couple wrapped around each other and two girls chatting in a corner. She leaned against the railing, letting the cool night air brush her face. Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed in the quiet, so different from the thumping chaos inside.

Then a voice broke through.
“Hey, Mikasa,” Floch greeted, approaching with a smile.
She turned to face him. “Oh—hi.”
“Everything okay?” he asked, holding two cans—one already open.
“Yeah, just stepped out to reply to a message,” she said, leaning back against the railing again.
He mirrored her posture. “Want one?” he offered the unopened can. “Peach Four Loko. This one’s orange. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Thanks,” Mikasa said, taking it carefully and popping it open. She took a small sip and frowned slightly.
“It’s strong,” he warned with a laugh. “Take it slow.”
“I can tell,” she replied with a wry grin—though she secretly liked the fruity taste and the cool bite of it.

The music from inside was distant now. Between the laughter, the lights, and the buzz of alcohol, the world felt just a little lighter.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at one of Pieck’s parties,” Floch said, studying her.
“She’s my classmate,” Mikasa replied.
“Ah, so you’re in Administration too,” he said, leaning back against the railing and taking a sip.
“Yeah. What about you?” she asked, remembering what Annie had mentioned.
“Law,” he said. “Second year.”
So it was true.
“The blonde you were with used to be my classmate before she switched majors.”
“Annie, yeah. She’s my classmate now too.”

Their conversation started light, but gradually became warmer, easier. Floch told her about his life—he was nineteen, lived alone, and, in his words, “being single suited him.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Mikasa said, amused.
“Then let’s toast to being single,” he said, raising his can.
She clinked hers against his. The alcohol loosened her tongue, and she found Floch more and more interesting. Talking to him felt natural—like they’d known each other longer than a few hours. They laughed, swapped stories, and exchanged numbers. He promised to text her the next day.

Moments later, her phone buzzed again.
“Technically, it is the next day already,” Floch said with a teasing grin.
Mikasa laughed. She was definitely having fun.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she went to take another sip, her can was empty.
“Guess it’s gone,” she said, looking at it. “I liked it—kind of wish I had another.”
Floch raised his eyebrows, surprised she’d finished so fast. He still had some left.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. One more and you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
“I don’t think so,” she said confidently—then stumbled as she stepped aside. Floch caught her by the arm just in time.
“Well… maybe you’re right,” she admitted sheepishly.

He kept a steady hand on her waist. “Come on, I’ll take you home,” he said firmly. Without waiting for a response, he guided her back through the crowd.

Mikasa’s mind was hazy, but she still caught flashes of the scene around her: Marco half-asleep on a couch, Annie nowhere to be found—and Jean, in a corner, kissing a dark-haired girl. When the girl turned slightly, Mikasa recognized Pieck.

Floch helped her down the stairs and out the door. She was about to tell him she’d go back with Jean, but after what she’d seen, she wasn’t so sure—until Jean appeared moments later.

“Mikasa,” he called, approaching.
“Jean?” she blinked, surprised.
“Sorry, I lost track of time,” he said, taking her hand gently.
“No worries, man. I can take her home,” Floch offered, still holding Mikasa by the waist.

She tried to focus, but her head was spinning.
“That won’t be necessary,” Jean said firmly. “We came together, we leave together. Right, Mikasa?”
“Huh? Oh… yeah. Yeah,” she mumbled, turning to Floch. “Don’t worry—Jean’s taking me home.”
Floch let go, though reluctantly. “Then… see you later, Mikasa. Take care.”

Jean helped her into the car and closed the door carefully before circling to the driver’s side. As soon as he started the engine, Mikasa leaned her head against the window. Floch watched them drive away before heading back inside, where the music still pounded against the walls.

Mikasa’s eyelids felt heavy. The post-party fatigue was hitting, but when she pulled out her phone and saw the time, her drowsiness vanished.
“It’s three in the morning!” she gasped.
“My mom’s gonna kill me,” Jean sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. Luckily, the streets were empty. “What about you? You gonna get in trouble?”
Mikasa tilted her head lazily. “Well, I said I’d be home early… it’s three a.m., which is technically early morning, right?” She burst into laughter.

Then she saw the twenty missed calls on her screen—none from her grandmother. All from Eren.
“Oh, great…” she muttered.
“Something wrong?” Jean asked, glancing at her.
“No, nothing,” she said, then started giggling again. “By the way, I saw you having fun with Pieck.”
Jean just shrugged.
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything—it’s none of my business,” she went on, pointing a finger at him. “But tell me… are you sure you’re sober?”
Jean laughed. “Only had one shot, and that was hours ago. I’m good.”
“Lucky you,” she murmured sleepily, and within seconds, she was out.

Fortunately, she’d told him her address before dozing off. When the car stopped in front of her house, Jean gently shook her awake.
“Mikasa, we’re here.”

She blinked, disoriented. Jean stepped out, opened her door, and helped her to the front porch.
“Do you have your key?” he asked. She fumbled in her purse, lost her balance, and he caught her just as the door swung open.

Eren stood there, looking decidedly unimpressed.
“Uh…” Jean stammered. “I brought Mikasa home safe and sound.”
She giggled cheerfully.

Eren didn’t laugh. He hadn’t slept all night waiting for her to return, and the sight before him was too much—Mikasa, clearly drunk, and some guy standing beside her.
“Safe, maybe,” he muttered tightly. “Sound? Not so much.”

Jean opened his mouth, but Mikasa cut him off.
“I’m home, that’s what matters, right?” She turned to Jean. “Thanks for… for the lift—” she snorted, “almost said something else.”

Jean didn’t reply, just gave a quick nod and left, careful not to meet Eren’s eyes.

Once inside, Mikasa kicked off her boots, swaying a little.
“I was this close to calling the police,” Eren snapped, arms crossed.
“You’re overreacting,” she groaned. “Jean got me home just fine.”

Eren ran a hand down his face—lack of sleep and worry making him irritable.
“And you show up drunk,” he said. “Was it that guy who got you like this?”
Mikasa’s good mood vanished instantly. “I’m old enough to make my own choices,” she shot back, straightening up. “And no, it’s not his fault I drank too much.”

Eren’s jaw tightened. “I thought you were responsible,” he said, voice sharp. “Guess not.”
“Stop lecturing me!” Mikasa snapped. “Who do you think you are?”
“With Kiyomi gone, I’m the next highest authority in this house,” he said smugly, arms crossed.
Mikasa let out a humorless laugh. “You’re not my big brother—or my father—so keep your opinions to yourself.”

He clenched his jaw. He’d called her more than twenty times—one reply would’ve been enough to calm him down.
“You’re right,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m neither. But in the near future, I’ll be your grandfather, so you’d better show some respect.”

Mikasa blinked, then let out an incredulous laugh.
“First of all, you’re not my grandfather,” she said, stepping closer. “Second, you’ll never be my grandfather. And third… in your dreams, you damn gigolo!”

With that, she stormed past him, furious.
“Well, let’s see what Kiyomi thinks about you showing up at three a.m.,” he called after her.
Mikasa froze and glared over her shoulder. “You really gonna tattle to my grandma, you smug gigolo?”
Eren raised an eyebrow. “My name’s Eren.”
“Well, ‘Gigolo’ suits you better,” she shot back.

Whatever composure Eren had left dissolved right there. He burst out laughing.

Mikasa huffed and stomped up the stairs, ignoring him. When she reached her room, she collapsed onto the bed without even changing clothes, pulled the sheets over herself, and fell asleep almost instantly.

Chapter Text

Despite having slept little, Eren got up at exactly eight o’clock. He took the chance to clean Erwin’s cage and then hopped into the shower. The house was completely silent, so he assumed Mikasa was still asleep.

While sipping his coffee, he checked his messages. One of them, from a very familiar number, caught his attention right away. He opened it:

“Everything’s stable for now. Nothing new to report. I’ll let you know if there’s any change.”

Eren sighed. That matter always left him with a mix of anxiety and unease, but there wasn’t much he could do besides stay calm and wait.

He figured it would be a good idea to make some soup; after all, Mikasa would probably appreciate it when she woke up and faced the monumental hangover she was bound to have. He knew the recipe by heart, so he got to work without hurry.

Around noon, he heard soft footsteps and then saw her peek into the kitchen. She looked worn-out and miserable—no surprise there. This time, she wasn’t wearing her cat-patterned onesie but a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose shorts. She slumped down on a stool by the island counter, as though carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Good afternoon,” Eren greeted.

She replied with a low growl. Shaking his head, he said nothing else, simply setting a steaming bowl of soup in front of her.

“What’s this?” Mikasa asked suspiciously.

“Just a little hangover cure. Works like magic.”

“Are you going to make fun of me again?” she muttered, crossing her arms—though her voice sounded weak rather than defiant.

Eren sat across from her. If there was one thing he’d taken from their late-night argument, it was that Mikasa had been right about something: he had no right to impose anything on her or question her decisions. That wasn’t his place.

Mikasa, for her part, expected a lecture like before—but instead, she heard something entirely unexpected.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “Maybe I went too far. I shouldn’t have questioned you like that, but you have to understand I was worried. If something had happened to you, Kiyomi wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Her eyebrows rose. Coming downstairs, she’d braced herself for another round of scolding, but hearing him apologize—and with such sincerity—threw her off balance.

“I’d apologize too, but I barely remember what I said,” she admitted with a wry smile. “Still, I want you to know I didn’t mean to stay out so late—especially not like that. It’s never happened before, I swear. I really regret it.” She sighed, straightening slightly. “Anyway, that’s what I’ll tell my grandmother if she asks.”

The smell of the soup stirred her appetite. She took a spoonful—and it was delicious. She hoped it would ease the lingering effects of her hangover, since her body felt heavy and unbearably thirsty. Luckily, her head didn’t hurt as much as she’d feared.

Eren watched her in silence as she ate. In that state—hair messy, eyes puffy, completely focused on her soup—she looked surprisingly harmless.

“I won’t tell Kiyomi anything,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Like I told you, it’s none of my business.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise. For a moment, she’d thought he’d use this to blackmail her—or at least make her feel guilty.

“Want some more?” Eren asked when she finished her soup in record time.

“Yes, please,” she said, licking her lips with satisfaction.

He got up and refilled her bowl.

Mikasa woke up with a start. She’d forgotten to set her alarm the night before and now had less than thirty minutes to get dressed and make it to class. She could’ve skipped, sure—but she had to turn in an individual microeconomics paper she’d worked on all day yesterday, and she refused to let that effort go to waste.

Skipping breakfast entirely, she grabbed her things, rushed downstairs, and bolted out the door. She didn’t even have time to call her grandmother’s driver.

“Need a ride?” a voice called.

Mikasa froze. Eren was sitting on his motorcycle, helmet on, looking far too calm for such an early hour.

“What did you just say?” she asked, incredulous.

“I said, do you need a ride?” he repeated, half-smiling.

She frowned, momentarily confused—but then remembered how late she was.

“No, thanks.” Truth be told, she’d never ridden a motorcycle before, and the idea made her a little nervous.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Good luck making it on time.”

He turned the throttle and was about to take off when she shouted, “Wait!” Running toward him, she added, “Just… don’t make this a near-death experience.”

He smiled under the helmet. Having someone behind him—especially someone as prickly and delicate as Mikasa—was reason enough to drive carefully.

“Trust me,” he said, handing her a spare helmet.

She slipped it on quickly, swung a leg over the seat, and settled behind him, gripping his shoulders tightly.

As soon as Eren accelerated, the bike roared to life. He rode fast enough to get them there in good time, but Mikasa kept her eyes closed and her head low the entire way, silently praying for survival.

“All right, we’re here,” Eren announced when the motorcycle rolled to a stop in the university parking lot.

Mikasa jumped off, her heart still racing from the ride. It hadn’t been terrible… but she wasn’t exactly eager to repeat it either.

“You’re all messy,” he pointed out as she clumsily removed her helmet. She tried to fix her hair with her fingers.

“Mikasa?”

The familiar voice made her turn. Sasha and Connie were walking toward her, looking casual as ever.

“Hey,” she greeted, a bit flustered, sneaking a glance at Eren.

“Well, my job here’s done,” he said, stepping past her. “You’d better hurry if you don’t want to be late.”

Eren walked toward the medical faculty without looking back.

“Who’s that?” Sasha asked, watching him go.

“No one special,” Mikasa replied after clearing her throat. “I thought you two had class.”

“The professor had an emergency, so it was canceled,” Connie explained. “We were heading out for pancakes at Sasha’s favorite place.”

But Sasha was still staring, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I have a feeling you’re hiding something,” she said, crossing her arms.

Mikasa swallowed hard. The last thing she needed that early was an interrogation.

“We’ll talk later, okay? I’ve got class—I’ll be late. Enjoy your pancakes.”

Before either could answer, she took off almost running toward the business building. She knew Sasha wouldn’t let it go, but that was a problem for future Mikasa.

She made it to class on time and spent the next two hours in unbearable tedium, trapped in the droning voice of the most boring professor alive. At least she’d managed to turn in her assignment—that alone felt like a victory.

When class finally ended, she exhaled in relief and started packing her things. Jean did the same beside her.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “that guy at your place—was he your brother? He looked kinda pissed.”

Mikasa scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “No, not my brother.”

“Cousin, then?”

“Also no.”

Jean grinned slyly. “Boyfriend?”

“Of course not!” she snapped, frowning. “Look, forget what you saw, okay? If you can erase it from your memory, I’d really appreciate it.”

Jean laughed, but before he could reply, Pieck walked past them toward the door.

“See you guys,” she said with her usual easy smile—though she gave Jean a slightly longer one.

Mikasa noticed immediately and raised an eyebrow.

“Try not to let the hearts show, lover boy.”

“It’s not what you think,” Jean said quickly, though the blush on his cheeks gave him away. “We’re just getting to know each other… but yeah, I like her. A lot.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she teased, nodding toward the exit. “Go after her before someone else does.”

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled and hurried out after Pieck.

Mikasa watched him go, amused.
“At least someone’s having luck in love,” she thought, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Mikasa was on her way home when a message from Sasha popped up on her phone:

“Come have lunch! You’re totally invited!”

She knew that trick too well — behind every “casual lunch” lay Sasha’s relentless curiosity. This time, Mikasa could tell it had everything to do with Eren. She considered making up an excuse, but she also had things she wanted to tell her friend, so she headed toward the Blouse family’s house.

She’d known them since elementary school. Mr. and Mrs. Blouse always welcomed her with warmth, jokes, and mouthwatering food. Mikasa couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy — ever since her mother’s death, she hadn’t experienced that kind of homely comfort again. Maybe that was why she loved visiting Sasha so much. As an only child, Sasha was spoiled but generous, and her parents affectionately called Mikasa their “other daughter.”

After a lunch full of laughter and fresh-baked bread, Sasha practically dragged her up to her room.

“Okay, spill it.”

“About what?” Mikasa asked, feigning innocence.

Sasha was sprawled on her bed, legs resting against the wall, while Mikasa curled up on the futon as if she wanted to disappear.

“Don’t play dumb,” Sasha said with a mischievous grin. “Who was the guy on the motorcycle?”

Mikasa let out a long sigh.

“Just someone I know,” she said at last. “He gave me a ride to campus, that’s all.”

Sasha sat up, fixing her with that look she always gave when she knew her friend was lying.

“Mika, we know each other too well. Since when do we keep secrets?”

At that point, Mikasa couldn’t keep pretending. It had already been a month since that whole mess had turned her life upside down, and keeping it bottled up was doing her no good. But she also knew it wasn’t just her secret — it involved her grandmother… and a certain infuriating man-child.

“Well… remember that party a few weeks before university started?”

Sasha frowned, thought for a second, then nodded.

“I met that guy you saw this morning there, and…” Mikasa didn’t get to finish.

“Wait! Don’t tell me you’ve been secretly dating him?” Sasha sat up in shock. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“We’re not dating,” Mikasa said quickly, doing her best to sound calm. “We just… know each other.”
"Who happen to live under the same roof", she added silently.
“He’s studying medicine. I think he’s friends with Armin. His name’s Eren Jaeger.”

Sasha frowned, trying to recall.

“No matter how hard I try, I don’t remember seeing him at that party.”

“Actually… we didn’t even talk,” Mikasa admitted. “We just exchanged glances. He left early.”

For a brief moment, she remembered those green eyes and how they’d captivated her. Now it felt like a distant, foreign memory.

“So how did you two meet again?” Sasha asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, her gossip radar fully activated.

“Ah… fate, I guess,” Mikasa mumbled. “But I promise, there’s nothing going on between us.”

She decided to change the subject before Sasha could dig any deeper.

“Although… there is someone else I met recently,” she said with a small, secretive smile. “And he’s actually pretty interesting.”

Sasha dropped to her knees on the bed, eyes gleaming.

“Tell me everything—and exaggerate.”

Mikasa chuckled softly. Then she recounted her night at Pieck’s party, from her arrival to her late return home, carefully skipping every detail involving Eren. In the end, she told her about Floch — how they’d been messaging ever since, and how, against her better judgment, she was starting to like him more than she cared to admit.

When she got home around eight that evening, Mikasa stumbled upon a sight that made her skin crawl.

On the living room couch, her grandmother and her “collagen booster” were sitting together watching a movie. Despite everything, they looked… comfortable. Far too comfortable.

“Hello, Mikasa,” her grandmother greeted cheerfully. “I was just about to call you.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. Sure you were.

“We ordered pizza! Stay and eat with us,” the woman added, noticing her granddaughter was already heading toward the stairs.

“Kiyomi said you love pepperoni,” Eren chimed in with a grin. “So I ordered one just for you.”

“Oh, how thoughtful you are,” her grandmother said, giving him a playful pinch on the cheek before planting a loud kiss there.

Mikasa nearly gagged. If she stayed another second watching that scene, she might actually throw up on them.

“I’ll be in my room,” she announced, turning toward the stairs.

“We’ll call you when the pizza arrives,” her grandmother said cheerfully. “It’ll be so nice to have a family moment together.”

Mikasa froze. That sentence hit harder than she expected. She’d dreamed of sharing moments like that with her grandmother so many times — but now, it all felt strange and foreign, as if she no longer belonged in her own home.

“Sure…like a happy little family,” she muttered before heading upstairs.

Chapter Text

It was Saturday morning, and Mikasa was already in the small photography room her grandmother had had built for her. She was taking advantage of the calm morning to develop some overdue photos—something she hadn’t been able to do lately between classes and the recent chaos in her life.

The space glowed under the red light bulb. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and damp paper. She had already developed five prints and was working on the last one, holding it carefully with tongs before dipping it into the tray of liquid.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a flash of white light flooded the room.

“Don’t come in like that again!” Mikasa scolded, gently pushing the intruder back. “You almost ruined everything.”

“Sorry,” Eren apologized. “I was heading out for a run, but I saw you come in here early, and when I came back, you were still inside.”

He glanced around curiously. The room was small but well-equipped—tables lined with trays and bottles of liquid, metal tongs, and an entire wall covered in photographs.

“So this is your secret hobby,” Mikasa remarked without looking at him, focused on moving the paper gently through the solution.

Eren walked over to the mural, studying each picture closely: landscapes, portraits, everyday moments—smiles frozen in black and white. His gaze paused at the upper corner, where a young woman held a little girl who was unmistakably Mikasa.

“Is that your mother?” he asked quietly.

Mikasa turned slowly, surprised. She joined him by the wall, looking at the photo.

“Yes… I was seven when that was taken.”

Eren nodded.
“You look so much like her,” he murmured after a pause. “I’m sorry for what happened to her.”

Mikasa exhaled softly. Her grandmother had probably told Eren the story long ago.

“Not as sorry as I am,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “But I guess I inherited her love for photography. The camera I use now was hers.”

Sensing her tone, Eren decided to lighten the mood. He smiled as he scanned the mural again—photos of Mikasa through the years: her childhood, her teenage smiles, moments with friends, carefree laughter. In the few pictures she had with her grandmother, though, there was always something different in her expression.

“I don’t see any pictures of me,” he said suddenly. “I’ve been here for almost two months—that’s just rude.”

Mikasa let out a quiet laugh. She’d been in a good mood all week; Floch had been texting her nonstop, and just the night before he’d asked her out. That afternoon would be their first date.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin the wall,” she teased, “but maybe I could sneak in a passport-sized photo of you somewhere around here.”

“What an honor,” Eren shot back, laughing. “I see you’ve got some landscapes too. Do you go out to take those?”

“Whenever I can. Though there’s one place I’ve always wanted to go and never managed to—the beach. I have photos of everything except that. My grandmother hates it, so…” she shrugged.

“I could take you,” he offered casually.

Mikasa blinked, waiting for him to laugh, but he didn’t.

“We could go next week,” he added. “It’s been a while since I went too. Would be a nice little getaway.”

“I don’t know what my grandmother would say…” she hesitated—then frowned. “Wait, don’t tell me you plan on going by motorcycle?”

“Where else?” he replied, folding his arms.

She eyed him warily. Short trips were one thing—but a long ride was another story.

“We could use my grandmother’s car instead.”

“Trust me,” he said, voice steady. “We’ll get there faster on the bike, and I promise to be careful. Besides, I can talk to Kiyomi—no problem.”

Mikasa sighed, torn. The idea of seeing the ocean again was far too tempting.
“…Fine. I’ll go.”

Eren grinned and gave her a thumbs-up before turning back to the photos.

“If you keep snooping around, I’ll call it an invasion of privacy,” she warned, raising an eyebrow.

“Then I think I’ve seen enough,” he replied, heading for the door.

When he left, Mikasa stayed there alone, surrounded by the warm red light and the smell of fixer and paper. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to smile without reason.

“Remember laugh at all his jokes. That’s the secret.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes as she read Sasha’s message. She was standing in front of the mirror, giving herself a few final touches before heading out. Despite trying to seem calm, she couldn’t deny she was nervous—it was her first date with Floch.

She had already told her grandmother she wouldn’t be home for dinner. To her surprise, the old woman didn’t object; lately, she’d been in much better spirits. She’d even said she planned to stay home more often “to enjoy family time.”

“On my way. I’ll tell you everything later.”

Mikasa texted quickly, pocketed her phone, and left.

The taxi she’d ordered was waiting in front of the house. Just as she reached for the door handle, the roar of a motorcycle made her turn. Eren stopped only a few feet away, removed his helmet, and looked at her with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“Going out?” he asked.

“Mm-hm,” she replied without hesitation. “On a date.”

Before he could respond, she opened the taxi door, got in, and told the driver the address of the café. As the car pulled away, Mikasa caught a glimpse of Eren through the rearview mirror—still standing there, helmet in hand, watching her leave.

“Want one?” Armin asked, handing Eren a can of beer.

They were in the blond’s attic, surrounded by dusty boxes and dim light. It had been a while since they’d hung out—different majors, different schedules. Armin was studying Education.

Eren accepted the can, popped it open, and took a long sip.

“So, how’s everything going?” Armin asked, settling down across from him. A faint ‘80s rock song—It’s My Life—played in the background, giving the room a nostalgic air.

Eren sighed and let his head fall back.

“Guess that’s my answer,” Armin joked gently. “You wanna talk about it, or do we get drunk first?”

“It’s fine…” Eren finally muttered. “You’re the only one I can really talk to. It’s just—everything’s been overwhelming lately. I don’t know how much longer I can take it before I either give up or blow up.”

He lit a cigarette. He didn’t smoke often—only when the anxiety got too heavy.

“Any news about your brother?” Armin asked quietly. He’d known Eren since they were kids—he could read him easily.

“I got a message not long ago. Same as always.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

Armin nodded.
“I get it. But don’t lose hope—things might look different later.” He paused. “And what about… the other thing?”

Eren stared at the beer in his hand, expression blank. Then he murmured,
“I’ll survive.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Armin sighed. He knew Eren too well to buy it. Something else was clearly eating at him, but pushing wouldn’t help. Still, he decided to test the waters.

“I remember you mentioned Kiyomi has a granddaughter,” he said casually. “What’s that about?”

Eren groaned.
“When she told me that, I thought she meant a child.”

“And she’s not?”

“She’s seventeen,” he muttered with resignation. “And she’s made my life hell since day one. She’s stubborn, moody, impossible… and so far, she only calls me ‘gigolo.’”

Armin burst out laughing.
“Sounds like you met your match.”

“I’m patient—but even I’ve got limits,” Eren said, exhaling smoke. “Still, I get her. If I were in her place, I’d probably react the same way… maybe worse.”

“That, I can believe,” Armin said with a knowing smile.

He watched him in silence for a few seconds. His gut told him there was more to it than Eren admitted—but for now, he’d just wait and see.

“So far so good… actually, amazing. I think he’s the one.”

Mikasa grinned as she hit send on the message to Sasha. She couldn’t help it—she was glowing. She sat in Floch’s car on their way to a bar after what had been a surprisingly nice first date at a cozy café. They’d talked about everything, he’d showered her with compliments, and when he suggested continuing the night over drinks, she hadn’t hesitated.

“To be honest,” Floch said, placing his hand on her knee, “I’m having a great time with you.”

She tensed but managed a nervous laugh.
“Same here.”

The bar was half full; it was a little past nine. The music pulsed against the walls as they found a table in the back.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked, leaning close to her ear.

“I’m not sure—I don’t drink much,” she admitted.

“Leave it to me.”

He went to the bar and came back with two glasses.
“Peach daiquiri,” he announced, setting hers down. “I remember you liked that peach Four Loko.”

“You’ve got a good memory,” Mikasa said with a small smile, taking a cautious sip.

“And you?”

“Whiskey,” he said, knocking back his own drink in one go.

They talked over the noise, but soon Floch ordered another drink. Then another. And another. By his fifth glass of whiskey, Mikasa was still nursing her first, wanting to avoid a hangover.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Her pulse quickened. She nodded. The dance floor was crowded with couples; the music was fast, infectious. At first, they moved easily—but Floch began to draw her closer, his hand sliding boldly down her back.

“You’re a really interesting girl… and so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.

The compliment made her blush—but also uneasy. She told herself this was normal, that she should just relax. But his hands grew bolder, roaming her waist and hips with increasing confidence.

“Wait—slow down,” Mikasa said, stepping back. “I think I need another drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe,” he replied with a crooked grin.

She took the opportunity to walk to the bar and order a simple orange juice. She drank it slowly, trying to calm her nerves. She hadn’t expected Floch to be so forward. When she finished, she took a deep breath and headed back toward the dance floor.

“I thought your plan tonight was to get wasted,” Armin said, watching Eren pull on his jacket. It was almost eleven.

Eren had smoked more than he’d drunk.
“Not tonight. I’ve got the bike,” he said evenly. “Besides, I want to get up early tomorrow and study. Exams start next week—you know I can’t fall behind.”

“Got it, man,” Armin replied with a tired smile. “Take care out there. And remember—you’re always welcome here.”

Eren nodded gratefully. Talking to Armin without having to hold anything back always made him feel lighter. He left, slipped on his helmet, and mounted his bike.

The city was quiet, half-asleep. He rode without hurry, letting the cool wind clear the smoke and the noise in his head. He took a different route this time—an almost empty avenue—and stopped at a red light. The engine purred softly beneath him when a sound snapped him from his thoughts.

At first, he thought it was a cat—or just an echo. But then it came again—clearer, sharper. A voice. A woman’s voice. Trembling. Desperate.

Eren’s expression hardened. He parked quickly, left his helmet on the handlebar, and followed the sound.

The cries grew louder as he neared a dimly lit alley. What he saw when he looked inside made his stomach twist.

He didn’t think. He moved.

“Get the hell off her!” he roared, lunging at the man. He grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off the girl with brutal force.

The drunk bastard howled, struggling to stand, but Eren slammed him into the wall.

He turned—saw the girl on the ground, blouse torn, eyes wide with tears, shaking from head to toe.

His pulse spiked. His breathing turned ragged.

“You sick fuck!” he shouted, punching the man square in the face, then again—once more, harder—followed by a kick to the stomach. The man staggered, bleeding, and swung wildly, landing a blow on Eren’s jaw.

“Asshole!” the man spat, clutching his gut.

“You’re filth!” Eren growled, landing another hit that sent him reeling. The man, blind with rage, threw another punch that grazed Eren’s mouth. He stepped back, wiped the blood from his lip—and his eyes turned to fire.

This time, he didn’t hold back. He kicked the man hard in the groin. The bastard crumpled to the ground, groaning and gasping for air.

Only then did Eren snap back to himself.

He turned to the girl.

She was huddled on the ground, knees to her chest, breathing in short, trembling bursts. Her glassy eyes stared blankly ahead.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside her without touching.

She nodded weakly but then slowly lifted her gaze.

“Eren…” she whispered. The instant she recognized him, she threw herself into his arms, clutching him desperately. Her face buried against his chest as sobs wracked her body.

He held her tightly, protectively, as if the world itself were still trying to hurt her.

“It’s over… you’re safe now,” he whispered against her ear.

Mikasa could feel his heartbeat pounding against her cheek. Hers was just as frantic. She didn’t know how everything had turned into a nightmare so quickly—only that when Floch insisted on going “somewhere quieter” and she refused, his tone had changed. He’d reluctantly agreed to take her home, but near the car, his demeanor twisted. He’d pushed her into that alley, hands turning rough and desperate.

She had tried to fight back, but even drunk, he’d been stronger. She’d heard the buttons of her blouse snap, felt the cold pavement beneath her—and in the middle of her screams and pleas, she’d been sure it was the end.

Until someone tore him away.

At first, she hadn’t understood what was happening—just movement, shadows, blows. Then she saw him.

Eren.

“I was so scared…” her voice broke. He stroked her hair gently, silent for a moment.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

He noticed the state of her clothes and, without thinking, took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He waited until her breathing steadied before helping her to her feet.

As they passed the man writhing on the ground, Eren gave him one last vicious kick.

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, guiding her by the shoulders.

Mikasa moved almost on autopilot. Her mind was a blur. She pulled her phone from the purse Eren had picked up for her and, with trembling fingers, typed a message to Sasha—just five words:

“He’s not the one.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa said quietly, her head lowered.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” Eren murmured, resting his elbows on his knees. “I already told you—there’s nothing to apologize for.”

They’d come home after that mess with Floch’s cockroach stunt. It was nearly midnight, but adrenaline still kept them on edge.

Mikasa hadn’t noticed it until Eren dropped onto the couch: his lip was split, and the right side of his face was swollen. The sight jolted her to her feet, and she hurried off to find the first aid kit and an ice pack.

When she came back, she knelt down in front of him.
“Don’t bother, it’s nothing,” he said, trying to downplay it.
“Of course it’s something,” she countered, wetting a cotton ball with alcohol. “You got hurt because of me. I’m sorry, Eren… really.”
“The only one to blame is that idiot,” he said firmly, flinching when the alcohol touched his wound. “And I don’t regret giving him what he deserved. I’ll wear these bruises with pride.”

She gave him a faint smile. She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but the guilt still clung to her chest. It had all been her fault—or so she thought. She was the one who’d agreed to go out with Floch, the one who’d ignored the signs.

Eren studied her in silence for a moment.
“By the way… who was he?”
Mikasa hesitated, lowering her gaze.
“I met him at Pieck’s party,” she admitted. “He’s the one I was with the night I came home drunk. I thought he was a good guy… but I was wrong. So wrong.”

“Harsh as it sounds, we can’t afford to trust just anyone anymore,” Eren said as she pressed the ice pack to his cheek. “Not everyone who seems good really is, and not everyone we judge turns out to be bad.” He held her gaze as he said that; she looked away. Then, softer, he added, “After all this… will you be okay?”

Mikasa sighed. The night had been a complete nightmare.
“I’ll survive,” she whispered.

They sat in silence for a while until Eren finally spoke again.
“By the way… thanks.”
“What do you mean?” Eren winced as she accidentally shifted the ice pack. “I’m the one who should thank you. You saved me,” she insisted, her eyes glistening. “If you hadn’t shown up… I don’t even want to think what could’ve happened.”
Eren shook his head.
“You don’t owe me anything. And the reason I thanked you was because—for the first time—you called me by my name.”

The words left her speechless. She remembered now: in the alley, when she’d hugged him, she’d said his name—Eren. It was the first time she’d ever done so, and it gave the night a weight she hadn’t noticed before.

Just then, the stairs creaked and a sharp voice broke the quiet.
“What happened to you, dear?!” Kiyomi hurried down and found them in the living room.
“You tell her, or I will,” Eren said, locking eyes with Mikasa.
“Tell me what?” Kiyomi asked, sitting beside him and scanning the bruises on his face.

Mikasa looked down, wanting to avoid more drama, but Eren’s insistent stare silenced her. So he explained in a calm, steady voice what had happened earlier—the way Floch had cornered Mikasa in an alley, how he’d had to step in and fight the guy off, and how he’d ended up with a few punches of his own.

Kiyomi went pale, then stood and pulled her granddaughter into a fierce hug.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that it didn’t go any further,” she said, her voice trembling with genuine worry. “That bastard got what he deserved.”

Mikasa melted into the embrace, her vision blurring with tears. After a moment, Kiyomi pulled away, her voice hardening.
“Don’t think this ends here. Tell me his full name—I’ll take care of the rest.”

Eren and Mikasa exchanged a look; Kiyomi’s tone was both protective and dangerous.
“You’re calling the police?” Eren asked.
“Of course I am—but that’s only the first step,” she said, her eyes gleaming with resolve.

By Monday morning, Mikasa sat at her desk, her mind anywhere but class. Her stomach was in knots—her grandmother had kept her promise and called the police. But the officers said there wasn’t much they could do; since the act hadn’t been carried out, they could only charge for “attempted assault,” recommending a restraining order instead.

That had been enough to make Kiyomi furious. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself, she’d said—and that firm tone unsettled Mikasa more than any threat. She had no idea what her grandmother was planning.

“Mikasa, can I talk to you for a moment?” Pieck’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She had dark circles under her eyes and a tense expression. She’d approached Mikasa right after class ended.
“What is it?” Mikasa asked, trying to sound calm.
“I know what happened on Saturday. With Floch,” Pieck said, meeting her gaze.

The color drained from Mikasa’s face. Before she could ask, Pieck went on:
“He called me this morning. The dean summoned him to the office—and expelled him. No appeal allowed.”

Mikasa froze. She hadn’t known.
“That’s not all,” Pieck sighed. “They’re also barring him from enrolling in any other university in the country.”

“What…? Is that true?” Mikasa whispered, stunned.
Pieck nodded, her tone bitter, indignation simmering beneath her fatigue.
“Of course it is. Why would I lie?” she said, still frowning. Then her voice softened, almost conciliatory. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. We barely know each other, but I do know Floch. He can be impulsive, yes—but he’d never do what they’re accusing him of.”

The words pulled Mikasa out of her daze.
“I didn’t lie,” she said firmly. “Everything I told the police was true. And I have a witness.”

Pieck crossed her arms, skepticism plain on her face.
“Are you sure it wasn’t… consensual at first, and then you changed your mind? It happens, you know.”

Mikasa’s expression turned cold.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“I’m just trying to keep this from ruining his life,” Pieck said, stepping closer and resting a hand on Mikasa’s arm. Her voice turned almost pleading. “Talk to the dean. Tell him it wasn’t that serious. Maybe they’ll just give him a warning.”

Anger surged in Mikasa’s chest. The news of Floch’s expulsion had rattled her, and deep down she suspected her grandmother had pulled some strings. But instead of guilt, that certainty filled her with strength.

“I won’t,” she said quietly, brushing Pieck’s hand away. “He got exactly what he deserved.”

Without another word, she walked off. Still, her mind lingered on their conversation—and on the realization of just how much power her grandmother truly had. The thought both comforted and unsettled her.

By afternoon, the rumor about a student’s expulsion had spread across the entire campus. No one knew for sure who it was, but everyone whispered about it. The reason was clear enough, though Mikasa’s name had thankfully stayed out of it. Even so, every time she overheard someone mention it, the air seemed to thicken around her. She couldn’t focus on anything.

She’d lost her appetite and, instead of eating lunch, sat alone on one of the stone benches outside. The chatter of students drifted around her like distant noise, as if everything was happening behind glass. She didn’t notice someone sit beside her until she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey.”
“Annie… hey,” Mikasa said, surprised.

The blonde watched her calmly. Her face was serious, but her eyes showed a trace of concern.
“Are you okay? You look tense.”

Mikasa swallowed and forced a faint smile.
“Yeah… just a bit tired.”

Annie nodded, unconvinced. After a few seconds of silence, she asked the question she’d clearly been holding in all morning.
“That thing with Floch… it’s about you, isn’t it?”

Mikasa stiffened.
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Don’t bother denying it,” Annie said evenly. “I watched you today—you were completely spaced out in class. And when you overheard those girls talking about it, you went pale. Now you’re here, shaking like a leaf.”

Mikasa couldn’t deny it. She lowered her gaze, her heart pounding. Finally, she nodded. Annie sighed, resting a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.
“You don’t have to tell me the details if you don’t want to,” Annie said quietly. “I just want you to know you’re not alone. And honestly, I’m glad that guy got what was coming to him. I never trusted him from the moment I met him.”

“I guess I was an idiot for agreeing to go out with him,” Mikasa muttered, shoulders slumping.
“You weren’t an idiot—just naïve,” Annie replied, surprisingly kind. “I might not be the person you want to talk to about this, but if you ever need someone, you know where to find me.”

Her words were sincere—Mikasa could tell. She hadn’t expected that kind of empathy from someone as reserved as Annie.
“Thanks… I’ll remember that,” she said with a small smile.

“Hey! Mikasa!” another voice called out. Both girls turned to see Sasha hurrying toward them, Connie close behind.
“I texted you a bunch of times and you didn’t answer any of them,” Sasha complained once she reached them. Then she glanced at Annie curiously. “And who’s this?”

Mikasa quickly made the introductions.
“Sasha, this is Annie, a classmate. Annie, this is Sasha—”
“—her best friend,” Sasha finished proudly.
“And I’m Connie, the other friend,” he added, raising a hand.

Annie nodded politely, her usual composure intact.
“Anyway, I need you to tell me what happened yesterday,” Sasha pressed.
Mikasa sighed—she’d known this talk was coming.
“Let’s go to the café,” Sasha suggested. “You can tell me everything there. Connie’s driving.”
“Sure,” Mikasa agreed. Then she turned to Annie. “You want to come?”
Annie hesitated but finally gave in to Mikasa’s insistence. The four of them walked together toward the parking lot. From the back seat, Sasha watched Annie through the rearview mirror, trying (and failing) to hide her discomfort with Mikasa’s new friend.

“The chocolate cake here is really good,” Mikasa said after finishing the last crumb of her slice.

She’d taken the chance to tell them everything that had happened with Floch. Saying it out loud to people she trusted lifted a huge weight off her shoulders. Sasha, furious, let out such a stream of expletives that both Mikasa and Connie had to shush her several times to avoid drawing attention. Annie, on the other hand, was quiet—her brief, precise comments comforted Mikasa more than she’d expected.

“I’m still pissed at that creep for what he did to you,” Sasha grumbled, clinging to Mikasa’s arm as they left the café.

They were crossing the street toward Connie’s car when he suddenly raised a brow and pointed ahead.
“Hey, Mikasa… isn’t that your grandma?”

Mikasa turned—and felt her heart stop. At the traffic light across from them, a motorcycle waited for the signal to change. She recognized the rider instantly, even with the helmet. But what truly left her speechless was seeing the person clinging to him—her grandmother, holding on with both arms and smiling from ear to ear.

“No, it’s not,” Mikasa said quickly, her voice tense.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s not’?” Connie frowned. “I’ve only seen her a couple of times, but yeah—that’s definitely her.”

Mikasa shot him a glare sharp enough to make him shut up on the spot.

She wanted the ground to swallow her whole—but fate had other plans. Her grandmother turned, spotted them, and waved cheerfully. Unlike Eren, she wore only a simple helmet that left her face visible.
“Hi, Mikasa! Hi, kids!” Kiyomi shouted over the engine. “See you at dinner, don’t be late!”

The light turned green, and the motorcycle sped off, leaving them all in awkward silence.

“See? Told you it was her,” Connie said, half amused. “Your grandma on a motorcycle—that’s awesome! But uh… who was the guy driving?”

Sasha elbowed him immediately.
“Connie, shut up,” she muttered, watching Mikasa cover her face in pure embarrassment.
Annie, expressionless as ever, simply said,
“I didn’t see anything. Anyway, shall we go?”

Chapter Text

When Mikasa got home, all she wanted was a long bath and her bed. She didn’t want to think about anything else—there would be time for that in the morning.
“Hey, Mikasa, come here,” her grandmother suddenly called.

Kiyomi was sitting on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket. Mikasa sighed in defeat and sat down across from her. Eren was nowhere to be seen.
“What is it, Grandma?”
Kiyomi studied her for a moment, as if trying to read her mood, but Mikasa avoided her gaze.
“I suppose you’ve already heard what happened with that guy who tried to hurt you,” the woman said, sitting up straighter.
“You mean the way you totally destroyed him academically?” Mikasa replied, leaning back against the couch.

Kiyomi shrugged with a faint, smug smile.
“I told you I’d take care of it.”
“And what exactly did you do?” Mikasa asked, both curious and slightly afraid of the answer.
“Not much, honestly,” Kiyomi said calmly. “I just called a few people who owed me favors. The rest took care of itself.”

A barely concealed satisfaction crossed her face. Mikasa stared at her in silence, processing her words. She knew her grandmother had influence, but she hadn’t imagined she could act so quickly—or so effectively. It was a little intimidating, yet she couldn’t deny the strange pride she felt… or the same quiet satisfaction.
“Thank you, Grandma,” she murmured at last.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Kiyomi replied softly. “You’re my family, and I’d do anything to protect you. I promised your mother I would.”

Her gaze drifted for a second. Mikasa thought she caught a faint tremor in her voice, a shadow of sorrow that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Without another word, she moved closer and hugged her.
Kiyomi returned the embrace, and Mikasa felt safe—protected. Though, deep down, she knew that warmth didn’t come from her grandmother alone. That thought brought another name to mind.

“Grandma,” she said, settling back onto the couch.
“Hm?”
“It’s really none of my business, but… what were you doing on Eren’s motorcycle?”

Kiyomi laughed lightly at the memory.
“What do you think? This morning I went to your university myself to speak with the dean and make sure everything was settled. And as I was leaving, I ran into my dear boy.” She sighed, smiling like a teenager. “He offered me a ride home, and well… you know I’ve never been a fan of those things, but I have to admit—I loved it.”

“Ah,” Mikasa muttered, torn between amusement and resignation.
“It was such a lovely feeling, holding onto him while—”
“Okay, got it,” Mikasa cut in quickly.

Just then, Eren came down the stairs with his usual easy smile.
“Evening, lovely ladies,” he greeted casually.
Kiyomi smiled back, while Mikasa avoided his eyes.
“Well, looks like it’s dinnertime,” he said.

The three of them ate together in a calmness Mikasa hadn’t felt in days. The memories of what had happened the night before still churned in her stomach, but seeing her grandmother so relaxed and Eren so natural, she began to feel at peace.

“Mikasa,” Kiyomi said, pouring more water. “Eren just told me you want to go to the beach to take photos.”
Mikasa tensed, setting down her fork.
“Ah, yes. I’ve been planning it for a while but never found the right time,” she replied carefully.
“This week we’ve got exams, so we’ll both be free by the weekend,” Eren said casually. “I thought it’d be nice to go to the beach together. What do you think?”

“I don’t see why not,” Kiyomi said after a moment, smiling. “After a tough week, a bit of relaxation is always good. I do it myself sometimes.”
“Then… would you like to come with us?” Eren asked.

Mikasa waited, almost holding her breath. Going with Eren—her “boyfriend,” “lover,” or whatever he was—already felt like crossing a line she wasn’t sure she could handle.
“Oh, no, you two go,” Kiyomi waved her off. “I’m not a beach person—too windy, too much sand everywhere. Besides, I’ve got plans to have lunch with some friends.”
“With Mrs. Lars?” Mikasa asked, hiding her relief behind a polite smile as she took another bite. The last thing she wanted was to spend the day listening to her grandmother complain about the heat.
“Mhm. She recently got divorced and wants to celebrate her freedom by getting back into social life.”
“I see,” Mikasa replied kindly. “Hope you have fun.”

She stood up and began clearing the dishes.
“I’ll wash up tonight,” she said, heading for the kitchen—grateful for an excuse to hide the small, relieved smile threatening to give her away.

When she finally finished the dishes, Mikasa climbed the stairs toward her room. Her original plan to shower and sleep had gone completely off track—but she didn’t mind. For the first time in weeks, she felt genuinely good. She’d enjoyed dinner and the simple act of sharing space with the people she lived with, even if it still felt a bit strange to admit it.

She was about to open her bedroom door when a cold, bony hand landed on her shoulder.
“Ah! Damn it!” she yelped, spinning around.
“Well, someone’s got quite the vocabulary,” Eren said, laughing. Next to him stood a full-sized human skeleton.

Mikasa blinked, still startled.
“And who’s your friend?” she asked at last.
Eren grinned and slung an arm around the skeleton’s shoulders.
“Meet Pixis,” he said solemnly. “Though I call him Dot Bones.”

Mikasa examined it curiously—it was her first time seeing one so close.
“Come on, Dot, say hi,” Eren joked, raising the skeleton’s hand to wave.
“When did you bring it here?” she asked, barely hiding a smile.
“A few days ago. But I only finished assembling it today,” he replied proudly.
“Interesting,” Mikasa murmured, running her fingers carefully over the plastic ribs.

Eren watched her, intrigued. There was something mesmerizing about how she focused—so serious and curious at once—that reminded him of their last study session. An idea came to him.
“I was about to review some human anatomy,” he said. “You can stay if you’d like.”
Mikasa raised an eyebrow. She hesitated, but the offer genuinely tempted her.
“Just for a bit,” she finally said, meeting his eyes.
Eren smiled.
“In that case…” He stepped aside, taking the skeleton’s hand and extending it toward her like an invitation. “After you.”

Mikasa sat on Eren’s bed, surrounded by stacks of medical books. Some were so thick they looked like encyclopedias, filled with bookmarks and handwritten notes. She’d learned plenty online, but seeing all that material in person—especially the interactive volumes—was fascinating.
“Did my grandma buy you all these?” she asked, flipping through a foldout page.
“Actually, no,” he said, still highlighting a line. “They were a gift from my older brother.”
Mikasa looked up, surprised.
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
Eren smiled faintly, setting the highlighter down.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She was about to ask more, but he turned in his chair with a playful grin.
“Alright, shall we start?” he said, showing her a chart of the human body. “Name all the parts labeled here.”

Mikasa smirked confidently—this was her element. She managed to identify most of them with surprising precision, even the trickier ones.

They lost track of time as they studied. Eren explained patiently what she didn’t know, and she listened with genuine interest. At some point, Levi—the cat—slipped into the room and leapt into Mikasa’s lap.
“No cats in here,” Eren protested, eyeing the intruder. Then he frowned. “Wait… is that a scarf around its neck?”
Mikasa laughed softly, stroking the cat and kissing its head. Levi started to purr instantly.
“Looks cute, doesn’t it?”
Eren rolled his eyes.
“Sure. But please take him back to your room,” he said, glancing nervously at the hamster cage. “I don’t want him scaring Erwin.”
Mikasa giggled.
“That hamster wouldn’t notice a meteor strike. He lives in his own world.”
“Mikasa…” Eren warned, giving her a side glance.
“Fine, fine,” she said, standing up with Levi in her arms. “It’s late anyway, and Grandma might wake up if we keep talking. Thanks for the lesson, Eren.”

He froze for a moment—the way she said his name, soft and natural, caught him off guard.
“Anytime,” he replied after a pause. “My books—and my expertise—are at your disposal… under one condition.”
Mikasa eyed him suspiciously.
“What condition?”
“Simple,” he said, stepping closer with that half-smile of his. “You have to call me Professor Eren.”

Mikasa woke suddenly in the middle of the night, heart racing, sweat on her forehead. Though five days had passed since the whole incident with Floch, she still relived it in nightmares. That was the reason behind her dark circles and the exhaustion that clung to her—but she’d had to push through, studying for exams and preparing presentations.

Her throat felt dry, her breathing uneven. Levi stirred at the foot of the bed and brushed against her leg. She stroked his head gently, her pulse slowly calming.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you again,” she whispered.

It was nearly three a.m. She decided to go downstairs for a glass of water. The house was completely silent. Summer had just begun, and she’d traded her cat-patterned pajama suit for something lighter—shorts and a thin top that made the heat bearable.

Just as she turned toward the kitchen, she nearly screamed—Eren was there, leaning against the counter, half-shrouded in darkness.
“You scared me!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest.
“Sorry. I just came for some coffee before getting back to studying. Didn’t want to turn on the lights and wake anyone.”

Even in the dim light, she could see him clearly—his hair loose around his chin, wearing a soft T-shirt and sweatpants. But what caught her eye most was the stethoscope hanging around his neck. Eren noticed her staring.
“Oh, this?” he said, lifting the chest piece between his fingers. “I’ve got a practical exam tomorrow, so I was reviewing a bit. Though, using it on yourself isn’t exactly ideal,” he chuckled.

Mikasa stepped closer, intrigued. She’d seen stethoscopes only in clinics—never held one herself.
“Can I?” she asked, pointing at it.
“Of course,” he said, taking it off and handing it to her carefully.

She held the instrument reverently, studying its every detail. Then, with a shy motion, she placed the earpieces in and pressed the diaphragm against her chest, listening.

Eren watched her quietly. There was something hypnotic about how focused she became—the steady gaze, the furrowed brow, the soft, held breath. It reminded him of that night they’d studied together.
“I’m no expert,” Mikasa said at last, breaking the silence, “but I think my heartbeat sounds normal.”
“Mind if I check?” Eren asked suddenly.

She looked at him, hesitated, then nodded. Removing the earpieces, she pulled her hair aside to make it easier for him.
“Hold still,” he murmured.

He pressed the chest piece gently against her skin. At first, the rhythm was steady… then it began to quicken. He looked up and met her eyes—curious, uneasy, and yet something more.
“I think that’s enough,” she said quickly, stepping back. The closeness had made her nervous, though she couldn’t explain why.

Eren set the stethoscope down.
“Everything sounds normal,” he said with a faint smile.
Mikasa nodded, then surprised even herself with her next question.
“Can I try on you?”

He blinked, caught off guard—but then nodded.
“Go ahead.”

Mikasa put the earpieces back in and pressed the diaphragm to his chest. She listened carefully—the sound was strong, rhythmic, alive.
“All good,” she said finally, handing it back. “Thanks for the experience.”

She poured herself a glass of water, took a sip, and wished him goodnight before heading upstairs. Her pulse was still a little fast.

Eren stood where she’d left him. Only when he heard her door click shut did he let out the breath he’d been holding.
If she had listened just a few seconds longer, she would have realized—his heartbeat had been racing just as wildly as hers.

Chapter Text

Mikasa woke up before dawn on Saturday. She hadn’t been able to sleep all night; the excitement of going to the beach had kept her wide awake. She had prepared her camera the night before, along with a few extra things, all neatly arranged on the chair.

However, her good mood crumbled the moment she came downstairs for breakfast. At the table sat her grandmother, holding a steaming cup of coffee, looking far too calm for the kind of news she delivered as soon as she saw her.

“How come you’re going to lunch with your friends and Eren?” Mikasa asked, unable to hide her dismay. “I thought you said you were going alone.”

Kiyomi took one last sip of her coffee before standing up, perfectly composed.
“Yes, I know. But last night, before I went to bed, I thought it was about time to introduce Eren to some of my friends. And what better occasion than this?” she said with a satisfied smile.

Mikasa blinked several times, unsure of what irritated her more—her grandmother changing plans without warning, breaking her word, or picturing half her friends whispering about her dating a man far younger than she was.

“Does Eren even know about this?” she asked tensely.
“Of course. I mentioned it to him earlier, and he didn’t seem to mind. But don’t be upset, dear—you can always go to the beach another day… or maybe go with a friend instead. Doesn’t that sound like a better idea?”

Mikasa drew a long breath, trying to contain the anger rising in her chest.
“Don’t worry about it, Grandma. It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said finally, turning away.

At the doorway, she paused for a second and added, without looking back:
“Have fun.”

She climbed the stairs heavily, went into her room, and slammed the door shut. Her grandmother would never understand why she was so upset. She’d probably think Mikasa was taking it too seriously—but the truth was different. She felt disappointed, hurt, even betrayed. Eren hadn’t kept his word, and she had let herself hope for too much.

Unable to hold it in, she dropped face-first onto the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and let out a muffled scream that barely broke the silence of the room.

Whenever Mikasa felt angry or disappointed, she had a ritual that rarely failed: a long bath with something soothing in the water. She especially liked coconut and cinnamon or vanilla scents. That morning was no exception.

She stayed in the tub for a long time, letting the steam clear her head, her eyes half-closed as her body slowly relaxed. The warmth made her drowsy, and before she knew it, she had drifted off.

She didn’t hear the soft knocks on the door, nor the voice that called her name a couple of times. Eventually, the person outside gave up.

“Ready, dear?” Kiyomi asked from the living room. She had called for a private car and now waited with Eren for it to arrive.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, loosening his tie. He hated formal suits—and this one, a three-piece outfit that had arrived barely an hour earlier courtesy of Kiyomi, felt especially uncomfortable.

When she’d knocked on his door earlier that morning, he’d known something unexpected was coming. And, as always, he hadn’t been able to say no.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He’d been looking forward to going to the beach with Mikasa all week, until that little change of plans ruined everything. He’d even knocked on her door to talk, maybe reschedule—but got no answer. In the end, he figured it was best to give her space.

“So, how do I look?” Kiyomi’s voice snapped him back.

Eren looked up. She was impeccably dressed in a long-sleeved navy-blue dress—simple yet elegant—and it complemented her natural poise. Her hair was pulled back, showing her neck and pearl earrings. She looked even younger that way.

“Not bad,” he said with a smile, offering his hand and making her spin lightly. “You look stunning.”

“And you’re just as handsome,” she replied, fixing his lapels. “I’ll be the envy of all my friends.”

Eren chuckled. He couldn’t deny that the thought slightly flattered his ego. Just then, the car horn sounded outside.

“Well then, my lady,” he said gallantly, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
“Delighted,” she replied, looping her arm through his.

The rest of the morning, Mikasa wandered aimlessly around the house. For a moment, she thought about going to the beach alone but dismissed the idea almost immediately.

By lunchtime, she decided she at least deserved a treat. She was tired of instant noodles and the gloomy mood that had followed her all morning, so she ordered herself something indulgent: steak with sautéed potatoes and red wine sauce.

I’ll have my own fancy lunch, she thought, even if it’s just me.

After eating and tidying up the kitchen, she collapsed on the living room sofa. As always, Levi jumped onto her lap, and she welcomed him with a gentle stroke. At least she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Well, Levi, what do you feel like watching today?” she murmured, scrolling through the endless list of shows and movies.

She settled on a light comedy—something that didn’t require much thinking.

An hour later, sleep began to take over. She turned off the TV, scooped Levi into her arms, and headed to her room. Within minutes, she was asleep again, the cat curled beside her as the soft afternoon light filtered through the window.

Eren tapped his foot impatiently under the table. From the moment they’d arrived, the luncheon had felt endless. This wasn’t his scene. He could smile and be polite for a while—but not forever.

When they first walked into the restaurant, Kiyomi’s friends had greeted them with a mix of surprise and admiration. There were curious glances, a few thinly veiled questions—but thankfully, Kiyomi handled them all. All he had to do was play the part of the charming companion.

“So, where on earth did you find this handsome man?” one of the women asked, her wedding ring gleaming under the light.

“I didn’t find him,” Kiyomi replied with a playful laugh. “We found each other.”

She turned to look at Eren, and he returned her smile effortlessly.

He could tell the women were exchanging skeptical looks, though they hid it well. He couldn’t blame them—any outsider would’ve thought the whole thing was a bad joke.

“I guess you could say she’s had me captivated since the first time I saw her,” Eren added with a small, charming grin.

“Well, I hope it works out for you two,” another woman said, her tone just a touch ironic. “Let’s drink to that.”

Glasses clinked. Kiyomi basked in the attention.

As the hours dragged on, Eren felt his patience slipping. The food and wine were excellent, sure—but his mind was elsewhere. For the past twenty minutes, he’d been turning over the same idea.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?” Kiyomi asked, noticing his distraction.

Eren looked up and forced a polite smile.
“Yeah. Just a bit of a headache.”

She reached over and brushed a hand through his hair.
“I don’t like seeing you like this. Is there anything I can do?”

“It’s nothing,” he said gently, averting his eyes. “It’s just been… a lot. But don’t get me wrong—I’ve enjoyed it.”

Kiyomi smiled, pleased.
“So have I,” she sighed. “We were actually talking about heading over to one of their houses afterward to keep chatting in a more private setting. So, if you’d rather head home, I don’t see a problem.”

“You sure?” he asked—his voice sounding far more hopeful than concerned.
“Of course. Go ahead.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Eren stood, offered his polite farewells, and stepped out.

The moment he crossed the restaurant’s door, he exhaled deeply, loosening the suffocating tie before pulling it off completely. That suit had felt like a prison.

He checked the time—if he hurried, he could still make it. Fortunately, he had access to Kiyomi’s private car.

Mikasa was fast asleep again when someone gently shook her shoulder—first softly, then a bit more firmly.

It took her several seconds to react. Her hair was a mess, half covering her face. When she finally opened her eyes and sat up, the first thing she saw was Eren standing in front of her.

“Eren?” she mumbled, still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes.
“In the flesh,” he replied with a teasing grin.

When he got home, he’d immediately changed clothes, then gone straight to her door. When she didn’t answer, he’d taken the liberty of walking in. He’d found her asleep, Levi curled up at her feet.

“What are you doing here? Where’s my grandmother?” she asked, her voice raspy.
“She decided to stay longer with her friends,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “That wasn’t really my scene, so I came back. Anyway—no time to waste. Let’s go before it gets too late.”

Mikasa frowned, confused.
“Go where?”
“To the beach.”

That woke her up instantly.
“The beach? Now? Are you drunk?”
He laughed. “No. It’s barely five, and it’s less than an hour away. We’ll make it in time to see the sunset. You can take some good photos.”

Before she could protest, he was already walking out.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs,” he called from the hallway. “Don’t take too long.”

By the time they reached the beach, the sun was already dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in orange, pink, and red hues that melted over the water.

Mikasa got off the bike, removed her helmet, and stood still for a moment, staring at the scene before her. It had been so long since she’d seen the ocean that it almost didn’t feel real.

“It’s breathtaking,” she whispered.
“Thanks,” Eren said with a teasing smile.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a light punch on the arm.
“I meant the sea.”
“Ouch! Was that really necessary?” he laughed.

Mikasa chuckled. That morning, she had been angry and disappointed—but now, with the cool breeze on her face and the sound of the waves all around them, it all felt far away.

She took out her camera and began snapping photos from different angles, capturing every second of the sunset. The golden light reflected off the water, giving everything an almost magical glow.

There were only a few people around: some kids playing in the waves, a couple sitting on the sand watching the horizon. Everything felt peaceful, intimate.

“Happy?” Eren asked, watching her.
“Very,” she replied, still looking through the viewfinder. “For a while, I had to settle for seeing the ocean in pictures or videos. Being here now feels… comforting.”

Eren smiled. “We can come again, earlier next time—so you can enjoy it properly.”

She lowered her camera, raising an eyebrow.
“Really? And that includes no last-minute inconveniences?”

He let out a quiet laugh, hands tucked into his pockets.
“I know. I’m sorry. Today was… unexpected. I get why you felt cheated. Kiyomi shouldn’t have made that decision on her own.”

Mikasa looked down. She knew it wasn’t really his fault—but hearing him apologize still softened something inside her.
“It’s fine,” she said at last, gazing back at the sea. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

The wind played with her hair, and the fading sunlight brushed against her face just as she clicked the shutter again.

They stood in silence for a while, listening to the rhythm of the waves.

“My grandmother introduced you to her friends,” Mikasa said quietly. “That can only mean she’s serious about you. Though I can only imagine their reactions.”

Eren burst out laughing, remembering the women’s incredulous looks.
“Yeah, it was kind of funny, I won’t lie. But I got so fed up I had to fake a headache to escape.”

Mikasa tried to stifle her laugh but failed.
“I can totally picture that,” she said. “Let me take a few more shots.”

Eren nodded and watched her move around, chasing the last bits of light. When she was done, she packed the camera and walked back toward him.

He was standing barefoot at the shoreline, hands in his pockets, eyes lost on the wet sand. There was something peaceful about him—so unlike his usual self—that she stopped. Before she could think twice, she raised her camera again and took the shot.

“Will you take one of me?” she asked when she reached him.
“Of course.”

When the sun finally disappeared, they sat on the damp sand, watching the sky fade into shades of violet and deep blue.

“Don’t you want to go in?” Eren asked suddenly.
“In?”
“The water,” he said, nodding toward the waves curling near their feet.

Mikasa hesitated.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t bring a change of clothes, and it’s getting late.”
“Just your feet, then?” he insisted with a grin.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. They both took off their shoes and socks, rolled up their pants, and stepped toward the water.

The first wave pulled back before reaching her, but the next one wrapped around her ankles with a cool touch that made her shiver.
“It’s cold,” she laughed. “It’s been ages since I went into the sea.”
“Yeah… but it feels good, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, letting another wave wash over her. For a moment, it was just that—the sea, the wind, and the feeling of being exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Wanna go further?” Eren asked suddenly.
She eyed him warily. “What?”
“I can carry you if you want. I’ll take the hit so you can enjoy the view.”

She laughed, thinking he was joking—but when she saw his face, she realized he wasn’t.
“You’d really do that?”
“Of course.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Alright… but not too deep, okay?”
“Deal.”

Eren crouched down slightly so she could climb onto his back. She hesitated again, then finally did, wrapping her arms carefully around him.
“Just don’t strangle me,” he joked.
“Don’t tempt me,” she replied with a smile.

He began walking slowly into the sea. The waves brushed against them, soaking the lower half of his pants.
“You really don’t mind getting wet?” she asked.
“What’s a little water gonna do to me?” he replied lightly.

He kept going, step by step.
“Hey!” she protested, tightening her grip. “You trying to drown us?”
He laughed. “See? You do want to strangle me.”
“If you take one more step, I just might!” she warned, though her tone was more laughter than anger.

He stopped, still chuckling, the water lapping halfway up his legs. They stood there in silence for a while, listening to the sea.

“Can I ask you something?” she said finally.
“Sure.”
“When did you realize you had a thing for older women?”

Eren blinked, genuinely caught off guard. Of all the things she could’ve asked…
“Wow,” he murmured with a nervous laugh. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

Mikasa smiled, satisfied that she’d surprised him.
“So? Are you going to answer, or pretend you didn’t hear me?”
“Why do you wanna know?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Just curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he said with a half-smile.
“Answer.”
“No.”

She frowned and, without thinking, tightened her hold around his neck. In response, Eren started wading deeper.
“What are you doing?!” she cried as the water rose higher.
“If you’re going to kill me, we might as well both go down,” he teased. “Me, strangled—you, drowned.”
“Eren, stop!” she laughed nervously, hiding her face against his neck. “Fine, I take it back!”

Eren burst out laughing. Mikasa fought the urge to strangle him for real this time.

“Ready to go back?” he asked after a few seconds.
She sighed. “Yeah.”

Carefully, he carried her back to shore. Once he set her down, Mikasa realized her heart was still racing—a strange mix of adrenaline, laughter, and something she didn’t dare name.

“There’s a grill nearby,” Eren said, brushing the sand off his wet pants. “Hungry? We could grab something while I dry off.”
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
“Sure. I’m starving anyway.”
“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go before you change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes but followed. Though she wouldn’t admit it, that bit of craziness was exactly what she’d needed.

“So, how long have you been riding motorcycles?” Mikasa asked as they walked along the sand, each holding a skewer of grilled chicken and peppers they’d bought from a nearby stand.

“Since I was eighteen,” Eren said, taking a bite. “Maria was a gift—from someone very special. My mom. I’ve had her ever since, and she’s never failed me.”

Until now, Mikasa hadn’t shown much curiosity about his personal life, but she had to admit she was intrigued.
“Yeah, well, looks like my grandmother’s taken quite a liking to Maria too,” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Eren looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that a few days ago, when I was leaving a café with my friends, I saw something interesting,” Mikasa replied with deliberate innocence. “A bike that looked a lot like yours went by—and guess who was clinging to the driver like her life depended on it?”

Eren stared blankly for a moment before realizing what she meant.
“She didn’t!”
“She did,” Mikasa confirmed. “I didn’t say anything then because, honestly, I thought I might be hallucinating.”

Eren covered his face, groaning.
“She begged me for a ride. What was I supposed to do? Say no?”
“Yes!” Mikasa said, trying not to laugh.
“Now you’re just being cruel,” he said, shaking his head. “And I was just trying to be nice.”

They both burst out laughing.

For a while, they walked in comfortable silence, listening to the gentle crash of the waves. The air smelled of salt and grilled food, the kind of scent that clings to memories.

When they reached the spot where they’d left the bike, Eren turned to her.
“Hey, Mikasa,” he said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
She met his gaze, and for a second, something flickered between them.
“Thanks for not giving up,” she said softly.

Eren smiled. “I told you—we’d make it before sunset.”
She returned the smile. “Barely.”

They both laughed again before putting on their helmets.

As they rode back home, the cool night wind whipped against their faces. Mikasa held onto him tightly—not because of fear, but because, for once, it felt right.

Chapter Text

“So, what’s got you so restless?” Annie asked, swiveling gently in the chair at her desk.

“I don’t even know how to explain it… I’m confused,” Mikasa replied, her gaze lost in the void.

They were both waiting for the rest of the group to arrive so they could continue their coursework. Over time, they had grown fairly close; Mikasa found it easy to trust Annie—perhaps because she always managed to find the right words to help her organize her thoughts.

“You could start from the beginning,” Annie suggested calmly.

Mikasa sighed. She had arrived early at Annie’s house, unable to stop thinking about something that had happened barely an hour ago.

“Do you know how to do CPR?” she asked suddenly, making Annie frown.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it,” Mikasa muttered, lowering her eyes.

Over the past two months, a lot had changed. She no longer felt that same rejection toward Eren; on the contrary, it had become routine that after ten at night, once her grandmother was asleep, she would sneak into his room to learn about medicine, and he never hesitated to explain everything with patience. They also shared a few secrets now—like the one about the beach, which they had sworn to keep between them.

That same morning, when she came back from class, she found him in the living room. He was recording a video with his phone mounted on a tripod while Dot Bones lay sprawled across the gray carpet. Eren was kneeling beside the skeleton, fully focused, not noticing that Mikasa was watching him from the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” she called out. “Didn’t know you had a skeleton fetish.” She pointed at Dot Bones, then at the camera.

Eren laughed and stood up.
“It’s not what you think—there’s nothing going on between Dot and me,” he joked.

Mikasa dropped her backpack on the couch and fanned her face; the heat was unbearable that afternoon.
“So what on earth are you doing?”

“I’m recording a video for extra credit. I signed up for a first-aid workshop and have to submit an audiovisual project on the procedures. I was just practicing CPR.” He gestured to the phone and the skeleton.

“Right… well, I don’t think even the best technique could bring Dot Bones back to life,” she said sarcastically.

Eren glanced at the skeleton, then back at her, pretending to think.
“Maybe not. But… would you like to help me?”

“Help you? How?”

Without answering, Eren moved the skeleton aside and patted the spot it had occupied.
“By taking his place. Right here.”

Mikasa arched an eyebrow, hesitating.
“I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll take five minutes at most,” he urged. “I have to submit this tomorrow, and you might even learn something useful.”

She pretended to think about it, though the idea of trying a medical technique was tempting.
“Fine, you win,” she said, kneeling on the carpet. “What do I do now?”

Eren smiled, clearly pleased.
“Nothing complicated,” he said as he moved closer. “Just… don’t move.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He nodded calmly.
“I just need you to stay still, lying on your back.” He patted the carpet. “Imagine you’ve just gone into cardiac arrest. I have to demonstrate how to perform CPR properly.”

Mikasa nodded in understanding.
“All right.”

“When I start pressing on your chest, don’t move. It’ll be quick.”

“I got it,” she said, lying back in the position he indicated, hands at her sides.

“I’m starting the recording. Stay perfectly still.”

“Still as Dot Bones. Got it,” she teased lightly.

“Mikasa,” he scolded, and she made a gesture of zipping her lips.

Eren adjusted the camera, checked the angle, and started recording. Mikasa closed her eyes, listening as his voice grew clear and professional—explaining each step of the procedure: checking for vital signs, turning the body if necessary, verifying the pulse. She felt his fingers on her neck, pressing lightly against her carotid artery.

Then came the compressions—firm but careful. Eren made sure not to cause her discomfort. Mikasa counted them silently—one, two, three… thirty—while listening to the steady rhythm of his voice.

“After the compressions,” he explained, “you need to open the airway by tilting the head back and lifting the chin…”

She barely had time to process that before she felt him gently guide her head into position.

“And finally, the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

Mikasa’s eyes flew open, and she found him only inches away. On instinct, she pushed him back.
“Wait! What are you doing?!” she exclaimed, blushing furiously.

Eren straightened immediately, his tone calm and serious.
“It’s part of the procedure. Mouth-to-mouth is a standard component of CPR.”

Mikasa swallowed, trying to regain her composure. The situation had caught her completely off guard.
“Tell me something… did you do the same thing with Dot Bones?” she asked, glancing at the skeleton slumped in a corner.

“Yeah—but he didn’t complain,” Eren joked, raising an eyebrow. Noticing the discomfort on her face, he softened his tone. “Hey, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. You’ve already helped plenty.”

She fanned herself again, unsure if the heat she felt came from the weather or the tension hanging in the air.

“Seriously, Mikasa,” Eren insisted. “You don’t have to feel pressured.”

She shook her head. She knew there was no bad intention behind it—it was just practice, something that might even prove useful someday.

“It’s fine,” she said finally, lying back down on the carpet. “But make it quick.”

Eren blinked, surprised.
“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, eyes closed. “Before I change my mind.”

He nodded and resumed his professional tone.
“Mouth-to-mouth should be performed by gently pinching the nose and exhaling slowly until the chest rises. Then, repeat the process…”

Mikasa felt him lightly pinch her nose before his lips met hers. The contact was brief, but to her, it felt like an eternity. When she opened her eyes, he had already pulled back and was offering her his hand to help her sit up.

“That’s all. Thanks for your help,” he said calmly.

“It was nothing,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. Her heart was still pounding. She quickly grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

“Leaving already? You just got here.”

“What?” she asked, realizing she was already at the door, hand on the knob. Feeling incredibly foolish, she stammered, “Ah… yeah, I’ve got group work. I’m going to a classmate’s house. I’ll be back later.”

That was how she ended up at Annie’s place, still slightly flustered. Thankfully, her classmate didn’t press her and let her in without questions. Once in the room, Mikasa sighed and finished her story.

“…and that’s everything that happened with Eren.” She fell back onto the bed, more exhausted by confusion than by heat. “What do you think?”

Annie stayed silent for a few moments, processing everything Mikasa had just told her.
“I think you’re making a bigger deal of it than it is,” she finally said. “He told you himself—mouth-to-mouth is part of CPR. So what’s the problem?”

Mikasa looked down, struggling to put her turmoil into words. Ever since that moment, every time she remembered how close Eren had been, a strange shiver ran down her spine.

“Unless…” Annie added, one eyebrow arched, “there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“No! Of course not!” Mikasa denied instantly. “You’re right, I’m probably overthinking it. Thanks for being the voice of reason.”

Annie studied her for a few more seconds, as if trying to read her mind, then sighed softly.
“Whenever you say so,” she muttered with a shrug. The doorbell rang, interrupting the conversation. “Looks like the others are here.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a mix of laughter, complaints, and homework. Mikasa kept her distance from Pieck, though she seemed less arrogant than before. What did catch Mikasa’s attention was how much Pieck and Jean laughed together.

Around eight, she walked home with Marco, who insisted on accompanying her. He was so kind and calm that the conversation felt light, almost comforting.

“Good thing you’re here,” her grandmother greeted as Mikasa stepped inside. “We’re about to have dinner—come join us.”

Mikasa took a quick look around the living room. The skeleton was gone; everything looked neat and normal, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Thanks, Grandma, but I already ate at a friend’s house,” she replied before heading upstairs, eager to put the day behind her—though deep down, she knew she couldn’t get that moment with Eren out of her mind.

Near midnight, Eren finished taking some notes and looked at Erwin, his hamster, running tirelessly on the wheel. So focused, so oblivious to the world.

“Keep that up and you’ll break it again,” he said with a smile. “That’s the third one I’ve bought you—and you’re still just as chubby.”

The sound of a text pulled him from his thoughts. It was Armin:
“This weekend I’m hosting a pool party at my place. Put the books down for a while and have some fun.”

Eren rolled his eyes, amused. Armin always found a way to drag him out of his routine. Lately, he’d been so focused on his classes that he barely went out—and the last time he’d had a drink was that night in the attic… the night he’d saved Mikasa from Floch.

Academically, things were going well. He had already finished editing the CPR video he had to submit the next day, so he replied briefly:
“Sure, I’ll go.”

Meanwhile, in the room across the hall, Mikasa was checking her phone when a message from Sasha lit up the screen:
“Guess what? This weekend Armin—you know, Connie’s friend—is throwing a pool party at his house! He said we can come too!”

Mikasa slowly sat up in bed. She hesitated for a few seconds. Her last exams hadn’t gone great, and she knew she should study—but she really didn’t feel like it.

With a sigh, she typed back:
“Yeah, why not? I don’t have any other plans.”

Chapter Text

Early Saturday morning, Mikasa was already at Sasha’s house. They had agreed to go together that afternoon to Armin’s get-together.

Before leaving, she’d told her grandmother she’d be spending the day with her best friend. She didn’t dare mention the word party—much less that it would be at Eren’s friend’s house; she preferred to save herself the lecture. As for whether he’d be there, she didn’t know—but something told her she’d find out soon enough.

“Connie’s on his way to pick us up,” Sasha announced with her usual excitement.

Mikasa nodded distractedly, biting her pinky nail.

“It’s been forever since we went to a pool party,” Sasha said, smiling. “You think there’ll be as many people as last time?”

“No idea,” Mikasa replied. “Guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

A few minutes later, Connie’s car stopped in front of the house. The two girls climbed in, and with music playing and laughter filling the car, they set off toward Armin’s place—without the slightest idea of what the afternoon had in store.

But when they arrived, the three of them were surprised to find only two people there: Armin and a blonde girl they didn’t recognize.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” Armin greeted them with his usual smile. “I’d like you to meet my cousin, Historia.”

The young woman—short, blue-eyed, and with a warm smile—greeted them politely.
“Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Historia just moved here and started her psychology degree,” Armin explained. “Since she doesn’t know many people yet, I thought this would be a good chance to meet some.”

Historia chuckled softly.
“I’m not as antisocial as he makes it sound—it just takes me a while to meet new people.”

“In that case, you’re a lot like Mikasa,” Sasha teased. “She’s not exactly a social butterfly either.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Mikasa shot back, crossing her arms—but before she could continue, the doorbell rang.

“Excuse me a moment.” Armin hurried to answer it. “Hey, you made it! Come in, the others are here already.”

Two figures stepped through the doorway: a man and a woman. The man paused briefly on the threshold, and Mikasa met his gaze—not surprised, but tense.

“This is my best friend, Eren,” Armin said, looking toward Historia, Sasha, and Connie. “And she’s… actually, I don’t know.”

“Her name’s Ymir,” Eren interjected. “She’s a classmate of mine.”

Mikasa took in the newcomer: tall, short hair tied back in a ponytail, freckles scattered across a sharp face. She greeted the group confidently, her piercing stare contrasting with the laid-back atmosphere of the gathering—making it clear she wasn’t easily intimidated.

Sasha leaned toward Mikasa and whispered,
“Isn’t that the guy you told me about? The one from the party—and that time in the parking lot?”

“Yeah, the same one,” Mikasa replied, eyes still fixed on Eren.

She didn’t know why, but the presence of that “classmate” left her oddly unsettled. Still, she decided not to overthink it and just enjoy the day.

“Well, looks like we’re all here,” Armin said brightly. “Let’s head out back.”

A while later, everyone was in their swimsuits, laughing by the pool. Mikasa and Eren, however, remained sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water, watching the others splash around.

“I didn’t know Armin invited you too,” Eren said casually.

“Liar,” Mikasa replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not. And considering you told Kiyomi you’d spend the day with your friend, I didn’t expect you here either.”

Mikasa sighed, letting her feet sway in the cool water.
“I didn’t tell her the whole truth. If I’d mentioned your name, she would’ve jumped to conclusions… I just wanted to avoid that.”

“What kind of conclusions?” he asked with a restrained smile.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually this dense—or if you just pretend to be,” Mikasa muttered, squinting at him.

Eren was about to reply, but Connie shouted from the pool,
“Hey! Are you two planning to sit there all day? Get in already!”

They exchanged a glance before giving in and jumping into the water.

Mikasa wore a black two-piece with white stripes. The high-waisted design made her feel both comfortable and confident—though she couldn’t ignore the way Eren’s gaze lingered briefly as she adjusted her hair.

“How about a game?” Armin suggested from the edge, hoping to ease the tension.

“I’ve got one,” Connie said eagerly. “Teams of two: one carries their partner on their shoulders, and whoever knocks the other team into the water wins.”

“Sounds fun,” Historia said, clearly excited. “I played that ages ago.”

“Only problem,” Sasha pointed out, “there are seven of us.”

“Don’t worry,” Armin said. “I’ll be the referee—and DJ.”

As Cake by the Ocean played in the background, Armin gave the signal. The first round would be Connie and Sasha versus Eren and Mikasa.

“Ready?” he called out, standing beside Ymir and Historia. “Let the games begin!”

Connie and Eren held the girls steady on their shoulders. At first, both hesitated to attack—pushing each other only lightly, laughing nervously.

“Hey, Sasha,” Connie chimed in, “if you’ve ever wanted payback on Mikasa, now’s your chance!”

Sasha burst out laughing.
“Not a bad idea. I still remember two years ago when I begged you to come on that double date with those twins and you totally ditched me. Do you know how awkward that was?” she said, giving Mikasa a firmer shove.

“I already apologized for that ages ago!” Mikasa protested.

Eren couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hey, Mikasa—don’t you have any dirt on Sasha to even the score?”

She thought for a second, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes.
“Actually, yeah,” she said—and pushed Sasha hard. “That time you stole my homework, erased my name, and wrote yours instead.”

The shove was strong enough to make Connie lose balance, and both fell into the water with a huge splash.

Laughter erupted around them.

“Guess you were holding a grudge,” Eren teased as Mikasa climbed off his shoulders.

“I wasn’t,” she said, shrugging. “Just playing fair. Besides, I hate losing.”

“Connie, you gonna carry Historia or Ymir next?” Armin asked, watching the splashes.

“No need for that,” Ymir cut in with a smirk. “I’ll be the one carrying Historia.”

The blonde looked startled, a little shy, then nodded in agreement.

“Perfect,” Armin announced. “They’ll face off against Mikasa and Eren again—since those two won the last round.”

Eren leaned toward Mikasa, murmuring,
“Any chance you’ve got a friend you could invite? Even out the teams a bit so Armin doesn’t get left out?”

Mikasa gave him a skeptical look, then turned toward Armin.
“I thought you brought your friend Ymir for that.”

Eren chuckled softly.
“No, Ymir’s got other priorities.” His gaze flicked toward her and Historia, who were laughing as Historia climbed onto her shoulders. “You’ll see what I mean later.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but suddenly thought of something.
“I might know someone… though I’m not sure she’ll come. Would Armin mind? It is his house.”

“Not at all. Armin never complains when it comes to more guests,” Eren said easily.

“All right, I’ll try to convince her.”

Mikasa climbed out of the pool, grabbed her phone, and quickly sent a message. It didn’t take long to get a reply. Annie hesitated, as always—but after a bit of persuasion, she finally agreed.

Mikasa smiled faintly and put the phone away.
“She said she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

Exactly twenty minutes later, just as Eren and Mikasa were losing narrowly to Ymir and Historia, the doorbell rang.

It was Annie.

Mikasa went to greet her, tying a sarong over her swimsuit.
“There aren’t many people—just a few friends,” she assured her with a smile. “Relax, it’s pretty chill.”

Annie nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. After changing into a light blue swimsuit, Mikasa led her back to the backyard.

“Hey, everyone,” she called from the doorway. “I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Annie.”

Everyone turned from the pool and waved.

“Hi,” Annie said with a polite nod before letting herself be coaxed into joining the water.

Armin, ever the host, approached her with a friendly smile and a cold soda can.
“Want a drink?”

“Thanks,” she replied, accepting it.

From across the pool, Eren and Mikasa exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance.

“Hey,” Sasha whispered, leaning toward Mikasa, “you didn’t tell me you were inviting your friend.”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Mikasa shrugged. “She might look serious, but she’s good company, promise.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes, then glanced at Annie.
“If you say so…”

“All right, should we keep playing?” Connie called out cheerfully, splashing water. “Your turn now, Armin!”

Armin’s eyes widened.
“Me?”

“Exactly,” Eren said with a teasing grin.

Annie looked hesitant too, but with everyone cheering, she finally agreed. She climbed onto Armin’s shoulders a bit clumsily, and he froze, barely moving.

“You good there?” Eren asked, amused.

Armin cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah… all good.”

“So, Annie,” Ymir chimed in with her trademark half-smile, “who do you want to face?”

The blonde scanned the group. She only really knew one person.
“Mikasa.”

“Mikasa and Eren—the crowd favorites,” Connie joked. “Perfect!”

Annie raised an eyebrow at Mikasa, who quickly shook her head and waved her hands in a silent don’t you dare. Then she climbed back onto Eren’s shoulders, trying to look relaxed—a gesture Sasha didn’t miss.

“Let the duel begin!” Connie shouted enthusiastically.

The air filled with laughter and music. In the center of the pool, Mikasa and Annie locked eyes for a moment, as if measuring each other’s strength—or perhaps something else.

The water rippled around them as they lunged at each other, while the rest cheered, eager to see which pair would win.

“Pizza’s here!” Armin called out as he entered the living room, carrying several boxes.

It was nearly seven in the evening; everyone was dry, dressed, and visibly relaxed after hours in the pool.

“Finally! I was starving,” Sasha declared, jumping off the couch.

Between laughter and scattered chatter, they sat on the floor around the coffee table. Armin opened a box, and the smell of melted cheese and oregano filled the air.

They ate between jokes, small stories, and random comments. When the boxes were empty, Armin set them aside and replaced them with bottles of alcohol, sodas, and plastic cups.

“So, Armin,” Ymir asked as she poured herself a rum and coke, “what’s it like having a whole house to yourself?”

Armin sighed, leaning against the couch, spinning his cup between his fingers.
“Not bad, honestly. I used to live in Trost—same as Eren—but when my grandfather passed away, he left me this place. Perks of being the only grandchild. So I moved in when I started university.”

“I’d love to inherit something someday,” Sasha mused, taking a sip of her drink.

“You can have all my stuff when I die,” Connie joked, earning a light smack on the arm.

“Don’t joke like that. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

Laughter filled the room—but some exchanged knowing glances. It was obvious Connie didn’t see Sasha just as a friend. Mikasa noticed too, and made a mental note to talk to her later.

“And you, Mikasa?” Historia asked with a warm smile. “How’s life treating you lately?”

Mikasa turned her cup slowly in her hands, thinking.
“Can’t complain. Could be worse,” she said finally, crossing her legs and resting her cheek on her hand. “Lately my life’s like Tetris—I’m just fitting the pieces as they fall.”

Everyone laughed, except Eren, Annie, and Armin, who caught the real meaning behind her words.

“Then let’s make a toast,” Ymir said, raising her glass. “To this shitty life—may it get better soon.”

They all laughed and clinked their cups before downing their drinks.

Music played softly from a speaker, and conversation flowed easily, full of giggles and half-drunken confessions. An hour later, the alcohol had done its work—voices louder, gestures looser.

“Hey,” Ymir said, raising a hand with a mischievous grin. “Let’s play something.”

Everyone looked at her curiously.

“How about Never Have I Ever?”

“I’m not making it out of this alive,” Connie laughed—the most enthusiastic drinker of them all.

They all sat cross-legged in a circle on the rug, filling their cups halfway. Ymir, grinning wickedly, went first.

“Never have I ever kissed a stranger.”

“Starting strong,” Annie chuckled; by then, the alcohol had softened her tone.

Several people drank—except Armin, Historia, and Mikasa. The room filled with laughter and teasing remarks.

When the next round came, they refilled their glasses. This time, Historia spoke up.
“Never have I ever sent nudes to anyone.”

Only Mikasa and Armin didn’t drink. The rest shared guilty smiles and nervous coughs.

Armin, looking sly, decided to stir things up.
“Never have I ever felt attracted to someone in this group.”

The silence that followed was short—but heavy. Several people laughed nervously before taking a sip. Only Sasha didn’t. Mikasa, distracted, raised her glass and drank without thinking—only realizing what she’d done once the glass was empty.

“This just got interesting,” Sasha murmured, eyeing everyone with curiosity.

Then came Annie’s turn.
“Never have I ever wanted to kiss someone in this group,” she said—her tone neutral, her gaze daring.

Once again, everyone drank… except Sasha. Mikasa felt heat rush to her face and avoided looking in Eren’s direction.

Finally, it was her turn.
“Never have I ever dated a rich old lady,” she said, laughing—her brain-to-mouth filter starting to fail.

“What kind of question is that?” Connie snorted. “Though honestly, that’s going on my bucket list.”

Everyone burst out laughing, but out of the corner of her eye, Mikasa caught Eren’s disapproving look. She shrugged and smiled, pretending not to notice.

Then Eren spoke, his voice low and deliberate.
“Never have I ever worn a white cat onesie.”

Mikasa nearly choked on her drink. Her favorite pajamas.

“I think Eren and Mikasa are already drunk,” Connie pointed out. “They’re starting to talk nonsense.”

“What a coincidence,” Sasha said absently. “Mikasa has pajamas exactly like that.”

Laughter erupted again, while Eren and Mikasa sat frozen, exchanging awkward looks.

“That was way too specific,” Historia teased, smiling knowingly at both.

Eren raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Before this gets any weirder, let’s switch games,” he suggested with a crooked grin. “How about Truth or Dare?”

Mikasa tightened her grip on her cup. If she kept drinking at this pace, she was bound to reveal more than one secret.

So she silently promised herself—next round, she’d be very careful.

Chapter Text

Everyone leaned closer into the circle, bringing their empty glasses to the center. Then, one by one, they stacked their hands into a messy pile.

“The person who lands on the number will decide the truth or dare,” Eren explained with a sly grin. “I’ll start. Number fourteen.”

They began pulling their hands away in rhythm with the count. Each number built the tension until fourteen landed—much to everyone’s surprise—on Armin.

“Well, Armin,” Eren said, resting his elbows on his knees and eyeing him with a mischievous glint, “truth or dare?”

The blond laughed with that mix of nerves and euphoria only alcohol could bring.
“Dare,” he declared firmly, crossing his arms.

“Sure about that?” Eren raised a brow.
“I’m ready for anything,” Armin shot back, sounding confident enough to convince even himself.

Eren gave him a slow once-over. He could tell his friend had gone past the point of calm into reckless bravery—something that always happened when Armin drank too much. Then again, Eren wasn’t exactly sober either.

“Then I dare you…” Eren began, letting the pause stretch just enough to build tension, “…to pick anyone here and go into that little room over there.” He pointed his thumb toward a half-open door at the foot of the stairs. “You can talk, not talk, do whatever you want… for five minutes.”

A murmur rippled through the group. Some widened their eyes; others stifled giggles.
“Well, that was straight to the point,” Ymir said, grinning wickedly.

Armin thought for a few seconds, scratching the back of his head, his cheeks bright red. He finished the last drop in his glass, set it down, and stood up.

Without a word, he turned toward Annie. She looked at him, confused, until he offered her his hand.

A brief, charged silence followed. Annie blushed at the gesture but eventually took his hand. Armin gave a gentle tug to help her up.

“Now this is getting good,” Connie whispered, barely hiding his grin.

The two of them walked toward the room, laughing softly under everyone’s curious gazes. When the door closed behind them, silence filled the space.

For several minutes, no one spoke; only the ticking of the wall clock and the distant hum of the fridge broke the quiet.

“Damn, I wish I had that guy’s guts,” Connie finally muttered, turning to Sasha—only to find her smiling dreamily at her phone, thumbs flying across the screen.

“Looks like Annie’s leaving with a boyfriend while I’m just leaving drunk,” Mikasa joked, peering into her glass with amused resignation.

“They’ve got two minutes left,” Ymir announced loudly, clearly taking her timekeeper role very seriously.

“I’d love to know what they’re doing in there,” Historia whispered to her, leaning in. “My cousin’s always been introverted… I guess it runs in the family.”

Ymir shifted on the couch, propping her head on one hand.
“Shy people have their charm,” she said in a low, husky tone, her smile teasing.

Historia looked down, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks.

Across the room, Mikasa watched Eren curiously.
“Why’d you give him that dare?”

Eren downed the rest of his drink and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“To be honest, I didn’t think he’d actually do it,” he chuckled. “But you can’t tell me those two haven’t been eyeing each other all night.”

Mikasa thought for a moment, then nodded. He was right—there’d been a connection between Armin and Annie from the start, even if neither would admit it.

When Ymir loudly announced that time was up—making sure the couple could hear—everyone turned toward the door.

It opened slowly, and out stepped Armin and Annie… holding hands.

The flush on their faces said it all.

The silence broke almost immediately, replaced by giggles and knowing murmurs.

Annie looked away, embarrassed, while Armin—red as ever—sat down as if nothing had happened.
“Well, shall we keep going?” Sasha said, unable to hide her grin. “My turn.”

Everyone stacked their hands in the center again, waiting for her to pick a number.
“Hmm… I’ll go with number nine.”

Hands withdrew one by one until the turn landed on Ymir.
“Truth or dare?” Sasha asked, amused.

Ymir stood up slowly, smiling in that way that spelled trouble.
“Dare. Though honestly…” She paused, glancing at Historia. “…I don’t really need a dare to make my intentions clear.”

Without hesitation, she turned toward Historia and mimicked Armin’s earlier move—offering her hand.
“Come with me?” she asked with a half-smile.

Historia blushed instantly, giggling nervously before finally accepting. The two of them headed for the same room by the stairs, to the stunned—and entertained—looks of everyone present.

“Correction, that’s courage. Wish I had it,” Connie said, glancing again at Sasha.
“Yeah, I doubt anything like that will ever happen to me,” she laughed, just as her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, read the message, and smiled again—softly this time—before typing back.

Armin and Annie snickered quietly.

“Remember when I told you you’d learn something new about Ymir later?” Eren murmured into Mikasa’s ear, leaning close enough for only her to hear. “Well… there’s your answer.”

Mikasa processed the scene for a moment, then gave him a faint, knowing smile.
“You’re absolutely right.”

After a few more rounds, everyone agreed to call it a night before they ended up spilling secrets they’d regret the next day.

Mikasa had managed to stay relatively sober thanks to her trick of alternating drinks with water—something she’d read online that, so far, seemed to work.

The rest weren’t as lucky: Armin and Annie were curled up together, barely talking; Historia and Ymir whispered close, nearly touching; and Connie had fallen asleep half-slumped against the couch, head tilted.

Mikasa sank down beside Sasha, who still held her phone in her hands.
“So, who were you texting so much earlier?” she asked curiously.
“No one special,” Sasha replied with a sly smile. “Just a classmate—but I’ll tell you the details later.”

Mikasa tilted her head, amused. They definitely had a lot to catch up on.
“If I go home like this, my parents will kill me…” Sasha mumbled, half-asleep already.

Mikasa was about to reply when a phone rang somewhere.
“Not mine,” Armin said from his corner, one arm draped over Annie’s shoulders as she dozed off.

Ymir and Historia didn’t even flinch; they were still whispering like no one else existed.
“It’s mine,” Eren muttered, his voice hoarse and slightly slurred.

He fished the phone from his pocket and frowned at the screen before getting to his feet, steadying himself on the table.
“Everything okay?” Mikasa asked, noticing his unsteady steps.
He nodded without meeting her eyes.
“Yeah… just need to take this. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him step out into the backyard, answering the call. For a second, she wondered if it would end like the last party—when he’d left without a word.

“Hey,” Sasha called, snapping her out of it. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on with you and Eren. I remember you saying you two weren’t close at all, but tonight looked… different.”

Mikasa bit the inside of her cheek, uncertain. How could she explain that things had changed—more than she’d expected—without knowing where to start?
“The same as you,” she sighed softly. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

Sasha was about to answer when a loud splash made them both jump—the unmistakable sound of someone falling into water, coming from the backyard.

Everyone exchanged confused looks, but Mikasa reacted first. She jumped to her feet and ran outside, her heart pounding. Just minutes ago, she’d seen Eren heading that way.

When she got there, she froze for an instant: Eren was thrashing in the pool, struggling to stay afloat.
“Eren!” she shouted, ready to jump in—

—but Armin beat her to it.

He dove in without hesitation, swimming with everything he had until he reached Eren. Wrapping his arms around him from under the ribs, he kept him above water with effort.

Seconds later, everyone else arrived—even Connie, stumbling—but just in time to see Armin dragging Eren toward the edge. Together, they grabbed him by his clothes and arms, hauling him out of the pool and onto the ground, soaking wet and unresponsive.

Mikasa dropped to her knees beside him, trembling, checking for his breathing. Nothing.

A chill ran through her, but she didn’t waste a second. She leaned over him and began chest compressions—just as he’d once taught her.

She interlocked her fingers and pressed hard and steady on his chest.
“Come on, Eren…” she whispered through clenched teeth.

When he didn’t respond, she moved to mouth-to-mouth. Tilting his head back gently, she pinched his nose, sealed her lips over his, and breathed air into his lungs.

She watched his chest rise, repeated, again and again—until finally…

Eren coughed violently, water spilling from his mouth as his eyes shot open.

Mikasa let out a shaky breath, the rush of relief and adrenaline overwhelming her. Only then did she realize her hands were trembling—and that everyone’s voices had turned into distant noise. Her entire world had narrowed to keeping him alive.

“Eren! Are you okay?” Armin asked, kneeling beside him and grabbing his shoulders.

Eren kept coughing, struggling to catch his breath. Mikasa shifted back slightly, still staring at him, her pulse racing.

“Nice reflexes, Mikasa,” Ymir said, her own pulse still high. “I swear, I froze up. Not a good sign for my future as a doctor.” She frowned, then added, “I’m honestly impressed you know first aid—did you teach yourself?”

Mikasa hesitated. Should she say Eren was the one who’d taught her the basics before she’d gone on to learn more herself? In the end, she just nodded.

“You’re amazing, Mikasa,” Historia said sincerely. “I’d have panicked—I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Meanwhile, Armin helped Eren sit up and led him back inside, easing him onto the couch.
“I’m fine, really,” Eren said between ragged breaths, managing a weak smile. “I think the hangover’s gone now.” He gave a faint laugh.

“You should change into something dry. I’ll grab you some clothes,” Armin said, already heading upstairs.

“How the hell did you even fall in, Jaeger?” Ymir asked, arms crossed. “I always knew you were prone to dumb ideas, but this takes the cake.”

Eren snorted.
“I went out to take a call, and when it ended, I was putting my phone away. Guess I got too close to the edge and slipped… last thing I remember is hitting the water.” He sighed, then grimaced. “Which reminds me…”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone—completely soaked and lifeless.
“Well, at least your phone died and not you,” Connie joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Good thing Mikasa saved you, or that story would’ve ended very differently.”

Eren turned to him in surprise, then looked straight at Mikasa, seeking confirmation. She just shrugged, as if it were nothing.

“Brought you some clothes,” Armin said, coming down with a bundle in his hands. “Might be a bit short, though.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Eren said, taking them before heading to the downstairs bathroom to change.

The rest began cleaning up the mess—empty bottles, cans, boxes, glasses scattered everywhere. The tension had finally eased.

A little later, they all agreed it was time to call it a night.

Sasha and Connie left together in his car, laughing sleepily. Ymir and Historia followed, sharing looks that no longer needed explanation. Annie told Mikasa that Armin had offered her a ride home.

In the end, only Eren and Mikasa walked off together toward theirs.

“So, you really were the one who saved me?” Eren asked once they were close to home.
“Yes, I told you already,” Mikasa muttered, adjusting her backpack.
“You actually did CPR?” he pressed, grinning. “Guess I wasn’t such a bad teacher after all.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. After a few seconds, though, a thought struck her: even if it had been an emergency—not a simulation like before—she’d still pressed her lips to his, even if just for a moment.

Eren glanced sideways at her.
“What’s wrong? You got quiet all of a sudden.”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking the thought away. “By the way, Armin’s clothes really don’t fit you,” she added with a half-laugh.

She wasn’t wrong: the sweater’s sleeves stopped short of his wrists, and the pants were barely long enough, but he just shrugged.
“You know,” Eren said after a short silence, “it’s a shame you’re not studying medicine. You’d be great at it.”

Mikasa looked down.
“I wish I were,” she sighed. “But I guess I’ll have to get used to the career I picked.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t keep learning from me,” he replied casually.

She smiled—and for a brief moment, the weight of the day melted away. It was true; ever since Eren had started tutoring her, things had gotten easier. But she also noticed their closeness was growing in ways she hadn’t expected.

She’d even started hiding things from her grandmother… and from her friends.

Still, she convinced herself she could handle it—that nothing was slipping out of control.

“By the way,” she said after a while, changing the subject, “about your phone… maybe you should stick it in rice.”