MOJOGOJO.

eren jaeger has always been a problem, just not one you thought would ever be yours. growing up, he was eliza’s twin, which meant he existed in your life the same way furniture did—always there, loud, annoying, stealing food, making comments he should’ve kept to himself. then senior year hit, everyone turned eighteen, and eren stopped being background noise and started being something you noticed in a way that felt wrong. taller, broader, restless like he never knew what to do with his hands or his mouth or the thoughts in his head. the school calls him a player, and yeah, that parts true, but what no one talks about is how he looks at people when he’s quiet. like he’s thinking too much. like he’s bored and starving at the same time.

you’re eliza’s best friend. that alone should’ve made him invisible.

it didn’t.

it started small. looks that lasted a second too long. comments said a little too close to your ear. eren leaning over you to grab something and not moving away fast enough. you told yourself it was nothing. eren flirts with everyone. that’s his whole thing. except with you, it was different. softer. more restrained. like he was holding back on purpose.

the night is happens, you already know it’s going to. you just don’t stop it.

eliza passed out early, door shut, music still faint through the wall. you and eren are in the living room, sitting at opposite ends of the couch like you’re scared of each other. the tv’s on but neither of you are watching. the silence is thick, uncomfortable, charged in a way that makes your skin feel tight.

“you’re being weird,” you say finally.

eren huffs a laugh. “me? you’ve been staring at the wall for ten minutes.”

“i’m thinking.”

“about?”

you glance at him. regretting it instantly. he’s already looking at you, expression unreadable.

“nothing,” you lie.

he doesn’t call you out. instead, he shifts closer, slow, like he’s giving you time to tell him to stop. his knee brushes yours. the contact is light, but it hits like electricity.

“you’re doing that thing,” he murmurs.

“what thing?”

“pretending you don’t feel this.”

your heart starts racing. “eren, don’t.”

he goes still. “don’t what?”

you swallow. “don’t make this harder.”

he studies your face like he’s trying to memorize it. “you’re already making it hard.”

that should’ve been the moment you got up. left. locked yourself in eliza’s room and pretended nothing was wrong. instead, you stay. instead, you let him lean in. his hand rests on your thigh, warm, grounding, not moving like he’s waiting for permission.

“this is a bad idea,” you whisper.

“yeah,” he says, voice low. “i know.”

you don’t move away.

when he kisses you, it’s slow at first, like he’s still testing the line. then it’s not. it’s heat and pressure and months of tension snapping all at once. his hands grip onto you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. yours tangle in his hair, pulling without meaning to. it’s quiet, desperate, intense in a way that makes your head spin. afterward, when reality crashes back in, it’s brutal.

you sit there, breathing hard, staring at the floor.

“…we can’t do this again,” you say.

eren runs a hand down his face. “yeah. no. we won’t.”

“eliza can’t know.”

“she won’t.”

you don’t look at each other when you agree.

────୨ৎ────

now everything is wrong.

not dramatic wrong. quiet wrong. lingering wrong. the kind that follows you everywhere. eren doesn’t flirt with you anymore, not like he does with other girls. instead, he watches. listens. keeps his distance like it’s taking actual effort. sometimes you catch him staring in the hallway, leaning against lockers, phone forgotten in his hand. when your eyes meet, he looks away like he got caught doing something illegal.

lunch is torture. he sits across from you, leg stretched out under the table, foot brushing yours like it’s accidental. you kick him once, warning. he smirks but pulls back.

“you’re evil,” you mutter.

“you stayed,” he shoots back quietly.

you glare at him. “don’t.”

eliza doesn’t notice. she never does. she talks, laughs, complains about homework, oblivious to the way the air feels heavy between you and her brother.

eren shows up to your volleyball games without saying anything. you don’t notice him at first, too focused, adrenaline high, until you glance at the bleachers and there he is. hoodie, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on you like he’s not even pretending to watch the game. it messes with you more than you’d like to admit. you play harder. sloppier. everything feels heightened.

after the game, sweaty and buzzing, you spot him by the exit.

“you stalking me now?” you joke.

he shrugs. “maybe.”

“you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“didn’t want to make it a thing.”

you snort. “it’s always a thing with you.”

he steps closer, voice dropping. “you were really good.”

“you say that every time.”

“because it’s true.”

eliza yells your name from across the gym, distracted by friends. eren’s eyes flicker to her, then back to you.

“you okay?” he ask quietly.

you hesitate. “…define okay.”

he nods like he gets it. “yeah.”

you go to the football games too. you tell yourself it’s for eliza, for the vibe, whatever. it’s a lie. you’re there for eren. for the way he moves on the field like he’s burning off something ugly and loud inside him. during halftime, he jogs over, helmet under his arm, hair damp, breathing hard.

“you cold?” he asks.

“kinda.”

without thinking, he runs back over to the bench, where his dark blue hoodie lays disregarded, he quickly grabs it and jogs back over to the front of the stands where you’re standing.

“…you didn’t have to,” you say.

“i wanted to.”

you take it. it smells like him. that alone feels like a mistake.

after the game, you end up walking together through the parking lot, heading back to her car, eliza catching a ride with her boyfriend who happens to be eren’s teammate. eren finally breaks.

“i’m bad at pretending this didn’t happen,” he says.

“same,” you admit.

he stops walking. you do too.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “and i know i’m not exactly…safe.”

you laugh weakly. “yeah. i noticed.”

his mouth twitches. “tell me to stop.”

he steps closer. you fee it everywhere.

“we can’t,” you whisper.

he exhales, nods, and steps back like it physically costs him. “right.”

but the way he looks at you says everything.

later, alone in your room, wearing his hoodie, you lie awake replaying everything. eren jaeger is a bad idea. the kind you already made once and can’t undo. and deep down, you know the worst part isn’t that is happened.