𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

𝐗 : 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

"You know, I met a boy in London that I think you'd get along with," Sasha practically sang as her heels crunched along the fallen leaves. The road ahead was a sea of reds, yellows, oranges, and browns. Autumn was finally apparent from the fallen foliage.

"Really?!" Your voice was slightly nasal from the allergies you had fought the last few days, but the leaf mold would not hinder the excitement pooling in your stomach.

"He was tall and had the sweetest smile I've ever seen. He's a real flirt, too. He said it was part of being born in France and having an Italian mother: he could speak any love language. How smooth is that? Niccolo didn't like it, but I thought you might."

"Well, what's his name?"

"Marco."

"And how old is he?"

"Seventeen."

"...Isn't that a little too old for me?" you asked with a scrunched nose. A boy's cuteness and smoothness did not matter; you preferred fantasizing about someone closer in age.

"Well, Niccolo's three years older than me, and I think that's alright. Besides, it's not like you'll meet him tomorrow. Your father already said I couldn't steal you off to Europe until you're at least sixteen, but I think he'll make me wait longer. He's far too protective over you."

"Was there anyone else? Someone my age?"

"Well, the man that invited us to stay in his mansion was my age, so I assume you don't want to hear about him. He's quite accomplished, though," Sasha said with a smirk as her auburn hair whipped around with the leaves. She knew your curiosity was your biggest weakness and dropped crumbs to lead you into a massive meal of secrets.

"You can still tell me!"

"In that case, his name is Armin. He's blonde, cute, and smart. Bit of a baby face, but from what I gathered during my time there, that's more common in British boys. Richer than everyone in town, too." She paused for a few moments, deep in thought. "Then... there was the last one."

"What was he like?" You glittered in anticipation. Whether food or information, Sasha always saved the best for last, so you knew this last boy was special.

"He... Well, I don't... Hmm, how do I say this nicely... You'd definitely struggle with that one."

"Why's that?" You could get along with everyone if you put in your best effort. How bad could the boy be?

"For starters, he couldn't speak to women if his life depended on it. He got flustered so easily. It would have been cute if it wasn't so pitiful. Marco had to speak on his behalf the first few days." Sasha tapped her finger against her bottom lip in thought. "And he's...sort of like Eren in a way. Both have those nasty, arrogant streaks, but the more comfortable he grew, the more considerate he became. He even helped me carry my luggage around London on our last day and held every door for me! Isn't that nice?"

"What'd he look like?" you asked.

"Life isn't all about looks, Y/n."

"I know! I'm just trying to paint a picture of him in my mind."

"Well, he's somewhat tall. Ashy brown hair. Long face. He still has to grow into his looks, but he's young, so there's time." Sasha wrapped her warm arm around your shoulder. "When we go to London, I'll introduce you to them all. Armin said I was always welcome for another visit!" Sasha flashed her signature smile as your vision blurred slightly.

"Does the last boy have a—"

"Wait!" Sasha pointed up the road at the quaint, two-story house. "Look up there! Isn't it beautiful! Right on the lake, just like I told you! And see those little cabins? It's perfect, isn't it? I can't believe I finally have my own home! And my own kitchen!"