to love a liar

black coffee

🧪 CW: violence, blood, gore

Wordlessly, he strode through the doors of the hotel, his ears burning a fiery red.

People were beginning to clear out of the wedding hall, the events of the evening coming to a close.

Eren tried straightening out his cut hand, not adding too much pressure on his burning skin. His wallet was still inside the dressing room from when Mikasa threw it at him and ran off. He needed that if he had plans to go home.

The beginning of the day depicted no indication that this would be the end of his night. Battered and fucked up, walking back alone.

Nobody else was in sight. The last person he was brave enough to lock eyes with was somehow you. Despite not even wanting to see those eyes, he coerced himself to do so.

None of his friends were around. Good. He didn't want to talk to anyone anyway. All he had to do was get his wallet and get the hell out of there.

"Eren—hey—man, you good?" Uri Reiss came into view.

He raised his eyes, still half-lidded as he glanced at the boy. The question's answer was obvious. No man that appeared that disheveled and that dissociated from reality would be okay. The goal wasn't to make that clear though, the goal was to get the fuck out of there.

Eren looked him dead in the eye, "Yeah, fine."

Uri furrowed his brows, watching Eren stalk past him and in the direction the rest of the guests were piling out of. Eren was headed toward the dressing room, where it all went wrong.

He walked back in, this time he was alone, not a single soul in sight. His eyes drifted around the area, hoping to find that black wallet somewhere on the convoluted carpet.

"You looking for this?" a voice spoke from behind him.

Armin's voice hadn't alarmed him in the slightest, and although it did trouble him, Eren didn't let it show as he turned around. A stone-cold and unbothered motion in his movement and a similar look on his face.

Armin held up the wallet, the leather glinting in the dim lights in the room. Armin gave an easy smile and tossed it toward him. Eren caught it, tucking it into the inner pocket of his blazer.

"How's your face?" Armin stepped further into the room. "Jean really seemed to get you there."

"It's fine," Eren replied, voice deep and blunt.

"Where's Y/n?" Armin asked. "She went after Mikasa but I can't find either of them."

"Don't know," Eren shrugged indifferently.

"You don't know?" Armin questioned, growing a tad tense. "You ran out of here because you said you needed to find her. What happened?"

"You really want to know?" Eren looked back at the blonde with a hint of challenge in his tone.

"Eren . . . why are you acting so weird?" Armin's blue eyes strained at the sight of his best friend behaving like he had no care in the world.

"Because every single person thinks they have free will to be in my business," Eren shoved his hands in the pocket of his blazer.

"What are you talking about? Where the hell is Y/n?" Armin interrogated again, his brows furrowing in anticipation for a backhanded answer in accordance with his best friend's style.

"Don't know—gone—ran off again—no clue," Eren spoke with a hair of mirth.

"What do you mean gone?" Armin's pupils blew wide.