Bitter

Thirteen

You sat fiddling with your hair on the edge of the bed in one of Armin's oversized tshirts as Eren struggled to get it together on the couch. He clung to his best friend like a little kid, letting Armin smooth his hair and accepting the scolding for driving drunk.
You felt you were somehow intruding with how close they were, but you clearly had no choice but to wait it out until you could scoop your pants up and make a run for it.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eren rose without a word and locked himself in the bathroom. You shot up and began to dress as quickly as you could, praying he didn't leave the bathroom in time to see you bouncing on one leg to get your pants on. Armin sighed loudly on the couch and raked a hand through his hair, watching you silently as you searched the apartment for your phone. It wasn't in your bag or in the bed, nor the kitchen. Panic began to rise in your throat as you raced the clock. You wanted so desperately to be gone before Eren came back out.
"Do you think my phone might be in the couch?" You asked, wiping your palms on the back of your jeans.
"Maybe." Armin murmured as he began lifting the cushions to help you look. Your hands brushed as you helped him and you blushed.

This damn couch is gonna be the death of me, you thought wryly.
"It's not here." He noted, reaching for his own phone to call yours. After a moment, you heard the faint vibration. It sounded far away, but it was definitely in the apartment somewhere. You followed the sound, next to the kitchen, all the way up to the bathroom. It buzzed loudly off the counter, then stopped. You cursed internally and stepped away. You'd have to wait for Eren to come out. But as you turned, the door opened. There he stood, your phone held up between his thumb and pointer finger. His face was still puffy but he looked much better than he did ten minutes ago.
"Looking for this?" He questioned, eyes glinting.
"Yes, thank you." You gritted out, taking it from him. As you turned to leave, Eren caught your chin and frowned. His gaze swept to Armin, ignoring you completely as he audaciously held you there. You couldn't quite read his face but you knew whatever thoughts were swimming around in his head were of a sinister nature. The gesture lasted all of five seconds but it startled you enough to rip your chin from him and practically jog to the front door.
" Erm - thanks for everything," you stuttered towards Armin as you paused on the handle, completely ignoring whatever the hell just took place. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Get home safe." He answered with a weak smile.
Nodding, you crossed the threshold and ran to your car.

***

Song rec: Blame It On Me~ Post Malone

You held your breath as you tiptoed through the hallway, praying to make it to your room without an interaction with Pieck. But the gods or saints or whatever the hell existed weren't listening and clearly didn't give a shit.
"Y/N?!" She shrilled from her bed, fumbling through the covers to race to you.
"Fuuuuuck." You hissed, picking up the pace. But she was at the end of the hall before you could get to your door. You weren't ready for this interaction, nor did you care about reconciling with her any time soon.

"Are you okay?! Where did you go after the fight? Nobody knew where you went after they saw you hit your head I was so worried I can't believe-."
"Pieck," your monotone voice cut her off, "shut the fuck up."
Her eyes went wide, mouth still open from her rapid fire questioning. You almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Pieck might not have done anything herself, in reality she was mostly a victim of Zeke. But still, every time she gave him an inch he took a mile. He took ten fucking miles and it never ended well for anyone.
"I get it, you're mad. And you should be. I feel really really guilty about what Porco did to both of you. I'm just as tired of everything as you are, Y/N."

Your eyes practically rolled back into your head, and you couldn't stop what came pouring out. "Why the fuck do I hate Zeke more than you? More than you. WHY does Zeke always end up getting your fucking pity?! You're better than this. You're fucking BETTER than all this."
Your hands were waiving around and you were practically spitting. As she started to answer, you cut her off again.
"I got a fucking concussion! From Porco! I GOT A FUCKING CONCUSSION FROM PORCO!" You screamed in her face, shoving her into your bedroom door. Tears streamed down her face and dripped onto her shirt. You couldn't help feeling sick. Not from screaming at your friend and pushing her, but because she looked so fucking pathetic. She didn't look or act like the girl you became friends with three years ago. Moved in with. Shared meals and laughs with. Pieck was a far cry from the strong, intelligent girl you loved so much. This felt like a betrayal.
It was disappointment.
It was like watching a warrior fall.

"Get up." You bit out. But she just sat there. "GET. UP!" You cried, yanking her up by her shirt. Pieck flailed out of your grasp and slapped you across the face.

"Fucking little bitch!" You growled, slapping her back as hard as you could. Before you knew it, you were fighting each other, rolling around and grabbing and punching and kicking. Then as suddenly as it started, you gave up. The pictures hanging in the hall were knocked down, broken glass glittered on the carpet. There was a hole in the drywall. Hot tears fell down your cheeks and an animalistic sob built up in your chest, forcing its way out. You would always care about her more than she cared about herself.

Pieck wrapped her arms around you tightly, her own tears wetting your hair. You both sat like that for a while, lost in the cold realization that each of you had changed in a way that had separated you from the other.