eight, ...who?

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...

Jean's glare doesn't pierce you for long as he takes in your state.

He stumbles over to you and sees your hunched, frightened form on the floor. "What happened?! Are you okay??" When he gets nothing but a tremble of your lips he pulls you up and hugs you tight.

"What the fuck, Y/n, I was knocking for so long, why didn't you answer??" He pushes you so he can see your face, but keeps a tight grip on your arms.

"Sorry, Jean, I didn't mean to make you worry," you mutter. You glance down to find your phone, which you must've dropped when Jean came in. It's facing down, so you couldn't even see if he was still on the phone.

Kruger.

That bastard.

"But what happened?" He asks, searching your eyes for an answer.

"I... I thought I saw something, that's all, don't worry," but the look on his face doesn't let up.

"How was your therapy session? Levi is still treating you right?"

"Jean,..." you sigh, but you know you don't really have the right to feel annoyed at him for asking. You're giving him every reason to worry, but damn, for his sake you hope he just moves on. "Levi wouldn't treat me any different than he always has. I'm fine."

"Say that to the tear-stained cheeks," he scoffs, gesturing to them as he lets his grip on you go.

"Jean,... can I... stay at your place for a while?" you whisper, having no clue if... if Kruger was listening or not.

"... Y/n-"

"Please," you look up at him, and you know your wet lashes, and red-rimmed eyes, especially, wouldn't get a no.

"Of course you can," he sighs. "You don't even have to ask. But this isn't over." He tells you, and all you can do is look at him until he pulls you in for another quick hug. "Besides," he murmurs from atop your head. "I broke the lock off your door when I forced my way in."

"Seriously-" You push at him so you can go to look, but he stops you.

"Well, that's what happens when you don't answer your calls. If you were in here, there's no way you didn't hear me." He says, but the look on your face gets him to drop it for now.

"Pack up, oh, but brace yourself... my roommates can be... well, you already know," he tells you. "I'll be in the car."

He turns and walks away, and you follow him, watching him fumble with the door. He looks back at you sheepishly. "I-I'll just leave this open..." with that, he goes out to his car.

You seriously need to call someone to have that lock fixed. Maybe just install new ones entirely. See if that helps keep him out.

Was Kruger... really the intruder?

But then you remember how he said his name would mean something to you back at the bar. This is what he meant.

He had to be the one breaking in and out of your house. He had your number. The things he said,... he called you baby. It's a popular pet name, sure, but the pieces were just too... perfect to not go together.

But... if Kruger is the intruder.... then Armin should be warned. His friend is a half-assed piece of shit.
That does, briefly, remind you that you should be scrounging up ideas for his book cover, but there's just too much going on for you to focus on that right now.

After a quick scan, you swiftly grab the notes that were sticking out from under the couch. You're not even going to ponder how that got there. You grab your bag and put it inside. After that, you walk to your bathroom and grab your toothbrush and paste.

You have no clue how long you're staying, but clothes are a must. You walk up the stairs grab an overnight bag and start stuffing a few pairs inside.

When you had everything you cared to bring, you stepped out, not looking back. You wanted to get out as soon as possible. You still have to get to the cops somehow.

Without anyone knowing.

You trotted down the stairs, shuffling across the floor until finally, you're met with fresh air. You're out. And after feeling like you couldn't escape for that long, you're incredibly relieved. You adjust the bags on your shoulder and call someone to take care of the locks as you walk to Jean's car.

You're still on the phone by the time you've settled into his backseat and he starts gearing up his car.

Finally, everything's sorted out and you hang up. But before you can focus on the fact that Jean is about to start driving, your eyes snagged on your notifications. You had a new message.

You tapped into it with furrowed brows.

UNKNOWN

See? Trust me. :)

Your blood went cold, reading the message.

Like hell, you'd trust him. Since when did he set his eyes on you? The thought makes you shake, but you do your best to compose it, not wanting Jean to suspect anything more than he already is.

But his message brought a beacon of hope down on you, and you smirked to yourself softly. Now this...

This is something worth giving to the police.

ARMIN'S POV

I sigh to myself as I stare at Eren's unbothered form. He mindlessly flips through random newspapers found in Y/n's attic, and whether he can feel me staring at him or not, he shows no reaction.

I roll my eyes and he simply picks up a glass of his favorite whiskey, which just so happens to be his own, and sips it.

I narrow my eyes into slits as I analyze the way he adjusts the newspaper in his hands. The thing that's getting on my nerves is the fact that he doesn't read. He's just purposefully avoiding my gaze like a bitch.

Excuse my French.

"So, what happened?" I ask, to which he finally lets his gaze flick upward to meet mine.

He takes another sip of poison and goes back to skimming the articles printed on that damn paper. "I don't know what you mean."

"Fine," I sigh, standing up and sitting across from him, pouring a little of that poison into a glass that he offered me when we first got here. I knew why he offered it, so I didn't take it at first. "I'll play along. I mean when you decided to risk it all and call her. What happened?"

He sighs, tossing the newspaper on the glass table in front of him and leaning back, glass in hand. "You mean when she was about to call the cops again? And I stopped her."

"By calling her? With your personal phone?" I deadpan.

He shrugs. "You can fix it."

I purse my lips, glaring at him for a second, before bringing a hand to my face and pinching the bridge of my nose as I lean forward. "But because you did that, you risk mistakes. I don't make mistakes, Eren. You do realize if you fuck this up, it'll be the both of us behind bars with no Y/n."

"I have no doubt you'd be able to get us out of that too," he takes another slow sip of whiskey. I'm not violent. Not like he is. I prefer adult conversations over brawling like beasts, but I have to say... he really pisses me off sometimes.

"Yeah, but it'd be a bitch to, with no guarantees," I grit lowly, showing him how serious I am. "I can fix this. But don't get us— yourself in such deep shit, you're unreachable, moron."

"Aw, are you worried about me?" he smirks.

I don't smile. I don't so much as let my lips twitch. He'll know I'm not joking by the end of today, I'll make sure of it.

I stand, momentarily towering over him. I glare down at him for a good second before I thrust my hand forward; expectantly.

He raises a brow and I roll my eyes again. "Your phone, Eren," I say, the look on my face unwavering.

He doesn't give it to me, so I lean forward, practically hovering over him.

He's bigger than me. Tons more muscle and is taller, broader, and older— he's menacing. Yet that doesn't stop me from getting in his face like he's none of those things. He smirks at me, and I know he's enjoying this.

I use that to my advantage.

My hand slides to his thigh, gripping it as if I was steadying myself. I glance at his lips a few times to give him that illusion and watch as his lips part slightly. His phone rests just on the side of him.

"What?" He murmurs. "Gonna give me a kiss?"

I lean in even closer, our noses nearly touching but not quite. Eren's long lashes fan over his cheeks, and a single eyelash sprinkles down his left one. He doesn't make a move, just watches me.

I bring my other hand up to his chest and whisper, unforgivingly, "You wish."

I snatch his phone and bring my fingers up to the stray lash. I pluck it from his cheek, and he glares up at me. "Don't you?"

I don't let him respond and walk away, discarding the lash by letting it flow off somewhere. I hear him scoff behind me, but I only keep walking towards the exit. I open the door and turn towards him before I leave, finding his gaze dangerously heated, "Don't screw this up, Eren."

With that, I leave, his phone in hand. He's such an idiot sometimes.

I mean, really, what was he thinking? Giving her a chance to run off to the cops with her phone and with his number traceable? He says he called her to warn her against calling the cops. Did he seriously not think of, at least, getting another phone for that?

Maybe he's just getting lazy since he knows I can handle mishaps. Most of them, anyway.

If I want Y/n to be ours, ... I'm going to have to keep him on a tighter leash.

Y/N'S POV

It was a relief to finally be at Jean's place.

He helped carry your things inside while you focused on getting your legs to stop shaking because that was downright embarrassing.

Walking up the stairs was a task, but once he unlocked the door and you both were inside, you're met with a delightful smell. "What is that?" You ask.

Jean lets out a huff with a smile as he sets your stuff down, "Sasha's baking brownies. Her boyfriend's recipe."

"Oh," you say, offering a small smile. You picked up your duffel bag and backpack and carried it over to the couch. Where you'll be staying for however long. "Smell's really good."

"You know you can take my bed, right?"

"What? And let you sleep out here? Please. I'm not letting you be uncomfortable because of my issues," you tell him, waving the idea off immediately.

"...What did happen,... by the way? You still haven't cleared that up."

You sigh as you turn around, "Jean—"

Before you can once again, unfairly, ask him to drop it, Connie comes running out, just as Sasha steps out of the kitchen with a tray. "Are they done yet?"

"I may or may not have already eaten like... well, I lost count," Sasha says sheepishly, but then she catches your eye and she beams. "Y/n! We haven't seen you in forever!" She immediately runs over to you and grips you in the tightest hug you've ever received.

You groan hoarsely, seeing as she knocked the wind out of you.

Connie doesn't make it easier and opens his arms wide as he wraps them around you both, squeezing impossibly tighter. Your eyes fleet over to Jean for some assistance, but he only crosses his arms and shrugs. "You should visit more often," is all he says as he then plucks a brownie off the tray and takes a bite.

You glare at him.

You don't even visit your parents.

A pang of guilt follows the thought, but you shake it off.

The hug lasts another few long seconds before they simultaneously let go of you. Connie gives you a hard pat on your back as if you were one of his bros, and you jolt slightly at the sting. "Seriously, we have a lot of catching up to do," he grins.

You and Jean were older than the two by a little less than a few years, but they were still grown adults. Their behavior never ceased to amaze you.

"Alright, guys, let her settle," Jean finally steps in. "You remember where the bathroom and stuff is?"

You nod, and Sasha skips over to the brownies and paper plates.

You give Jean a look of thanks and take a pair of clothes and your backpack to the bathroom. If anyone asks, you'll say it's feminine products. No one questions anything after that.

Their apartment was pretty decent sized, considering they fit three bedrooms in it. It was a lot cozier in the sense that you could keep track of every room pretty easily. Which is something you've found yourself craving recently. You just never know who might be lurking in any of the many rooms at your place.

And now you weren't alone. You were with friends. So you can rest easier at night.

You took a little time in the bathroom, just collecting yourself after the day you had. You changed into some pajamas and instantly felt comfier. You brushed your teeth and felt cleaner, and looking in this mirror was a lot easier than looking into the one at home, so you winded down pretty easily. And your mood lightened significantly.

You don't know why, but you, kind of on autopilot, rummaged through your light backpack and took out the notes.

You look over them, and your eyes snag on the 'E' at the bottom of one of the papers.

E?

Wait, ...

Who the fuck was E?

-

After you had dinner and a couple of brownies that Sasha devoured both figuratively and literally (her baking skills definitely improved), you all called it a night. Jean, of course, insisted a few more times that he'd be happy to take the couch, but you insisted even more times, and even more stubbornly, that he suck it and go to bed. And that's why at the end of the night, you found yourself tossing and turning.

Or at least that's why you thought you were tossing and turning.

But turns out that's not the only reason you were.

On one occasion, you had flipped over, trying to get comfortable, and opened your eyes a bit. Doing so made you gasp slightly when you saw a figure hovering over you.

It was dark, and your eyes were naturally still slitted due to sleep. Part of you didn't register that it could've been someone else. You thought it was maybe Connie due to their shorter yet wider frame. Wider than a female's.

You weren't even afraid anymore after your brain settled on the thought that it was just Connie. The figure moved around a bit, slowly, quietly.

Did nothing threatening or scary— rather it seemed to be looking for something. Finally, it seemed to have gotten what it wanted and suddenly walked right out the front door.

The front door?

With that vague thought bouncing around in your head, you found yourself jumping up before your body, and really even your brain, understood why.

Wait, did Connie just walk out the front door?

After you got up, a bit wobbly, due to your sleep-induced state, you roamed around until you found Connie's room. Without knocking, you slowly opened his door, just to find a sleeping figure sprawled out in a pile of wild limbs.

You slowly shut the door after confirming that Connie was still there.

But your heart was pounding in your chest.

Whoever the fuck that was,...

Was not Connie.

LilReaper_

Originally written 07.24-25.24

Published 07.25.24

total words; 2613