ch. six

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I hit the punching bag over and over again for hours, feeling each and every ache in my body from how long I've been training.

Beads of sweat were dripping down my back, face and arms. My hair was sticking to my skin like glue. It felt like I was on fire, it felt like lava was flowing through my veins. Each ragged breath pained my chest, but it didn't slow me down at all.

My arm was killing me. I knew I shouldn't be working myself this hard -- I'd pulled the stitches in my arm two times already, making the healing process restart all over again.

Hange urged me to take breaks and not be too physical for a while, but it was almost impossible for me with how much was going on recently. My mind was running one-hundred miles per hour lately, and my thoughts seemed to drown me.

I'm not okay. I'm angry and hurt and confused. I'm stressed and I'm not taking care of myself like I should. It's so hard to when everyday something is making me go more and more insane.

"Fuck!" I yelled as the punching bag fell to the ground. I began over reacting, pacing around the room, pulling at me hair from the scalp in anger. I walked over to the wooden dummy, hitting it hard without stopping.

I felt the wood seep into my skin, I felt the blood drip down my knuckles and paint the dark floor. The pain felt good to me, it felt refreshing, it felt needed. With each punch, a sob threatened to escape.

"Y/N!" someone yelled.

I didn't stop. I didn't care to.

"Y/N, stop, my God." they yelled once more. Still, I continued. Everything around me seemed to fade away, and the only thing I could focus on was the way my knuckles were splitting open as I hit the wooden dummy.

Suddenly I felt myself being pulled away. A tight grip was on my arm, and I looked up to see hazel eyes. Jean was pulling me closer to him, not letting go.

"Calm down. Shit, are you okay?" he grabbed my hands, inspecting the deep cuts.

"I'm fine, Jean, let go." I pulled away from him, but he didn't budge.

"No you're not. You're not. Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Jean tugged me behind him as he grabbed my things with one arm and walked us out of the training room.

We were silent as he took me to his room to clean me up. He gently pushed me into his bed as he got a first aid kit.

"Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." Jean said softly.

"I can't," I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut so tears didn't fall.

"Why not? You can trust me, Y/N." he pulled my hands into his lap as he began cleaning my wounds.

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's just... I can't talk about it. I should, but I can't."

Jean simply nodded. "That's okay. Take your time. We don't have to talk. I'll just clean you up, alright?"

I smiled at him with appreciation. We sat in a comfortable silence as he finished up, and every now and then he'd look up at me to make sure I was alright. He even checked out my stitches, and luckily they were okay.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, slightly embarrassed. "I don't know what came over me. I let my emotions take control, I didn't mean for you to have to see that."

"Don't apologize, Y/N. I told you it's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me," he grabbed my fingers instead of my injured hand, and squeezed reassuringly.

I looked up at Jean, and noticed a certain look in his eyes. I noticed the way his focus would switch from holding my gaze, to resting on my lips.

"Let me help you forget," Jean offered.

"How?" I tilted my head with curiosity.

He moved closer to me, never breaking eye contact. I started to panic inside, because I don't want Jean getting the wrong idea. I know we've had our moments but... I can't do this. I can't give him the impression that I can do this with him.

"Jean, I-"

"I know. I know you don't have feelings for me, Y/N. It's okay. We don't have to if you don't want to but... this could maybe help us both out. It could help us forget. Lose focus for now, you know? We don't have to though, I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. This was stupid, I'm sorry," Jean began backing away from me.

I grabbed his wrist, pulling him close. Our noses were barely an inch apart from one another, instantly making me change my mind. "Make me forget, Jean. No strings," I whispered, my breath fanning his lips.

"No strings," Jean repeated, his eyes glazing over with lust. Then he pulled me into his lap, his hands on my cheeks as mine ran through his hair while as his lips met mine.

The kiss was sloppy and rushed. It was obvious no true feelings were involved. It didn't feel like he was kissing me as if I was his oxygen -- he was kissing me as if it'd help him forget everything in the world.

I know it was probably wrong. It was wrong because I didn't love Jean, and he didn't love me. We were both using one another to forget about the problems that we never spoke on out loud.

Right now, Jean was helping me forget about Eren. I felt guilty, especially considering Eren wasn't too fond of Jean, and here I was, my lips locked with his. Hell, part of me was doing this in spite of Eren and Jean's complicated relationship.

But why does it even matter? Eren has shown me over and over that he doesn't care about me. It shouldn't matter who the fuck I kiss. He's not part of my life anymore, and I no longer owe him anything.

It was slightly thrilling to kiss the boy that got on every single one of Eren's nerves. Eren doesn't care how his actions affect me, so I won't care either. I shouldn't care.

This was supposed to be helping me forget, right?

Then why was I wishing I was kissing my ex best friend instead?

____

i have something emotional planned that's probably gonna make me cry while i'm writing it. it's gonna be soon, in one of the next few chapters so here's your one & only warning :p

also this wasn't really the best chapter, i'm super sorry. next chapter will be much more interesting so stay tuned :) lmk any thoughts!!

<3 u guys sm

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