red tongues and hands

frank ocean - wiseman

… was all she had to say. That was all she asked for. Because even she was aware of it. So painfully aware. No matter what lengths she’d go to keep him safe… there really was only so much she could do within her own power.

"--You, too." It's spoken like an afterthought, although he does manage a quick lift of his eyes, aiming to showcase his overall seriousness before he glances askance. "Now, stop hounding me, already."

Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, and her fake pout wasn’t holding up well now, “So what did you do?”

Eren paused to smile awkwardly, leaving an uncomfortably empty silence, in case she was somehow fooled by his enormous failure. "Funny, right?"

The flustered attempt as Eren to explain himself had the girl confused but she simply sat through it, letting him continue to cut off his sentences rather then trying to speak up between them. Mikasa fiddled with her fingers as he finally managed to form a sentence. With a nod and a slight flush of her own she responded calmly. “Alright, I’ll continue to sit with you.”

"--Good," he replied suddenly, releasing a huff of annoyance (directed more towards himself, than at Mikasa). He vouched to remain silent, then, figuring he had embarrassed himself enough for today. Instead, Eren lifted his head, face still expressing an inexplicable amount of childish frustration. "...Thanks."

undercut doodles

"Even if he could… I’d still do what I can to keep him out of harm’s way. If I can, I will.”

He opens his mouth, and finds himself shutting it cluelessly only moments after. "Whatever," he settles on, speaking in a mutter.

Raven tresses fall before her with a canting of her head, casting a sardonic expression upon him. She finds it difficult to believe that he, a boy of such impetuous temperament, can prepare something that requires such ginger, patient steps. Although she isn’t one to underestimate another, and thus she offers a placid nod whilst attempting to dismiss the knotting sensation afflicting her abdominal region. That diffident sharpening of his eyes aren’t wasted on Mikasa, though, and she takes note accordingly. Once his hand is presented, she reaches out and pinches the end of his sleeve, kneading the fabric betwixt two slender digits. A quiet nod follows and she draws herself closer to him, just barely wincing at the reemerging discomfort.

He can't make tea. Not well, at least. But he refuses to let Mikasa become aware of that irritating little fact. She worries herself nearly to death for his own sake, and while it does more often than not go casually unappreciated-- Instilled in him is a consistent necessity to somehow attempt to repay her. While he can't quite make a brew to save his life, his ego is far too large to even consider asking for help. It's only when they arrive in the kitchen that he glances expectantly at her, soon gesturing with his chin to a nearby chair. And then, he stands there, in the center of the room, cluelessly wondering where everything is located, while also attempting to look impossibly confident.

Envy is a detrimental emotion that she finds difficult to comprehend. Although it’s not yet been experienced first-hand, she acknowledges it’s existence as well as the way it could negatively effect various scenarios. Methodical and thoroughly strategic in this emotional battlefield, she always seeks an answer beyond superficial reason — an approach that cannot be equated to standard warfare. Perhaps it’s why she’s so numb to her heart’s sway under most situations. "Are you jealous?" A question applied without pressure nor accusation, though bleeding such detached curiosity.

His immediate reaction is confusion. Then anger. Then, some strange mishmash of nonsensical mumblings come tumbling from his lips, completing the look of a teenage boy caught in the act. “No,” he retorts quickly, tone mangled with utter condescension. “I’m not—” He pauses, gesticulating helplessly for an explanation he can’t manage to come up with himself. “No,” he repeats. “I’m just saying, okay?” Eren might not be completely sure what he’s saying— But he knows he’s saying something. “He might distract you, or whatever.” Terrible, terrible lie. Mikasa isn't the sort of person to let something as insignificant as a man giving her his leftover sweets distract her during any missions. “If he tries anything, next time, tell him you get dessert from someone else,” he says seriously, meeting her eyes as he speaks.

the national - mr. november

GO GIRLS

Leaning into him, she nudged him with her arm and gave him a knowing look, “Ye’ can tell me all ‘bout it.”

He pressed his lips together at the nudge, giving a quick shake of his head. "No, no, no," he said, forcing a stiff laugh. "I was just, uh-- Making a joke." Good save, Eren. Good save.

Even if she knew, because of his tone, that the worst were meant with no offense she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond. She could always sit with others if it was what he wanted, it wasn’t that she was unable to socialize. Mikasa simply always sat with the two since they were like a trio. “Would you..prefer I didn’t?”

"--That's not what I said," he replied abruptly, huffing in frustration as he directed his attention down to the table. "I didn't mean..." He trailed off, finding himself unable to eloquently complete that thought. Eren didn't want her to sit elsewhere. Not really, at least. Was this some sort of sign that he should never attempt to be somewhat conversational, ever again? "Never mind," he grumbled, face flushing in embarrassment. "Don't sit anywhere else."

"I-I’m not sure?" She stammers out, a bit surprised by his seemingly miffed reaction. "…Someone treated me to dessert. He seemed awfully insistent." It hadn’t been anyone of note, actually, just a man that graduated a year prior to themselves.

"That's stupid," he grumbles, only distantly aware of how impossibly immature he manages to sound. He tries not to let his mind wander at the variety of different possible men who could have done such a thing, and inevitably ends up failing, head stuttering over imaginary men with curled fingernails and strange faces. "--Don't let him do that, anymore," he blurts.

"it’s just a scarf. i’ll wrap it around you as many times as you want."

"How do you know when someone’s flirting?"

"...Who's flirting with you?"