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The conflict starts long before your mother even reaches your bedroom door.
You hear her voice downstairs first, sharp and loud enough to carry through the entire house while dishes clatter aggressively in the kitchen. The moment your name leaves her mouth, you barely react anymore. Your body doesn’t tense the way it used to.
You’re used to this now, that’s the worst part.
It’s complicated with your mother. One second she’s completely calm, and the next she’s exploding over something meaningless, screaming until your head hurts and your chest feels tight. You could ask something harmless like, “Do you know where the spatulas are?” and somehow it would turn into a full argument.
And so, eventually, you stopped trying.
Now you barely speak unless spoken to and hope for the best that she won’t put her hands on you today.
Sitting at the edge of your bed, you stare blankly at your phone while your wired earbuds rest around your neck. The room is dim except for the orange sunset bleeding weakly through your curtains.
Then suddenly-
Your bedroom door swings open hard enough to slam against the wall.
“There you are.”
Your stomach tightens instantly.
Your mother storms into the room already angry, pacing around while throwing random things around dramatically like she’s cleaning up after some disgusting animal.
“Are you fucking serious?” she snaps. “Who lives like this?”
You glance around numbly.
The room isn’t even dirty. There’s a hoodie on the floor beside your bed and an empty water bottle near your desk, but to her it’s apparently the end of the world.
“I’m tired,” you mumble quietly.
“Tired from what?” she laughs bitterly. “You don’t do shit all day except rot in this room.”
You stay silent.
“You don’t even come downstairs anymore. You act like you hate this family.”
“I wonder why,” you mutter beneath your breath before you can stop yourself.
Silence.
Then her expression changes.
“What did you just say?”
Fuck.
Now she’s louder.
Talking over you, around you, not even waiting for answers anymore. Complaining about your attitude, your grades, the way you dress, the fact you never want guests over anymore. The way you always look miserable whenever relatives visit.
Then eventually, like always, it shifts.
“You know,” she says sharply, eyes dragging over your body, “other girls your age actually take care of themselves instead of starving themselves for attention.”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, your chest twists painfully.
There it is.
Your body.
The one thing she always finds a way to weaponize.
When you were younger she mocked you for being chubby. Compared you to thinner girls. Your friends, your cousins, you name it. Made little comments that stuck in your head for years. Then when you started eating less, suddenly she acted concerned.
Like she had no idea why her child stopped wanting food.
Having enough, you stand up abruptly before she can continue spewing out insults.
“I’m going out.”
“Oh, of course you are,” she scoffs. “Run away again. That’s all you know how to do.”
Your hands shake while shoving your phone into your hoodie pocket.
“Go then!” she yells after you. “Walk around outside all night like you always do!”
You shove your sneakers on and leave. The front door slams behind you hard enough to rattle the windows, and the cold air hits your face instantly.
For a few seconds you just stand there on the front steps breathing unevenly while the sky darkens overhead.
One tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it.
Then another. You wipe angrily at your face with your sleeve.
You hate crying.
Especially over arguments like this, because it never changes anything.
Your nose burns pink from the cold while your eyes sting red beneath dark lashes. You shove your earbuds in quickly before your thoughts can spiral any further.
Still With You by Jungkook fills your ears softly, immediately wrapping around your chest in that familiar aching way it always does. You don't even care for k-pop anymore, but you still keep some nostalgic songs in your playlist for moments like these.
You start walking, and the neighborhood is quiet except for the sound of wind scraping dead leaves across the sidewalk. Your oversized hoodie hangs heavily off your body while strands of dark hair keep falling into your face every time the wind blows.
You don’t notice someone beside you until one of your earbuds suddenly gets tugged out.
“The hell are you doing out here?”
You flinch violently before glaring up-
and immediately see Eren standing there.
Of course it’s Eren.
Tall enough to practically block the streetlight behind him, dark hair messy from the wind, sharp green eyes narrowing the second he properly sees your face.
“You were crying.” he says, not as a question. As if he was full on declaring it.
You immediately snatch the earbud back from him.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You literally were.”
“I literally wasn’t.” you continue to deny.
“Your nose is red.”
“It’s cold outside.”
“And your eyes are too.”
You roll your eyes hard before shoving past him with a quiet, “Shut up.”
Eren falls into step beside you automatically like he always does, and for a while, neither of you speak. Your shoes scrape softly against the pavement while music continues playing faintly through the remaining earbud.
Then quieter this time, he asks,
“Your mom again?”
Your shoulders tense instantly. That alone, said everything he needed to know.
Eren exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening the way it always does whenever he gets angry on your behalf.
“You wanna go to the park?”
You nod silently.
---
The park is empty except for the old swings creaking softly in the wind beneath flickering orange lights. Dead leaves scrape across the pavement while the jungle gym glints silver under the streetlights.
Without really thinking about it, you climb onto the metal bars.
Eren watches from below while you pull yourself higher onto the structure, sneakers slipping slightly against chipped paint. A quiet laugh leaves him at your childish behavior, probably relieved to see you acting even slightly normal again.
But then your hoodie stretches up slightly when you reach for another bar, just enough, for Eren to go completely silent.
You glance down instinctively, confused at first, but then your stomach drops the second you realize what he’s staring at.
Your waist.
The sharp outline of ribs beneath pale skin.
Fuck.
You yank your hoodie down immediately, fingers tightening hard in the fabric while heat rushes to your face, but Eren doesn’t say anything.
Which somehow feels even worse.
The jungle gym creaks softly as he climbs up after you, crouching onto the small platform beside you. His shoulders hunch slightly because the bars overhead are too low for him, green eyes still fixed on you with an expression you can’t even read anymore.
Shock?
Concern?
Anger?
Maybe all three.
You avoid looking at him completely, pretending to untangle your earbud wire even though it’s already straight.
Then suddenly-
His hand wraps around your wrist.
Not rough, just firm enough to stop you from pulling away.
And the second his fingers touch your skin, his eyebrows pull together sharply.
“You’re freezing.”
His voice comes out lower this time.
Not teasing anymore, concerned.
His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist unconsciously, like he’s still trying to process how cold you actually are. The expression on his face makes embarrassment crawl up your throat immediately.
You tug weakly against his grip.
“Eren.” you say, after another failed attempt at getting him to release you.
“What?” he snaps. “You want me to pretend this is normal?”
You look away instantly.
The irritation in his voice should make you defensive, but somehow it doesn’t. Because unlike your mother, Eren’s anger never feels cruel.
It feels protective, and for some reason, that just makes your chest tighten even more.
“You look sick,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your face again. “Like actually sick.”
You let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious.”
His grip loosens slightly when he notices you shrinking into yourself, but he still doesn’t let go completely.
The wind blows through the park again, cold enough to sting your face. Somewhere nearby, the swings creak softly back and forth.
Eren swears quietly under his breath before pulling one hand through his hair aggressively.
“How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know.” you whisper.
“Bullshit.”
You flinch at his harsh tone, and Eren notices immediately.
For a second, guilt flashes across his face before irritation takes over again.
“Sorry,” he mutters roughly. “But don’t give me that answer.”
You stare down at the peeling paint beneath your shoes.
“I just haven’t really been hungry.”
"Don't lie to me." he responds with no hesitation.
"I'm fine, can't you see?" you tried to flash him your best smile, but he could tell it wasn't authentic.
"You look like shit."
"Real comforting, Yeager."
“Oh my god,” Eren scoffs, looking genuinely annoyed now. “Stop focusing on the wrong part.”
His eyebrows pull together hard while his grip tightens around your wrist again.
“You’re freezing cold, your ribs are fucking sticking out, and you look exhausted all the time. The hell do you expect me to say?”
You don’t answer, and silence settles between you two again.
The flickering streetlight above the jungle gym buzzes softly while dead leaves scrape across the pavement below.
Then quieter this time, Eren asks,
“Did she say something to you again?”
Your chest tightens painfully.
And just like that, all the fight drains out of you. You shrug weakly, still refusing to look at him.
That's when Eren clicks his tongue in irritation.
“She did.”
Not a question, a statement.
You swallow hard. “She always says stuff.”
“What stuff?”
You hesitate, then laugh quietly, bitterly.
“Take your pick.”
Eren’s jaw clenches instantly.
“She says I’m lazy.” Your fingers tighten around your hoodie sleeve. “That I’m embarrassing. That I act depressed for attention. That I look disgusting no matter what I wear.”
The words come out weirdly numb now, like you’ve heard them so many times they don’t even sound real anymore.
“She used to make fun of me for being chubby,” you continue quietly. “Then when I stopped eating she suddenly started acting concerned.”
Eren’s expression darkens more with every sentence.
“And now she keeps saying I look sick, but she’s the reason I started hating my body in the first place.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
You shrug again.
“I dunno. After a while I just stopped feeling hungry.”
Eren goes quiet for a second.
Then-
“That’s so fucking stupid.”
Your head snaps toward him immediately.
“Huh?”
His eyes narrow.
“You heard me.”
Anger flares inside your chest instantly.
“Okay, sorry I’m mentally ill, I guess?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Eren exhales sharply through his nose, visibly frustrated that he can’t explain himself properly.
“I’m saying she messed with your head so badly that now you’re the one hurting yourself for her.”
The words hit harder than you expect.
You immediately look away again, because he’s right.
And you hate that he’s right.
“You think starving yourself proves her wrong or something?” he asks, voice quieter now. “Because it doesn’t.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop.”
You laugh weakly.
“Wow. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Your throat tightens painfully.
“You think I wanna feel like this?” you whisper. “I’m exhausted all the time, I swear I can barely function anymore. Half the time I feel dizzy just standing up.”
Eren’s expression changes instantly.
“You feel dizzy?”
Fuck.
You shouldn’t have said that.
“It’s not a big deal, though. Don't worry.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
You groan quietly, rubbing your face with your sleeve.
“Can you not make this dramatic?” you whine, your voice a little muffled because of your sleeve.
“Dramatic?” Eren repeats incredulously. “You’re literally admitting you’ve been starving yourself until you pass out and you want me to act normal?”
“I don't pass out.”
"Yet."
The word hangs heavily between you, and you hate how serious he sounds. Hate how worried he looks.
Because now guilt is twisting painfully in your stomach too.
“I didn’t mean for it to get this bad,” you admit quietly, looking down.
Eren’s face softens slightly, and for a while neither of you speak.
The wind pushes strands of hair into your face while your music still plays faintly through the earbud dangling around your neck.
Then suddenly Eren asks,
“When’s the last time you actually ate something?”
You hesitate a little too long, and his expression immediately hardens again.
“Oh my god.”
“I had coffee earlier.”
“That is not food.” he says, sternly.
“There was milk in it.” you say, sheepishly.
Eren stares at you blankly for a second before dragging a hand down his face.
“You’re actually impossible.”
Despite yourself, a tiny laugh slips out, and the second Eren hears it, his expression softens just slightly.
There it is.
The thing he was trying to get back out of you all night.
Something real. Something alive.
“You’re an idiot,” he mutters quietly.
Then his eyes flick downward toward your hands that are still shaking slightly.
Without saying anything, Eren shrugs off his hoodie.
You blink. “What are you doing?”
“Put this on.” he demands.
“But you’ll freeze, Eren you don't have to-”
“I literally don’t care.”
Before you can argue again, he forces the hoodie on you.
“Stop talking.”
You glare at him as he adjusts it on you, dragging it down the hoodie you were already wearing with ease. His breath hitches a little at the fact that you need two (maybe more?) hoodies to feel warm. If it were up to him, he would keep you warm forever.
The hoodie smells just like him. Clean laundry, cold air, and something annoyingly comforting.
The sleeves are way too long, and warmth immediately starts sinking back into your freezing hands.
Eren watches your expression carefully the entire time, like he’s making sure you actually keep it on.
Then quieter this time, he asks,
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question catches you off guard, and so you stare down at your lap silently.
“I dunno.”
“Yes, you do.”
You swallow hard. “Because it sounds pathetic out loud.”
Eren’s eyebrows pull together instantly.
“You think getting treated like shit every day is pathetic?”
“No.” Your voice drops lower. “I think letting it affect me this badly is.”
For a second Eren just stares at you, but then suddenly he moves closer.
Close enough that his knees bump against yours in the cramped little platform.
“Look at me.”
You hesitate, biting your lip.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, your eyes lift toward his, and his expression is serious now. Completely serious.
“You are not weak for being affected by that,” he says firmly. “Anyone would be messed up after hearing shit like that their entire life.”
Your throat tightens painfully.
“And you need to stop acting like you deserve it.”
The words hit something deep inside your chest.
Because the scary part is-
You do think you deserve it sometimes.
Eren notices the look on your face instantly, and suddenly he looks genuinely angry again.
“Don’t tell me you actually believe her.”
Silence.
“Are you serious?”
You look away quickly.
Eren lets out a sharp breath, leaning back slightly while dragging both hands through his hair.
“That woman pisses me off so bad.”
Despite everything, another weak laugh escapes you. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
He looks at you again, and this time there’s something almost helpless in his expression. Like he genuinely doesn’t know how to fix this for you.
“If I could, I’d drag you outta that house myself,” he mutters.
Your chest aches painfully at the sincerity in his voice.
“You can’t.” you whisper.
“I know.”
The quietness of his answer somehow hurts worse.
For a while the two of you just sit there beneath the flickering park lights, shoulders brushing occasionally whenever the wind blows harder.
Eren watches you silently for a moment before speaking again.
“C’mere.”
Before you can react properly, his arm suddenly wraps around your shoulders, pulling you against him.
Your breath catches instantly. Eren has hugged you before, but never like this.
This feels different. It feels careful. Almost protective.
One hand rests against the back of your head while the other stays firm around your shoulders, holding you close against his chest like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he were to let you go.
“I'm always here, you know that, right?” he mutters quietly.
Your face presses against his chest, and embarrassingly enough, no one has ever comforted you like this before- so your eyes start to burn automatically.
"You're gonna make me cry,” you mumble against his chest.
“I know.” he responds, wholeheartedly wanting you to let it all out.
“I hate crying.”
“I know.”
You laugh weakly through the tears.
Eren’s hand slides gently through your hair once. Then again.
The movement is awkward at first, like he’s not completely used to comforting people this softly, but he keeps doing it anyway. For you, he will do anything.
“You scared the hell outta me tonight,” he admits quietly, and your chest tightens painfully.
“You’re not alone with this shit, okay?” he says firmly. “I don’t care how bad things get. You tell me.”
You don’t answer immediately. You just stay there in his arms beneath the flickering orange park lights while the cold wind blows around the jungle gym.
And for the first time in months-
You don’t feel completely unbearable to exist as.
Because Eren’s holding you like you matter.
Like you’re something worth protecting.
And maybe, for tonight at least-
You almost believe him.