Chapter Text
Your cellphone starts ringing on your bedside table. You turn over to your side, curl up and ignore it, but when the sound doesn’t subside, you sit up groggily.
You miss a couple of times as you reach for the cellphone. It’s vibrating against the wood and you’re worried it will wake up your mother.
You see the familiar name flash on the screen and sigh.
You flip the phone open and place it on your ear.
“What?” you mutter.
“Can you come pick Eren up? He’s being a nuisance.”
“Just take him home,“ you groan at Kyle.
“Can’t you just fucking get here? We’re at the bridge.”
You know which bridge. Of course you do. How many times have you picked up this man? You glance at the alarm clock. It reads just after one in the morning.
You have school in the morning.
Despite that, you give up almost instantly. You grunt a response to Kyle and hang up. You turn on the night light and look around your tiny room.
Desk crammed with schoolbooks, floor filled with clothes thanks to not having a dresser. Your walls are covered with posters. The window oversees a dull wired fence at the end of the street.
A small TV stands in the corner next to a PlayStation 2 and a DVD player. On screen is the main menu of a DVD.
You must have fallen asleep in the middle of The Truman Show again.
You like the movie. It gives you hope that one of these days, someone will cut the cameras and tell you this was all a joke.
You pull on a pair of jeans and tennis shoes. You don’t bother with a bra.
As you step out to the narrow hallway, you can hear the low noise of the TV. You dodge the piles of magazines and boxes of things that don’t fit anywhere else and peer into the living room.
Regular programming has long since ended and on the screen are endless re-rolls of commercial TV. Your mum is lying on her back, snoring just lightly.
The living room is small and cramped, but very tidy. The two-seated leather couch is worn out. The TV stand is so close there’s hardly any room for the tiny coffee table. To the side is a large bookcase, filled to the brim with books she never reads.
Your mum bought them all from the flea market for dirt cheap. Despite their lack of use, she likes them there.
The coffee table has a couple of empty cans on it, a half-smoked pack of cigarettes forgotten next to them. The ashtray is filled with lipstick-stained cigarette butts.
You check no cigarettes are burning and then reach for the pack. You grab it, glancing at your mother’s peaceful face.
She’s passed out cold. The rays of artificial light hit her face from the forgotten TV. You’re not surprised, she always falls asleep in front of the TV.
She works so much just three beers are enough to knock her out.
Just as you’re about to step out of the front door, situated next to the TV, your mother speaks up.
“Where are you going?” she asks in Russian. Her voice slurs with sleep and she’s barely coherent.
“I’ll be right back,” you reply to her. “Go back to sleep.”
She calls after you, but you don’t stop as you march out of the door. You close the door after yourself. The patio is wet from the earlier summer rain. The street lights rattle and you shudder a bit in the breeze.
Should’ve grabbed a jacket after all.
The street is empty and glistening thanks to the recent rain. Most houses are small and rather old like yours, yards unkempt and run-down cars in the driveways.
Their lights are mostly out.
The walk to the bridge takes about ten minutes. You don’t see anyone on your way. Your town is so small it’s rare to come across anyone after ten p.m.
You can hear the sounds from the bridge from far off. The bridge itself is mostly uninteresting and rarely used.
Underneath it oversees an abandoned railway. Your town used to have a functional railway station but it was closed down thanks to lack of use.
The space underneath the bridge is not illuminated but you can see a makeshift fireplace from a bit away.
As you get close, you hear the clinking of bottles in between the talk and laughter.
Eren comes here often with his friends to self-destruct.
As you get close enough, you see Kyle emerge from under the bridge. He’s wrapped his arm around the shoulder of a barely coherent Eren.
Eren’s eyes are only half open. He’s wearing his brown hoodie. His jeans are worn, his tennis shoes even more so. His brown hair is pulled up in a bun that’s gotten messy from the night.
From how cold his skin is when Kyle unloads him onto you, you can tell he’s been out for a while.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Kyle smiles. You roll your eyes. How many times have you picked Eren up?
You look over Eren’s face. You see lipstick smears on his neck and the corner of his mouth.
You drape his arm around your shoulder and start taking him back.
“’s it?” Eren mumbles.
“What?” you ask as you start the painstaking journey back to your street. Behind you, the sounds of the party continue. You didn’t see how many were under that bridge, but you surmise it’s a dozen or two people and that most of them are either making out or already passed out.
“Who’ss it?” Eren slurs.
“It’s me.”
Eren stops walking. He uses his arm to clumsily pull you closer. He gives your hair a small sniff. Then, he smiles and relaxes against you, so much so you almost topple over onto the gravel road taking you from the bridge back to the main road.
“Dotty.”
“That’s me.” That’s what Eren has called you since you were both kids, thanks to the dotted shirt you loved to wear.
“Where’r we going?” he asks.
“I’m taking you home,” you say. He immediately shakes his heavy head.
“Not home. Auntie will have my head.”
You want to protest more, because how many times has Eren crashed at your place like this, too drunk and high to function, and pulled you under with him into his spiral?
Despite yourself, you give in immediately.
“Alright. Let’s go to mine.”
Eren smiles.
You walk down the gravel road, slowly but surely. The forest is deep on each side and from the distance, you can hear the steady sound of passing cars, running down the highway circling your sleepy town.
You make it to the empty main road before Eren tugs at the sleeve of your t-shirt.
“Gotta…” he murmurs. You know what he means. You help him to the ditch and he hurls violently. Wine, pills and who knows what else he’s taken.
At least he’ll get some of that out of his system.
Eren pants. His stomach contracts a few more times, trying to get more out, but there’s nothing left to puke.
You doubt he ate today.
He gags. You stand aside, a hand placed on his back to rub it.
Eren catches his breath. Then, he staggers to the empty road and slumps down on it. He lays down on his back, arms stretched out.
The pavement is wet from the earlier rain and without a doubt dirty, but you join him nonetheless. You sit down, cross-legged, and look up at the flickering street light.
The houses by the main street are all dark and quiet. You can’t hear a thing. Were it not for the fact that it’s your dying town you’re speaking of, you’d be worried about cars running you over.
“Got a smoke?” Eren asks. You dig into your pocket and take out your mother’s cigarettes. You give him one and light it, placing another on your own lips.
Eren takes a deep drag.
“Thanks.”
He stares up to the sky. He’s wasted still, but puking seems to have taken the worst edge off it.
“It was Kyle’s idea.”
“Of course it was.”
“Jenn stole some painkillers from her dad. He broke his back.”
“Poor guy.”
Eren reaches his clumsy hand. It places on your leg for a small pat.
“They really fucked me up.”
You sigh and smoke quietly.
Eren has always been like this. Like a desperate being, he drags himself to the edge of the cliff, time after time, just to see if this is the time he’ll cast himself off with disastrous results.
He pulls his hand back and resumes smoking.
You shiver a bit with cold but don’t say anything. You let Eren have his moment.
You’ve been here since you were kids. Eren’s shadow, the only anchor he has left, you keep him still, hoping your bond is strong enough to keep the current from taking him from you.
It’s pathetic. Feeling that jolt of pain as you see the lipstick on Eren’s face. Going to pick him up whenever you’re called.
Eren finishes his cigarette. You do the same and get on your feet. You offer him your hand. He takes it and painstakingly gets up.
His arms wrap around your waist. He pulls you in and buries his face in your shoulder. He squeezes, almost childishly.
“Sorry.”
His voice is faint. He takes a shuddering breath, and you know what’s to come. You pet his hair as his breathing speeds up and he starts trembling.
For a moment, his world utterly comes apart.
You stand there, in the middle of the road without a care in the world for anything as trivial as mortal danger.
Eren calms down eventually. He pulls away from the embrace and moves in. You turn your head. As always, you dodge the kiss.
Eren seems dejected. He places his chin on top of your head.
“Why not?” he asks.
“You just puked, don’t be gross.”
“You never let me.”
“I know.”
“I love you, you know.”
You know.
You walk him the rest of the way to your house. You see your mum has passed out again as you step in, you suspect she did the second you left.
You help Eren to your room. He collapses on the small bed, on top of the pile of clean clothes you brought there earlier today.
Your bed is a mess save for the small space you’ve cleared out for sleeping.
You fetch a glass of water from the kitchen and drop by the crowded bathroom to grab a bottle of mouthwash.
You enter your room. Eren’s kicked his shoes off and he’s holding the remote to the DVD player. He starts The Truman Show, eyes only half-coherent.
You don’t comment on it. Instead, you help him sit up and give him the water first, then the mouthwash. He drinks and washes his mouth obediently before collapsing back down.
His eyes fixate on the movie. You lay down next to him. The pile of clothes is a bit uncomfortable under your bodies but neither of you cares.
“Fuck this movie,” Eren mutters, but he watches nonetheless. It’s your favourite, but Eren loathes it.
You don’t reply. You curl up and close your eyes. You hear the familiar lines of the movie, so burnt into your brain you can recite them from memory.
Just as you’re drifting off, you feel Eren’s arm place around your waist and pull you in. Like a child, he clings to you as he sleeps off his intoxication.
You know nightmares will plague him.
-
Eren’s still fast asleep when you wake up. He doesn’t as much as stir when your alarm goes off. His hands have buried under your shirt to rest on your bare waist.
You gently wiggle out of his hold. You’re both in your day clothes still and your back hurts from sleeping on that pile of clothes.
You walk to the bathroom and flicker the light on. All of your house is tiny but the bathroom especially more so. The cabinet above the sink is crammed full of different beauty products. Anti-ageing creams, perfumes, once used and then forgotten salves.
You strip naked and walk in the tiny shower cubicle.
You shower quickly and get ready for the day. Your mum is still sleeping on the couch. You walk past her to go to the small kitchen.
Dishes from last night’s dinner are still forgotten in the sink. The electric stovetop has been scrubbed clean. You quietly make a cup of coffee and take it with you in a thermos cup.
School goes uneventful as usual. A couple of classmates exchange a few words with you, but not much.
Most avoid you. Eren has a reputation.
Don’t get involved with those two unless you’re begging for trouble. That’s what the word is around town. Obviously, more than a few girls make an exception for Eren.
Not you, though.
You don’t mind it. You sit at your desk through the day, idly staring outside.
The school year is almost over. You applied for university a little while back. You haven’t told Eren. You know you should, but you haven’t been able to make yourself.
You’re Eren’s anchor. As he navigates this scary, confusing world, you’re the person he uses to orient himself. Whenever he tries to drift too far, you gently pull him back.
The thought of leaving Eren behind to fend for himself fills you with dread. It makes your body tense, your breathing get stuck in your chest.
It’s been you and him against the world for fifteen years. You might be adults on paper now, but you both still feel like kids.
Confused, scared, unsure of where to go, you cling to each other. Even though it’s self-destructive, co-dependent, unhealthy.
Yet you know that if you stay, Eren will pull you in like a pit of tar. He’s drowning in dark and sticky sludge and he’s holding onto you for dear life.
You can either swim away or sink with him.
School ends eventually. It’s all such a dull, monotonous grey mass to you. Waking up, going to school, going home, all of it.
When you arrive home, you hear the sizzle of the frying pan immediately. You drop your bag on the couch in the living room (your mum has cleaned off all the cans and cigarette butts from last night) and make your way to the kitchen.
Eren’s sitting by the two-seater kitchen table. It’s tucked against the tiny space between the stove and the window. It’s so crammed Eren’s stomach is pressed against the edge of the table, there’s not enough room to pull the chairs back properly.
It’s two in the afternoon. Despite that, your mother is making breakfast.
You stare at the round pancakes, happily sizzling on the oiled frying pan.
“Syrniki? Why?” you ask your mum. She turns and gives you a long look.
“The boy’s too skinny. Growing men need a good breakfast,” she replies to you in Russian. She then gives Eren a small smile.
“Almost done,” she says. You sit down across from Eren and grab the steaming pot of tea placed in the middle.
Your mum takes a cup from the cabinet and puts it in front of you.
“Is that where you went last night? To bring Eren here?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“You could’ve just told me. I was worried.”
“I’m an adult.”
“Oh, shush,” she waves her hand at you. You shrug and pour yourself a cup of black tea. Your mum grabs the sugar from the edge of the table and drops in two cubes.
Eren watches quietly as you converse. He can’t understand a word but he’s used to it. He looks a little hungover.
He’s undone his ponytail and his long hair is messily pointing in all directions.
“Sorry for crashing here again, Irina,” he addresses your mother. She shakes her head firmly.
“Nonsense.”
She’s long since gotten used to Eren’s presence. Being like a second home to him, Eren sometimes comes over even when you’re not home.
Your mother loves Eren, almost as much as she loves you. And just like with you, she does her utter best to take care of him.
If there’s one adjective you’d use to describe your mother, it would be tenacious.
You don’t remember it, being only a toddler, but when the economy was collapsing in post-Soviet Russia, she decided she didn’t want to stay and see it happen.
Thus, she took the life insurance left behind by your late father and walked out of the door, a single suitcase under one arm and her little daughter under the other. She flew abroad and didn’t return, determined to make it.
She ended up here, mostly thanks to land being so cheap she could use the money to buy a small house.
She doesn’t make a lot of money but you make ends meet. And from the looks of it, she’s content with that.
She works too much, a fact you’re painfully aware of. She’s always exhausted. But when it comes to you and Eren, she always tries her best.
That’s more than you can say for many other parents you know.
She puts a plate in front of both you and Eren and piles the cottage cheese pancakes on them. She grabs the jam from the fridge and ladles a generous amount on both of your stacks.
Your mother does the dishes and tidies up the kitchen while you eat. Even though the house is so tiny everything’s bound to get cluttered, she tries to keep things clean. A mess is unacceptable.
After eating, both of you help with drying the dishes. You pick up your bag from the couch and take Eren to your room.
It smells stuffy inside. The smell of alcohol still whisks in the air. You open the window before plopping down on your bed.
Eren slumps down next to you.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
“Remember anything about last night?” You get up to grab the controllers propped up against the PlayStation 2. You toss one to Eren.
He takes it. You boot up a game.
Crash Bandicoot. As always.
You sit back down next to him.
“I don’t. Did I do something?” he asks. You shake your head. Nothing out of the ordinary.
You start playing. As always, you’re much better than Eren.
“Those pills you took last night,” you start after a moment of silence. “Don’t take them anymore.”
Eren takes a moment to reply.
“...Alright,” he finally says.
You both know he’s lying. He’ll do it again and again until it kills him. You press against him. You put your controller down and bury your nose into his hoodie. He pauses the game and wraps his arm around you.
He’s so large he completely engulfs you.
You want to kiss him. You want to climb on his lap and sink your hands into his hair. You want to hold him and breathe him.
You want him to pin you down and fuck you hard.
Yet if you allow it to happen, you’ll be completely trapped by Eren. If you do, you’re bound to him for life and you’ll go down with this ship.
And as much as you love Eren, with every fibre of your being, you also love yourself, and your mother whose only wish is to see you thrive.
It’s not until evening before Eren finally leaves. You walk him to his house. He lives down the street with his aunt.
His house is marginally larger than yours but the yard is much more unkempt. His bike is parked by the patio as the driveway is taken by two rickety cars.
Eren’s aunt doesn’t have much money.
“Wanna come?” Eren asks as he finishes his cigarette.
“I got homework.”
Eren hums. He drops the cigarette and stomps on it. He pulls you in by your waist and kisses your forehead.
“Always working so hard.”
“You could go to school sometime as well. When’s the last time you went?”
Eren goes to a vocational school, on paper. In practice, he’s absent so often it’s a miracle they haven’t expelled him yet.
He shrugs sheepishly. As he walks to the door, leaving you behind, you can hear his aunt speak up the moment the front door opens.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Just hanging out,” Eren dodges.
“Hanging out my ass! Your teacher called me, you didn’t show up to school again. I swear to God if you fucking went drinking again-”
Eren closes the door. You can hear the muffled screaming from inside. You’re sure Eren’s aunt will be on his ass for a while.
You walk back home. Your mother had a day off but she’s still nodding off by the couch already, a cigarette hanging between her fingers.
“Don’t fall asleep with that,” you warn her as you pass her by. She waves her hand at you, eyes glued to the TV screen.
You return to your cramped room and close the door. The pause screen for Crash Bandicoot is still flashing on your TV.
You turn off the TV and sit down by your desk. You fish out your iPod and put on the earbuds. You put on some music and get started on homework.
Whenever you’re with Eren, you feel safe. You feel light and at home. You feel the most like yourself. The problem is, you don’t like that you.
You don’t like the you that’s tiny and scared and so, so confused, that feels like she’ll get washed away in a tsunami of dark thoughts if she just lets herself.
You were born with a void inside you. Eren was, too. You try to stay distracted from it whereas Eren stares right at it until he’s no longer afraid.
Sooner or later, that difference will tear your relationship to bits.
-
You have no clue what the people around you are saying. Pressed against the wall with brightly coloured drawings, you look around warily.
Your mum said she’d be back in a few hours, that these people would look after you while she went to work.
The people around you are loud and rowdy. They’re all scattered around the play room. Some are playing with dolls, others with toy trains, a couple are looking over picture books.
You spot a dark-haired boy fighting over a toy dinosaur with another boy.
The teachers tried their best to gesture for you to play with the others, but you refused. You don’t know what the other kids are saying, and the others avoid you, almost naturally so, thanks to you being new and a foreigner at that.
You sit down by the wall and watch the playing children. The group you’re in is small, barely having ten kids.
You don’t understand how or why you ended up here. Your mother scooped you off into an aeroplane with her and flew here. You don’t understand anything about economical collapse, the end of the Soviet Union, cold war, global affairs, you’re far too young to.
To you, there’s you, and your mother, and a home you no longer have.
Thus, you’ re just left confused and scared.
You’re spacing off. You don’t notice someone has appeared next to you before your shoulder is nudged.
You look up, just to see the dark-haired boy who not a minute ago was fighting over the dinosaur. His shirt is frayed and his pants are stained, clearly not recently washed.
His brown hair is messy. His green eyes look at you sternly, clearly evaluating you.
You quietly think to yourself that your mother would never let you go out this messy.
He looks at you warily and then, finally, sits down next to you. He puts one toy dinosaur in front of you and the other in front of himself.
“Let’s play,” he says, but you don’t understand the words. He takes the dinosaur in front of himself and uses it to knock yours down.
You watch quietly.
He puts the toy back on its feet and then knocks it down again. He repeats the motion a few times while you watch.
Then, you slowly reach for the toy and take it. When the boy moves in again to knock it down, you dodge.
He smiles, obviously happy.
Half an hour later, you’re playing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The other kids avoid you, they don’t want anything to do with the untidy kid and the foreigner.
But you don’t care. You have a friend. A friend who would later become your world.
-
There’s weeds growing between the tiles of the beaten walkway. You look at them blandly, eyes cast down, as you make your way to the abandoned building.
The swimming hall was closed down decades ago. This town was once a growing satellite town of the nearby city, providing jobs in the form of a circuit board factory. As such, services like this were set up.
Swimming hall, library, even a small sports stadium. All were closed down in the years following the factory going under. People moved away, leaving behind only those who couldn’t afford to.
Now, the swimming hall stands abandoned in the middle of vegetation. The roads leading to it are unmaintained and closed.
Hardly anyone comes here. Your mother is convinced the place is haunted.
Still, you follow Eren here without as much as blinking. He’s walking ahead of you, hands pushed into the pockets of his hoodie.
It’s getting late but since it’s Friday, you hardly care. Your mother already fell asleep, having to cover a morning shift tomorrow.
Eren’s hair is up in a bun as always. You notice a strand of his hair has escaped it. The sun is setting behind him and the desolate swimming hall.
You arrive at the hall. The doors and windows are naturally locked, but Eren leads you to the back where he and Kyle broke one of the windows to gain access.
As he checks the window, you reach your hand. You grasp the lock of hair tickling the nape of his neck and tug gently.
He turns to give you a questioning look. You smile a bit.
“You never manage to tie your hair properly.”
Eren snorts and takes your hand in his just to move it away.
The window is around chest high. Eren grabs your waist and lifts you inside, making sure you don’t get scraped by the bits of broken glass as he places you down on the other side.
He then hops the window to come in after you.
The insides have long since been vandalized. Many of the windows have been broken and nailed shut.
The reception desk is covered in dust, mould and dirt. The couches lined by the walls have mostly been stabbed.
Eren walks you to the main hall. You’re glad he doesn’t go to the locker rooms. They always crept you out.
It’s been a couple of years since you were last here. Eren kicks in the door that leads to the main hall. The pool itself is obviously empty. It’s growing moss. A few rays of orange sunlight hit it. In an hour or so, the sun will be down.
The diving platforms are mouldy and gross. There’s a small audience platform above you with rusted railing and rows of bright orange plastic chairs. The space echoes as you step inside.
The walls are see-through, and some of them have been broken and re-sealed with tape to prevent people from entering.
Eren sits down by the edge of the pool. You sit down next to him without a word.
He takes out two joints and hands you one. You look at it, trying to decide, then shrug.
It’s Friday.
You take the lighter from Eren and light up your joint.
You breathe in and resist the urge to cough. You hold the sweet-smelling smoke in your lungs for a few seconds before slowly exhaling.
Eren’s quiet but you can sense something is on his mind. He smokes his joint, green eyes thoughtfully scanning over the endless graffiti sprayed on the walls of the abandoned hall.
“Josh asked me if you’re single,” he finally says. Josh is a newer addition to Eren’s group of friends. He’s a year younger than you. A nice guy, if a bit of a loudmouth.
“Oh?” you ask, hardly interested.
“I told him to stay the fuck away from you.”
You chuckle under your breath and move to sit astride on Eren’s lap. You place your chin on his shoulder and relax.
Eren’s hand places on your thigh, the other holding his joint. His fingertips find a hole in your jeans and start fiddling with it. You feel his cool finger circle the edges of it before pushing underneath to feel your warm skin.
You press against him with closed eyes. The world spins around you.
“I love you,” you murmur, high and light.
“I love you too,” Eren whispers. You pull your head back. You feel his lips place on your throat.
He does this sometimes, and you let him, if you’re swept away enough.
“Are you jealous?” you ask with a breathy voice. Eren’s fingers play with the frayed fabric around the hole.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. His hot lips move up and down your throat, along your veins where he can feel your blood pumping.
He can kiss there, but not your lips. He can touch your thighs, but not between them. It’s such arbitrary rules you have set in order to protect yourself.
Yet in moments like these, you feel like it would all be worth it. Let the current, let Eren, take you away. Let yourself sink to the bottom where all your sadness resides, ignored by you for God knows how long.
Look at that ugly void you were born with and no longer pretend it’s not there.
Yet you know if you do, you can never resurface.
“I want you,” Eren whispers needily. You can feel him get hard in his pants. He wants to strip you naked and worship every inch of your body in this dirty abandoned building.
He wants to thrust inside you, holding you still for his cock by your hips. He wants to hear your voice echo against the walls, covered in spray-painted vulgarities.
He wants to kiss you, high and beyond any form of care.
“I know,” you reply. Your arms are wrapped around his broad shoulders and your eyes are closed. Every now and then, you take a drag of your joint.
“Can I fuck you?” he asks. You smile to yourself.
“We’re in an abandoned swimming hall. Have some tact.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It gives me the creeps, thinking how this used to be a crowded place for families to visit. Now it’s just empty and lonely.”
“I believe it’s called a liminal space,” Eren replies. You pull your head back down to meet his green eyes. You press your foreheads together.
“It suits us,” you chuckle. “We’re just as desolate.”
“It does,” Eren replies. His hand stills on your thigh.
So unfair, you think to yourself, that you and Eren will never have a happy ending. He’s incapable of it. You run from your void, he basks in his.
You want to tell him he’s the love of your life. Then again, he already knows.
You save your breath.
-
You’re running out of time. You should tell Eren before it starts to look like you purposefully withheld it from him.
Whenever you and Eren talked about the future, you always had an assumption that you’d be together. Inseparable and holding on like the two fools you are.
The opportunity presents itself one night, hardly a week after you got stoned at the abandoned pool.
It’s a lazy weekend. Eren hasn’t contacted you and you assume he’s off somewhere with Kyle and the rest. That’s how he works, he gets as high as he can and then crashes down, painfully and inevitably.
Then, he limps to you to lick his wounds.
You’re absent-mindedly playing a platformer on your PlayStation 2. The window is open and the gentle summer breeze comes in, brushing past your naked legs every now and then.
From the living room, you can hear the quiet noise from the TV, paired with the familiar smell of your mother’s cigarettes.
The school year is almost over. You’ll get the results of your entrance exams in a few short weeks.
The more you think about it, the more you’re consumed by anxiety. Your mum is of course ecstatic. She’s saved up money like crazy to make sure you can go to any school you want.
But what about Eren? Leaving him here to fend for himself swells your heart with heavy guilt.
He’ll sink, just so you can swim. You know that, yet you can’t stay in this town. The thought suffocates you, it scares you beyond comprehension.
Your anxious thoughts are interrupted when your phone buzzes next to you on the bed. You grab it and flip it open.
Outside.
You immediately pause the game and hop off the bed. You pull on a pair of shorts and your shoes before wandering out of your room.
Your mother looks up from the TV.
“Where are you going?” she snaps in Russian from the couch.
“With Eren.”
“Don’t stay too late.”
“Let me enjoy my weekend,” you sigh.
“It’s been restless lately. I hear there are drug dealers around. Hanging out late is not a good idea.”
“Two deaths will not happen, one is inevitable.”
Your mother purses her lips at the proverb. She flicks some ash into the ashtray before reluctantly lying back down on the couch.
“You’re an adult. Do as you wish, but be careful. Send me a text if you’re staying past midnight.”
“Yeah, yeah,“ you dismiss with a wave of your hand. You walk to the door and slip out.
Eren’s outside. He’s parked his bike on the driveway next to your mother’s car. He’s leaning against the seat of his bike, his helmet hanging from his forearm.
He’s wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans. On his feet, he has black boots.
He’s smoking a cigarette.
Hanging from the handlebar is an extra helmet. It has a messy Dotty carved on the back. Eren did that when you were sixteen and he’d just gotten his license, to reassure you that no one else would ever be allowed on the back of his bike.
Not that he kept that promise. You’ve seen girls on his bike more than once. But to his credit, he never gives them this particular helmet.
It’s just for you.
You walk to him and steal the cigarette from between his lips. You take a drag before handing it back to him.
He finishes the cigarette and hands you your helmet.
“Where are we going?”
“I feel like going to the hilltop.”
That’s an unusual choice.
The hilltop is the peak of a nearby hill. It’s not high enough to offer any actual views but it oversees the highway surrounding your slowly withering town.
You put your helmet on and climb in the back of his bike. He starts the engine and drives off. You wrap your arms around his waist.
You get cold almost immediately thanks to your shorts and t-shirt. Despite that, you don’t say anything. You cuddle against Eren’s back like the being in love you are.
Eren drives down a myriad of small roads, getting more and more rugged until it turns to gravel and turns uphill. The hill is quite steep and you need to hold tight onto Eren’s waist to not slide off his bike.
It’s dark around you as Eren stops the bike on top of the hill. He walks the bike through the untouched forest around the gravel road, to the side of the hill.
You take off your helmet and quietly follow him.
The side of the hill facing the highway is mostly void of trees. Down below, you can see cars zoom past you and the town, in pursuit of the city.
You’ve visited the nearest city countless times. It has everything you could want, even a university you could have applied for, only you didn’t.
You decided to go to the capital instead, four hours’ drive from here.
You sit down on the ground and shiver a bit. You should’ve grabbed more clothes. It’s warm, but not warm enough to tolerate in this attire.
Eren notices. He sits down behind you, legs on each side of yours, and opens his hoodie. He wraps it around you and pulls your back to his chest.
It’s immediately warmer, yet it also makes your anxiety soar. Eren’s chin gently places on your shoulder, his arms wrap around your waist.
You relax against him.
To many, Eren is scary. He’s quiet and aloof, he has a temper, he routinely gets in trouble, yet you feel so incredibly safe with him.
He has never hurt you and he never will. He only hurts those who hurt the people he loves. He self-destructs, but not out of malice. He does it because he doesn’t know what else to do.
Your heart aches with how much you love him, and how bad you know that love is for you.
You open your mouth, then close it. The high-speed passing cars below create a haunting, distant soundscape.
You take a deep breath. You have to get this over with.
“Eren. I applied for uni in the capital.”
Eren stills behind you. You don’t see what kind of face he makes. You don’t see the way his eyes widen, then fill with a moment of panic.
Something dark flashes in his gaze, that toxic and deeply damaged part of him that clings to the notion that you belong together. The part that's willing to do anything to keep you.
It’s always been just you two. A bubble of darkness, self-loathing, self-destruction yet also love, warmth and comfort.
In this messy, terrifying world, you’re the only thing that makes sense to him.
His arms tighten around you. He presses his forehead against your shoulder and takes a shuddering breath.
“When will you get the results?”
“In a bit over a month.”
“Okay,” he breathes, and he sounds pained. You turn your head and kiss his jaw.
“I love you, Eren. I really do. But I can’t stay in this town. I’ll drown.”
“Yeah,” he replies but his voice is faint and thin. “I know.”
You place your arms over his on your stomach. You link your fingers. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and close your eyes.
“Dotty,” he starts, and his voice sounds strangled. You steel your heart.
Only, Eren decides to hold his tongue. To not ask you to stay and sink with him. Instead, he whispers a crushed love confession into the dark night.
The image burns to your mind as an intrusive memory. The dark hill. The faint non-stop rumble of passing cars. The warmth of his body. The crushing loneliness in his voice.
In the coming years, memories of this exact moment would countless times wake you up in the middle of the night.
Eventually, you go back. Eren drives you home. He’s quiet and only offers you a small smile as you hop off his bike.
You go home and watch The Truman Show, a small uncomfortable feeling in your chest, as if telling you something is wrong.
Eren watches you go before driving off into the night. He drives to the highway. He drives to the city.
He disappears without a trace.