Didn’t have time to edit Just My Type today so it’ll be out a bit later than expected ! But in the mean time, here is a sneak peek of the first draft for you to nibble on !
Your eyes travel around the room, heart pounding in your chest as pop music bounces off the walls of Jean Kirstein’s flat, currently packed with a roar of partying students. Some you’ve seen before on campus and some outsiders who probably managed to get in thanks to the friend of a friend. All dancing and meddling, talking and drinking, getting carried away by the beat of drums and forgetting their problems for the span of a night.
This assignment they still have yet to turn in, their student debts, the upcoming exams, climate change…
All drowned out by the flowing liquor and some badly executed dance moves.
A month ago you were a part of the fun, smiling and laughing as if nothing mattered. Swinging on the dance floor and bright eyes meeting your boyfriend’s, amusement and the wild freedom of the night flowing through your veins, stretching your lips into a smile.
Yeah, two months ago this party could have been great fun. Maybe you would even have looked forward to it. After all, there was a reason Jean was known for his Friday night parties. They always shook the ground.
Your heart clenches in your chest and your eyes shift to the side where Ymir and Historia sit beside you on the couch. Caught up in a world of their own, lips moving in a heated kiss.
A bitter taste fills your mouth, hold on your half empty cup tightening.
What are you even doing here ?
You raked your brain for the reason you agreed to follow your friends here in the first place. You knew this wouldn’t be a good time, that you’d miss the comfort of your couch and the warmth of your home.
And yet you hadn’t been able to refuse your friend’s offer when they had insisted for you to follow them here, suggesting that this would be a good way to clear your mind and turn the page.
If only they knew the only reason you had agreed to come was for a chance to see him.
A sigh falls from your lips and you close your eyes, head heavy with alcohol and drums.
Eren and you had met in high school. And had been dating ever since, that is until you decided to part ways two months ago.
You loved each other, knew each other like no one else, shared a heart and mind. You thought the two of you were strong enough to be there for one another through thick and thin.
Things had been rough for the two of you, when Eren’s mother died, leaving him alone with his stepbrother and father.
Carla was a kind and strong woman. Known around her neighbourhood for the shine of her smile, the earnestness of her personality and the wit in her words. For the fondness in her chocolate eyes when she looked over the flowers in the Jeagers’ garden and lack of self restraint when it came to speaking her mind.
But Carla was also Eren’s mother, the one who had raised him and loved him, the one who had shaped him to be the wonderful man he was today. And what would haunt him forever was far worse than the simple memory of her ability to keep the garden flowers alive.
It was the warmth of her hand cupping his cheek, the softness of her lips pressing a loving kiss to his forehead before putting him to bed and turning off the lights, leaving his room with a last smile his way.
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