#ilyitros

“We know,” Jean says. The tattoo artist, one of Eren’s old boyfriends from his freshman year of university that had managed to remain friends with him even after they stopped hooking up, sits at the dining table with a sketchbook in front of him. Although he doesn’t live in the apartment, he spends so much time in Eren and Armin’s living space that he might as well pay rent. Or at the very least act a little more sympathetic when Eren talks about his problems instead of sitting there and rolling his eyes. “You’ve mentioned this at least ten times since Marco and I arrived.”

Marco smiles from the kitchen, little craters forming on his freckled cheeks. “You can keep talking about it if you want, Eren. It might make you feel better,” Marco says as he fiddles with the knobs on the stove. He lifts the lid of the pan and the aroma of soufflé pancakes waft over to where Eren is curled up on the couch. It would make Eren’s mouth water if he weren’t feeling so conflicted right now.

“Thank you, Marco,” Eren says with a pointed glare at Jean, who only rolls his eyes in response. He sits up for a moment, watching as Marco makes his perfectly fluffy pancakes. The freckled man looks awfully domestic and Eren feels a twinge of jealousy in his chest. “Why couldn’t I fall in love with you, Marco? It would have been so much easier.”

“You had your chance with him and blew it, Jaeger,” Jean says, hardly batting an eyelash. He continues to sketch designs on his sketchpad, completely unbothered. Oh, to be so confident and secure in your relationship. “Maybe it’s the universe punishing you for turning down the perfect man.”

Eren doesn’t know why he lets Jean in the apartment half the time. “Shouldn’t you be a little more grateful? I was the one who introduced Marco to you, you know.”

“That’s right, you did!” Jean says, raising his eyebrows as if just remembering. He points the butt of his pencil at Eren and gives him the fakest smile. “Thank you for making the biggest mistake of your life so I could meet the greatest love of my life.”

Eren growls in response.

From behind the stove, Marco titters. “Don’t worry about it, Eren. I’m sure your predicament will sort itself out somehow,” Marco says with that ever-present grin on his face. It would be annoying if anyone else smiled all the time but because it’s Marco, the smile is comforting. “Who knows, maybe Petra might even like you back?”

The possibility that Petra could reciprocate his feelings makes Eren’s flutter. He’s only entertained the idea a few times but never out loud. He’s never held Petra’s hand, but he’s imagined it. Her hand would be so small in his, but so soft and pretty as she intertwined her fingers with his as they walked side-by-side. He would smile down at her and she would look up at him, amber eyes all large and shiny and sparkling like a doe’s. Petra would smile at him with the softest dimples appearing in her cheeks, and she’d look at him so blissfully happy just like …

Like when she was with Zeke.

“I can’t,” Eren chokes with a shake of his head. He rubs at his chest, wondering why it suddenly aches so much. “It’s impossible. Me and Petra … it just wouldn’t work.”

Armin, who has been sitting in the corner quietly this whole time, looks up from his book and wrinkles his nose. “You know, you always say that, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t,” he says. He sits up, pushing his round-rimmed glasses up. “You like her a lot, but it’s like you’re too scared to even ask her out. Really, the only thing holding you back from her is yourself.”

Eren begins to splutter, shocked that his best friend of so many years is advising him to pursue a tumultuous romance with such reckless abandon. “Armin, I can’t ,” Eren protests. He looks at the rest of his friends, expecting them to look equally shocked that Armin would say such a thing, but Jean and Marco are nodding in agreement. Eren sits up straighter and waves his hands around as if doing so will help convince them that Armin is insane. “She dated Zeke .”

“Yeah, but you said that was like ten years ago,” Jean points out. “It’s not like she’s dating him now. Even if Zeke was the greatest love of her life, it’d be crazy if she were still hung up on him after all this time.”

“I agree,” Marco hums as he slides another pancake onto the stack steadily piling up on the plate sitting on the counter. “If you like her, you should go for it. You’re just as much of a catch as Zeke if not more.” He catches Jean’s glare from the corner of his eye. “But you could never match up to Jean, whom I love very much.”

Jean nods and goes back to sketching in his notebook.

Eren pouts and curls back into the sofa, stuffing his face in a pillow and hugging another one tightly to his stomach. “Why can’t you guys be gross and love each other somewhere else? Can’t you see I’m in pain?”

“What a whiny baby,” Jean mutters under his breath and Eren’s head whips around to glare at the artist.

Armin ignores the arguing, used to it. “You said she gave you her number,” he says. His eyes linger on Eren’s phone abandoned on the coffee table. “Have you texted her yet?”

The lovelorn loser waves his hand around behind him, vaguely gesturing at his phone. He doesn’t notice when Armin takes it and taps his four-digit password to unlock the screen. “Yeah, but I haven’t texted her since that night. It’s hardly a conversation. Just a ‘yeah, it was no problem biking you home ‘cause my asshole brother pretty much left you stranded at our house,’” Eren sighs. “She probably just gave it to me out of courtesy. She probably gives it to everyone who bikes her home after an awkward family dinner.”

“Is this a thing that normally happens to people?” Jean whispers. From across the kitchen counter, Marco shakes his head.

Eren rolls around on his back and stares at the ceiling again. “You know what? It’s fine,” he says in a voice that says it’s not fine at all. “I like being a loser pining after someone who will never love me back. I’ll just live my entire life alone, loving her while she never knows, and continue to hook up my exes with each other because someone in this coldhearted world deserves to find love and happiness.”

Jean and Marco share a guilty glance before turning back to Eren.

“Come on, Eren, it’s not like you’ll never find love,” Jean says. He gets up from the dining table and takes a seat at the end of the couch. Awkwardly, he pats Eren’s foot. “You have a lot of amazing qualities. If Petra can’t see that, then she doesn’t deserve you.”

Eren hugs the pillow to his stomach tighter and raises his head to glare at Jean. “You don’t know her!” Eren says. He sits up and pouts. “If she doesn’t think I’m worth loving, then it’s because I’m not worth it.” The thought brings a sigh to his lips and he slumps in his seat like a wilted flower.

“Well,” Marco says gravely. It’s apparent that no words will be enough to comfort Eren in his current state. “At least his matchmaking services will be a huge benefit to the world.”

“A pity he won’t be able to use them for himself,” Armin mutters thoughtlessly as he scrolls through Eren’s phone.

“Hey!” Eren squawks, feeling betrayed. He understands Jean turning his back on him and he even understands Marco giving up on comforting him, but Armin? Armin was supposed to be his best friend. He thought Armin would give him a little sympathy at least.

Armin looks up from Eren’s phone. “You can stop feeling sorry for yourself and start preparing for your date with Petra,” he says. He slides Eren’s phone over the table. On the screen is a text conversation with Petra. “It’s this afternoon. You’re welcome.”

Eren blinks, not knowing how to process the information. Slowly, he picks up his phone and scans the text on the screen. Not believing the words he’s seeing, he reads it again, slower this time, and then once more. Expressionless, he sets his phone back down on the table. To Armin, he says, “Armin, what the fuck ?”

Armin ignores him, already returning to the book he had abandoned earlier.

Jean is leaning over Eren’s shoulder, reading the text. His eyes grow wide as he reads the conversation on the screen. It’s enough to get Marco interested. The freckled man turns off the stove and walks over to where the others are and sits down on Eren’s other side.

“Did you really get him a date, Armin?” Marco asks curiously.

“He got pretty close,” Jean says. He points at Petra’s last message. “She’s meeting him today at four. They’re going clothes shopping because apparently Eren’s teacher’s wardrobe is atrocious.”

Marco thinks about it for a moment and then says, “Well, I don’t think a change in clothing would hurt.”

Eren looks offended. “You said my clothes looked nice the other day!”

“They did!” Marco says and then bites his bottom lip. “But, you know, they could look nicer .”

Jean nods in agreement. “Your jeans make your legs look kind of chunky,” he says and then leans down to pat one of Eren’s calves. “And you have some nice legs. You should get some better pants when you go out with Petra.”

“I’m not going out with Petra!” Eren says. He collapses with his back against the couch and covers his face with the pillow he was holding. He can feel his ears burning just from the thought of going to the mall with Petra even though this technically wouldn’t even count as a date. Setting his pillow aside, he reaches for his phone tiredly. “I’ll tell her I changed my mind. I have … papers to grade or something. She’ll understand.”

“Don’t!” all three of his friends say. Jean is the fastest and manages to snatch the phone before Eren can.

Eren’s too shocked to even say anything. He just stares at the other three in disbelief.

“Eren, you’ve been whining about this for far too long,” Jean says. He holds Eren’s phone out of arm’s reach. Stupid tattoo artist and his stupidly long arms. “Armin has dropped a golden opportunity into your lap and you’re just going to let all of his hard work go to waste?”

“It wasn’t that hard, really,” Armin says, but he cowers when Jean shoots him a scathing glare. He sits up straighter and clears his throat. Serious now, he says, “Jean’s right, though. You’ve been in love with her for so long. Don’t you think it’s time to make your move?”

Marco puts a comforting hand on Eren’s. “I agree. You’re full of love, Eren. Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he says. “She’s probably over Zeke now. Even if he’s the one that got away … he got away a long time ago. There really isn’t anything stopping you except yourself.”

“No, you guys just don’t get it!” Eren says, frustrated.

They weren’t there when Petra and Zeke had been together. They were childhood sweethearts in every sense of the word. Petra had adored Zeke the moment she had laid eyes on him and Zeke had held her hand from elementary school all the way into high school. They were the couple, the one nobody had to ask about because everyone just knew that they were together, that they belonged together. When they had officially started dating, nobody really knew because it seems like there had never been a time when they were ever apart. They were the couple that nobody ever wondered about because they never fought or had a disagreement. Nobody batted an eyelash when the two were nominated as the couple most likely to be married, and nobody was surprised when they won and their love immortalized in a picture of them in a sweet embrace plastered in the school yearbook.

That’s why it was a surprise when they weren’t together. It had happened suddenly, but nobody spoke of it after it happened. One day Zeke and Petra were together and the next they weren’t. Petra went to class, her usual smile gone as she went from class to class and hugged her textbooks tightly to her chest. Zeke went to college, never even sending a letter home. Sometimes Eren would see Petra in the hall and he would wave, forgetting what had happened. He’d only be reminded when she saw him and gave him a small wave, a strained smile on her face, and then he’d remember.

Petra standing in the rain, soaked to the bone as she stood in front of Zeke’s house. Oblivious Eren standing behind her, wondering why she hadn’t gone inside yet. He had called her name then only for her to ignore him. He thought it was because of the rain that was pounding against the pavement, drowning out his call to her. It was only when he approached her, smiling stupidly as he held his umbrella over her, that he saw that she was crying.

Petra crying with her cheeks stained with tears that even the rain couldn’t wash out. Her eyes were red and blurry and her lips bitten raw and red to keep from sobbing out loud. She didn’t seem to see Eren at all, not even as he grasped onto the sleeve of her thin cardigan and asked her what was wrong. All she looked at was the house in front of her. Eren followed her gaze up to Zeke’s bedroom window where the light was on and he could see his half-brother’s silhouette walking around.

He tugged at Petra’s sleeve again, but she still didn’t seem to notice. Hesitating, his hand hovered around hers and he reached for it only to grab her wrist instead. Close, but not close enough. It was only then that she looked up, genuinely surprised to see Eren.

“What’s wrong?” Eren had asked her. “You’re crying.”

“Am I?” Petra said, eyes wide as if she really didn’t know. She sniffed and wiped her thumb across her cheek. She looked down at her thumb and then back at Eren, her lips in a thin smile. It didn’t look anything like her usual smile. “Oh, that’s just the rain,” she told him, but he didn’t believe her one bit.

“Oh,” he said and let go of her too soon. He gestured to the house. “Are you coming inside?”

“Inside?” she repeated and she looked surprised. It’s like she hadn’t realized she was standing outside of Zeke’s house this whole time. “Oh, no. I was just passing. I should really get home. It’s raining really hard, isn’t it?”

Numbly, Eren nodded his head. “Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked, but he wished he hadn’t. It’s not what he should have said. He should have told her that it was alright. He should have told her that he would walk her home. He should have told her that he didn’t know what was wrong, but that he would do anything he could to make sure she stopped crying. But he didn’t say any of that.

“No, it’s okay,” Petra said. She looked at Eren with the saddest smile. “You’re sweet.”

He didn’t get a chance to say thank you before she turned and headed home all alone in the rain. She didn’t run. She walked as if rain wasn’t pounding against the pavement, and Eren just watched instead of running after her or even offering her his umbrella.

It’s one of his biggest regrets.

“It’s just … impossible,” Eren says helplessly as he lays down on the couch once more, hugging the pillow to his chest for comfort. “When you have a relationship like theirs … you just can’t let go.”

“Well, it’s clear that Zeke moved on,” Jean points out. He rubs Eren’s knee. “Maybe you’re the only one who hasn’t moved on, Eren.”

Eren shuts his eyes and turns towards the couch. He feels another hand on his back, gentler than Jean’s hand. He knows without looking that it’s Marco.

“You should at least give it a shot,” Marco says softly.

Eren lifts his head and looks at Armin, who shrugs.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Armin says.

Eren sighs before sitting up again. Pillow still clutched to his stomach, he glares at his friends. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to seem rude for canceling on her,” Eren says, ignoring Jean when the tattoo artist snorts in disbelief.

“Great, that’s settled!” Marco says happily. He gets up from the couch and rubs his hand on his apron. “Should we eat then? The pancakes are all done.”

“Excellent,” Jean says, breathing in the smell of pancakes. He sits down at the table, pulling out a chair for his boyfriend. “I’m starving.”

Everyone else joins Jean at the table but Marco shakes his head when Eren sits down.

“None for you,” Marco says. He waves Eren away, shooing him away like he’s a pesky fly. “You have a brunch date with your brother, remember?”

Eren scrunches his nose up. “Ugh,” he groans.

“On the bright side, at least you can look forward to the date with Petra later,” Armin reminds Eren as Marco stacks a pile of soufflé pancakes on his plate.

Eren groans again. “You guys are the worst.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

In addition to family dinners, Eren also has brunch with Zeke every other weekend. For the most part, Eren doesn’t mind it. It’s more bearable than the dinners, which subjects him to Dina’s constant scrutiny and his father’s indifference. At least Zeke pretends to be interested in Eren’s life and Eren pretends he knows what it means for Zeke to get a grant to fund his research on philosophical anthropology.

Eren walks into their usual café, a little hole-in-the-wall shop that serves the kopi luwak coffee that Zeke likes so much. Does Eren understand the appeal of drinking coffee produced from coffee beans shitted out of a civet’s rear end? Not in the least, but at least the shop sells an inexpensive Americano, which is more than enough for him. When he enters the shop, Zeke is already sitting at their usual table in the corner. It gets the best sunlight, Zeke always said. A cup of Americano is already sitting there for him.

Eren takes a seat across from Zeke. “Thanks for the coffee,” he says. He glances at his phone and grimaces. He’s a few minutes late. It’s one thing to make Dina wait, but Zeke never says anything if Eren is late. It always makes him feel a bit guilty. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“No worries,” Zeke says with a smile. He always smiled easily. He smiles more easily than Eren ever has. He sets down the book he’s been reading, some thick textbook about the effects of technology on human nature that Eren would never understand. “So, what’s going on with you? Anything new happen?”

Eren shrugs. He picks up his mug of coffee and takes a sip to buy himself some time. It’s bitter on his tongue and lukewarm. He winces when he thinks about how long he had made Zeke wait. “Nothing new to report since … the dinner,” Eren says. He pauses, wondering if he really wants to say what’s on his mind. After a moment, he decides, fuck it. “I talked a little bit about it with Petra.”

“Ah, yes,” Zeke says with a nod. He doesn’t flinch at the mention of his ex’s name. Eren shouldn’t be surprised, but it still frustrates him seeing how indifferent Zeke is. It’s as if Petra meant nothing to him at all. How could someone you spent more than half your life with be worth nothing to you?

Eren purses his lips. Irritated, his finger taps the side of his mug. He probably shouldn’t proceed with this conversation. He should change the topic and talk about something boring, like how a parent threw a fit because his classroom didn’t have more than 72 colors of crayons, or how he had to work overtime the other night because another parent forgot to pick up their kid. He can’t, though. All he can think about is Petra standing out in the rain.

Suddenly, he blurts, “Why did you ask Petra to dinner?”

Zeke tilts his head, an eyebrow raised as if he’s genuinely surprised at the question. “Because she’s my colleague. We teach at the same university,” Zeke replies. He takes a sip of his expensive civet coffee and says, “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I thought it would be nice to invite her to dinner.” He says it so casually, like he honestly doesn’t understand what’s so wrong about it.

Eren nibbles on his bottom lip. His grip tightens around his mug. “And did you tell her …?” His voice trails off. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows Zeke will drag the question out of it. Eren’s just afraid of the answer he’ll get in reply.

“Did I tell her …?” Zeke asks. He lets his voice trail off just like Eren did. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for Eren to finish, but Eren never does. “Did I tell her what, Eren?”

Eren looks at his brother, frustrated. He doesn’t want to say it, but he knows he has to or else they’ll never talk about it. With a pained expression, he finally says, “You and Frieda. Does she know about you and Frieda?”

“No,” Zeke replies and for some reason Eren can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Zeke either doesn’t notice Eren flinching or he doesn’t care because he continues. “It just never came up, so I never mentioned it. If she had asked, I would have told her.”

Eren doesn’t hate his brother, but it’s times like these where he thinks he might. Zeke has a tendency to be so careful and uncaring about his words, but it’s always unintentional as if he doesn’t realize how hurtful his words or actions are. It happens so naturally that nobody pays it any mind. They just accept it as how Zeke is, but Eren still flinches every time. Even if someone doesn’t mean to inflict pain doesn’t mean that their words are any less painful to listen to.

Eren sets his mug down and fiddles with the handle of his ceramic mug. The more he thinks about Zeke and his indifference towards Petra, the angrier he gets. If Zeke was going to be this way, then he should have just left Petra alone from the beginning. Why did Zeke greet her like an old friend and invite her to dinner when he was keeping this kind of secret from her, a secret that would only hurt her in the end.

Eren nibbles on his bottom lip again. He can feel the skin break on his lip and heat burst in its place. His lip isn’t bleeding, but it’s close. “You should tell her,” he says quietly. “You should tell her that you’re with Frieda sometime. You don’t have to wait for her to ask. You can just tell her.”

Zeke blinks, gray eyes large behind his aviator glasses. “Ah, really? Why is that?”

“Because,” Eren begins.

Because Eren had seen Petra standing there in the rain until she was drenched to the bone. Because Eren had seen the lonely look in her eye when he had called her name. Because when Eren had finally managed to get over his shock, he had thrown open the door to his father’s house and stomped up the stairs to Zeke’s room only to find his half-brother with a blank expression on his face.

Eren heard Dina’s shouts from downstairs as she scolded him for throwing his shoes so carelessly on the floor and dripped water onto the hardwood floor. He ignored them, swinging the door shut so he could be with his brother alone. Zeke only turned around when he heard the door close behind Eren.

“Petra was waiting for you.” Eren’s voice was loud in the quiet of Zeke’s bedroom. His voice seemed to echo against the walls, but Zeke didn’t answer right away.

“I know.” Zeke turned away from Eren and returned his gaze to the window. It faced the sidewalk in front of the house, the very same place Petra had stood for so long as the rain poured down on her. “I told her to go home.”

Why? Eren wanted to ask, but the word never left his lips. It sat at the tip of his tongue, heavy. He wrapped his arms around himself, clutching at his elbow as he pulled his arms in tighter. He felt cold and empty, as if he had been the one standing out in the rain. He shivered, hard, but Zeke didn’t notice.

“You should dry off,” Zeke advised, lifting his head only the slightest bit. He glanced at Eren for just a brief second before staring out the window once more. “You’re dripping on the floor. Dina will be mad and your mother will worry if you catch a cold.” Zeke’s voice was soft, gentle, and it only made Eren angrier. He couldn’t understand his older brother’s indifference to the girl they loved for over ten years and why Zeke seemed to care more about him, who was only feeling a fraction of Petra’s pain.

“Sorry,” Eren muttered, bristling in anger. He stomped over to the door and stopped at the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. He glared at Zeke, who didn’t even look the least bit startled by Eren’s sudden flash of anger. In fact, his older brother looked as if he had expected it. Eren slammed the door shut with a thud behind him and he didn’t even flinch when Dina yelled at him not to stomp his feet down the stairs. He practically flew out the front door, his shoes half-laced, and only stopped when he got to the sidewalk. There, he stared down the road where Petra had disappeared, his umbrella hanging unopened at his side.

He goes home sopping wet, dripping rain from his head to his feet. He mumbled an apology to his mother, who had immediately scolded him and ran to the pantry to get him a towel to dry off, but all he could think about was Petra in the rain.

“Because,” Eren repeats. Because she deserves an explanation. Because she deserves to know instead of being kept in the dark. Because she doesn’t deserve to stand in the rain again waiting for you to say things you’ll never tell her. He doesn’t say any of that though. Instead, he gives a half-hearted shrug and says, “Because I think she’d like to know. Because … I think she’d want to congratulate you.” She’d congratulate Zeke while holding back tears and forcing that same strained smile on her face, but she’d congratulate him nonetheless. That’s just the kind of person she is.

Zeke hums and takes another sip of his coffee. “I’ll be sure to mention it to her sometime,” he says, but Eren can tell that his brother hasn’t really thought about it.

Eren’s eyes are downcast and he traces a circle on the table with his finger. After a moment, he says, “I’m hanging out with her later today. We’re going clothes shopping. She said she’d help me with updating my professional wardrobe.” His eyes flicker upward and he sees Zeke’s eyes widen the slightest bit. He blinks and Zeke’s face is back to its same indifference. It’s like he had imagined the whole thing.

“Hm,” Zeke replies and gives Eren a once over. He nods in approval. “A change in wardrobe might be good for you.”

Eren wrinkles his nose. Why does everyone think he needs to upgrade his closet? He downs the last of his coffee and shudders. He’s had coffee ever since he went to college, but he can never get over the bitter taste of it. He lets the bitter aftertaste settle on his tongue before he speaks again. “I had better go. I said I’d meet her there. Don’t want to be late.” He nods his head at the bike rack in front of the shop where his bike is locked.

“Ah,” Zeke says with another nod. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “You really do take your bike everywhere. You’d better hurry then if you don’t want to be late.”

“Better to be late than add to carbon emissions that are slowly killing our planet,” Eren mumbles under his breath and Zeke smiles. Zeke is right, though. As much as Eren loves biking and reducing his carbon footprint, his bike isn’t the fastest form of transportation.

He bids his older brother a goodbye and returns his mug to the counter, thanking the barista for the coffee, before heading out the door. With a sigh, he pushes the door of the café open and unlocks his bike from the bike rack. He’s not exactly sure how this afternoon will go, but he’ll just hope for the best.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Why is there never a place to sit here?” Petra grumbles as she looks around the crowded mall. It’s not a place she frequents often, but it’s always crowded whenever she does visit. With a pout, she leans against a pillar and rests her head against it. Eren is nowhere to be seen, but that’s fine. He still has a few minutes.

She glances down at her phone to check her messages. Most of the notifications are just emails from her students asking for another extension even though she had already given them one this week. She sighs, but she knows she’s probably going to grant it to them anyway. Levi says she’s way too soft to be a professor and he’s right. There’s a text from Levi asking her if she wants to grade some math assignment for him, which she happily ignores. Another text message is Eren telling her that he’ll be there soon and she sends a smiley face in response. Just as she’s about to tuck her phone away, she gets another text message from her friends’ group chat.

Rico:

Hi 😊 Petra 😊 Have 😊 fun 😊 on 😊 your 😊 date 😊😊😊

Anka:

Yeah 😊 petra 😊 have 😊 fun 😊😊😊

Petra looks at the messages and sighs. She hitches the strap of her bag higher up her shoulder and begins to draft out an answer.

Petra:

thanks 😊 guys 😊 but 😊 it’s not 😊 a date!!! 😊😊😊

Her phone pings again and she sees a message in the chat from Hanji this time.

Hanji:

HAVE A GOOD DATE I HOPE IT’S SUPER HOTTT 😛😝😤😩😫🥵🔥🔥🔥

Petra would be surprised, but she’s sadly used to these kinds of messages from her friend. She only shakes her head and lets out another sigh. “They’re really just using any emoji they want now,” Petra mumbles under her breath. She wonders if she should even dignify it with a response. She shifts, about to respond to Hanji with an unimpressed emoji, but bumps into someone and fumbles her phone. “Shit! Fuck!”

There’s a grasp of hands as both she and the stranger try to catch the phone before it falls. They finally manage to catch it, Petra’s hands over the phone and the stranger’s hands over Petra’s hands. She blinks and looks up only to find that it’s not a stranger. It’s Eren Jaeger. Somehow, his hands are a lot bigger than she remembers.

“Hi,” she says.

“H-hey,” Eren says with a nervous smile. He realizes he’s still holding Petra’s hands and quickly lets go, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks down with a guilty expression on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

“It’s fine,” Petra assures him before hastily putting her phone in her bag. She turns back to Eren, clearing her throat and brushing her hair away from her face. Plastering a smile on her face, she asks, “Did you just get here?”

“Ah, yeah,” Eren says. He reaches up to twirl a lock of hair between his fingers. “I’m not late, am I?”

“No, no, not at all,” Petra says, waving her hands. She looks around at their surroundings, scanning the different stores nearby. “Do you know which place you want to look at first?”

“Er, no,” Eren says. He flounders behind her helplessly like a lost puppy. A very giant lost puppy, but a lost puppy nonetheless. Cute. Eren rubs his arm sheepishly. “I really don’t know anything about … looking professional or anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s just a lot of slacks and button-ups,” she tells him. Petra begins to walk. She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going, but she knows they’ll somehow end up at an Old Navy because it’s relatively inexpensive and she’s pretty sure Eren isn’t looking for anything high-end. “You have your teacher’s ID, right?” Petra asks, pointing a finger at Eren.

“Ah, yes!” Eren says. He looks like he’s about to fumble for his wallet and pull out his ID as if to prove it right this second, but Petra giggles and shakes her head.

“That’s good. Teacher’s discount.” She gestures for him to follow her. He towers over her as he follows behind, and she wonders when that happened. He hadn’t been that tall when she had left for college, but she supposes it’s been a long time since then. After all, she had gotten her Ph.D. and he had gotten a teaching degree. She wonders what else she’s missed. Cautiously, she asks, “Why didn’t you ask your brother to help you shop for clothes? Ah, not that I mind helping you. I’m just curious.”

For some reason, Eren grimaces. He rubs the back of his neck. “He’s always busy. I hate asking him for anything,” Eren mumbles. His gaze flickers over to Petra, his green eyes large under thick lashes. “I thought you would be more helpful anyway. Sometimes Zeke dresses like a slob for classes. When you came over for dinner, you looked really … like a real professor, you know.”

“Oh, thanks,” Petra laughs. “I feel like I overdo it sometimes because some people mistake me for a student if I don’t.” She looks affectionately at Eren, gives him a look up and down. “You don’t have to look too professional, though. Just enough to have parents trust and respect you, but it’s probably more important if the kids think you look friendly.”

Eren lets out a nervous titter and tugs at his sleeve nervously. “Yeah,” he agrees. After an awkward pause, he mumbles, “Also, I kind of need something to cover the tattoos on my arms.”

“Your what ?” Petra exclaims, stopping in her tracks. She stops, yanking Eren by his sleeve so hard that she nearly tears it. Without warning, she rolls up his sleeve and reveals the tattoos decorating his arm. She doesn’t say anything, too busy staring to come up with any words.

Eren gulps nervously as Petra looks up and down the length of his arm. Elegant flowers are decorating his arm, some of them are more ornately drawn than the rest because they were added later than the others. Lines of text curl around his arm in gothic script, the words so intricate that Petra can’t quite make them out. Most of the tattoo sleeve is inked in black, but other parts of it are a faded dark blue.

“When did you get these?” Petra asks Eren, her eyes still transfixed on his decorated forearm.

“Um, I think my first one was my junior year in college?” Eren guesses. He twists his arm away from Petra with an awkward laugh, a flush blooming across his cheeks. He pulls his sleeve down, hiding his tattoos once more. “My boyfriend at the time was starting his apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, so I let him practice on me. I guess it was pretty stupid since there’s this whole stigma against tattoos and I was studying to be a teacher …”

“I think they’re cool,” Petra says. She pauses for a moment, thinking. “They’re pretty.”

The blush in Eren’s cheeks grows darker. “I probably should have stopped adding to them at some point, but I guess I forgot,” he says. He reaches up to tug at his earlobe, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “It’s probably going to be difficult to hide. Sorry.”

Petra waves a hand at him. “Don’t be sorry at all. It’ll be harder to wear thin shirts, especially if they’re light in color, but we’ll work something out,” she tells him. Petra links her arm around Eren’s and smiles. “I think you get a bit of leeway since you’re teaching at an elementary school. You should dress professionally, but not stuffily like some kind of academic professor at a private research institute, you know?”

“Y-yeah,” Eren stammers.

They end up at a large clothing store with white tiles and matching white walls that made the store seem more like a hospital than a clothing store. Eren grimaces as soon as he takes a step in and Petra can only give him an apologetic smile.

“I know, it looks terrible in here, but I promise the prices for these clothes will make up for them,” Petra tells him. She stares up at the signs that help categorize the different sections and leads Eren over to the men’s section. “I do not shop in this section very often — or at all, really — but they should have something for you.”

“Hmm,” Eren hums as he runs his hand through a bunch of shirts that are hanging from a clothing rack. “They look a lot nicer than the ones I have at home. I don’t think I’ve updated my professional wardrobe since I bought some slacks and button-ups from the thrift store like five years ago for my internship.” He wrinkles his nose as he remembers only to turn bashful again, cheeks coloring like he had mentioned something embarrassing.

Petra giggles. “Yeah, I honestly don’t update my wardrobe all that often either. Maybe if there’s a sale or something, but my wallet probably couldn’t handle it otherwise,” she confesses. She stops at a circular rack, walking around it before stopping and perusing through some shirts. Every once in a while, she’ll glance up at Eren as if trying to study him. “Pick a few things out too. Preferably stuff you think you’d like to wear to work, although other things are fine too. That way I’ll be able to gauge what your style is.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Eren says. He goes to peruse the same rack as Petra, standing across from her. His lips are set in a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted tightly in concentration as he flips through the rack. He looks so determined to pick out clothes that it makes Petra giggle. Startled, Eren looks up, his eyes wide like a doe’s. “What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Petra says. She presses her lips together in an attempt to suppress her smile, but she knows it’s not working. “You’re cute.”

“O-oh.” Eren ducks his head and continues to flip through the shirts, although he’s going through them so fast that there’s no possible way that he’s actually looking at them. The tips of his ears are burning red.

Ah, he’s cute , Petra thinks, and this time her smile is impossible to hide. It takes her a moment to realize who she’s calling cute: Eren Jaeger, the younger brother of the boy she loves. Used to love. She frowns and peruses through the rack a little more violently than she needs to.

After a few minutes, Petra and Eren compare hauls. Eren has only a handful of items: some checkered button-ups, khakis, and a pair of boots with thick soles at the bottom. Petra has a much larger selection, one that requires her to carry in both arms. She’s not sure if Eren will like any of them. It’s mostly different colored button-ups, cardigans and blazers in dark and gray tones, and dark slacks.

Eren’s eyes widen when he sees Petra’s pile. “Should I have picked more?” he asks, worried. He looks back nervously and points his thumb behind him. “I’ll go find more -”

“No, it’s fine!” Petra says, reaching over to tug on his shirt. It’s a mistake.

Eren pulls away and his shirt stretches enough to show a strip of his stomach — all tight, toned, tan muscle because of course it is — and Petra drops all the clothes she was holding, the hangers clattering against the ground.

“Shit, sorry!” Petra leans down to grab the clothes at the same time Eren does. Their fingers brush and she somehow feels even more flustered. She gets up a little too quickly, her head bumping against Eren’s. Her cheeks are still flushed when she lifts her head, a little more carefully this time, and she apologizes profusely.

“It’s alright,” Eren insists with a laugh even though there’s a pink spot swelling on his forehead where their heads had collided. “Sorry, I must have startled you?”

“Not at all. I’m just a total klutz,” Petra titters, which is a complete lie. Her friends would never consider her clumsy, but now she’s here fumbling with different plaid shirts just because she saw an unexpected strip of skin. She’s not quite sure why it was so unexpected in the first place, whether it was because she wasn’t expecting to see abs or whether it was because those abs in particular belong to Eren.

She doesn’t realize that Eren is asking her something until he waves a hand in front of her face. Petra can feel her face flush, although it’s not like she has a reason to be embarrassed. It’s not like she’s overly fixating on the toned abs that are most definitely hiding beneath Eren’s shirt. She’s just thinking about them a normal amount, which is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal to spend some time thinking about your ex-boyfriend’s younger brother’s abs if he accidentally flashes them at you … but it does sound worse once she thinks about it like that.

Petra coughs, pretending that she has something stuck in her throat as she tries to compose her thoughts. “Sorry,” she says apologetically to Eren. “What were you asking? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Oh, um,” Eren fumbles with a few shirts in his hand before picking two and holding them up against his body one after the other. One is a light blue denim button-up while the other is a white pinstripe shirt with little black buttons.

The short answer is that Eren would look great in both. He has broad shoulders that would look great in a plain shirt that would accentuate his build, but a striped shirt would help to make him look even taller than he already is. With his tanned skin, it would be difficult finding a color that didn’t look nice on him. Petra can’t really say that out loud though and advising Eren to buy both seems unhelpful since he specifically asked her to help him pick out a new professional wardrobe.

Petra smiles weakly and gently taps a finger against the denim button-up. “It’ll be easier to clean than something white,” she reasons.

“Ah, you’re right!” Eren says before hanging the pinstripe shirt back on a rack. He grins at Petra and she feels temporarily stunned for a moment. It’s hard to imagine someone with a body like Eren’s can have such a sweet smile and large doe-like eyes. “Thanks for taking the time to go shopping with me. I’d be totally lost without you.”

“It’s really nothing,” Petra says, and she means it.

There’s something nostalgic about being with Eren. They always had a good relationship before. Eren would always wait with her, chatting with her eagerly about his day as they both waited for Zeke to come home from baseball practice. It’s nice catching up with him now and seeing that, although they’re both grown up now, there are still parts of Eren that haven’t changed: his sparkling eyes, his wide smile, and the excited way he’d talk whenever he had something he wanted to tell her. She had always regretted not keeping in touch with Eren even after Zeke had broken up with her, but she couldn’t imagine facing Eren again after he had seen her that day in the rain. It always broke her heart when she looked out her window and saw Eren still waiting for her in the days after.

They end up with a good haul: button-ups for days and a handful of knitted sweaters along with a few nice dress shirts and blazers for the few occasions that Eren might have to dress up. Petra had also snagged a few khakis and pants trousers, although she told him that his normal jeans would probably do fine especially if he was going to run around with kids all day.

“Thanks again,” Eren says as they walk out of the store, his hands filled with shopping bags. “Maybe the kids’ parents will start taking me a little more seriously now.”

“They should treat you well regardless of what you’re wearing,” Petra comments absentmindedly. “You worked hard for your degree and you did well enough to get hired here. You shouldn’t have to be earning their approval at this point and if it’s something they’re demanding of you, then you should just forget about them. It’s the kids who you should be most concerned about anyway, and I’m sure they love you.”

Eren looks slightly surprised but he smiles almost shyly, cheeks tinted just the slightest shade of pink. “You’re right,” he says admiringly. “You’ve been really helpful in more ways than one.”

Petra waves a hand, brushing off his compliment. “It’s nothing. It’s scary teaching at first, isn’t it?” she asks. “People didn’t take me seriously at first when I was a TA, but I was also always scrounging for their approval and wanted them to like me. It took me a quarter or two to realize that I was fully qualified and if they were letting their perception of me keep them from learning, that was their own problem. Teaching got a lot less stressful after that.”

“That’s good advice. That’s much better advice than -” Eren cuts himself off there, but Petra feels like she already knows the name that was going to come out of his mouth: Zeke . He must have seen her flinch just the slightest bit because Eren turns his head and points at a shop at the food court just up ahead. He turns to her with a bright smile. He’s kind enough to feign oblivion. “Do you want an ice cream? I should get you something to thank you.”

“Ah, no.” Petra doesn’t really know how to explain it. She was feeling fine until just now, but it just feels like the energy has been drained from her. It’s even worse that she can barely muster a smile. It’s not Eren’s fault that she’s feeling this way. “I just … have some papers to grade, I just realized. Maybe another time?”

Eren blinks a few times and Petra sees through his faltering smile that he doesn’t quite believe her. He doesn’t say anything about it though. His smile widens just a little too much and he says, “Alright, then. I probably kept you here too long. I’ll definitely repay you another time.”

It feels a bit like she’s rejecting him, but Petra doesn’t know why it feels that way. “Hey,” Petra says as she brushes some hair out of her eyes. “Do you want me to give you a ride? It might be a lot to haul around if you took your bike.”

“Oh!” Eren says, eyes widening in surprise for just a second before he wrinkles his nose. He lifts the bags in his hands up and down. They’re hardly a bother to him at all. “No, it’s okay. It might be a little bit of a hassle, but I feel better taking my bike. The environment and all, you know?”

Now it feels like she’s being rejected. For some reason, Petra feels mildly disappointed. Did Eren feel this way earlier? She’s probably thinking too much about it. Eren probably has to clean up his closet after this, maybe go over his lesson plan for this week too if he has time leftover. It’s best if they part ways now.

They say their goodbyes and Petra thinks that’s that until she sees Eren turn around in the corner of her eye.

“Ah, Petra,” Eren says like he almost forgot. He looks bashfully at his shoes and then over at her. “Can I visit you sometime? If it’s not too much of a bother. I know you’re probably busy with all of your classes, but if you could use some company …”

She should probably say no. Just the chance of bumping into Zeke on campus should be enough of a scare for her. She shouldn’t get involved with his little brother, but her lips curl upward before she can help it and Petra finds herself nodding against her will.

“That would be great, Eren,” Petra says, and she genuinely means it.

Petra watches his back as he retreats, taking note of his broad shoulders. Back in high school, Eren was only a few inches taller than she was and Zeke dwarfed him in comparison. Now Eren looks as big as his older brother does, perhaps even bigger. For a brief second, Petra thinks it’s unfair for a kindergarten teacher to be so tall and broad-shouldered. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Eren grew up well,” Petra murmurs.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Petra’s thoughts are filled with rain and large green eyes that plead with her not to leave. It’s been a while since she’s been consumed with thoughts such as these. She’s not sure who prompted them to return: Zeke or Eren. It’s difficult to say when both of them had come back into her life almost simultaneously. Both the Jaeger brothers are intertwined in the memory so closely that it would be difficult to separate them in the first place.

She really shouldn’t confuse the two for each other. It’s not that she would ever mistake Zeke for Eren and vice versa. The two are very different to begin with. It’s just hard to think of one without thinking of the other. Maybe it’s because Eren had been close to Zeke back when the three of them were younger. Wherever Zeke was, Eren was quick to follow. Once Eren had told her that he had signed up for baseball to follow in Zeke’s footsteps but he later confessed that he preferred swimming to his brother’s sport. Petra had always wondered why Eren idolized his older brother so much when they had such a complicated family history together, but it’s no doubt something Eren has grown out of from what she saw at dinner the other night.

Petra sits in her office with her lower lip protruding as she ponders some more. In her left pen she clicks a pen in and out, a bad habit she’s never really grown out of.

The two are completely different, though. It’s not just their appearances. Eren has always been more of an open book compared to Zeke, who always liked to keep his feelings hidden. While Eren was warm and friendly, Zeke could be described as cold and uncaring to people who didn’t know him. Their current situations were quite different too: Zeke had full support from his family and seemed to be doing well. She doesn’t know much about Eren, but he doesn’t seem close to his step- (kind-of step-, Petra thinks) family and his mother had passed away after he left for college from what she had heard. He’s really just fending for himself.

“They’re way too different,” Petra murmurs, the clicking of her pen growing faster and faster as she gets more lost in her thoughts.

If they’re so different, then she shouldn’t be thinking of one while she thinks about the other. It’s impossible not to, though.

Maybe it’s because…

That day in the rain she had stood there for a minute or five or an hour or two or ten. She didn’t really know. She wasn’t really counting. She had stopped thinking when Zeke had come up to greet her only to tell her he was breaking up with her. He had disappeared into his house without another word. He didn’t even bid her goodbye or ask if she needed an umbrella for her walk back home. It was only when Eren had appeared in front of her, his green eyes wide with concern, that she had realized she had been standing there for far too long.

She left after that. She didn’t look back, but that day still haunts her even now.

There’s a knock on her door that startles her. Sitting up, Petra clears her throat and tries to appear like she was doing something important the whole time. “Come in!” she says as she pretends to flip through a textbook she should really start reviewing for her next lesson.

Levi shows up looking as disgruntled as ever. Surprisingly, he has a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Is that supposed to be for me?” Petra asks, puzzled. Levi isn’t the type to buy anyone flowers. At the very most he’d probably get someone a nice card with a polite message already inscribed inside.

“It is, but it’s not from me,” Levi says. He leans over her desk to hand it over to her. “The delivery person accidentally dropped it off at my office. I have no idea why people get our buildings mixed up. They’re in completely opposite directions.”

“In all fairness, there’s literally just a one-letter difference between your building and my building,” Petra grumbles as she takes the bouquet from Levi’s hands. “What kind of narcissist names two buildings after himself?”

“Ask Rod Reiss,” Levi snickers. He takes the seat across Petra’s desk and sighs. Levi is, of course, referring to the very generous donor Rod Reiss, who had donated enough money to the university to grant them not only a new arts building but also a science building (the Rod K. Reiss building and the Rod Reiss building, respectively). Most students and faculty refer to them by their respective subjects to avoid confusion, but it’s not something outsiders would know about so there are often mistakes when deliveries to the buildings have to be made.

Petra turns the bouquet in her hands. It’s a pretty assortment of yellow flowers: bright sunflowers, golden roses, delicate carnations, and exquisite Peruvian lilies. When she puts her nose to them, it smells just like one would imagine spring to smell like. There are so many flowers that she can’t quite find the note that should be with it.

“Who sent it?” Levi asks. To an outsider’s eye, he hardly seems curious but it’s probably the most interested Petra has seen him.

“I don’t know,” Petra mumbles. She manages to find a card buried in between the flowers and fishes it out. She can’t bring herself to open it right away. For some reason, she says, “Maybe it’s Zeke.”

She knows it sounds ridiculous to hope that and the way Levi snorts only makes her feel more foolish.

“Zeke?” Levi scoffs. “Why? To apologize for inviting you to an awkward family dinner and making you walk back home?”

“He was busy,” Petra says weakly, but even she knows it’s a poor excuse. She doesn’t know why she went along with it. “And it’s only a few blocks away from our houses -”

“Open the card,” Levi says. He’s bored already, tapping the arm of his chair disinterestedly. He nods towards Petra and raises his eyebrows. “I know you’re curious, too. Open it and see if it’s Zeke saying he’s sorry.”

Petra bites her lip. She should probably snap at Levi and tell him she’ll open it when she wants — it’s her bouquet after all — but she probably would have hidden it in the back of her desk drawer and never opened it otherwise. Taking a deep breath, she opens it and reads it:

Hi, Petra!

Thank you again for helping me with my wardrobe. It was a big help.

-Eren

She didn’t even notice how disappointed she was until Levi comments, “You slumped your shoulders. I’m guessing it wasn’t who you wanted it to be.”

“N-no,” Petra stammers and accidentally crumples the note in her hand. Eren deserves better than that. Petra clears her throat. “It’s just … I didn’t think Eren would go out of his way to send me something just because I went shopping with him. He really shouldn’t have, especially on his teacher’s salary.”

Levi waves a hand around. “It’s not like bouquets cost a fortune. You should just thank him for it later,” he tells her. He slumps back in his seat. His posture is terrible, but Petra supposes with that surly expression constantly on his face Levi doesn’t need much else to command respect in his classroom. “You said he’s Zeke’s younger brother? They seem like the complete opposite if he’s buying you flowers just to thank you for your time and Zeke is giving you nothing for wasting it”

“I told you before,” Petra murmurs, “Zeke’s probably just busy.” She looks down at the crumpled note in her hand and frowns. She lays it down flat against the desk and tries to straighten it out, but the creases still remain.

Levi rests his elbow on the armrest and his cheek in his hand. It’s always so difficult to tell whether he’s judging her or not when he always has that frown on her face. She’d probably find it nosy from anyone else, but Levi does seem to care about her wellbeing in a strange way like that time he scoffed at her for grading papers while running a high fever and then graded them himself and substituting for her class last minute after he made her go home and rest. He just operates in strange and mysterious ways.

“You don’t even live that far from him,” Levi points out. He watches Petra with a tired expression as she fiddles with a petal. When it’s clear that Petra isn’t going to respond, Levi sighs and rests the palms of his hands on his knees. Changing the subject, he asks lightly, “So, since I so kindly delivered these flowers to you, you should definitely repay me. Perhaps by grading some of my students’ papers …?”

Petra isn’t in the mood to joke around anymore, but she half-heartedly replies, “I hope you know my math skills are probably twice as awful as your kids’. I might somehow end up giving people hundreds instead of zeroes. Numbers are all the same to me.”

“Fine, don’t help me, Ral,” Levi grumbles. He gets up to leave, scowl still on his face. If Petra didn’t know any better, she would think Levi was actually mad at her. “Just know that I’m not looking at any more literature papers for you after this.”

It’s a little sad, the fact that Eren is spending so much time picking out something to bring to a family dinner that he would claim, if anyone bothered to ask, to not give a single shit about. And, really, he doesn’t, but it makes him feel slightly better about going to those miserable gatherings if he’s able to bring something he knows his stepmom will hate. Except she’s not really his stepmom. To be more precise, the woman is his father’s first and only wife - the bastard having never married Eren’s mother - and his half-brother’s mother. In all honesty, Eren can completely understand why the woman hates him. He is, after all, a constant reminder of his father’s infidelity. It’s not like Eren likes her either and, with all of the snide comments about his upbringing and disappointing career path (although Eren has no idea why that is any of her business), she hasn’t given Eren any reason to. 

Eren looks down at the sandwich again, leaning towards not getting it. As much as he would love to purchase it and slap it down on the dinner table with a cheerful smile, there are only so many times he can buy disgusting sandwiches for his family dinners. He really outdid himself last time with a self-made sandwich with all sorts of odd ingredients (blue cheese, coriander, tuna, onions, cherry tomatoes, the works) that had no business being slapped between the same two buns. He even remembered not to toast the bread buns. Apparently, the only thing his father’s wife hates more than sandwiches are untoasted sandwiches, but not everyone can afford a $300 panini press like she can. Apparently, any panini press with a smaller price tag can’t be called a real panini press. Eren only half-regretted his decision to bring the disgusting thing to his father’s house an hour later when he sprinted out of the house and biked half a block away to empty the contents of his stomach on the edge of a poor neighbor's sidewalk. No, a normal deli sandwich would be a step down from his previous contribution to family dinner, Eren decides. 

He walks up and down the aisle of the grocery store, taking his time even though he’s already a half-hour late for dinner. (He’s doing them a favor. Nobody in their right mind should be having dinner at five when the sun is still high in the sky.) His green eyes glaze over tubs of soup and plastic bins filled with salad. For a moment, he wonders if he should walk through the shelves of chips on the other side or maybe into the frozen food section so he can haul a tub of melting ice cream to his father’s house, but he wonders if that’s too petty. It’s probably best not to, Eren thinks with a grimace. He doesn’t want to ruin junk food for himself forever. 

In the end, Eren purchases a little tub of potato salad, hoping that it’ll be enough to piss off his Disney-esque sort-of stepmother. It’s not perfect, but he supposes it will do. It’s probably not as grotesque as the stuff he’s brought before, but he likes how simple it is. That woman’s definitely going to be miffed that Eren bought potato salad as if he cared so little that he couldn’t be bothered to spend a few minutes in the kitchen to make the same dish. He’s really going to enjoy seeing the vein on her forehead pulse when she sees him standing at the door with the potato salad. 

Eren thanks the cashier for ringing up his purchase, sliding two dollars into the charity box next to the register, and walks away with his tub of potato salad, whistling as he practically skips out of the grocery store. He hadn’t taken as long as he would have liked; there are still fifteen minutes before six and he had hoped he would burn enough time to arrive at six-thirty, but maybe he can take a roundabout way to his dad’s house, Eren thinks as he drops the tub carelessly into the front basket of his bicycle. He unlocks his bike with a click and pulls it off the bike rack before mounting it and pedaling away. 

Taking the direct route would be too quick. Eren quickly pedals across the road as soon as the road is clear and finds his way to the creek that cuts across the suburbs. It’s the same creek Eren used to play beside when he was a child. He fell in there once trying to catch a frog and his mom scolded him for being so reckless. It’s also the same creek that he frequented during the spring of his sophomore year of highschool when he was assigned to do a bug project, which Eren hated especially when the same project was no longer mandatory after his school cut the science department’s funding the year after. Eren doesn’t think he’s visited the creek ever since he graduated from high school. He blames it on college and summer internships taking up all his time and never really allowing him to return to his youth, but the truth is that Eren wouldn’t have sought out his childhood even if he had the time. 

It’s not that Eren had a terrible childhood. In fact, Eren would say that he had a fairly happy childhood. True, he grew up in a (mostly) single-parent household, but his mother was always patient and attentive to him even though he was a pain the ass about 75 percent of the time. Nothing incredibly significant happened. He didn’t win any awards and he never made the honor roll, but his mother was fine with it as long as he did his best. It was strange, but he got a lot more shit about his grades from his sort-of stepmom than he did from his own mother. He’s not particularly sure what his father thought about it. Eren’s father never said much of anything to defend him, but his father hardly said anything to him at all. It was kind of like not having a father at all, so it wasn’t really that surprising when Eren found a way to avoid his old neighborhood completely after his mother passed away after his senior year of high school. 

Eren hadn’t planned on returning so soon. Actually, he hadn’t planned on returning at all after he had left for college. He only came back the summer after freshman year, but he bummed it at his best friend Armin’s house and only ventured as far as Armin’s front lawn. The following summers he crashed at his ex-boyfriend’s house - an art student-turned-tattoo artist who somehow ended up setting up a shop in the city Eren and Armin grew up in - or Armin’s dorm when they were both working at their internships. Somehow, they ended up landing jobs back in their hometown because evidently the big city did not want them and they were too young and broke to go up against the universe. Maybe another day. 

It’s not that bad. Despite renting an apartment near his neighborhood, Eren hasn’t run into any childhood friends that might still remember all the embarrassing things he did as a teenager. He’s bumped into a few parents at the grocery store that would smile up at him and talk about how nicely he’s grown while reaching up to ruffle his hair. Other than a few childhood friends and the “family” he feels obligated to meet due to the biological bond he unwillingly shares with his father, Eren has successfully avoided most of his past. 

He pedals past his old middle school, zooming past the gates and grimacing as he remembers the less pleasant parts of his past - struggling with algebra, running a mile at seven AM, and the terrible school uniforms they forced on everyone in a strange attempt to boost standardized test scores. He’s happier when he crosses the street and is greeted with the lit-up shops - the convenience store where he’d happily slurp down slushies with Armin after school, the Chinese restaurant that his class would frequent every year for Lunar New Year’s, and the bakery store that always smelled of freshly baked tarts and pies. Eren’s pedaling slows as he approaches the bakery and he inhales deeply, his lungs filling with the scent of buttery baguettes and chocolate tarts. The aroma is so distractingly sweet. His mouth begins to water at just the thought of them, and Eren wonders why he hadn’t bothered stepping foot in the bakery since coming back. He’s about to stop his bike and pop in for a brownie or a lemon bar only to realize that he’s biking far too fast and about to crash into someone. 

“Shit!” Eren’s bike screeches as he swerves out of the way and he crashes into a pole so hard that he can feel his teeth rattle. He topples to the ground with a hard thud, groaning as he rolls over onto his side that didn’t get smashed violently against a pole. When he opens his eyes, he sees stars as well as the face of an old man that he had last seen a decade ago. Eren tries to sit up, but his side is throbbing and he can only clutch at his side, trying his best to suppress a groan so as to not startle the man he had nearly collided with. He gives the man a weak smile. “Hey, Mr. Ral. I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

The old man’s mouth, which was already open to begin with after seeing Eren’s embarrassing bicycle collision, falls open a bit wider. “A-are you … okay?” he asks after a while, squinting a bit as he looks at Eren’s face and tries to place a name to it. Eren doesn’t really blame him for not remembering who he is. It’s been quite a while since they’ve seen each other and Eren has grown up a lot since then.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little bump,” Eren says, laughing it off. He manages to sit up and pushes himself off the ground, standing up and brushing off the little pebbles that have managed to stick to his face and clothing. He picks up his bike, leaning it against the pole before turning to the man again. “It’s Eren, by the way.” He pauses, observing Mr. Ral’s expression. When he sees that the man doesn’t recognize him, Eren politely adds, “Eren Kruger. I’m Zeke Jaeger’s younger brother.” 

A spark of recognition finally lights up in the old man’s eyes at the mention of Zeke’s name. Eren’s not going to lie, but it kind of hurts. “Ah, Zeke,” Mr. Ral says fondly. Eren shifts from feeling hurt to feeling slightly jealous. “How could I ever forget him? And you, of course. You two used to play with my dear Petra back in the day.” 

Petra, a name that Eren hasn’t heard in years, and yet hearing it still makes him blush like a young schoolboy. He ducks his head, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, and he prays that Mr. Ral doesn’t notice the sudden flush of his cheeks. “Yeah, it’s been a while. How is, ah, Petra doing?” he asks. He had meant to ask the question casually, but he stumbles over the words a little too quickly. 

“Petra? She’s well,” Mr. Ral answers with a smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his laughter lines deepen. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered Eren is. “She just started teaching at the same university that Zeke is teaching at.” 

That’s certainly news to Eren. Zeke hadn’t mentioned that at any of the family dinners Eren had attended recently. It could just be because Zeke hadn’t run into her yet or it had simply slipped his mind, but Eren kind of doubts it. If Petra’s father knew, then it’s highly unlikely that Zeke didn’t know. As much as Eren wants to frown, he fights the urge to turn the edges of his mouth downward and gives Mr. Ral a thin but polite smile. “That’s great to hear. What does she teach?” 

“English,” Mr. Ral replies, his chest puffed out proudly. It’s endearing how much he adores his daughter. “She teaches some upper-division classes on creative writing and a few classes for freshmen on critical reading and writing.” 

Eren’s smile is more genuine now, more fond as he listens to Mr. Ral speak about his daughter. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She was always really good with words.” He remembers lazy summer afternoons lying underneath the shade of a tree and pretending he was sleeping so that he could listen to Petra talk to Zeke on the front porch. It wasn’t even that he wanted to eavesdrop. He just liked the sound of her voice. Eren wonders if it’s still as wonderfully soothing and soft as he remembers. 

“And what about you?” Mr. Ral asks, snapping Eren out of his reverie. The old man seems to ask out of polite obligation. It figures that he isn’t really interested in Eren’s life. After all, he hadn’t remembered that Eren existed until five minutes ago. 

“I just graduated a few months ago. I majored in child education,” Eren replies. He looks down feeling slightly embarrassed although he’s not sure why. It feels like a step down from Petra’s accomplishments. His sort-of stepmom would certainly agree. She enjoys rubbing Zeke’s doctorate in Eren’s face whenever she gets the chance. Eren clears his throat and adds, “I’ve been working at Liberio Daycare. It’s near Shiganshina Elementary.” 

It’s unclear whether or not Mr. Ral recognizes the name but he nods and reaches over to give Eren a pat on the arm, a grin on his face as if the old man is actually proud of him. “That’s good! Your parents must be proud.” He doesn’t notice the way Eren flinches and carries on. “It’s good to hear that you’ve been well.” 

“Likewise,” Eren says. His eyes wander towards the bakery. It hadn’t occurred to him to look for Petra before, but now that he knows she’s back in town he can’t imagine doing anything else. He half hopes that she’ll be inside, maybe clearing the display for the night or wiping down the countertops, but all he sees is a girl his age at the register munching on some lavender bars that hadn’t sold. Before he can stop himself, Eren finds himself asking, “Is Petra in?” 

“Petra?” Mr. Ral asks with his eyebrows raised. Maybe it does seem out of the blue that Eren’s asking. Petra was always more Zeke’s friend than Eren’s. Mr. Ral gives Eren an apologetic smile and a shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. She told me she was eating dinner at a friend’s house. I’ll let her know you stopped by. Maybe you two can catch up sometime.” 

Eren shouldn’t feel so disappointed, but he can feel himself deflating at Mr. Ral’s words. He really doubts Petra would want to meet up with him. It’s not as if they were incredibly close before. Still, he gives Mr. Ral a gracious smile and says, “That would be great! I should probably get going. I have to, ah, eat dinner…” His voice trails off and he looks to bike only to find the front basket empty. Eyes straying further, he finds that his tub of potato salad had rolled out of his bike basket and onto the ground where it lay pitifully. Thankfully, the tub hasn’t broken and the potato salad hasn’t spilled out, but somehow the salad looks even more pathetic than it did when Eren purchased it. It’s something Eren would have been happy about fifteen minutes ago, but it’s embarrassing now. Quickly, he goes to pick it up and drop it into his bike basket with the slim hope that Mr. Ral wouldn’t think much about it, but Eren has never been that lucky. 

Mr. Ral must find him pitiful because he asks, “Why don’t you take some dessert home?” He’s already heading back into the bakery, gesturing for Eren to follow him despite Eren’s protests. “If you don’t, they’ll just go to waste. Or into my employee’s stomach, and goodness knows that she’s already eaten enough desserts today already.” 

“Thank you so much, sir,” Eren says, humbly bowing his head. 

“Sasha,” Mr. Ral calls the girl at the register. “Could you ring up a few things for Eren?” 

The girl’s head snaps up at the call of her name, her cheeks filled with pastry and crumbs all over her mouth. “Sure thing,” Sasha says, gulping down the last of her lavender bar and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She walks over to the side, Eren following her on the other side of the counter, and washes her hands hastily. As she wipes her hands dry with the hand towel, she looks at Eren brightly and asks in a chipper voice, “Do you have anything you want in particular?” 

Eren’s eyes scan over the display, but he doesn’t really look at anything in particular. He just wants to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. He’s embarrassed himself quite enough for today. “Just … whatever you’d recommend,” 

“Alright-y,” the girl hums, taking a bag and stuffing it full with little tarts and tea cakes and croissants. Eren looks at her briefly, realizing that he doesn’t recognize her. She must have moved here sometime during the past six years when he wasn’t around. 

As Sasha finishes preparing the bag, Eren walks over to the register and gets ready to pull his wallet out but Mr. Ral walks over, shaking his head. “No need to pay for it,” Mr. Ral says. He reaches over the counter and takes the bag from Sasha, presenting it to Eren with a smile. “Consider it a treat. Really, you’d be doing me a favor just taking it. They would have gone to waste otherwise.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Eren says, his face flushing once more. He takes the bag from Mr. Ral with a small bow of his head. “It was great seeing you again, Mr. Ral.” 

“Likewise,” Mr. Ral says with that same crinkly smile. He walks Eren to the door, watching as Eren packs the desserts alongside his potato salad. “Take good care of yourself, Eren, and tell your brother I said hi.” He waves as Eren assures him he’ll do just that, returning to the shop only once Eren has biked away. 

This is not how the night was supposed to go. Eren was supposed to be wandering around the neighborhood with his potato salad before waltzing into his father’s house an hour late, his sort-of stepmother silently fuming at the dinner table while the family sat and waited for him. He hadn’t planned on bumping into his childhood crush’s father, and he certainly hadn’t planned on looking so incredibly pathetic in front of Mr. Ral. He can only imagine what Mr. Ral will tell Petra when she sees her dad tonight. Maybe something about how he grew up to be such a loser even though his half-brother managed to graduate with a Ph.D. and is now a successful anthropology professor at the local university. It’s not something that usually gets Eren down, but thinking about it now is making him feel especially miserable. 

Eren’s not sure why the thought of Petra knowing how his life is so embarrassing. He hasn’t spoken to her in years, so her opinion of him shouldn’t matter. And even if she did have an opinion of him, he’s sure it wouldn’t be unkind. Petra had always been nice to him even when he was a kid and just being an annoying third wheel to her and Zeke. When his childish admiration of her turned into puppy love and eventually evolved into a full-fledged crush, she never brushed him off or thought him annoying, although there was a chance that she just never noticed. He couldn’t blame her for that when Zeke, honor roll student and valedictorian Zeke, was always standing right in front of her. He wasn’t even surprised when they started dating. It was inevitable. And when they eventually broke up for some reason that Eren still isn’t quite sure about, Eren knew he’d never be able to compare so he never tried to pursue her. It’s not surprising that he and Petra ended up losing touch. 

As much as he would love to blame Zeke for it (and it would be incredibly easy for him to blame Zeke), he can’t. Maybe it’s strange that he doesn’t harbor a deep hatred for his half-brother. Their relationship has all the makings of a classic sibling rivalry - a complicated family history, stark differences in accomplishments, and affections for the same girl - but Eren could never bring himself to hate Zeke. Even if Zeke’s mother liked to hold all of her son’s accomplishments over Eren’s head, Zeke himself never bragged about them. In fact, he was quite humble and would even offer to help his younger half-brother if he was struggling with something in school. Oftentimes he would invite Eren to hang out with his friends even though their age gap made it a little awkward. He even remembered Eren’s favorite snacks and would make sure they were in supply whenever Eren came over to visit. If Zeke’s mother was an evil Disney stepmother come to life, Zeke was that one fairytale sibling that was kind to the tragic main character, so Eren had no choice but to like Zeke. Even when Zeke broke up with Petra and Eren couldn’t understand why, when Zeke told Eren that it “just happened,” Eren kind of left it at that and accepted that because he couldn’t imagine Zeke doing anything wrong. 

Could Eren be classified with an inferiority complex with regards to his brother? Probably, but most siblings can. Eren would have to challenge whether or not someone with inferiority complexes would admire their brother as much as he does, but they might in a weird way. Eren’s sure that he and Zeke’s relationship would still be complicated even if they didn’t have all the weird history with Eren and Zeke’s parents. 

Eren sighs as he flies down a dip in the road, letting gravity carry him down instead of pedaling. He really doesn’t feel like he’s in the right headspace for this family dinner. Usually, he lets all of that woman’s snide comments ricochet, but his armor has grown weak and he can just imagine her landing the right thinly-veiled insult, her words burying into his skin and hitting right where it hurts. For a moment, Eren considers calling the dinner off with an excuse that will be sure to piss his stepmother off — probably something about how he has to restructure his lesson plan for the upcoming week — but he glances down at the potato salad and bag of baked goods in his bike basket and realizes that he really doesn’t want to eat them all by himself. If he’s going to suffer, he might as well make the rest of his family suffer alongside him. And besides, he’s pretty much already at their house anyway. 

His bike slows as he approaches the white-picket fenced house. He takes the potato salad tub and the bag of baked goods before leaving his bike on the driveway, not bothering to chain it to the fence because nobody would want to steal the old thing he bought from a garage sale anyway. The sight of it lying in front of the house instead of properly locked up will be sure to piss off that woman too, which is just an added bonus. With a sigh, Eren marches up the front steps, shifting the food all on one arm so he can ring the doorbell. The familiar chime rings out, muted from behind the wooden door. A muffled voice mumbles something Eren can’t hear, but he already knows that the speaker has nothing good to say about him. 

The door is thrown open and Eren looks down to see his stepmother glowering up at him, blue eyes a raging storm. “You’re late,” she hisses. She doesn’t even give him a greeting; she just stands there in front of him silently fuming. Behind her stands Eren’s father. As expected, he says nothing to defend his son’s tardiness. The man just stands there, uncomfortable as he quietly observes. 

“Sorry, Dina,” Eren says, squeezing past his stepmother who makes an indignant noise. He dangles the food he brought in front of her face, rolling his eyes when she snatches the bag from him only to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she sees the potato salad. “I brought dessert, too. Do you want me to put it somewhere …?” 

Dina snatches the bag of desserts from him too, still huffing. “We have a guest tonight too. Do you know how rude you’re being?” she says, continuing to nag at him even though Eren has stopped listening to her years ago. 

Eren’s father gently grabs Eren by the elbow, subtly ushering him inside to avoid any more conflict but Eren yanks his arm away. 

“Well, maybe if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have showed up on time,” Eren snaps. He sounds angry as he says it, but he really does mean it. It’s one thing to be rude to his stepmother, but it’s another thing entirely to be rude to a guest he doesn’t know. He’d at least wait for introductions before deciding whether or not to show any manners. 

Before his stepmother can say anything more, Eren stomps off into the dining room where Zeke and the guest are waiting. He keeps his head down, cheeks burning, as he pulls out his chair - the one furthest from everyone - and slumps down into it. “Sorry, I’m late,” Eren mumbles, still looking down. 

“Eren,” says a deep voice that Eren recognizes as Zeke’s. Hearing the voice of someone other than his stepmother’s makes Eren relax a bit and he rests with his back against his chair, a little more at ease now. He can hear Zeke’s small smile as his half-brother asks, “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?” 

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke who sits across from him, and then at the guest. He looks so quickly at first that he doesn’t register exactly who he’s seeing until he does a double-take, his green eyes widening as they take in the woman sitting there. It’s someone he hadn’t expected to see ever again, much less sitting at his family’s dining table, and he’s so surprised that he almost chokes. For a moment, he thinks it might just be a doppelganger, but there’s no mistaking the soft dimples that appear in her cheeks as her lips curl in a smile. “...Petra?” 

“Hi, Eren.” Petra’s voice is still as gentle and soothing as Eren remembers, the sound of it so honey-sweet that he feels his cheeks bloom a soft pink. There’s so much about her that’s different, but there’s so much more that’s the same. Her hair is shorter now, no longer falling right at her shoulder, but curling right under her chin in a short bob. It’s the same shade of ginger it was when he was a kid. If it’s under the right light, it would probably burn a fiery gold. Her doe eyes are the same pretty amber, sweet and dangerously entrancing at the same time. She’s even dressed differently, her button-up blouse and slick gray trousers such a departure from the casual jeans and t-shirts she wore ten years ago when Eren was still in high school. Eren feels horribly underdressed - his ratty university sweatshirt over a thin cotton tee and his ripped jeans are so shabby in comparison - but a glimmer of silver on Petra’s wrist attracts Eren’s attention to the charm bracelet she wears, jangling with charms that Eren remembers her collecting in her high school days, and he feels a little less like he’s meeting a stranger and more like he’s reuniting with an old friend. 

“How are you?” Eren asks shyly, his smile bashful. 

“I’m well,” she answers, and Eren feels himself melting into her voice the same way he did when he was thirteen. When she smiles, her head tilts ever so slightly to the right just the way it did when he first met her and her dimples deepen into her cheeks. “How are you?” 

“Good,” Eren answers because he doesn’t trust himself to string together more than a word or two at a time. He wonders if she realizes how he’s unraveling at the sound of her voice or if she’s as oblivious as she was the last time. 

“I’m glad,” Petra says, and the warm look Petra gives Eren reignites a flame in the pit of his belly that he had thought he extinguished long ago. Her head tilts a little bit more to the side, her eyes twinkling. “I missed you,” Petra tells him, and Eren finds himself in love once more. 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

There are rules to dealing with your ex-boyfriend after you’ve broken up, Petra knows, but it’s been ten years and she figures that these rules can be bent. So what if the last time she saw Zeke she was broken-hearted, crying in the rain as he turned his back on her? She was younger then, her feelings out of control for someone who didn’t care for her nearly as much as she cared for him. And, sure, maybe it’s terrible that she never received the closure that she deserves, but she can’t hold a grudge against him forever. They work in the same university and cowering behind the nearest trashcan every time they meet doesn’t seem to be a viable option. Petra’s older now and so is Zeke. They’re mature. They can be friends like adults are after they’ve broken up, so the universe should be able to understand her accepting Zeke’s dinner request that evening even if her friends couldn’t. 

She only started to regret her decision when Zeke offered to drive her there after his classes ended - saving gas and the planet, he explained - and she agreed. Although Petra repeatedly told herself that it was a simple family dinner and that such an invitation was extended to Zeke’s other friends on occasion, she found herself sitting impatiently in her office, biting her nails down so close to the quick that her fingers started to bleed. Having to bandage her fingers as she waited did absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves. 

“I don’t see why you’re so nervous,” Levi tells her over the phone. He taught in the mathematics department, but they had met after Petra had nervously stumbled into the wrong building and into his office on her first day at the university. The man has a perpetual scowl on his face, and that very same expression had nearly sent Petra running until she weakly explained that she must have gotten lost and he kindly redirected her to the building her office was located in. She thought that was going to be the end of their interaction until he emailed her shortly after asking if she had gotten to her office alright. Finding him a kindred spirit, he had become her first (and sadly only) companion at the university aside from Zeke. “If you’re friends with him, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.” 

“Well, it’s just that I haven’t really seen him since we, you know, broke up,” Petra explains, but she doubts that Levi understands. She had told him her history with Zeke a few weeks ago after he asked her why she was so jittery at the faculty luncheon, but he didn’t have much of a reaction. It was sort of nice having someone to talk to that wasn’t as hyperbolically reactive as the rest of her friends, but it was also painfully difficult when Levi didn’t show her any sympathy. 

“You saw him last week when you were at the library to look for reference books,” he reminds her as if it were the same thing. “I don’t know why this dinner has you in a panic. You left me nearly a hundred messages while I was teaching class.” He hadn’t even replied to her texts, the bastard. He had simply left her on read until midnight before sending her a thumbs-up emoji to let her know that he had read her messages, which was not exactly the response Petra was waiting for. 

“This is different!” Petra insists, but she knows Levi will never see it that way. 

“You’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be,” Levi says. She can hear him scribbling something on the other end, probably correcting exams for his differential equations classes and marking a poor student’s paper in an abundance of red. “Either cancel or just go to dinner with him. You’ve had family dinners with him even before you guys got together right?” 

“Yeah, but that was back when we were kids,” Petra mumbles, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. 

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her. 

“You’re horribly unsympathetic sometimes,” she sighs. 

“If you wanted sympathy, you shouldn’t have called me,” Levi says with a cluck of his tongue, but he chuckles when he hears her groan on the other end. “Really, it’ll be fine. You’re just overthinking it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And you said the kid will be there, right? His brother, so it’s not as if you’ll be alone with Zeke and his parents.” 

Petra lays with her head on her desk, her phone pressed against her cheek. “Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbles, but her lower lip still sticks out in a pout. The thought of Eren being there, sweet little Eren with his eager puppy eyes and wide smile, does make her feel better if only a little. She probably hasn’t seen him since she broke up with Zeke. She wonders if he’s changed very much. He’d be in college now? Or maybe he graduated. “I haven’t seen him in awhile though. What if he hates me now?” 

“You’re overthinking again,” Levi says. He sighs on the other end. If Petra didn’t know him very well, she would think she was bothering him, but he’s always like this. “Are you going to be okay?” 

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Petra sniffs. She looks sadly at her bandaged fingers and picks at the ends of one of them. “Should I just cancel? Maybe I can tell him I fell down the stairs and had to go to the hospital or something -” Someone knocks at the door and Petra lets out a startled yelp, nearly falling out of her chair because she’s so surprised. When she looks at the door, she sees Zeke’s silhouette against the frosted glass pane. The sight of it makes her want to hide behind her desk. “God, he’s here already!” 

“Too late for you to run then,” Levi says, not even bothering to hide his snickering. He’s such a sadist that Petra doesn’t even know why she’s friends with him sometimes. “Have fun at your absolutely normal dinner with your friend and his family.” Click!

“Asshole,” Petra mutters under her breath before shoving her phone in her bag. There’s another knock at the door — the same long, slow knocks that are a signature of Zeke’s —  and she hastily shouts, “I’ll be right there!” before shoving her papers in her bag and stumbling out of the door, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She must look like a mess because Zeke raises an eyebrow at her when she emerges from her office. Petra catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window and winces at her frumpled shirt and the hair falling out of her bun. She mumbles an apology as she pulls the hair ties out of her bun, her hair falling in loose curls around her face. 

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Zeke asks. 

“No! God, no,” Petra says, inwardly cringing at every word that comes out of her mouth. Even she can tell how awkward her responses sound, a little too quick and desperate. What is she being so anxious for? It’s just dinner with a friend —  an ex-boyfriend, but a friend nonetheless. Petra clears her throat and asks as casually as she can manage, “How are your parents?” 

“Hmm? They’re well, I suppose,” he answers. Everything about him is familiar. He’s grown just a bit taller since Petra last saw him, his shoulders a bit broader and his jawline a bit sharper, but he still wears the same double-bridge glasses and the right corner of his mouth still quirks upward just the slightest bit when he speaks. He even walks the same way, his strides a little too long and quick, and Petra finds that she still has to struggle a bit to keep up. If Zeke notices the same thing about her - how she still wears the same shade of lipstick, how she still has that habit of wrapping her hair around her finger when she’s nervous like she’s doing now, how she bites her lip when she’s not sure what to say next - he doesn’t mention it. “My father’s still working at the hospital with my grandfather. He’s been promoted to director of the orthopedics department.” 

“Oh, congrats!” 

“And you know my mother has been at the hospital now that she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore,” Zeke says. It’s strange how casually he says this, as if he doesn’t remember that the last time he spoke about his mother to Petra was when they were still together. “She really missed being in the OR. Says she’d rather be doing surgeries all day than taking care of me.” 

“It’s nice that she can go back to it.” She nearly stumbles over a step but catches the railing before she can. When she looks up again, Zeke is already on the sidewalk and she hurries after him, a little breathless. “And Eren?” 

“Eren?” Zeke seems a little surprised by the question although Petra doesn’t know why. He leads her to a car - a slick Mercedes with a shining blue exterior and tinted windows that don’t quite match Zeke’s academic profession —  and opens the car doors with a click. 

“Your brother,” she clarifies as Zeke walks over to the driver’s side and slips into the car. She opens the passenger car and slides into the seat beside Zeke, setting her bag down next to her feet. The door swings shut behind her. “He’s coming to the dinner too, right?” 

Zeke turns on the engine and the car comes to life with a pleasant hum. “Most likely,” Zeke says as he checks the side and rearview mirrors before pulling out of the parking space. He even drives the same way, his arm resting on the side with his hand tapping against the door while one hand is on the wheel. Just watching him makes Petra’s chest feel tight. 

“Ah, that’s good. I haven’t seen him in so long,” Petra says. For some reason, knowing that Eren will also be there makes her feel a little more relaxed about the dinner. “Is he still in college? I think he should have graduated by now.” 

“He graduated a little while ago. He’s teaching now. Still on probation, but he says his colleagues like him so he’s not too worried about getting tenure after the probationary period is over.” He slows the car to a stop at an intersection and leans over, fiddling with the radio dial. He sets it to the jazz station and the sound of smooth brass and relaxed percussion fills the car. 

Somehow, driving down the streets with Zeke is far more nostalgic than it ever was when Petra drove on her own. Some nights Petra drove home by herself, and all it ever felt was lonely. Maybe it’s the familiarity of having Zeke beside her like when they were teenagers, driving back home after watching a movie downtown or returning from a basketball game at their high school. 

Petra doesn’t ask any more questions about Zeke’s family. She figures she can catch up with the rest of the Jaegers when she sees them at dinner. Instead, she asks Zeke about his classes and finds that conversation with him comes more easily after she stops stumbling over her words. He tells her a little bit about teaching anthropology (“Far less painful than you think it would be, at least when the kids aren’t just taking it to fulfill their core classes,” he says), his plans for the upcoming week (“It’s midterms, but the students should be fine if they actually look at the study guide.”), and the butterfly exhibit opening up at the museum downtown (“I’m thinking of putting it up as extra credit. Who knows, they might actually look at the other exhibits while they’re wandering around.”). Petra also fills him in on her own life, mumbling about how she still has to make the answer key to her own midterm and expressing interest in the butterfly exhibit Zeke mentions. 

They pull up next to Zeke’s house, the very same one he grew up with. Not much has changed from the outside. The white picket fence is a little worn and the rose bushes have been replaced with peonies. The house is still the same shade of cream, but Petra is sure that the Jaegers had it repainted over the summer like they usually do. She looks up at the second-story window where Zeke’s room should be and vaguely wonders if it’s still his room or if he’s moved out and hasn’t mentioned it yet. 

Walking up the brick steps to the door is a bit surreal. Petra doesn’t realize just how silent she’s been until the chime of the doorbell startles her and Mrs. Jaeger opens the door. As with most of Zeke’s family members, Petra hasn’t seen Mrs. Jaeger since she broke up with Zeke, but she had an amicable relationship with her. She can’t recall Mrs. Jaeger ever being angry, so she’s surprised when Zeke’s mother opens the door with a terrible scowl on her face. 

“Mom, you remember Petra,” Zeke says, moving aside so that Petra can enter first. 

The scowl quickly slips from Mrs. Jaeger’s face, replaced with a smile that Petra is more familiar with. “Petra, of course! I haven’t seen you in ages,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her voice strained. She waves Petra and Zeke in, shutting the door gently behind them. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise,” Petra mumbles. She looks at the kitchen doorway where Zeke’s father leans and gives him an awkward wave. The man, just as silent as he was when Petra was young, gives her a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgment. 

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” Zeke apologizes as he shrugs off his coat. He walks over to the dining room, Petra and his mother trailing behind him. “A student wanted to talk to me and it took a bit longer than I thought it would.” 

“No need to apologize! Eren hasn’t arrived yet anyway. He’ll probably be late. Again.” There’s a harsh tone in Mrs. Jaeger’s voice that Petra hasn't heard before. When she looks up, she sees Zeke’s mother hovering around the table and arranging dishes, the same polite smile on her face as she does so. “Your brother, of course, didn’t bother to send a text to notify us that he’d be late.” 

Petra wonders if Mrs. Jaeger usually speaks about Eren with such disappointment in her voice. Maybe she had always spoken about Eren like this and Petra had never been around to witness it or maybe it’s something that developed while Petra was away. Whatever it is, Zeke and his father seem used to it. Zeke merely shrugs, pulling out his phone to flip through his phone while his mother continues to mutter about how disrespectful her stepson is. Mr. Jaeger continues to stand at the doorway, not bothering to join them at the dining table, his eyes fixed on the carpet. He doesn’t bother to defend his son. 

“Maybe he’s busy,” Petra says, interrupting Mrs. Jaeger mid-rant. She feels rude for speaking while Mrs. Jaeger is talking, but sitting in silence while Zeke’s mother speaks ill of Eren doesn’t feel right either. All eyes are on her now - Mrs. Jaeger a little surprised, Zeke with an eyebrow quirked upward as if in amusement, and his father with a look that’s almost relieved. Petra clears her throat and continues. “He’s a teacher, right? It must be difficult teaching so many children every day — making the lesson plan and everything. Maybe texting slipped his mind. He’ll probably be here soon.” 

God, she hopes Eren will be here soon. Her cheeks are starting to burn bright red and she’s thinking that perhaps speaking up might not have been the best decision. 

“Ah, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Jaeger seems a little more composed now, perhaps remembering that they have company over. She settles down in the chair across from Zeke and flashes a pleasant smile at Petra. “He can be quite forgetful of these things. Of course, you’d never worry your father like this. You’ve always been so responsible.” 

Has talking with Zeke’s mother always been this difficult? Petra’s head is starting to spin, unsure of what response would be appropriate. She feels as if she should defend Eren, but she doesn’t want to make things awkward either. In the end, she smiles awkwardly at Mrs. Jaeger as if accepting the woman’s compliment and reaches out for the glass of water in front of her, raising it to her lips before she can say anything else that she might regret. 

“Dear, come sit next to me,” Mrs. Jaeger calls. She gestures for her husband to join them at the table and Mr. Jaeger stiffly walks over from the doorway before taking a seat at the head of the table. Mrs. Jaeger folds her hands on the table, her gaze still on Petra. “How have you been, Petra? We haven’t heard from you in a while. How long have you been back?” 

The series of questions leave Petra tongue-tied and unsure of how to answer. It’s so strange how casual the Jaegers can be about asking after her, like she hadn’t been such a large part of their lives — or at least Zeke’s life — ten years ago before disappearing completely. As if they didn’t know the real reason she hadn’t kept in touch. She’s not sure if she’ll ever be able to act as oblivious as them. 

“Er, I’ve been back for a while now,” she replies. She bites her lip when she sees the look of surprise on Mrs. Jaeger’s face. When she glances over at Zeke, he doesn’t look back at her. He’s returned his gaze to his phone screen, ignoring her. Nervously, she laughs. “I guess Zeke didn’t tell you, but I’m teaching at the same university he is. A few undergraduate English classes and then a graduate course on nature and romantic poetry.” Petra doesn’t know why she feels a lump at the back of her throat or the sting of tears at the corner of her eyes. She nibbles at her lip again, looking down at her lap so that she doesn’t have to look at Zeke or his family. She doesn’t have a reason to feel hurt or upset. Maybe Zeke was busy and didn’t have the chance to mention it to his parents or maybe it just slipped his mind. It isn’t a big deal. 

“Oh, that must be nice!  Who knew you two would be working together after all these years?” Mrs. Jaeger says. She subtly pushes the cheese plate on the table towards Petra, gesturing for her to take one. 

“Mmm,” Petra says, nodding as if she agrees with Mrs. Jaeger. It’s not as if she’s wrong. Petra certainly didn’t know any of this would happen. She knew some of it would — getting her degree, teaching at a university, eating dinner with Zeke’s parents — she just hadn’t predicted other things like Zeke breaking up with her, not speaking with him for ten years after knowing him her entire life, or having to pretend that she’s okay. 

Petra reaches for a cracker and a spread of raspberry goat cheese and shoves the entire thing in her mouth, hoping that she won’t have to answer any more questions. 

“The university is nice,” Zeke’s father murmurs. It’s the first time he’s spoken all night. The sound of his voice startles Petra, but the other Jaegers don’t seem too surprised. “It’s near the museum too. Very convenient.” 

“Ah, the museum!” Mrs. Jaeger clasps her hands together and looks at Petra expectantly. Petra nearly chokes on her cracker out of nervousness. “Have you been there yet?” 

“Er, not yet,” Petra says hastily, wincing at the pain in her throat. She takes a quick sip of her water to relieve it. “I haven’t really found the time, I guess.” 

“Oh, you should absolutely go!” says Mrs. Jaeger brightly. Petra had never thought Mrs. Jaeger was one to love museums, but there’s probably a lot about the woman that Petra doesn’t know now. All Petra really remembers about the woman is that she stayed at home during the daytime and worked at the hospital at night. She’s bound to have found other ways to occupy her time now that she doesn’t have to worry about Zeke anymore. 

“You sound as if you really enjoy it.” Petra nibbles at another cracker. She feels as if she should smile right now, but she’s not sure if she’s able to. “Are there any exhibits you would recommend?” 

“Oh, they’re all good! The staff especially …,” Mrs. Jaeger gushes, but her voice begins to trail off. Her eyes flicker over to Zeke as if waiting for a sign to proceed, but her son pays no attention to her. He simply reaches over for an almond on the cheese plate and pops it into his mouth. His mother’s smile tightens and she continues, “The butterfly exhibit that’s opening soon should be exquisite!” 

Petra looks from Zeke to Mrs. Jaeger. Aside from Mrs. Jaeger’s forced smile, Petra really can’t tell what’s wrong, so she puts on a false smile of her own and nods. “I know. Zeke was telling me about it on the ride here.” 

There’s a long and awkward silence. Zeke puts no effort in speaking and neither does his father, who still sits and stares at his lap. Only Mrs. Jaeger and Petra seem to be putting in any effort to pick up the conversation, both trying to appear calm as they search for some common ground to work with. Instead, the doorbell rings and Petra swears she hears a sigh of relief escape Mrs. Jaeger’s lips. 

“It seems Eren has finally arrived,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her chair scraping across the floor as she gets up from the table. As she turns to leave, she flashes Petra an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry you had to wait so long.” Petra is about to tell her that it wasn’t a problem, that she didn’t mind waiting (even if it was a lie), but Zeke’s mother has already disappeared into the next room with Zeke’s father following silently behind her. 

For a moment, Petra wonders if she should try to talk to Zeke so more. It’s not that the quiet bothers her, but she’s never felt comfortable sitting silently next to others unless she was completely comfortable with them. Ten years ago this would have been fine, but now sitting with Zeke beside her without saying a word is making her skin crawl and her throat dry. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his interest. 

Zeke doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence at all. He’s still scrolling through his phone, occasionally reaching out to pluck a cracker or another almond from the cheese plate. If he’s fine without any conversation, Petra figures she shouldn’t bother him. She settles down with her back against her chair rather unhappily and tries to occupy herself another way. 

Petra tries not to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the other room. First, she stares down at the lace tablecloth, gazing at the delicate pattern until the floral designs are burned into her corneas. Mrs. Jaeger’s voice begins to drift into the dining room, her tone just as cold and harsh as it was when she spoke about Eren earlier this evening. Another voice floats into the room as well, a voice like Eren’s but a bit deeper and rougher than Petra remembers. As the two continue to talk, Petra finds herself straining to listen to the conversation, but she can’t quite make out the words. The words exchanged don’t sound incredibly pleasant though. 

“...if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have shown up on time,” Eren hisses as he walks into the room. He’s taller than he was when Petra had seen him last — probably as tall as his brother if not taller — but he walks with his head down and doesn’t seem to notice Petra seated at the table even as he pulls out a chair to sit down. Without looking up, Eren mumbles, “Sorry, I’m late.” 

Zeke looks up, his expression amused. “Eren,” he says, setting down his phone for once. He rests his chin in his hand, mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?” 

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says, mumbling into his lap. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke and then Petra, but he doesn’t really register who Petra is until he takes another glance. His eyes are huge like a doe’s. He’s always had big eyes even when he was a child, large and green like gemstones. He’s grown into them more since the last time Petra has seen him, but they’re still enormous, growing wider as he recognizes her. His mouth falls open in surprise. “... Petra?” 

She can feel her lips curling in a smile. “Hi, Eren.” 

Eren smiles back at her, a little nervous but a lot more relaxed than he was when he first arrived. He’s still shy when he smiles, looking up at her before glancing down at his lap again. “How are you?” He sits up straighter in his seat, no longer slouching. 

“I’m well. How are you?” 

“Good,” Eren answers.

“I’m glad. I missed you,” Petra tells him, and she means it. 

His smile is a little wider now and Petra feels the most relaxed than she’s been the entire night. It’s nice to know that, despite everything, at least Eren hasn’t changed and she feels less awkward being at a Jaeger family dinner after ten years of estrangement. 

Mrs. Jaeger puts down a tub of what looks like a potato salad on the table, opening the container with a frown. “At least you didn’t come empty-handed,” she comments wryly. 

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything. 

Petra sits up. “It looks, um, delicious.” It doesn’t. It looks like a pile of mush and not at all like anything edible, but Petra begins to spoon some on her plate anyway out of politeness despite the look of alarm on Eren’s face. “Eren, your brother told me you started teaching recently. Where do you teach?” 

“Just, um, down the street. Not really elementary … it’s a daycare,” he says distractedly as he watches her help herself to his potato salad. Eren hesitates for a moment before taking the spoon from Petra and switching their plates. He does it absentmindedly, almost as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he notices everyone looking at him peculiarly. Flustered, he explains, “It’s not, ah, I don’t think it’s very good. So.” As if to prove his point, he puts a heaping spoonful of it into his mouth, gagging on it as he swallows it down, and scrunches his face up in disgust. 

Mrs. Jaeger looks rather smug as Eren chokes. “I’ll just put this away then,” she says, removing the tub of potato salad from the table. She gestures for Petra to help herself to the other food on the table. “Help yourself to everything else, Petra.” 

“Er, thank you,” Petra says. She does feel bad about not eating the potato salad, but Eren looks pretty relieved. Because she’s talked Zeke’s ear off in the car and doesn’t know how to carry on a conversation with the Jaeger parents, she decides to continue her conversation with Eren. “Daycare seems like it would suit you. I bet you’re great with kids.” 

“I’m alright,” Eren mumbles as he pushes the potatoes back and forth on his plate, but he’s hiding a smile on his face, secretly pleased. He’s never been that good at hiding his emotions, which Petra thinks is an endearing trait. “Teaching at a university is probably harder.” He freezes for a moment and then hurriedly adds, “Your dad told me you work as a professor now. I ran into him before coming here. He mentioned that you taught English …?” 

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, casting a side glance at Zeke. She thought Zeke would have mentioned that they were working at the same university, but maybe it never came up in conversation between the brothers or they just weren’t as close as they were before. Forcing a smile on her face, she nods, “Yeah, I teach English, but I wouldn’t say teaching university is more or less difficult than handling a daycare. They have their own challenges, right?” 

“Yeah,” Eren replies, voice soft. His smile grows wider and, after Petra asks him about what it’s like teaching at the daycare, starts animatedly talking about his students. He seems very endeared towards a young girl named Gabi, a very mischievous but sweet troublemaker, and her companion Falco, a young boy that often has no choice but to be dragged into all of Gabi’s shenanigans. 

Talking to Eren makes the rest of the dinner go by easily. He’s always been easy to talk to even when they were teenagers and she was dating Zeke. Sometimes she would wait at the Jaeger house and talk with Eren while they waited for Zeke to come back from baseball practice. Eren was always so animated when he talked, using his hands and sometimes bouncing up and down his seat when he got excited. He still does that now as he talks about his work at the daycare, listening intently whenever Petra or even Zeke exchange their own stories about teaching. It makes her feel as if the past ten years hadn’t really happened, like Zeke and Eren had been a part of her life the entire time. 

“Oh, I brought dessert,” Eren says brightly. Before Mrs. Jaeger can say anything, he gets up to collect the paper bag on the kitchen counter and plops it on the dining table. He pushes it closer to Petra. “Your dad gave me some while he was closing up his shop.” 

She laughs. “I eat too many of these as it is,” Petra says, but she plucks an almond cookie from the bag. Her teeth sink into the cookie, savoring its subtle nutty flavor on her tongue, and sighs. “Don’t tell my dad. He won’t let me eat anymore when I get home.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Eren grins. 

Petra peers into the bag. “Did he give you any chocolate croissants?” She looks over at Eren. “Those are still your favorites, right?” 

Eren looks surprised. “Ah, yeah,” he replies, blinking. “You remember?” 

“Of course, I remember,” she snorts. She manages to find a pain au chocolat and places it delicately on Eren’s plate. It’s a little smooshed from the ride here, chocolate spilling out of its side, but Eren still looks at it hungrily. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Zeke leans forward. “I like the lemon bars. Let me know if there are any in there.” 

She laughs and actually does manage to find one, but it’s a lemon-lavender bar. Zeke assures her it’s fine, picking off the little bits of lavender that are on the top of the bar. They eat like that for a moment and Petra feels an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. It’s probably unhealthy to yearn for the past, but Petra wouldn’t mind if things somehow ended up the way they were before. 

When their dishes are scraped clean and the conversations begin to fade away, Zeke pats down the corner of his mouth with a napkin before announcing that they should stop for the night. He has papers to grade tonight, he explains to his parents who nod understandingly. The wooden legs of his chair scrape against the carpet as he gets up from the table and Petra slides out of her own seat, ready to follow him. 

“Ah, Petra,” Zeke says, pausing like he’s just remembered. He looks at her, head tilting slightly. He’s stopped by the door to the living room, his hand resting on the doorframe. “Do you mind calling an Uber to pick you up? I’d drive you home myself but …” 

“I …” Petra blinks, feeling like a deer in headlights. If she looked around, she would see that the rest of the Jaeger family has a similar expression. She’s not sure why she feels so surprised. Maybe it’s because she had expected him to drive her home, but maybe that was too much to ask of him after he had taken the trouble to drive her here in the first place. It’s not even that far of a drive to her house, but it’s probably too cumbersome for Zeke, who’s busy with grading papers and preparing for tomorrow’s lectures. There’s an awful lump in her throat like she had swallowed an egg whole, but Petra forces a smile on her face as she begins, “Sure, let me just call my dad -” 

“I’ll take you home,” a voice says suddenly. Everyone turns to see Eren standing up from his chair. At first glance he looks angry, but Petra blinks again and there’s only concern on his face as he collects his jacket and walks over to Petra. He shrugs it on and smiles down at her, his expression a little apologetic. “Er, you don’t mind riding on a bike, do you?” 

Petra has to lift her head to look at Eren and she wonders when he had gotten so tall. It must have been after she left for college. “No, that’s fine,” she replies numbly, too shocked to really think about it. She shuffles silently after Eren, mumbling a brief “thank you” when he helps her into her coat. 

“It was lovely having you over again, dear,” Mrs. Jaeger says to Petra, a smile pasted on the woman’s face as she saw the two out. She doesn’t say anything about Zeke not offering Petra a ride back. “Do come again sometime.” 

“Of course,” Petra says, although the promise feels empty. She’s not sure if Mrs. Jaeger notices or even cares because the woman shuts the door in her face before Eren and Petra are even out in the driveway. It’s not a cold gesture, but it’s a change from the days when Mrs. Jaeger would wait until Petra was almost out of sight before shutting the door and disappearing into the house. 

Petra shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat and follows Eren down the driveway, watching as he runs to the bike he had carelessly discarded on the ground before entering the house earlier. Embarrassed, Eren hastily picks up the bike, brushing it off and mumbling something about how he had been in too much of a hurry earlier to properly lock up his bike. Petra assures him it’s fine. She’s only half-listening anyway. 

“You can just sit here,” Eren says, patting a padded seat on the back of his bike. He throws a leg over his bike easily and looks at Petra, waiting expectantly. 

She hadn’t objected to the ride home before, but now she looks at Eren’s vehicle of choice skeptically. “Are you sure you’ll be able to pedal with me on it? I’m a whole other person.” Petra hovers beside the bike, but she doesn’t get on. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. It was fine when my boyfriends were riding in the back, and they’re a lot heavier than you,” Eren replies. It takes him a moment to register what he just said and then his face begins to color, cheeks glowing pink even in the dim moonlight. “I mean my ex-boyfriends. I rode around with my ex-girlfriend too, but she was really tiny too. She was …” He probably would have babbled on and on if Petra hadn’t sat down. 

“Your exes?” Petra asks, eyebrow raised. She hadn’t really thought about Eren dating, but it’s funny to think about now. She doesn’t remember if he ever dated anyone when he was in high school. She probably shouldn’t tease, but she can’t resist grinning at the boy and saying, “It looks like you were busy in college.” 

“Not that busy. Just … probably as busy as your average college student,” Eren mumbles under his breath, face still flushed. He gestures at Petra’s hands and then makes a motion around his waist. “You can … around me if, you know, you’re comfortable with it.” 

“Oh, right.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around Eren’s waist and wonders briefly how someone so tall can have such a thin waist. “Do you remember the way to my house?” she asks. 

“Of course,” Eren says. “It’s not that far from here.” 

For some reason, the way Eren answers makes Petra feel warm. Maybe it’s just the heat transfer from resting her cheek on his back. She closes her eyes, feeling the wind rush around her as Eren bikes her back home. 

It feels so comfortable, clinging onto someone so familiar and breathing in Eren’s scent, something like pinewood and a little bit of peppermint. He feels strong too, sturdy like a redwood tree. Petra doesn’t know why she doubted his ability to bike with her additional weight. He’d probably be fine having someone twice her weight in tow. She experimentally gives Eren’s waist a little squeeze. It must have been too sudden of a squeeze because they come to a screeching stop, Petra’s face slamming against Eren’s back and the two of them nearly go flying. 

“Oh, ouch,” Petra says. One arm is still wrapped around Eren’s lithe waist, but she raises a hand to rub her stinging face. “That hurts.” 

“S-sorry!” Eren stammers. He twists around to get a good look at Petra, forehead wrinkling. “I didn’t mean to stop so suddenly I was just … surprised.” He brings his hand down to where Petra’s arm is hooked around his waist, but he snatches his hand away as soon as their skin brushes as if he’s been burned. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Petra assures him. Her nose is throbbing dully, but it’s not bleeding. “It’s my fault anyway. I was just surprised. You’re a lot bigger than you were the last time I saw you.” 

“I’m alright,” Eren says with a shy laugh. He pushes off on the bike and starts for home again, pedaling easily despite Petra’s weight. He doesn’t startle when Petra leans against him again, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of his hoodie. His breath hitches a little when Petra wraps her arms a little tighter around his waist, but it goes unnoticed by her. 

“Were they nice?” she asks. Eren makes a confused noise, and she can’t help but smile. Clarifying, she says, “Your exes. Were they nice?” 

Eren pedals in silence for a while before responding. “Yeah. They were nice.” 

“That’s good.” Petra sighs against his back, not noticing the way he shivers as if he can feel her breath on his skin. “You deserve to date nice people.” 

Petra might have imagined it, but she thinks she hears Eren say something in reply. He says it quietly, though, and the wind carries it away too quickly for her to hear. She straightens her back, lifting her head from where it rests against Eren’s back, but he doesn’t repeat himself and she doesn’t ask. Maybe it’s just one of those things that are meant to be spoken aloud but not heard by anyone. 

They don’t speak much the rest of the way home. Petra figures Eren is having enough trouble biking with two people and holding a conversation would only tire him out more. She just lets herself rest against him, watching as they pass streetlight after streetlight. It probably would have been more convenient to call a Lyft or an Uber, but Petra thinks accepting Eren’s bike ride isn’t bad either. It saved her from having to wait awkwardly for her driver to find the house while Zeke’s parents waited for her to leave. 

She wonders if she should have gone to dinner in the first place. Maybe Zeke had only invited her out of politeness, but she had taken it to mean more than it did. She’s stupid to think that arriving at the Jaeger house meant that things could go back to the way things were. It was noticeably tense in the house. At first, Petra thought it was because of the strained relationship between Mrs. Jaeger and Eren, but now she’s not so sure. It’s not as if Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger had met her with open arms. They hadn’t been hostile, but they were polite in the way that people were polite to house guests and not in the way they would be to a childhood friend of their son. God, she’s so stupid. She should have just declined Zeke’s offer politely and never spoken to him again since he was obviously content with not speaking with her for ten years. 

Burying her face in Eren’s hoodie, Petra gives him another squeeze. Eren doesn’t brake this time. He just lets out a surprised “oh!” and falters for a bit, bike slowing, before picking his pace back up and continuing on their way. 

“We’re almost there,” Eren tells her. As he approaches Petra’s house, the bike begins to slow before stopping completely in front of the driveway. When Petra lifts her head, Eren is looking at her, smiling. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Petra nods. She gets off the bike and pats down her windswept hair, brushing some stray locks out of her face. She manages to smile back at Eren. “Thanks for the ride back. I hope it wasn’t too out of your way.” 

“It’s fine.” Eren sits at his bike, his smile a little lopsided. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes. It’s only when Petra turns around towards her house that he opens his mouth. “Hey, Petra?” 

Petra’s hand rests on the gate of her wooden fence, just about to open it. She looks at Eren, watching as he fidgets with the handle of his bike. “Yeah?” 

“Did Zeke …?” His voice trails off and Eren’s looking everywhere except at her face. He nibbles on his bottom lip and Petra wonders what he’s so nervous about. His expression looks pained as if he’s scared whatever he has to say will hurt her, but Petra’s not sure why it would. After a moment, Eren swallows and forces a smile on his face. “Did Zeke tell you that … I work near your university?” 

“You do?” 

Eren nods. He looks a lot less nervous now, his shoulders relaxed. “Well, it’s not that far by bike.” 

“Really?” Petra hums. “I should come visit you some time then.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to -” 

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests. 

He blinks. “I can?” Eren asks. “Is that really okay?” 

Petra almost laughs. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You should just let me know beforehand if you’re coming,” she tells him. She walks over, pulling her phone out of her purse and handing it to him so he can add his number. “Text me or call me. I might not respond right away because I might have a faculty meeting or a lecture, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” 

“Oh, alright then,” Eren says. He types away on her phone, handing it back to her as soon as he’s finished. He watches with wide green eyes as Petra sends him an emoji — a simple “Hi, Eren! It’s Petra 😊” — and looks back at her with a grin. “I’ll come visit sometime.” 

“That’d be great,” Petra says, and she really means it. “Thanks again for the ride, Eren. I really appreciate it.” 

“It was no problem,” Eren tells her. He waves as walks through the gate and up the steps of her porch. He’s still waving when she opens the door and turns around, his smile a little goofy but cute at the same time. “Have a good night!” 

“You too,” Petra says before shutting the door gently behind her. She takes a peek out the window and sees Eren still on the sidewalk with the bike. He stands there with a pensive look on his face before pushing off his bike and riding off into the night. Petra watches until he’s a tiny speck down the road. When she blinks, he’s gone. 

Petra finds her dad waiting for her in the living room, sleeping because he can’t stay awake for very long after dinner. In his lap sits a half-finished crossword puzzle. Petra smiles affectionately at her father before pressing a soft kiss on the old man’s brow. 

“I’m home,” she whispers as her father begins to stir. 

“Ah, Petra,” says her father. He looks at her, eyes still bleary with sleep, and gives her a drowsy smile. With a hand, he pushes up the glasses that were slipping off his nose during sleep. “Did Zeke drive you home?” 

Her lips press into a thin line. “No. He was busy,” Petra replies, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “Eren took me home instead.” 

“Eren?” her father repeats, not seeming to remember the name. 

“Zeke’s younger brother,” Petra reminds him. She leans against the back of her father’s armchair as she tries to describe the half-brother. “He was a few years younger than me. Brown hair, big green eyes, kind of gangly.” 

“Oh, Eren,” her father says, nodding. Petra’s not sure if he actually remembers or if he’s just being polite, but then he suddenly says, “I saw him earlier this evening before I was closing up shop. He’s very polite. He’s a nice boy.” 

Petra leans over to rest her head on her father’s shoulder while her arms lay folded on the back of the armchair. She thinks about her ride home, how it could have been cold and miserable and lonely. And maybe her thoughts were all of those things, but the ride wasn’t. She can still feel the warmth Eren emanated from underneath his hoodie, how comforting it was to have someone to hold.