Soft flannel sheets tickled your face, enough to make you stir out of your slumber. You groaned and buried your face deeper in the pillow, but as you did so, you were met with a scent that was not familiar to your bed. It was familiar to . . . oh no. 

Your eyes slammed open and for one horrifying, earth shattering second panic shot through your entire body. You took mental note of your surroundings, seeing dark walls and a desk with half written pieces of paper assignments on it covering a laptop. There was a dresser with clothes hanging out of it and an Acacia flag hanging above it. It was Eren’s room. You had only been in there one time before this, sometime during sophomore year when you two had worked on a partner assignment together. 

That seemed like a lifetime ago now. 

Your head pounded, the feeling of a hangover raining over you as you pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. Sunlight shined slightly through the white blinds of his window, casting lines into the room. Last night began to come back in pieces, remembering the way that Eren tried to get you as drunk as possible during shot for shot, Jean asking to talk with you . . . And what happened with Eren on the dancefloor. 

No. No. No. There was no way that happened. You must be making stuff up in your head. But your body remembered. It remembered the way that his hands felt in between your thighs, kisses pressed against your neck, his voice coaxing you through it on the dancefloor with a bunch of people around who were none the wiser. 

Had he taken you upstairs and sealed the deal? You cringed at the childish thought. But your clothes were still on, and glancing down to the floor, you saw Eren sleeping in a pile of clothing. Your question was answered on how dead he looked clutching onto the floor, a blanket thrown over him with one leg hanging halfway out of it. 

This version of Eren was completely different from the one in your memories. Last night, Eren was confident and impossible to ignore, all brooding looks and all consuming kisses that weren’t supposed to happen. This Eren looked like a little kid who passed out after a long day of swimming in the pool. 

You groaned again from the headache, which apparently woke Eren up. He made a noise somewhere between a curse and a groan, rolling onto his back and seemingly wiping drool off of his mouth. His eyes blinked, staring up at the ceiling. Eren’s hair was messy, sticking out of every which way, shirt halfway on his body and bunched up at his neck. There was a moment of silence before he glanced over at you. 

“Why are you in my bed?” He asked, the roughness of his voice most likely from all the talking and all the shouting from last night. 

You stared at him, blinking, and shook your head. You remembered a bit of what happened after Eren fingered you on the dancefloor, but it was really, really foggy. Maybe falling up the steps? Maybe telling Connie that you were so tired you couldn’t go home? You weren’t sure. A big black hole of memories that probably wouldn’t come back to you. 

Eren pushed himself upright, blanket pooling around his waist. When you looked down at his exposed torso, you immediately wished you hadn’t. You knew that Eren went to the gym often, but seeing the progress was a different thing entirely. The skin was pulled tight, exposing hard lines of abdominal muscles in its wake. On the skin right above his hipbone, there was a tattoo of a spider crawling, legs reaching around his waist and the others going farther down, down, down —

“I remember being too drunk to get home,” you said, leaning back down on your elbows. There was a harsh silence that you let stretch between the two of you, wondering which of you were going to breach the topic of what happened. 

Eren huffed, falling down to the pile of clothes he had been laying on. “Man, I don’t remember anything. We were drinking in the kitchen and then . . . black.” 

You squinted. There was no way he didn’t remember anything. 

“I really hope I didn’t make a fool of myself. Sorry if you had to deal with that.” 

Oh fuck. Eren didn’t even remember. Or at least, he was really pretending that he didn’t remember. You were going to push farther, but when you looked at him, seeing his bright eyed stare at you, you knew that he wasn’t lying. He really didn’t remember. You didn’t know if you were going to cry in relief or cry in the fact that now you knew something monumental that he didn’t. It felt wrong for him not to remember. You wanted to tell him but . . . then things would get complicated, more awkward. 

The unfairness of it made you laugh. 

“You okay?” Eren asked, expression softening in concern. He looked genuinely confused about everything that was going through your mind. You had to quickly think of something to lie about, something that was a half truth, way easier to say than a blatant lie. Eren had known you long enough that you were sure he would know if you were hiding something. 

You nodded. “Yeah, just kinda upset I missed classes today.” Glancing at the analog clock on his desk, you saw that it was almost 2pm. Most of your classes were in the late morning, and even if you wanted to make it to your 3pm class you wouldn’t even make it on time going back to your apartment to get your stuff. 

Eren gave an apologetic smile from where he was laying. “At least I was coherent enough to give you the bed.” 

“Oh shit, I should probably text Mikasa,” you said, realizing she had absolutely no idea what happened to you. You grabbed your phone from the side of your face and opened your chat to Mikasa and there was a string of words that you had apparently texted her last night. 

you: miksas i sle ofcver

you: save im safe at acadcida

A text earlier this morning from her responding caught your eyes. 

mik: you are insane doing this on a school night

“She’s pissed,” you said to Eren, hearing him huff out a laugh, arm placed over his eyes. “I should probably get home before she comes to beat my ass.” Good, smooth. It was genuinely something that could be true, it was in Mikasa’s nature to worry about you even if she didn’t outright say it. She was a silent protector more than anything, a good friend at heart. 

“Makes sense, tell my sister that she’s annoying when you get there.” 

“Eren, I’m not telling her that.” 

Begrudgingly, you stood up from your place on the bed, grabbing your phone and keys scattered on the bedside table. “I’ll see you later?” You asked, though you already were thinking of reasons to get out of it. You needed a bit more time to come to terms with what happened and how you were going to handle it now that you knew Eren didn’t remember. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Eren muttered. “Sounds good.” 

Eren remembered everything that happened last night. 

He was drunk enough times to know when he was going to black out and really didn’t want to repeat what happened last year at formal when he lost days from a bender. So ever since then, he knew his limit. Sure, sometimes if he was crossfaded from smoking and drinking, it was a little bit harder to gauge the threshold. Though, last night he made a point to not smoke any weed, because it meant that you would be alone at the party without him for at least thirty minutes. He hadn’t been able to convince you to do any drugs since an edible incident in high school. 

Man, he was so fucking stupid. 

This plan that he created was not supposed to get this complicated. It was intended for him to get his roster of girls off of his back and for you to stop looking like a lost puppy around Jean. Jean needed a girlfriend anyway so that he could stop checking his ex’s Instagram for the millionth time in one day alone. It was supposed to be simple and temporary, at least that’s what it was when he suggested it. 

Now he was just sitting on the floor of his own bedroom on a pile of clothes, looking up at the ceiling while listening to your footsteps recede down the hallway. A door downstairs opened and shut, echoing through the house. You were gone. 

“Fuck,” Eren said in a muffled tone, dragging his hands over his face because he remembered, and it was clear that you didn’t. Sure, he couldn’t remember every single specific detail, but the very important parts of the night remained crystal clear in his head, like drunk him wanted to remember every single second for the future. 

He could remember standing on the dance floor, holding you while he realized that when Jean asked to talk to you alone it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He could remember the way that you looked up at him when he pushed you against the column, so needy and trusting, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. If he tried hard enough, he could still taste the way that his fingers tasted after your release, and the feeling of those same fingers being sucked by your mouth. 

Eren stood up, though he regretted it when he remembered that hangovers existed. The room tilted while he tripped over towards the desk to grab a water bottle. It was half empty and warm but he didn’t care at all, drinking it anyway to feel some type of relief. His throat was sore and his eyes burned. 

The doorhandle turned and Reiner stepped in, noting the blanket on the floor and the bed all messed up. “I saw your girlfriend sneak out the back door,” Reiner said, giving a grin. “Good night?” 

“Please fuck off,” Eren muttered, turning his back to Reiner to pull one of the blinds farther across the window. Sunlight was not helping his condition. When he turned back towards the door, Reiner was still there leaning against his doorframe. The older fraternity member had his arms across his chest, sporting a football crewneck from practice in the morning. 

He seemed way too pleased with himself. “Most people usually smile after their girlfriend spends the night.” 

Eren preferred to say nothing, reaching down into the tiny mini fridge he had under his desk for another plastic water bottle. He took a long drink and stared through the only crack in the blinds, looking anywhere but Reiner at his door. Maybe he would get the message that he did not want to talk about whatever happened last night and walk away. 

“Anyways, I made the freshman clean up the party before I left. They actually did a pretty good job,” Reiner said, tapping his fingers against the door and walking away. “Take a shower you look like shit.” 

The door to his bedroom clicked shut behind him and Eren waited a full five seconds before pulling his middle finger up anyway at the empty space of his door, metaphorically to Reiner. His room fell silent again, the distant sounds of the frat house beginning to wake up were filling the tense air. He could hear music faintly playing from the speaker of one of the rooms in the upper level attic space, someone laughing downstairs. Eren’s eyes landed on his bed, which was a mistake because now all he could think about was you again. The thought of you laying there only a few minutes ago filled his head enough to make his chest tighten. 

A shower, yes, a shower would get his mind off of it. He threw the water bottle on his desk and made his way to the bathroom attached to his room. There were definitely perks to being the frat president, one being that he got first dibs on all of the rooms in the entire house, and he was smart enough to think ahead of the idea of not having to share a bathroom with anyone else. As he walked farther into the bathroom, he slipped his shirt and pants off, turning the water on and watching as the steam began to pile up. Glancing over at the mirror, Eren saw that he really did look like shit. Other than the usual look of waking up with a hangover, his eyes looked tired. Almost haunted. 

He tried not to think about it. 

In the shower, he busied himself with burying his hands into his hair, letting the water coat his scalp as the shampoo scent filled the air. As he closed his eyes, his mind betrayed him. He imagined that it was your fingers running through his hair, smaller, nimble things that he spent way too much time watching when he was with you. You’d probably laugh as his hair went every which way, commenting on how it was beginning to get too long but taking your time regardless. The water would give your skin a shine, droplets falling against your face as you looked up at him. He’d see you fully, bare, with nothing covering you so he could slide his hands across every single inch of your skin. 

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed, turning his back to the shower head and leaning against the wall. It was such an innocent thought that turned into so much more as he thought about it. His hand slid down his body, wrapping around his already half hard dick and giving it a few strokes. Eren had to bite his lip in order to pull back his moans that threatened to spill out. Every time that Eren blinked, all he saw was you, imagining you quiet with a direct voice whispering his name. Soon enough he wasn’t thinking that it was his hand pumping his dick, it was yours. Would you be slow with it? Or would you build up that delicious friction to make him see stars? 

Maybe you’d get down on your knees in the shower and look up at him with a soft expression crossing your features, desperately pulling his dick into your mouth greedily. His heart was thumping a rhythmic beat against his ribs, heat pooling around in his gut while he closed his eyes to let the fantasy go further. 

He could feel the phantom sensation of you against him, remembering the way that you clutched him while he fingered you, breath hitching while you tried to keep yourself composed. And you were so wet and willing, completely surrendering yourself to him in a shameless act that didn’t care about other people possibly seeing you fall apart. Eren pumped his hand harder, feeling the familiar feeling of release threaten to fall over him. His knuckles were turning white while he pushed himself through the final seconds before spilling all over the shower, a low groan exiting his pink lips. He imagined you giggling, saying that it wasn’t hard for him to cum so easily, teasing him but not in a mocking way, in a way where you were in awe. 

Eren busied himself with washing the rest of his body with soap, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel over his waist. 

Shame washed over him after he got dressed and walked downstairs towards the living room. Reiner was right, the freshman actually did do a good job with cleaning up the place. Even the floors were perfectly shined, furniture back in place with a sweet smell of fresh linen. Having minions in the form of wide eyed freshman meant that he never really had to worry about things like cleaning, sure, he had to when he himself was a freshman but those days were long gone. Eren walked into the kitchen where lo and behold, Jean was already standing in, leaning over the stove cooking eggs. 

Just his fucking luck. 

“Hey,” he said, trying to be as casual as possible, definitely not thinking about the way he had felt last night when Jean tried his hardest to get you alone with him. His fingers grasped the fridge door and opened it, grabbing one of the protein shake drinks. 

Jean glanced over at him. “Hey. Did you just wake up?” 

“Yeah,” Eren answered. “Long night.” 

“I heard Reiner and Bertholdt talking about seeing her leave this morning.” 

In the way Jean said her, Eren knew that he was talking about you. Of course, just his fucking luck that everyone wanted to suddenly talk about the one person he was trying not to think about right now. 

Eren nodded. “She slept over last night, way too fucked up.” 

“So did you guys like . . .” Jean trailed off, but Eren knew what he was trying to say. 

“No, uh, nothing happened.” 

“Oh,” Jean said. “Well, good.” 

“Good?” Eren asked, turning his body completely to look at Jean, who was making his plate with the eggs he had been cooking, along with some type of vegetable. 

Jean’s eyes widened, glancing over at Eren. “Oh, no, I just mean, I don’t want her to get hurt, ya know?” 

“And why would she get hurt spending time with me?” 

Jean then turned to face him as well, giving him a look. “I mean . . . come on, dude. You’re not exactly the most loyal person when it comes to girls.” 

Eren, for the first time in his life, actually felt offended. Though, there was some truth to it. He wasn’t a guy who did commitment, and when he had tried to do commitment throughout the years it never really went well. Eren hadn’t ever cheated, even though he knew people liked to think that he did, it was always a little bit more deep than just that. Commitment meant . . . well, intimacy. Eren was good at casual intimacy, but the idea of that romantic intimacy? He wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that it scared the shit out of him. For whatever reason that was, he really wasn’t sure how to deal with it other than just sleeping with women all the time so he didn’t have to form those types of attachment with people. But the thought of Jean thinking he was doing that to you? It hurt. Eren would never admit that to Jean though. 

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” Eren said, his green eyes staring right into Jean’s soul. His jaw tightened, a very, very thin string was beginning to snap inside of him. “Is that so crazy to think?” 

“No, no it’s not,” Jean said, obviously trying to diffuse the situation. “I was just wondering because I realized I wanted to get closer to her and I wasn’t sure if things were serious.” 

Serious. 

The word hit Eren like a blow. 

Because, no, it wasn’t exactly serious. It was a fake relationship. Hypothetically, there were no feelings involved. Last night was . . . well maybe it was a lapse in judgement. Maybe Eren had crossed the line. You didn’t even remember and here he was feeling so guilty about thinking about you in this new way. Though, perhaps not all was lost. He could help you get what you wanted before — Jean. Did you still want that? 

Before he could stop it, he let out a sigh. “You should just text her,” Eren said in a matter of fact tone. “I’m sure she’ll go on a date with you.” 

Jean gave him a disgusted look. “Are you serious dude?” 

“Yeah, I’m really fucking serious. See if I care.” 

“You’re an asshole, Eren.” 

Maybe he was. 

“I’m going back to my room,” Eren said, already halfway through the archway towards the stairs. 

“She deserves better than you.” 

Maybe you did. 

You stared at your phone, rereading the texts over and over again. 

jean kirstein: hey

jean kirstein: you wanna go to the club this weekend? a few of us are going out and i’ve been thinking about you. 

Without another minute passing by for fear of the opportunity passing you by, you began to type. 

you: i’ll see you then. 

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