[ it was pleasant— eren for one can feel weight into his shoulder and can find himself accepting further. he’d enjoyed kaede’s company from the sparring tussles in the grass to the heated rock of their bodies on any surface they’d find at the time. when he looks upon kaede from his height, hovers his head by the top of her’s until his chin touched her hair, he could describe . . . a friendly affection. truly, it did not stray farther than that, he knew in his heart. if anything, his love for her was the same he’d have for jean, connie or sasha: they were friends. with the perk of fucking, from time to time, and eren could appreciate every peak of her then, guarding their intimacy the same way he’d guard his own secrets. with care, with respect, and with fondness. he was not one to look upon the body like many did— eren usually saw nothing special in the curves of hips and ass, the plump or lack of chest and so on. his eyes dove . . . deeper. attracted to the magnetic pull of what was unique to a person.
which was why the dragon is shot cold when asked the question. the question, a similar one that he had once put mikasa on the spot with: what am i to you? it wasn’t eren’s singular experiences that had him picking out the inquiry for what it was, else all hope would be lost. what eren calls upon are the memories of his father, who had had two wives in his lifetime. had children. knew the feeling of a romantic sway and attraction that led to a life together. the closest that he could feel this way to someone was mikasa, and even then . . . there were blockades. he wasn’t capable of giving himself completely. at least, not yet. in the end, it confuses him rather than coming to an unspoken conclusion. why ask that? it should feel obvious when he asks himself, but then . . . it wasn’t. every second his mind would point to something, and point in all damn directions until he didn’t know where to look anymore.
he has an answer, but like hell he’d ever be good at delivery. his scales have gone a curious, deeper bundle of hues now, not bright. his voice, as he brings it up, is leveled, not uneasy or uncertain: ]
I think we’re friends. [ it doesn’t say a third of what he actually felt for her, despite the answer being true. what a fucking barbarian. it also doesn’t breach his thoughts that she could, anyone could, feel more than that for him. it was nigh impossible, and one possibility that did have trouble sitting as one at all. ] Why are you asking?
[ at least he’s gentle about it, and seems willing to speak rather than frightened. ]
no subject
which was why the dragon is shot cold when asked the question. the question, a similar one that he had once put mikasa on the spot with: what am i to you? it wasn’t eren’s singular experiences that had him picking out the inquiry for what it was, else all hope would be lost. what eren calls upon are the memories of his father, who had had two wives in his lifetime. had children. knew the feeling of a romantic sway and attraction that led to a life together. the closest that he could feel this way to someone was mikasa, and even then . . . there were blockades. he wasn’t capable of giving himself completely. at least, not yet. in the end, it confuses him rather than coming to an unspoken conclusion. why ask that? it should feel obvious when he asks himself, but then . . . it wasn’t. every second his mind would point to something, and point in all damn directions until he didn’t know where to look anymore.
he has an answer, but like hell he’d ever be good at delivery. his scales have gone a curious, deeper bundle of hues now, not bright. his voice, as he brings it up, is leveled, not uneasy or uncertain: ]
I think we’re friends. [ it doesn’t say a third of what he actually felt for her, despite the answer being true. what a fucking barbarian. it also doesn’t breach his thoughts that she could, anyone could, feel more than that for him. it was nigh impossible, and one possibility that did have trouble sitting as one at all. ] Why are you asking?
[ at least he’s gentle about it, and seems willing to speak rather than frightened. ]