AMBITION - ERENXREADER

𝕥 𝕨 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕪 - 𝕤 𝕖 𝕧 𝕖 𝕟

𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕔𝕜_ (𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕞)
✧✧✧✧✧

Calloused. To be calloused was to be exposed to something so many times that you develop a hardened outer layer to compensate, to prevent further pain. Calloused like the insides of Eren's hands from lifting heavy weights and the metal rings he often wore.

You had grown to love the rough areas of his calloused skin right below each finger. It had been two weeks since you had kissed his hands, since he had grazed his calloused fingers along your body.

Calloused was the only word you could think of to describe your sense of state in the weeks following the beginning of winter break. Calloused when your mom and dad continued to drag you along to their pretentious outings and holiday parties. If you were forced to go to yoga with your mom and her friends one more time you were sure that you'd snap and kick the downward dog shit out of someone.

Calloused when your parents took you on a tour around Orvud's medical campus. As if you hadn't been there an absurd amount of times already for alumni events, not to mention you knew a few students when you were there for your first few years of undergrad.

Calloused when your phone chimed each time Mikasa or another one of your friends reached out to you to see if you were okay. You weren't. They knew that. You didn't have the energy or words to even respond to them properly. One word responses were all that you could manage.

Two weeks since you had moved back home. Eren hadn't reached out to you. Not once.

How could he give you up so easily? Here you were, calloused but aching nonetheless for his entire being. To wrap your fingers in his fine, soft chocolate locks of hair again and inhale the masculine addictive smell of his cologne mixed with his unique and natural scent. Sure, you hadn't called or texted him either, but you weren't the one that needed to apologize. He never even apologized.

He didn't even utter an 'I'm sorry' as you walked away from him. He didn't fight to keep you around or force you to hear out his side of the story. God, did you want to listen to what he had to say, but you knew if he muttered any sort of bullshit excuse that you'd fall back into his arms in a heartbeat. And you were fucking done with letting people get away with abusing your trust.

Calloused. Your heart had hardened to a point that you were determined not to let a single other person in. You'd be alone forever with meaningless fucks to satisfy your physical craving now and then, but you swore that you'd never allow another person into your heart again. Not after the searing pain you continued to endure throughout the weeks of winter break.

Your parents caught on real quick that something was up when you didn't smile or laugh like you used to. To them you seemed dull, tired, empty. Your mom was all too peppy when she had guessed what the deal was at dinner one night.

"What's going on with you, Y/N?" she asked between bites of seared salmon.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've stayed in your room all week. And when you're not in there all you do is sulk," your dad agreed.

"Not sure."

"Did something happen with that boy?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Something did, didn't it? I told you he was no good. It's best to stay away from all of that drama until you're ready, Y/N," she preached.

"And when will I ever be ready?"

"Once you establish your career," your mom and dad echoed in sync with each other. All you did was roll your eyes and pick at your vegetables with your fork. It didn't matter when they thought you were ready, because you were determined to never let anybody knock your walls down from this point forward.