after returning from a much needed break, y/n l/n decides to let loose for once. being invited to a concert isn't what she planned, but she goes for it. she doesn't expect to be mesmerized by the leader singer, who remains anonymous, that also takes...
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MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE
miami, florida thursday, july 28th 12:01 p.m.
——eren's pov——
If FML was a moment, it'd be right now.
My phone rings over and over again with the same caller ID: Mom
She's been calling me for the past ten minutes and I haven't bothered to answer because I know exactly why she's calling. How's college? Tell me about everything! Are you in any clubs? Are you talking to any girls? What are you doing in class right now? Have you been keeping up with your studies?
Listen, I love my Mom to death. But sometimes it's so fucking annoying having to listen to these questions. The thing is: I don't even know how to answer them! I don't attend class, I don't do clubs, I'm failing my classes. I'm the exact opposite of what she wants for me.
A failure in her eyes.
My screen turns black again and within moments, that same caller ID pops up along with the constant ringing. I wipe my hands on my face and get up from my bed. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
All the curtains in my room are pulled together, making the room pitch black. Thank god for black-out curtains. The darkness blends in with every decoration in my room. You could sleep with your eyes open because of how dark it is.
I got in late again last night from rehearsal . Ever since the concert, we've been getting deals like wild fire. This venue wants us, but oh! This venue wants us but is paying more. It's so frustrating and time consuming to sit on the phone with all these vendors to situate everything.
But I put myself in this situation and wanted to live like this, so I have to deal with it.
Out of pity, I hurry and grab my phone before the call ends once more. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder and wait for her to speak.
"Eren! I was starting to think you wouldn't answer," she says cheerfully. Fuck, I already feel bad. Mom always puts on a kind voice when talking to me because I never got that when we lived with Dad. I hate thinking about him and how he fucking treated us.
I try to smile through my voice, "Sorry Mom, I was in the shower and left my phone in my room." Lie number one.
She chuckles but it comes out static through the phone. "No worries my boy. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing."
Me and Mom call once a week to give each other updates on our life. We text on the other days. I know she just wants to hear my voice but these calls are starting to feel like a chore. I hate feeling like I'm disappointing my mother.
I stifle up a cheerful—and awake—voice. She expects me to have already went to some classes today and be fully awake. Although, I just woke up twenty minutes ago. "Things have been really good! Classes have been going by smoothly. I think things are working out for me."
