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I felt as though I were being torn apart — first by small rips, then by deep, jagged gashes — until eventually, I was completely undone. My nights were spent in isolation, haunted only by the solitary tear I had fervently hoped would never resurface. It was a quiet night, the only solace being the unique love I’d cherished for him. The full moon ascended, its gentle glow filling my silent home — and then, in an instant, it was gone. It was a love that would never be cherished again. With an ever flowing wound that could never be mended. I breathe deeply, savoring the warm, earthy scent of autumn that hints at winter's soon approaching and marks the swift farewell to summer. The campus of Shiganshina College is a sight to behold this time of year, with vines tracing the age-worn cracks in the old stone buildings. The now-fallen array of orange and red leaves complete the portrait, leaving me nostalgic and eager to work on my next artistic undertaking.I envision how I'd paint this piece later and take out my phone to capture the moment in real-time. However, as expected, the masterpiece looks far more stunning head-on. Nevertheless, I straightened my phone camera, adjusted the exposure, and snapped a few shots, favoriting them so I could locate them quickly at a later date.I'm jolted from my thoughts as a hurried shoulder slams into my side. I let out an exaggerated groan, turning to find the culprit. To my surprise, it's a young girl, a piece of toast clamped between her teeth and bags hanging from every available space on her body. She stumbles back slightly, clearly caught in the rush of her chaos. Her wide eyes meet mine, and for a moment we both freeze, assessing the aftermath.She gasps wildly, "I am so so so sorry."I examine her face closely. The girl turns toward me, and I notice her soft features — her skin is smooth, her brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that seems a bit hurried as if she didn't have the time to perfect it. Her eyes, a deep shade of brown, darted quickly over me, scanning with a mix of concern and slight panic to ensure I'm not hurt. Despite the chaos she carries with her, there's something gentle in how she looks at me, as though she genuinely cares, even amid her whirlwind."Don't worry," I reply, giggling at the girl's overly apologetic reaction to such a minor collision."I'm Sasha!" She says, grinning as she holds up her phone and opens Snapchat. "Here."Well, that was fast — the first Snapchat add of the year."I'm Y/N." I tell her as I type, accidentally misspelling my username before quickly altering it. "So, I take it you're looking for your dorm assignment?"She nods, and I ask, "So, what dorm did you get assigned to?"Sasha pauses, her eyes widening. "That is a great question, Y/N!"She drops her things to the ground and dives into one of her many bags, which contains an overwhelming amount of clothes and college essentials. After rummaging momentarily, she triumphantly pulls out a slip of paper and reads, "Martha... 0232.""Seriously?" I laugh, "I'm Martha, 0232!"Meeting my roommate put me at ease immediately, especially since Sasha seemed pretty normal. She looks a bit all over the place, but I can't blame her; move-in day is absolute chaos.Sasha looks like she's seen a ghost and squeals so loudly that a few upperclassmen studying on the lawn shoot us annoyed glances. Surprised by the sudden burst of emotion, I jump slightly and reach out to hug her. She strikes me as a sweet and charismatic individual who seems to embrace life exactly as it is, steering clear of any worry over future disappointments. I'd like to be more like her — after all, first impressions are everything."Thank god, I might have a shot at finding our dorm now with your help." Sasha sighs and lifts her belongings back into her arms. You try to take an extra pack to lighten her load, but she stubbornly refuses.Sasha and I get to know each other more as we walk. She mentioned that she's a nutrition major, and I told her I am majoring in art. I wonder why she has chosen nutrition, but I hold back the question for another time to avoid sounding judgmental. At least she isn't an arrogant science major. The more we talk, the more I realize Sasha is growing on me. Her energy is easy to match, and her easy going nature is something I admire."You know what, Y/N, a friend is hosting a party at their house tomorrow night. You in?" She grins wildly while flashing at my expression. "Oh, you so are."I can't help but stifle a grin; something about a house party always excites me. A flicker of nerves settles in — I know a drunken me often leads to interesting situations... but the thought of a night in a packed house, surrounded by people and music, is just too tempting. Besides, declining now would feel like missing out on an authentic college experience, and I could use the adventure. Plus, it's the perfect chance to get to know Sasha better."Obviously. What time does it start?"She laughs, "You're just great at asking questions I don't have the answers to."I begin to apologize, but Sasha clips me, "I like that." She flashes me a mischievous grin and nudges my side. A bag slips off her shoulder, and she nearly topples over, but I catch her just in time, both of us breaking into laughter.With Sasha's help, it still takes us an astounding thirty minutes to find our dorm — a ridiculous amount of time considering we asked three different guides, each of whom directed us in completely opposite directions. To make matters worse, the elevator for Martha is out of order due to 'complications.' We overheard a few girls discussing how a few guys had started a party there. I'm not sure how much fun that would've been, but we can at least thank them for the lovely first-day gift they left behind in the aftermath."What the fuck." I gasp for air, dropping my bags to the floor."Genuinely, why would someone break the elevator on move-in day?" Sasha mutters, falling flat on the floor in frustration. I poke her gently with my shoe, but she doesn't budge.I quickly sweep the dorm, and it's incredible. Martha is a godsend — each unit has a kitchen, with two rooms on either side of a central lounge area. A patio next to the door offers a view of the Martha student parking lot for the rest of the year. However, the football field is just a bit farther beyond the lot, which is a nice bonus. The view feels like a cinematic opening to the start of the year, with the sun just beginning to set as the days grow shorter and shorter."What happened?" Sasha glances around, patting her eyes."You did not just take a power nap on the floor, Sasha," I say, dragging out the end of her name like a mother scolding her child. "There could be so many germs right there." I point to part of the floor, where her face still rests, as she starts eating a piece of toast left behind from our first encounter."How do you still have that?" I ask, laughing in surprise."Y/N," she says thoughtfully, "you must learn a few crucial things. One, food is of the utmost priority. Two, food is of the utmost priority. And three, food is of the utmost priority."I stare blankly at Sasha, unsure of what to say. Her love of food indeed puts her choice of nutritional studies into perspective. As much as her personality is becoming more and more unusual, I find it utterly hilarious."Wiser words have never been spoken," I reply, imitating a serious tone.It takes me and Sasha a while to set up our rooms, but eventually, once everything is in place, we both move on to organizing the kitchen items and other essentials in our shared bathroom. Sasha and I brought a few overlapping items, but I was beyond grateful. Sasha, in particular, thought far more ahead than I did, considering I got only a few pots, pans, and utensils."Y/N, I'm going to head to bed," Sasha announces, her voice muffled by a yawn as she covers her mouth with her hand."You good?" she asks, laughing softly."Yeah. Just fucking exhausted," I reply with a tired grin."What's your first class tomorrow?" Sasha asks, already half-drifting off."I have History with Professor Zeke," I tell her."Shit, I know someone in that class... but not me," she says, her voice trailing off. "Should be a guy with brown hair, but he probably won't show."She yawns again and knocks her head lightly against the wall. "Ow!"I burst into laughter, shaking my head at her antics. "Goodnight, Sasha." She didn't mention the name of her friend in that class. I turn to ask, but she's already closed the door to her room. I guess I'll have to figure that out for myself — if he decides to show up.After the series of unfortunate events Sasha and I experienced last night, I barely managed to move any of my belongings in. My mattress was nothing short of torture — more like lying on a slab of cold, unforgiving stone. Pushing a lock of hair away from my face, I slumped into my desk chair and caught sight of myself in the dusty mirror. I forced a smile as I gazed at the less than ideal reflection staring back at me. It took a moment for me to gather myself before heading to class, but eventually, I stood before the door to my first university course.As I stepped into the classroom, the buzz of student chatter filled the air. I overheard greetings, discussions about majors, and inquiries about dorm placements. Yet, I couldn’t spot Sasha’s dark-haired friend anywhere. With most of the students being women and Sasha’s description of her friend so vague, I had no clear lead on which of the few men present might be him.I made my way toward the back of the class, choosing a seat that was still vacant — preferring a quieter start to the year without any unnecessary small talk. As the class began, the door swung open, and Professor Zeke entered, followed closely by a young dark-haired boy. My eyebrows lifted as I watched him walk straight toward the empty seat next to me, the only available one due to his late arrival.The boy took a seat as I assessed his physical appearance, which was nothing short of captivating. His dark hair stirred due to the breeze from the open window beside me, a few loose strands slipping from his hair tie to fall across his face. His eyes were a captivating blend — rich browns swirling within a tempest of jade green. His features were sharp and defined, as though he had been sculpted by a lifetime of quiet struggle, his body a fortress hardened against the trials of the world.“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he said casually, his gaze still locked on the front of the lecture hall.I blinked, caught off guard. He exuded an air of social detachment, a person of few words whose typical responses rarely exceeded a single syllable. Yet, here he was, delivering a remark that straddled the line between audacious and self-assured with remarkable ease. It was as if he existed just outside the bounds of conventional social etiquette, testing its edges without even realizing it.I glanced at him for a moment, then turned my attention back to the professor, keeping my tone level and disinterested. “Don’t have a phone.” The words were deliberate, meant to shut down the exchange, though my eyes never left the professor — much like his own gaze remained fixed on the front of the room."Unfortunate," he added after a beat, without looking up, as he jotted down key takeaways from the syllabus Professor Zeke was reviewing. Professor Zeke droned on far too long about the course outline for the semester, his monotone voice threatening to lull me into a dream-filled intermission. My attention began to waver, drawn instead to the world beyond the classroom. Outside birds chirped and hummed their soft melodies, as if bidding a final farewell to the fading warmth of summer, preparing for their long migration. A cool breeze swept across my face, gentle yet refreshing, offering a brief reprieve from the passing time. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself be carried away by the breeze, inhaling the crisp, earthy scent of fall — a scent I had come to cherish with each passing year. I quickly pulled out my phone to snap a picture of the scenery. Many might consider it foolish, perhaps missing the true significance in capturing fleeting moments like these — moments that, in their briefness, hold a kind of quiet beauty.A soft hum sounded to my right, breaking the quiet rhythm of the room. "So, you do have a phone?" came the low, slightly teasing voice.A moment of silence passed as I chose to ignore the remark, focusing solely on the perfection of the present moment, untouched by the boy beside me. “This is not a phone,” I replied, raising it slightly up into the air, “It’s a dildo.” “Oh, must use that all the time.” He drawled, leading me to pay close attention to each syllable the boy pronounced. My eyes darted to his mouth, examining a piercing that framed the plumpness of his bottom lip.Almost as if the conversation had pulled me into a temporary trance, I barely noticed class had ended. “See you around,” he said casually, his words lingering in the air just as the sudden screech of chairs scraping against the delicate tiled floor shattered the quiet. The noise rattled through the room, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine."Hope not” I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out faster than I intended. I quickly redirected my attention to my phone, firing off a text to Sasha. She’d mentioned earlier that she wanted to meet up at a renowned campus café after class. The café was one of those cozy, tucked-away spots where the smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and it was the perfect place to catch up and unwind. Plus, she said her friends would be there, and I was curious to meet the people she’d be hanging out with at the party later.As I pulled out my phone to let her know I’d arrived, I nearly dropped it in shock as a brown-haired girl suddenly leaped out from behind a wall. She was immediately joined by a small group of unfamiliar girls, all sporting curious smiles as they flanked her like a cheerful entourage."Y/N!" she exclaimed, her excitement barely contained. "How was class? Did you meet the guy I was telling you about?"I sighed, shaking my head with a half-smile. “Unfortunately, no. Your assumption about him was spot on. But I did sit next to some weird guy…” I trailed off, trying to sound as casual as possible, though the encounter still lingered in the back of my mind.Sasha earegly turned to introduce each of her friends, “This is Historia, Ymir, and Mikasa.”Historia was a petite, youthful looking girl who almost seemed too young to be attending university at all. Her eyes crinkled at the corners whenever she smiled, the kind of smile that instantly made her approachable. Her hair was effortlessly beautiful — naturally flawless and the most perfect shade of blonde I’d ever seen. She wore subtle designer pieces that hinted at a quiet wealth, making it clear that Historia was far from ordinary. It was clear that the brunette, Ymir, always followed closely behind Historia, whether it was in the way she absentmindedly played with her hair while introducing herself, or the sly comments they exchanged in whispers — little secrets that only they seemed to understand. Ymir was beautiful, but in a way that was different from Historia. Her style was rugged, yet effortlessly put together, and her tan skin, dotted with freckles, complemented her look perfectly, giving her a wild, natural charm that contrasted beautifully with Historia’s more polished appearance.Mikasa was different from the others, exuding a more solemn demeanor, as if she were silently trying to figure me out with nothing but the sharp intensity of her gaze. She looked like she could be a model — tall, with short hair, and skin so flawless it seemed almost unreal. Her choice of statement pieces and an abundance of jewelry hinted at her being in touch with the latest trends, yet there was something uniquely her about it, a style that effortlessly set her apart from the crowd."Are you coming to the house party tonight?" Historia asked, her smile wide and inviting, pulling me out of my mental analysis of the three girls standing before me."Yeah!" I answered, as we stepped into the café. Immediately, my senses were flooded with the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee and the steady hum of espresso machines working in the background. I took a deep inhale, savoring the comforting scent for a moment, letting it settle into my bones like a warm embrace.“Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?” Historia asked, settling into step beside me, matching my steady pace.“What’s the attire?” I asked, curious about what others might wear to the party."Most people probably end up pairing jeans with a more eye-catching top," she remarked matter-of-factly. "And that includes me. I just bought these super cute low-rise jeans, and I'm wearing a pink lace bodysuit underneath. Ymir is going to love it."“Are you and Ymir a thing?” I asked, trying to decipher whether the signs of affection Ymir had shown were more than just friendly.“We’re nothing right now,” Historia said with a shrug, her tone light. “I guess we’re just having fun, and that’s enough for me.” She smiled, like she really meant it, but I could tell there was more to their connection than she was letting on. Her words didn’t quite match the warmth in her eyes — the kind of affection that ran deeper than they might have realized.“So, have you got your eye on anyone this year?” Historia asks, nudging me with a mischievous grin.I shrug. “Nope.” Falling in step behind Sasha, I watch her grumble about how long the line is.“What? No one at all? You’re no fun,” Historia teases. “Maybe we’ll fix that tonight.”“Maybe.” I give a half-hearted shrug, not sounding very convinced.“Historia, will you stop hogging Y/N already?” Sasha complains, tugging me forward so she and I swap places with Ymir in line.Once we’re settled, I turn to Sasha and Mikasa. “So, is everyone going to the party?”“Yup,” Sasha replies with a nod. Then she nudges Mikasa. “Mikasa’s going with Jean, right?”Mikasa groans. “I’m not so sure about that.”“Who’s Jean?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.Sasha explains, “He’s a guy we know. We hang out with him a lot — especially after finding out he likes Mikasa.” She pauses to smirk. “But Mikasa’s believes she’s some sort of a lone wolf.” Sasha sticks out her tongue and makes a dramatic face, drawing a laugh from me. “Totally lame.”I nudged her back. “Speaking of not wanting to be alone, who do you have your sights on, Sasha?”Mikasa joins in the teasing. “She’s got a thing for Nicolo. He’s a second-year we went to high school with. Sasha talked to him before he moved here, and now he’s been keeping his distance. She’s hoping tonight’s her big shot.”I grin. “Well, here’s hoping he shows up… and you work some magic.”Sasha and Mikasa step forward in a neat, single-file line, each rattling off her order to the cashier. Meanwhile, we pass the time exchanging stories — little fragments of our personal lives, funny facts, and small confessions that feel bigger when spoken aloud. By the time they’ve finished paying, I realize something has shifted: that sense of formality or distance is gone. After just a short while of sharing who we are, I already feel so much closer to both of them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Music thumps from the small speaker in Sasha’s room as we pop open cans of boozy, fruit-flavored drinks. The sweet, lingering aftertaste mingles with the pulse of the music, promising a night of carefree indulgence. Mikasa, Ymir, and Historia text that they’re on their way to my and Sasha’s dorm, and they’re bringing along a few acquaintances I haven’t met yet. A wave of nerves hits me at the thought of meeting so many new people in a single day. An uneasy knot tightens in my stomach, only to loosen slightly after a quick sip of alcohol.Sasha gazes into a mirror adorned in black accents which accompanies the gothic opulence of the surrounding area. She adjusts the lace material adorning her waist, smoothing it over her hips ensuring every detail is perfect. Her dark couture perfectly matches her bold eye makeup, complemented by a sleek, smoothed-back ponytail. The look is effortlessly striking, blending elegance with a sharp edge.Both Sasha and I aim for a similar look. My dark-wash bootcut jeans fall effortlessly over my black boots, paired with a fitted top that hugs my curves just right. I go for a darker eye look, a fleeting wash of black lining my lashes to accentuate their thickness, while my hair cascades in loose, beachy waves, adding a natural softness to the edgy ensemble.Swig after swig, I feel the fast-acting effects of the liqueur coursing through me. Sasha and I sway to the rhythm of Brent Faiyaz's “ALL MINE," our movements perfectly in sync with the sultry beat, lost in the haze of the moment. The sharp ring of a doorbell cuts through the music, signaling the arrival of my new acquaintances. Sasha and I sprint to the door, playfully quarreling over who would get there first. With a smirk, I finally let her take the lead. She swings the door open, and in an instant, five people burst into our spacious living room, their energy electrifying the atmosphere.Historia is first to greet me with a warm hug, “It’s so nice to see you Y/N! You look so good.” She holds a carbonated beverage, no doubt bearing the telltale stamp of 4.6% ABV proudly labeled somewhere on the can.“I’m good! It’s so fun you guys decided to come over.” Historia chatters about how much Mikasa and Ymir adore me, describing my personality as both refreshing and charming. It's clear she's had a sip — or maybe more — of alcohol, her inhibitions lowered just enough to share nothing but the unfiltered truth. I appreciate it nonetheless.“You are going to love this party, Y/N. Eren Yeager is loaded — his house is nothing short of massive,” She grins, practically buzzing with excitement as she leads me toward two other guests I haven’t met yet.“Hey!” a boy with a shaved head hums, dragging out the end of the greeting while casually throwing an arm over the shoulder of another boy with light ash-brown hair. “I’m Connie, and this is Jean.”I can’t help but stifle a giggle as my eyes linger on Jean. He’s super cute — definitely someone I could see Mikasa with. Though he offers me a quick greeting, it’s clear his attention is elsewhere, his gaze trailing off in a direction only he seems to notice.“Nice to meet you both,” I exclaim, barely getting the words out before I’m hurriedly pulled away toward Sasha’s room. Historia, looking mildly frantic, tugs at my arm as she exclaims, “I still need to do my hair!”“What are you planning to do with it?” I ask, offering any form of aid I can.“I’m going to curl it,” Historia says with a determined look, fiddling with the strands of her hair. “Ymir loves it when it’s curled.”“Perfect, I can help if you want?” I inquire, leading Historia to the vacant chair stationed at Sasha’s vanity. “No,” she says, waving her hand vigorously. “Go have fun. Besides, I like doing my hair.”I shrug and sit down beside Ymir, Mikasa, and Sasha, all of whom seem engrossed in a deep conversation about the boy named Eren Yeager. From the way they speak about him, it’s clear he’s intricately woven into the fabric of this friend group. “He’s been off since last year, after what happened to his mom,” Sasha says softly. “I’m sure he’ll pull himself out of this rut — besides, we’re his friends”.Historia hollers from her chair, holding a piece of her curled hair and twisting it around her finger before letting it fall loosely. “You guys should stop being so sad — we’re going out! We’ve talked about this a million times before; it’ll take time.” Ymir rolls her eyes at Historia’s blunt honesty. Though it might come off as harsh, I can tell the group quietly agrees with her and appreciates her straightforwardness, regardless.Hoots and hollers echo down the halls, making whatever game Connie and Jean are playing sound incredibly enticing. I scoot off the bed, cracking open what’s likely my last can of booze before we head out.I almost smack my head against the wall as the room begins to warp around me. At that moment, the tall boy arches an eyebrow, silently questioning my grip on reality.“What are you guys up to?” I ask as I stroll into the living area, noticing cups neatly arranged in triangular formations on either side of our island.“Cup pong, obviously,” Connie replies with a dismissive eye-roll. “It’s the best drinking game there is.”“Only the best,” I chuckle, watching as they quickly toss ping-pong balls into the cups. Some shots miss entirely — likely thanks to the alcohol — while others almost score slam dunks, skimming the rim before falling in. Hoots and hollers spill out from Sasha’s room, a mix of voices urging Historia to finish her hair and her own protests against being rushed. Thankfully, I had gotten ready long before I realized we were leaving — I absolutely can’t stand being hurried.“So, Eren Yeager?” I ask, eyeing the drunken boys as I wonder just how much they’re willing to spill.“What, you already got a thing for him?” Jean retorts, raising an eyebrow — just as his pong ball lands perfectly in a Solo cup.“No, I’ve never even met the guy.”“He’s an asshole. His brown hair is ridiculously long for any guy, and that lip piercing? Screams ‘emo’.” Jean shrugs nonchalantly, then throws a biting remark Connie’s way as he sinks the last pong ball into the lone remaining cup.My gaze follows Jean and Connie as they bicker, their arms flailing around each other while tossing back shots. Suddenly, my heart clenches at the realization — Jean’s exact description of that boy matches someone I saw in my history class this morning.“Oh.” I reply, offering only a curt response. Historia bursts into the living space, hollering that she has finally finished her preparations for the party signaling our abrupt leave. A whirlwind of emotions swept over me, if Eren Yeager was to be the host of this party surely I would come into contact with him, especially if everyone here was a close acquaintance of his. I immediately begin a swift go over of our past conversation, the one in which I told him my phone was dildo.“Y/N you a bit down. What happened?” she asks, her hands grasping my shoulders as she leans in, some of her weight pressing against me.“Oh, it's nothing. I was just a bit dizzy!” I laugh and head out the door slowly as Historia trails behind me.We decide to order an Uber as the group can clearly be determined far too intoxicated to be operating a vehicle, including me. Somehow, we managed to squish into a far too small space, half of my thigh resting on the car's side interior, while the other half rested tensely on jeans thigh. Due to what cannot even be described as merely awkward, conversation erupts between myself and the brunette.“Where are you from?” He asks, resting his somewhat muscular hand on my thigh.“Rose.” I state, offering a more detailed response upon noticing his questioning look, “Came here to escape my parents.”“Long way from home. Most of us are scattered around the Shiganshina area.”Ymir and Mikasa sit in the front seats of the car, chattering on about the infamous Eren Yeager — who, quite frankly, seems like a dick they keep around out of pity. Historia raises her eyebrows at my current predicament, which I can’t help but to ignore out of sorry for Mikasa. Even though I don’t know much about her and Jean’s current relationship, the last thing I want to do is to upset her.That said, Jean is undeniably handsome. His light ash-brown hair sits neatly atop his angular face, with sections abruptly shaved to reveal what I assume is his natural hair color beneath. His style bears a slight resemblance to Eren’s, though the added length at the back gives it a subtle mullet-like appearance.Your makeup is starting to smear a bit,” he bluntly states before the sudden absence of warmth on my thigh is replaced by a swift touch against my face.“Oh, thank you.”My face turns toward the window of the vehicle we sit in, a movement I first attribute to fear. Yet, another feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach — one that makes my heart flutter and my cheeks flush a bright hue of pink. My gaze fixates on the large house, no mansion, that we pull beside. It is strikingly magnificent, gothic architecture highlighting the majority of the stone sculptures that are scattered around the exterior. The front yard can only be described as chaotic, various byproducts of alcoholic consumption litter the unusually vibrant autumn grass. People engage in both dancing and other illegal activities for most individuals our age, the grand dark oak doors serving as an irresistible invitation.“This is his house?” I almost whisper, mouth agape while nearly pressing my face against the window in hopes to take it all in.Yup," Jean says, his tone flat. "Hate the guy, but I can't deny his house is something else." I feel the subtle pressure of Jean's shoulder against mine as he takes in the timeless beauty of Eren's home. His voice lingers in my ear as he adds, "I’ll let you have fun with Sasha and the others, but if you ever want to grab a drink with me, just let me know.”Suddenly, his presence fades, and I hear the familiar shuffle of our group stepping out of the vehicle. A wave of uncertainty hits me.As I step into the grand foyer of Eren Yeager’s home, I brace myself for a warm welcome. But to my surprise, everyone scatters in different directions, leaving me alone with only Connie and Sasha. Immediately they sprint to a nearby counter that appears to be scattered with various alcoholic products, preparing myself for what I can assume will be an amusing encounter later on, I grab a cooler.“What do you think?” Sasha slurs, her words thick with the hint of alcohol as she sways slightly on her feet.“Beautiful.”The interior of the mansion is what I assume is a modern take on regency, with most of the space adorned with rich dark wood. The floor take on a rustic look, encapturing wear that both intricately and purposefuly placed. Flashy touches of gold details scatter the house, from the intricate railings of the grand staircase to the elegant knobs of the cabinets, adding a hint of opulence to the otherwise classic design.“Y/N you need a drink, you look like a lost puppy.” I turn to Connie who swiftly pours an ounce of vodka into a shot glass, sliding it across the counter into my awaiting hands. "Thanks, Connie. By the way, I thought your head looked like a coconut," I say with a grin, watching his jaw drop in shock."Too far!" he protests, before hurling a chip at me from the bag Sasha’s holding. I laugh and swat it off my chest.“Are you going to have one?” I inquire to Connie who is already pouring his serving into a glass.“Obviously!” He states while counting down, the liquid slides down my throat with ease, only a small burn accompanying the long buried feeling. Connie begins sputtering while reaching out to steal a cup of orange juice that I highly doubt is his own. We start a game called ‘odds,’ where each person picks a number between 1 and 10 in proceeding order. Connie counts down from 3, and we both shout our numbers. Unfortunately, we both land on 5. I groan, knowing what’s coming, and take another shot before passing the turn to Sasha. I begin my countdown, and luckily for her we both shout 2 entirely different numbers, 1 and 9. I’m not sure if the game’s been rigged, but it feels like Connie can read my mind. I stop for a moment, the world spinning around me as the walls seem to sway. I'm definitely drunk, but I manage to keep it together — just barely.Historia creeps up behind me and shouts “Surprise!” in my ear, causing me to shout a curse and garner a few looks from fellow partygoers."Historia, don’t scare me like that!" I whisper-shout, heat rising to my cheeks. "Most people here don’t even know me — I don’t need to make a bad first impression."“Sorry!” She laughs and inquires, “So, any romantic interests?”“Historia, I am not getting with Jean. I don’t want any part in that.” Historia pouts and throws her head back while sighing, “But I heard him ask you to get a drink with him while here, you should do it for his sake!” “He has a thing with Mikasa, Historia.”“Hate to be the one to break it to you, but Mikasa has absolutely zero interest in him.” For some odd reason, I scan the room, double-checking that there’s no way Jean could have overheard our conversation. I frown and tilt my head, “Why?”"Mikasa has so many romantic interests, it's ridiculous. What's even more ridiculous is that none of them are Jean," Historia chuckles, rolling her eyes at no one in particular. "She just isn't into him."Connie and Sasha nod in agreement, their smiles tinged with sympathy."If you want him, you can have him," Sasha says, taking a slow sip of her drink."It’s kinda sad, honestly," Connie adds. "Jean still holds onto this hope that, eventually, she’ll turn his way. He’s been waiting a long time for that to happen."I mull the thought over in my mind. It really does seem like most of them believe Jean is clinging to some false hope that he and Mikasa might somehow work out. I think about the way his hand lightly grazed my thigh, the warmth of his touch lingering. His whisper sent soft tingles down my spine, a sensation I can’t seem to shake."A Lot" by 21 Savage pulses through the speakers, strategically placed around the kitchen to prevent any drink-related disasters. The slower melody sets the perfect tone, allowing our conversation to flow effortlessly — no need to shout over the music, just easy, drunken chatter. “Just give it a try, I’m sure Mikasa would be relieved.” Historia says before running off to Ymir who currently holds herself at the patio, smoking a cigarette. She looked peaceful in a way, the kind of relaxed that comes with a good buzz.Although I’d hate to be a third wheel, I realize I’ve only spoken to Ymir a handful of times. So, I chase after Historia, pulling two cigarettes from the back pocket of my jeans as I catch up to her. “Guess who?” I say as I sneak behind Ymir while jokingly pulling the cigarettes from behind my back, displaying them to her.Yrmir exclaims, “Oh, shit! She’s prepared! I like you even more now.”Ymir momentarily passes the cigarette to Historia who takes a long drag, she eyes the current state of the looming backyard that lies directly ahead of us. “Place is fucking beautful.” Ymir says while resting her head atop her hand.I light my cigarette, mimicking the slow, effortless drag Historia took just seconds ago. Exhaling a thin stream of smoke, I glance at her and ask, “Where does all this money come from?”Yrmir replies, “A crazy good doctor.”“Where’s the ‘crazy good doctor’?”“Out of town, usually is. When you're a good surgeon, everyone wants you performing their surgeries," she says with a smirk, exhaling smoke into the night air.My mind races, “Cool.” The brunette I had spoken to in class was nothing like what I’d expect the child of a doctor to be. There was no stiff professionalism or polished demeanor — just an effortless, almost rebellious ease about him.Amidst the haze of my thoughts, I catch sight of a boy staring directly at me. He lingers at the far end of the opulent backyard, his head lazily propped against an intricate stone sculpture, exuding an air of effortless indifference. The contrast is almost jarring — dressed in dark attire, a joint hanging loosely between his lips, yet leaning against a carved stone woman draped in a flowing gown, her hands delicately raised as if in prayer. The space spans such a long distance that his face is essentially unrecognizable. I chuckle to myself before taking my last drag, the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to my lips, each inhale leaving behind a fleeting, intoxicating buzz.Historia clicks her tongue and tilts her head toward the kitchen — there’s Jean.Historia mouths, “Go talk to him.”Without thinking, I stride into the kitchen, where Jean is deep in conversation with Sasha and Connie. His gaze immediately shifts to mine, and that’s when I notice two other boys. One is muscular with light hair, while the other, though leaner and somewhat scrawny, still carries a hint of strength."Hey there!" I say, grabbing the drink I had left before my talk with Historia and Ymir. Before I can take a sip, Jean immediately snatches it from my hand and tosses it into the sink.“What the hell?” I exclaim.“Why are you picking up an open drink off the counter?”“Because it’s mine!” I drunkenly accentuate my movements, my thoughts flickering in and out of focus just as quickly as they come.“Here’s a rule of thumb, don’t leave your drink where someone can slip something into it. Okay?”“Sure, can you grab another then?”“Sure thing.” Jean replies quickly, while momentarily leaving to the fridge.The tall, muscular boy eyes me for a moment before speaking, “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Reiner. This is Bertholdt.” My gaze shifts slowly to the brunette standing next to him, and I offer a casual wave of greeting.“Nice to meet you guys.”Jean hands me my new drink and I offer him a thank you in response.“So, who’s up for cup pong?” Reiner asks, grinning as he begins setting the solo cups neatly onto the island table.The group of us cheered as we began forming teams. Before I knew it, Jean had grabbed me, and we were paired up with Connie and Sasha. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about my current predicament with the light-haired brunette — he seemed sweet, and the way his compression shirt fit perfectly against his frame, paired with baggy dark-wash jeans, only made him undeniably hotter.Jean and I are simply unbeatable — like young prodigies at cup pong. While there are countless pursuits I'd rather master than a well-known drinking game, I gladly embrace my victories whenever they come.“You are simply too good at this Y/N, you have had to have some sort of practice.” Jean assumes, while eagerly tossing an arm over my shoulder.A smile places itself upon my lips as I reply, “I”ve played my fair share of cup pong.”“What’s your major again?” “I’m getting a degree in art, super useful, right?”Jean looks almost surprised, “Really, I’m in the art program here aswell!”Jean and I engage in prolonged banter at the table, drawing harsh responses from our peers who’d rather have us flirting elsewhere. We opt to take a seat outside, placing ourselves each in close proximity to one another on a patch of grass. Jean is an incredibly pleasant companion — conversing with him made time seem to fly by. It was refreshing to connect with someone in the same program, as our mutual interests in both traditional and contemporary art allowed the conversation to flow effortlessly. At one point, Jean’s hand gently rested atop mine, tracing slow, deliberate circles that eased my nerves.“Y/N, you are like..” Jean pauses as if to ponder uttering the right words, “Really amazing.”"You're too — I’ve never been able to dive so deeply into art with someone else." I pause, my eyes tracking an individual pacing nearby, "And you're also incredibly cute, which definitely makes things easier."Jean flashes a sort of embarssed smile, which I can easily assume is due to his nerves. Immediately, I squirm in the ensuing silence, my drunken haze transforming the night into something resembling a fairy tale. I absolutely adore Jean and yearn to learn more about him, yet a nagging sensation whispers that I might be encroaching on territory that isn't mine.While part of me is tempted to sympathize with the situation between Jean and Mikasa, another part insists that I deserve something as good as this. With Mikasa's clear disinterest in Jean, what truly stops me from making a move?"Mind if I grab us another drink?" he asks, his tone inviting the conversation to continue.“Sure thing, I’ll stay right here.”My eye wander, scanning the massive landscape, I watch as groups of individuals sway to music or engage in other lively activities. This night has been nothing short of surpising, happiness seeming to seep through doors I had haphazardly left open. I had seemed to thus far build an unwavering foundation upon my first day arriving here at Shiganshina College. A smile began to form on my face — until I noticed a familiar figure in pursuit of me.It was a former acquaintance of my older brother, Porco, I hadn’t seen in quite some time — intentionally.The individual's expression shifted into a sorrowful one as they began to offer apologies."I haven't seen you since... I'm so sorry — you have no idea." His words draw out slowly, laced with guilt as he stresses that he would have been here if he had known where I even was. “If I had just knew where you had been Y/N! I would have come running in a heartbeat to be there for you. You know that.” His tone carried an undercurrent of distress, as if each word was a heartfelt attempt to recapture the time he never had with me.My vision begins to blur as I struggle to hold back a swelling tide of tears, a slight burn igniting in my throat with each breath. I keep my gaze fixed, as it has been throughout the conversation, on the grass gracefully dancing with the fleeting breeze. As I ignore the boys concerned words, offering dejected forms of consolation, I begin to envision how I might capture this moment on canvas at a later date. The grass wears a shade of green that I could effortlessly mimick as "Sap Green" from Windsor & Newton.I almost reach for my camera to capture the moment, but I hesitate — certain that doing so would only make me appear more unsteady.“Yeah, sucks doesn’t it? That’s how life is, just goes on.” I reply, attempting my best to seem disinterested so the boy would leave before Jean arrived with our drinks.It has the opposite effect, “Y/N, you know how much I care about you, why didn’t you tell me?”"Porco, would you just quit it? He's dead, and I didn't come here to have you rub it in my face all over again."After my abrupt change in demeanor, I quicken my pace, pushing past the brawny boy in search of any semblance of sanctuary amid the chaotic party. I choose a gloomy pathway connecting the front and backyard, eventually settling against the fence. Nothing hurts more then remembering the ways my brother would articulate all the various ways he adored me. I let a quiet tear trace its path down my face, a fragile attempt to release the overwhelming tide of emotions within me."Already having problems on your first day here? I thought you and Jean would at least share a kiss to liven things up."It’s Eren Yeager. "Glad you can get your thrills off the thought of me kissing someone," I remark, pausing to reconsider my words. "Which was not going to happen, regardless."The brunette arches a subtle brow and shrugs. "You seem to know a lot about dildos. How am I supposed to know what you're capable of?"Overwhelmed by emotion, I rise to my feet and shove Eren backward, “Who the fuck do you think you are? Don’t act like you aren’t some loser stoner who gets with 10 girls a week just to feel something.” I blankly stare back at him, shoving him backward once again.“Oh, and I bet you don’t feel anything then either right?”He gives me a sort of look, as if that’s all it takes for him to completely figure me out, “You’ve been drinking all night, I bet you’re about ready to puke and yet, you’d still take another drink.”Silence overcomes me.“But hey, maybe it’s just to something? Right?” Eren continues, “Don’t sit here and act like we aren’t one of the same.”Thick tension laces the air, grasping at the few measly gusts that signal the swift arrival of autumn. A few startled individuals nearby have now begun to watch our squabble. If this was the Eren Yeager everyone had been completely enamored by — then they were to ignorant to realize he was a lost cause.“Go light another cigarette, maybe that’ll make you feel better.”Eren Yeager turned out to be the stoner — the very same one I had inspected while conversing with Historia and Ymir. Turned out I was spot on pertaining to the former assumption I had made about the boy.My mouth moved faster than I expected, blurting, “You were the stoner.”“What?” He turns, painting a face of disgust as he does a quick go over of my figure.I feel as though I begin to understand Eren Yeager just a bit more in that moment. “It’s nothing, go light another joint.”The brunette turned to leave — the very same one who had nearly been cast as a wretch, a stark contrast to the blooming goddess encased in a stone sculpture. Far too many beings deserved a chance to walk this earth, and Eren Yeager was certainly not among them.