Request for part 2 I'll Love You in the Rain or Shine? 😊
thank you for being patient and loving this fic while i was away ❤❤❤
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My Love That Drowned in the Rain
Eretra. Big AU.
I'll Love You in the Rain or Shine: Chapter 1 | 2
10168 words.
Read on Ao3!
Eren lies on the couch staring at little spikes of the popcorn ceiling of his shared apartment, the bumpy white paint most likely covering chunks of cancerous asbestos fibers. It’s something that his roommate Armin complains about constantly, but both he and Eren are too broke to do anything except mumble about how the landlord clearly doesn’t care about his tenants aside from their paychecks. At any rate, Eren isn’t too concerned about the carcinogens that his body is exposed to because, he finds, he has a much bigger problem.
“I think I’m in love with her,” Eren says out loud.
“We know,” Jean says. The tattoo artist, one of Eren’s old boyfriends from his freshman year of university that had managed to remain friends with him even after they stopped hooking up, sits at the dining table with a sketchbook in front of him. Although he doesn’t live in the apartment, he spends so much time in Eren and Armin’s living space that he might as well pay rent. Or at the very least act a little more sympathetic when Eren talks about his problems instead of sitting there and rolling his eyes. “You’ve mentioned this at least ten times since Marco and I arrived.”
Marco smiles from the kitchen, little craters forming on his freckled cheeks. “You can keep talking about it if you want, Eren. It might make you feel better,” Marco says as he fiddles with the knobs on the stove. He lifts the lid of the pan and the aroma of soufflé pancakes waft over to where Eren is curled up on the couch. It would make Eren’s mouth water if he weren’t feeling so conflicted right now.
“Thank you, Marco,” Eren says with a pointed glare at Jean, who only rolls his eyes in response. He sits up for a moment, watching as Marco makes his perfectly fluffy pancakes. The freckled man looks awfully domestic and Eren feels a twinge of jealousy in his chest. “Why couldn’t I fall in love with you, Marco? It would have been so much easier.”
“You had your chance with him and blew it, Jaeger,” Jean says, hardly batting an eyelash. He continues to sketch designs on his sketchpad, completely unbothered. Oh, to be so confident and secure in your relationship. “Maybe it’s the universe punishing you for turning down the perfect man.”
Eren doesn’t know why he lets Jean in the apartment half the time. “Shouldn’t you be a little more grateful? I was the one who introduced Marco to you, you know.”
“That’s right, you did!” Jean says, raising his eyebrows as if just remembering. He points the butt of his pencil at Eren and gives him the fakest smile. “Thank you for making the biggest mistake of your life so I could meet the greatest love of my life.”
Eren growls in response.
From behind the stove, Marco titters. “Don’t worry about it, Eren. I’m sure your predicament will sort itself out somehow,” Marco says with that ever-present grin on his face. It would be annoying if anyone else smiled all the time but because it’s Marco, the smile is comforting. “Who knows, maybe Petra might even like you back?”
The possibility that Petra could reciprocate his feelings makes Eren’s flutter. He’s only entertained the idea a few times but never out loud. He’s never held Petra’s hand, but he’s imagined it. Her hand would be so small in his, but so soft and pretty as she intertwined her fingers with his as they walked side-by-side. He would smile down at her and she would look up at him, amber eyes all large and shiny and sparkling like a doe’s. Petra would smile at him with the softest dimples appearing in her cheeks, and she’d look at him so blissfully happy just like …
Like when she was with Zeke.
“I can’t,” Eren chokes with a shake of his head. He rubs at his chest, wondering why it suddenly aches so much. “It’s impossible. Me and Petra … it just wouldn’t work.”
Armin, who has been sitting in the corner quietly this whole time, looks up from his book and wrinkles his nose. “You know, you always say that, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t,” he says. He sits up, pushing his round-rimmed glasses up. “You like her a lot, but it’s like you’re too scared to even ask her out. Really, the only thing holding you back from her is yourself.”
Eren begins to splutter, shocked that his best friend of so many years is advising him to pursue a tumultuous romance with such reckless abandon. “Armin, I can’t ,” Eren protests. He looks at the rest of his friends, expecting them to look equally shocked that Armin would say such a thing, but Jean and Marco are nodding in agreement. Eren sits up straighter and waves his hands around as if doing so will help convince them that Armin is insane. “She dated Zeke .”
“Yeah, but you said that was like ten years ago,” Jean points out. “It’s not like she’s dating him now. Even if Zeke was the greatest love of her life, it’d be crazy if she were still hung up on him after all this time.”
“I agree,” Marco hums as he slides another pancake onto the stack steadily piling up on the plate sitting on the counter. “If you like her, you should go for it. You’re just as much of a catch as Zeke if not more.” He catches Jean’s glare from the corner of his eye. “But you could never match up to Jean, whom I love very much.”
Jean nods and goes back to sketching in his notebook.
Eren pouts and curls back into the sofa, stuffing his face in a pillow and hugging another one tightly to his stomach. “Why can’t you guys be gross and love each other somewhere else? Can’t you see I’m in pain?”
“What a whiny baby,” Jean mutters under his breath and Eren’s head whips around to glare at the artist.
Armin ignores the arguing, used to it. “You said she gave you her number,” he says. His eyes linger on Eren’s phone abandoned on the coffee table. “Have you texted her yet?”
The lovelorn loser waves his hand around behind him, vaguely gesturing at his phone. He doesn’t notice when Armin takes it and taps his four-digit password to unlock the screen. “Yeah, but I haven’t texted her since that night. It’s hardly a conversation. Just a ‘yeah, it was no problem biking you home ‘cause my asshole brother pretty much left you stranded at our house,’” Eren sighs. “She probably just gave it to me out of courtesy. She probably gives it to everyone who bikes her home after an awkward family dinner.”
“Is this a thing that normally happens to people?” Jean whispers. From across the kitchen counter, Marco shakes his head.
Eren rolls around on his back and stares at the ceiling again. “You know what? It’s fine,” he says in a voice that says it’s not fine at all. “I like being a loser pining after someone who will never love me back. I’ll just live my entire life alone, loving her while she never knows, and continue to hook up my exes with each other because someone in this coldhearted world deserves to find love and happiness.”
Jean and Marco share a guilty glance before turning back to Eren.
“Come on, Eren, it’s not like you’ll never find love,” Jean says. He gets up from the dining table and takes a seat at the end of the couch. Awkwardly, he pats Eren’s foot. “You have a lot of amazing qualities. If Petra can’t see that, then she doesn’t deserve you.”
Eren hugs the pillow to his stomach tighter and raises his head to glare at Jean. “You don’t know her!” Eren says. He sits up and pouts. “If she doesn’t think I’m worth loving, then it’s because I’m not worth it.” The thought brings a sigh to his lips and he slumps in his seat like a wilted flower.
“Well,” Marco says gravely. It’s apparent that no words will be enough to comfort Eren in his current state. “At least his matchmaking services will be a huge benefit to the world.”
“A pity he won’t be able to use them for himself,” Armin mutters thoughtlessly as he scrolls through Eren’s phone.
“Hey!” Eren squawks, feeling betrayed. He understands Jean turning his back on him and he even understands Marco giving up on comforting him, but Armin? Armin was supposed to be his best friend. He thought Armin would give him a little sympathy at least.
Armin looks up from Eren’s phone. “You can stop feeling sorry for yourself and start preparing for your date with Petra,” he says. He slides Eren’s phone over the table. On the screen is a text conversation with Petra. “It’s this afternoon. You’re welcome.”
Eren blinks, not knowing how to process the information. Slowly, he picks up his phone and scans the text on the screen. Not believing the words he’s seeing, he reads it again, slower this time, and then once more. Expressionless, he sets his phone back down on the table. To Armin, he says, “Armin, what the fuck ?”
Armin ignores him, already returning to the book he had abandoned earlier.
Jean is leaning over Eren’s shoulder, reading the text. His eyes grow wide as he reads the conversation on the screen. It’s enough to get Marco interested. The freckled man turns off the stove and walks over to where the others are and sits down on Eren’s other side.
“Did you really get him a date, Armin?” Marco asks curiously.
“He got pretty close,” Jean says. He points at Petra’s last message. “She’s meeting him today at four. They’re going clothes shopping because apparently Eren’s teacher’s wardrobe is atrocious.”
Marco thinks about it for a moment and then says, “Well, I don’t think a change in clothing would hurt.”
Eren looks offended. “You said my clothes looked nice the other day!”
“They did!” Marco says and then bites his bottom lip. “But, you know, they could look nicer .”
Jean nods in agreement. “Your jeans make your legs look kind of chunky,” he says and then leans down to pat one of Eren’s calves. “And you have some nice legs. You should get some better pants when you go out with Petra.”
“I’m not going out with Petra!” Eren says. He collapses with his back against the couch and covers his face with the pillow he was holding. He can feel his ears burning just from the thought of going to the mall with Petra even though this technically wouldn’t even count as a date. Setting his pillow aside, he reaches for his phone tiredly. “I’ll tell her I changed my mind. I have … papers to grade or something. She’ll understand.”
“Don’t!” all three of his friends say. Jean is the fastest and manages to snatch the phone before Eren can.
Eren’s too shocked to even say anything. He just stares at the other three in disbelief.
“Eren, you’ve been whining about this for far too long,” Jean says. He holds Eren’s phone out of arm’s reach. Stupid tattoo artist and his stupidly long arms. “Armin has dropped a golden opportunity into your lap and you’re just going to let all of his hard work go to waste?”
“It wasn’t that hard, really,” Armin says, but he cowers when Jean shoots him a scathing glare. He sits up straighter and clears his throat. Serious now, he says, “Jean’s right, though. You’ve been in love with her for so long. Don’t you think it’s time to make your move?”
Marco puts a comforting hand on Eren’s. “I agree. You’re full of love, Eren. Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he says. “She’s probably over Zeke now. Even if he’s the one that got away … he got away a long time ago. There really isn’t anything stopping you except yourself.”
“No, you guys just don’t get it!” Eren says, frustrated.
They weren’t there when Petra and Zeke had been together. They were childhood sweethearts in every sense of the word. Petra had adored Zeke the moment she had laid eyes on him and Zeke had held her hand from elementary school all the way into high school. They were the couple, the one nobody had to ask about because everyone just knew that they were together, that they belonged together. When they had officially started dating, nobody really knew because it seems like there had never been a time when they were ever apart. They were the couple that nobody ever wondered about because they never fought or had a disagreement. Nobody batted an eyelash when the two were nominated as the couple most likely to be married, and nobody was surprised when they won and their love immortalized in a picture of them in a sweet embrace plastered in the school yearbook.
That’s why it was a surprise when they weren’t together. It had happened suddenly, but nobody spoke of it after it happened. One day Zeke and Petra were together and the next they weren’t. Petra went to class, her usual smile gone as she went from class to class and hugged her textbooks tightly to her chest. Zeke went to college, never even sending a letter home. Sometimes Eren would see Petra in the hall and he would wave, forgetting what had happened. He’d only be reminded when she saw him and gave him a small wave, a strained smile on her face, and then he’d remember.
Petra standing in the rain, soaked to the bone as she stood in front of Zeke’s house. Oblivious Eren standing behind her, wondering why she hadn’t gone inside yet. He had called her name then only for her to ignore him. He thought it was because of the rain that was pounding against the pavement, drowning out his call to her. It was only when he approached her, smiling stupidly as he held his umbrella over her, that he saw that she was crying.
Petra crying with her cheeks stained with tears that even the rain couldn’t wash out. Her eyes were red and blurry and her lips bitten raw and red to keep from sobbing out loud. She didn’t seem to see Eren at all, not even as he grasped onto the sleeve of her thin cardigan and asked her what was wrong. All she looked at was the house in front of her. Eren followed her gaze up to Zeke’s bedroom window where the light was on and he could see his half-brother’s silhouette walking around.
He tugged at Petra’s sleeve again, but she still didn’t seem to notice. Hesitating, his hand hovered around hers and he reached for it only to grab her wrist instead. Close, but not close enough. It was only then that she looked up, genuinely surprised to see Eren.
“What’s wrong?” Eren had asked her. “You’re crying.”
“Am I?” Petra said, eyes wide as if she really didn’t know. She sniffed and wiped her thumb across her cheek. She looked down at her thumb and then back at Eren, her lips in a thin smile. It didn’t look anything like her usual smile. “Oh, that’s just the rain,” she told him, but he didn’t believe her one bit.
“Oh,” he said and let go of her too soon. He gestured to the house. “Are you coming inside?”
“Inside?” she repeated and she looked surprised. It’s like she hadn’t realized she was standing outside of Zeke’s house this whole time. “Oh, no. I was just passing. I should really get home. It’s raining really hard, isn’t it?”
Numbly, Eren nodded his head. “Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked, but he wished he hadn’t. It’s not what he should have said. He should have told her that it was alright. He should have told her that he would walk her home. He should have told her that he didn’t know what was wrong, but that he would do anything he could to make sure she stopped crying. But he didn’t say any of that.
“No, it’s okay,” Petra said. She looked at Eren with the saddest smile. “You’re sweet.”
He didn’t get a chance to say thank you before she turned and headed home all alone in the rain. She didn’t run. She walked as if rain wasn’t pounding against the pavement, and Eren just watched instead of running after her or even offering her his umbrella.
It’s one of his biggest regrets.
“It’s just … impossible,” Eren says helplessly as he lays down on the couch once more, hugging the pillow to his chest for comfort. “When you have a relationship like theirs … you just can’t let go.”
“Well, it’s clear that Zeke moved on,” Jean points out. He rubs Eren’s knee. “Maybe you’re the only one who hasn’t moved on, Eren.”
Eren shuts his eyes and turns towards the couch. He feels another hand on his back, gentler than Jean’s hand. He knows without looking that it’s Marco.
“You should at least give it a shot,” Marco says softly.
Eren lifts his head and looks at Armin, who shrugs.
“It couldn’t hurt,” Armin says.
Eren sighs before sitting up again. Pillow still clutched to his stomach, he glares at his friends. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to seem rude for canceling on her,” Eren says, ignoring Jean when the tattoo artist snorts in disbelief.
“Great, that’s settled!” Marco says happily. He gets up from the couch and rubs his hand on his apron. “Should we eat then? The pancakes are all done.”
“Excellent,” Jean says, breathing in the smell of pancakes. He sits down at the table, pulling out a chair for his boyfriend. “I’m starving.”
Everyone else joins Jean at the table but Marco shakes his head when Eren sits down.
“None for you,” Marco says. He waves Eren away, shooing him away like he’s a pesky fly. “You have a brunch date with your brother, remember?”
Eren scrunches his nose up. “Ugh,” he groans.
“On the bright side, at least you can look forward to the date with Petra later,” Armin reminds Eren as Marco stacks a pile of soufflé pancakes on his plate.
Eren groans again. “You guys are the worst.”
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In addition to family dinners, Eren also has brunch with Zeke every other weekend. For the most part, Eren doesn’t mind it. It’s more bearable than the dinners, which subjects him to Dina’s constant scrutiny and his father’s indifference. At least Zeke pretends to be interested in Eren’s life and Eren pretends he knows what it means for Zeke to get a grant to fund his research on philosophical anthropology.
Eren walks into their usual café, a little hole-in-the-wall shop that serves the kopi luwak coffee that Zeke likes so much. Does Eren understand the appeal of drinking coffee produced from coffee beans shitted out of a civet’s rear end? Not in the least, but at least the shop sells an inexpensive Americano, which is more than enough for him. When he enters the shop, Zeke is already sitting at their usual table in the corner. It gets the best sunlight, Zeke always said. A cup of Americano is already sitting there for him.
Eren takes a seat across from Zeke. “Thanks for the coffee,” he says. He glances at his phone and grimaces. He’s a few minutes late. It’s one thing to make Dina wait, but Zeke never says anything if Eren is late. It always makes him feel a bit guilty. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“No worries,” Zeke says with a smile. He always smiled easily. He smiles more easily than Eren ever has. He sets down the book he’s been reading, some thick textbook about the effects of technology on human nature that Eren would never understand. “So, what’s going on with you? Anything new happen?”
Eren shrugs. He picks up his mug of coffee and takes a sip to buy himself some time. It’s bitter on his tongue and lukewarm. He winces when he thinks about how long he had made Zeke wait. “Nothing new to report since … the dinner,” Eren says. He pauses, wondering if he really wants to say what’s on his mind. After a moment, he decides, fuck it. “I talked a little bit about it with Petra.”
“Ah, yes,” Zeke says with a nod. He doesn’t flinch at the mention of his ex’s name. Eren shouldn’t be surprised, but it still frustrates him seeing how indifferent Zeke is. It’s as if Petra meant nothing to him at all. How could someone you spent more than half your life with be worth nothing to you?
Eren purses his lips. Irritated, his finger taps the side of his mug. He probably shouldn’t proceed with this conversation. He should change the topic and talk about something boring, like how a parent threw a fit because his classroom didn’t have more than 72 colors of crayons, or how he had to work overtime the other night because another parent forgot to pick up their kid. He can’t, though. All he can think about is Petra standing out in the rain.
Suddenly, he blurts, “Why did you ask Petra to dinner?”
Zeke tilts his head, an eyebrow raised as if he’s genuinely surprised at the question. “Because she’s my colleague. We teach at the same university,” Zeke replies. He takes a sip of his expensive civet coffee and says, “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I thought it would be nice to invite her to dinner.” He says it so casually, like he honestly doesn’t understand what’s so wrong about it.
Eren nibbles on his bottom lip. His grip tightens around his mug. “And did you tell her …?” His voice trails off. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows Zeke will drag the question out of it. Eren’s just afraid of the answer he’ll get in reply.
“Did I tell her …?” Zeke asks. He lets his voice trail off just like Eren did. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for Eren to finish, but Eren never does. “Did I tell her what, Eren?”
Eren looks at his brother, frustrated. He doesn’t want to say it, but he knows he has to or else they’ll never talk about it. With a pained expression, he finally says, “You and Frieda. Does she know about you and Frieda?”
“No,” Zeke replies and for some reason Eren can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Zeke either doesn’t notice Eren flinching or he doesn’t care because he continues. “It just never came up, so I never mentioned it. If she had asked, I would have told her.”
Eren doesn’t hate his brother, but it’s times like these where he thinks he might. Zeke has a tendency to be so careful and uncaring about his words, but it’s always unintentional as if he doesn’t realize how hurtful his words or actions are. It happens so naturally that nobody pays it any mind. They just accept it as how Zeke is, but Eren still flinches every time. Even if someone doesn’t mean to inflict pain doesn’t mean that their words are any less painful to listen to.
Eren sets his mug down and fiddles with the handle of his ceramic mug. The more he thinks about Zeke and his indifference towards Petra, the angrier he gets. If Zeke was going to be this way, then he should have just left Petra alone from the beginning. Why did Zeke greet her like an old friend and invite her to dinner when he was keeping this kind of secret from her, a secret that would only hurt her in the end.
Eren nibbles on his bottom lip again. He can feel the skin break on his lip and heat burst in its place. His lip isn’t bleeding, but it’s close. “You should tell her,” he says quietly. “You should tell her that you’re with Frieda sometime. You don’t have to wait for her to ask. You can just tell her.”
Zeke blinks, gray eyes large behind his aviator glasses. “Ah, really? Why is that?”
“Because,” Eren begins.
Because Eren had seen Petra standing there in the rain until she was drenched to the bone. Because Eren had seen the lonely look in her eye when he had called her name. Because when Eren had finally managed to get over his shock, he had thrown open the door to his father’s house and stomped up the stairs to Zeke’s room only to find his half-brother with a blank expression on his face.
Eren heard Dina’s shouts from downstairs as she scolded him for throwing his shoes so carelessly on the floor and dripped water onto the hardwood floor. He ignored them, swinging the door shut so he could be with his brother alone. Zeke only turned around when he heard the door close behind Eren.
“Petra was waiting for you.” Eren’s voice was loud in the quiet of Zeke’s bedroom. His voice seemed to echo against the walls, but Zeke didn’t answer right away.
“I know.” Zeke turned away from Eren and returned his gaze to the window. It faced the sidewalk in front of the house, the very same place Petra had stood for so long as the rain poured down on her. “I told her to go home.”
Why? Eren wanted to ask, but the word never left his lips. It sat at the tip of his tongue, heavy. He wrapped his arms around himself, clutching at his elbow as he pulled his arms in tighter. He felt cold and empty, as if he had been the one standing out in the rain. He shivered, hard, but Zeke didn’t notice.
“You should dry off,” Zeke advised, lifting his head only the slightest bit. He glanced at Eren for just a brief second before staring out the window once more. “You’re dripping on the floor. Dina will be mad and your mother will worry if you catch a cold.” Zeke’s voice was soft, gentle, and it only made Eren angrier. He couldn’t understand his older brother’s indifference to the girl they loved for over ten years and why Zeke seemed to care more about him, who was only feeling a fraction of Petra’s pain.
“Sorry,” Eren muttered, bristling in anger. He stomped over to the door and stopped at the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. He glared at Zeke, who didn’t even look the least bit startled by Eren’s sudden flash of anger. In fact, his older brother looked as if he had expected it. Eren slammed the door shut with a thud behind him and he didn’t even flinch when Dina yelled at him not to stomp his feet down the stairs. He practically flew out the front door, his shoes half-laced, and only stopped when he got to the sidewalk. There, he stared down the road where Petra had disappeared, his umbrella hanging unopened at his side.
He goes home sopping wet, dripping rain from his head to his feet. He mumbled an apology to his mother, who had immediately scolded him and ran to the pantry to get him a towel to dry off, but all he could think about was Petra in the rain.
“Because,” Eren repeats. Because she deserves an explanation. Because she deserves to know instead of being kept in the dark. Because she doesn’t deserve to stand in the rain again waiting for you to say things you’ll never tell her. He doesn’t say any of that though. Instead, he gives a half-hearted shrug and says, “Because I think she’d like to know. Because … I think she’d want to congratulate you.” She’d congratulate Zeke while holding back tears and forcing that same strained smile on her face, but she’d congratulate him nonetheless. That’s just the kind of person she is.
Zeke hums and takes another sip of his coffee. “I’ll be sure to mention it to her sometime,” he says, but Eren can tell that his brother hasn’t really thought about it.
Eren’s eyes are downcast and he traces a circle on the table with his finger. After a moment, he says, “I’m hanging out with her later today. We’re going clothes shopping. She said she’d help me with updating my professional wardrobe.” His eyes flicker upward and he sees Zeke’s eyes widen the slightest bit. He blinks and Zeke’s face is back to its same indifference. It’s like he had imagined the whole thing.
“Hm,” Zeke replies and gives Eren a once over. He nods in approval. “A change in wardrobe might be good for you.”
Eren wrinkles his nose. Why does everyone think he needs to upgrade his closet? He downs the last of his coffee and shudders. He’s had coffee ever since he went to college, but he can never get over the bitter taste of it. He lets the bitter aftertaste settle on his tongue before he speaks again. “I had better go. I said I’d meet her there. Don’t want to be late.” He nods his head at the bike rack in front of the shop where his bike is locked.
“Ah,” Zeke says with another nod. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “You really do take your bike everywhere. You’d better hurry then if you don’t want to be late.”
“Better to be late than add to carbon emissions that are slowly killing our planet,” Eren mumbles under his breath and Zeke smiles. Zeke is right, though. As much as Eren loves biking and reducing his carbon footprint, his bike isn’t the fastest form of transportation.
He bids his older brother a goodbye and returns his mug to the counter, thanking the barista for the coffee, before heading out the door. With a sigh, he pushes the door of the café open and unlocks his bike from the bike rack. He’s not exactly sure how this afternoon will go, but he’ll just hope for the best.
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“Why is there never a place to sit here?” Petra grumbles as she looks around the crowded mall. It’s not a place she frequents often, but it’s always crowded whenever she does visit. With a pout, she leans against a pillar and rests her head against it. Eren is nowhere to be seen, but that’s fine. He still has a few minutes.
She glances down at her phone to check her messages. Most of the notifications are just emails from her students asking for another extension even though she had already given them one this week. She sighs, but she knows she’s probably going to grant it to them anyway. Levi says she’s way too soft to be a professor and he’s right. There’s a text from Levi asking her if she wants to grade some math assignment for him, which she happily ignores. Another text message is Eren telling her that he’ll be there soon and she sends a smiley face in response. Just as she’s about to tuck her phone away, she gets another text message from her friends’ group chat.
Rico:
Hi 😊 Petra 😊 Have 😊 fun 😊 on 😊 your 😊 date 😊😊😊
Anka:
Yeah 😊 petra 😊 have 😊 fun 😊😊😊
Petra looks at the messages and sighs. She hitches the strap of her bag higher up her shoulder and begins to draft out an answer.
Petra:
thanks 😊 guys 😊 but 😊 it’s not 😊 a date!!! 😊😊😊
Her phone pings again and she sees a message in the chat from Hanji this time.
Hanji:
HAVE A GOOD DATE I HOPE IT’S SUPER HOTTT 😛😝😤😩😫🥵🔥🔥🔥
Petra would be surprised, but she’s sadly used to these kinds of messages from her friend. She only shakes her head and lets out another sigh. “They’re really just using any emoji they want now,” Petra mumbles under her breath. She wonders if she should even dignify it with a response. She shifts, about to respond to Hanji with an unimpressed emoji, but bumps into someone and fumbles her phone. “Shit! Fuck!”
There’s a grasp of hands as both she and the stranger try to catch the phone before it falls. They finally manage to catch it, Petra’s hands over the phone and the stranger’s hands over Petra’s hands. She blinks and looks up only to find that it’s not a stranger. It’s Eren Jaeger. Somehow, his hands are a lot bigger than she remembers.
“Hi,” she says.
“H-hey,” Eren says with a nervous smile. He realizes he’s still holding Petra’s hands and quickly lets go, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks down with a guilty expression on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
“It’s fine,” Petra assures him before hastily putting her phone in her bag. She turns back to Eren, clearing her throat and brushing her hair away from her face. Plastering a smile on her face, she asks, “Did you just get here?”
“Ah, yeah,” Eren says. He reaches up to twirl a lock of hair between his fingers. “I’m not late, am I?”
“No, no, not at all,” Petra says, waving her hands. She looks around at their surroundings, scanning the different stores nearby. “Do you know which place you want to look at first?”
“Er, no,” Eren says. He flounders behind her helplessly like a lost puppy. A very giant lost puppy, but a lost puppy nonetheless. Cute. Eren rubs his arm sheepishly. “I really don’t know anything about … looking professional or anything.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s just a lot of slacks and button-ups,” she tells him. Petra begins to walk. She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going, but she knows they’ll somehow end up at an Old Navy because it’s relatively inexpensive and she’s pretty sure Eren isn’t looking for anything high-end. “You have your teacher’s ID, right?” Petra asks, pointing a finger at Eren.
“Ah, yes!” Eren says. He looks like he’s about to fumble for his wallet and pull out his ID as if to prove it right this second, but Petra giggles and shakes her head.
“That’s good. Teacher’s discount.” She gestures for him to follow her. He towers over her as he follows behind, and she wonders when that happened. He hadn’t been that tall when she had left for college, but she supposes it’s been a long time since then. After all, she had gotten her Ph.D. and he had gotten a teaching degree. She wonders what else she’s missed. Cautiously, she asks, “Why didn’t you ask your brother to help you shop for clothes? Ah, not that I mind helping you. I’m just curious.”
For some reason, Eren grimaces. He rubs the back of his neck. “He’s always busy. I hate asking him for anything,” Eren mumbles. His gaze flickers over to Petra, his green eyes large under thick lashes. “I thought you would be more helpful anyway. Sometimes Zeke dresses like a slob for classes. When you came over for dinner, you looked really … like a real professor, you know.”
“Oh, thanks,” Petra laughs. “I feel like I overdo it sometimes because some people mistake me for a student if I don’t.” She looks affectionately at Eren, gives him a look up and down. “You don’t have to look too professional, though. Just enough to have parents trust and respect you, but it’s probably more important if the kids think you look friendly.”
Eren lets out a nervous titter and tugs at his sleeve nervously. “Yeah,” he agrees. After an awkward pause, he mumbles, “Also, I kind of need something to cover the tattoos on my arms.”
“Your what ?” Petra exclaims, stopping in her tracks. She stops, yanking Eren by his sleeve so hard that she nearly tears it. Without warning, she rolls up his sleeve and reveals the tattoos decorating his arm. She doesn’t say anything, too busy staring to come up with any words.
Eren gulps nervously as Petra looks up and down the length of his arm. Elegant flowers are decorating his arm, some of them are more ornately drawn than the rest because they were added later than the others. Lines of text curl around his arm in gothic script, the words so intricate that Petra can’t quite make them out. Most of the tattoo sleeve is inked in black, but other parts of it are a faded dark blue.
“When did you get these?” Petra asks Eren, her eyes still transfixed on his decorated forearm.
“Um, I think my first one was my junior year in college?” Eren guesses. He twists his arm away from Petra with an awkward laugh, a flush blooming across his cheeks. He pulls his sleeve down, hiding his tattoos once more. “My boyfriend at the time was starting his apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, so I let him practice on me. I guess it was pretty stupid since there’s this whole stigma against tattoos and I was studying to be a teacher …”
“I think they’re cool,” Petra says. She pauses for a moment, thinking. “They’re pretty.”
The blush in Eren’s cheeks grows darker. “I probably should have stopped adding to them at some point, but I guess I forgot,” he says. He reaches up to tug at his earlobe, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “It’s probably going to be difficult to hide. Sorry.”
Petra waves a hand at him. “Don’t be sorry at all. It’ll be harder to wear thin shirts, especially if they’re light in color, but we’ll work something out,” she tells him. Petra links her arm around Eren’s and smiles. “I think you get a bit of leeway since you’re teaching at an elementary school. You should dress professionally, but not stuffily like some kind of academic professor at a private research institute, you know?”
“Y-yeah,” Eren stammers.
They end up at a large clothing store with white tiles and matching white walls that made the store seem more like a hospital than a clothing store. Eren grimaces as soon as he takes a step in and Petra can only give him an apologetic smile.
“I know, it looks terrible in here, but I promise the prices for these clothes will make up for them,” Petra tells him. She stares up at the signs that help categorize the different sections and leads Eren over to the men’s section. “I do not shop in this section very often — or at all, really — but they should have something for you.”
“Hmm,” Eren hums as he runs his hand through a bunch of shirts that are hanging from a clothing rack. “They look a lot nicer than the ones I have at home. I don’t think I’ve updated my professional wardrobe since I bought some slacks and button-ups from the thrift store like five years ago for my internship.” He wrinkles his nose as he remembers only to turn bashful again, cheeks coloring like he had mentioned something embarrassing.
Petra giggles. “Yeah, I honestly don’t update my wardrobe all that often either. Maybe if there’s a sale or something, but my wallet probably couldn’t handle it otherwise,” she confesses. She stops at a circular rack, walking around it before stopping and perusing through some shirts. Every once in a while, she’ll glance up at Eren as if trying to study him. “Pick a few things out too. Preferably stuff you think you’d like to wear to work, although other things are fine too. That way I’ll be able to gauge what your style is.”
“Oh, um, okay,” Eren says. He goes to peruse the same rack as Petra, standing across from her. His lips are set in a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted tightly in concentration as he flips through the rack. He looks so determined to pick out clothes that it makes Petra giggle. Startled, Eren looks up, his eyes wide like a doe’s. “What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Petra says. She presses her lips together in an attempt to suppress her smile, but she knows it’s not working. “You’re cute.”
“O-oh.” Eren ducks his head and continues to flip through the shirts, although he’s going through them so fast that there’s no possible way that he’s actually looking at them. The tips of his ears are burning red.
Ah, he’s cute , Petra thinks, and this time her smile is impossible to hide. It takes her a moment to realize who she’s calling cute: Eren Jaeger, the younger brother of the boy she loves. Used to love. She frowns and peruses through the rack a little more violently than she needs to.
After a few minutes, Petra and Eren compare hauls. Eren has only a handful of items: some checkered button-ups, khakis, and a pair of boots with thick soles at the bottom. Petra has a much larger selection, one that requires her to carry in both arms. She’s not sure if Eren will like any of them. It’s mostly different colored button-ups, cardigans and blazers in dark and gray tones, and dark slacks.
Eren’s eyes widen when he sees Petra’s pile. “Should I have picked more?” he asks, worried. He looks back nervously and points his thumb behind him. “I’ll go find more -”
“No, it’s fine!” Petra says, reaching over to tug on his shirt. It’s a mistake.
Eren pulls away and his shirt stretches enough to show a strip of his stomach — all tight, toned, tan muscle because of course it is — and Petra drops all the clothes she was holding, the hangers clattering against the ground.
“Shit, sorry!” Petra leans down to grab the clothes at the same time Eren does. Their fingers brush and she somehow feels even more flustered. She gets up a little too quickly, her head bumping against Eren’s. Her cheeks are still flushed when she lifts her head, a little more carefully this time, and she apologizes profusely.
“It’s alright,” Eren insists with a laugh even though there’s a pink spot swelling on his forehead where their heads had collided. “Sorry, I must have startled you?”
“Not at all. I’m just a total klutz,” Petra titters, which is a complete lie. Her friends would never consider her clumsy, but now she’s here fumbling with different plaid shirts just because she saw an unexpected strip of skin. She’s not quite sure why it was so unexpected in the first place, whether it was because she wasn’t expecting to see abs or whether it was because those abs in particular belong to Eren.
She doesn’t realize that Eren is asking her something until he waves a hand in front of her face. Petra can feel her face flush, although it’s not like she has a reason to be embarrassed. It’s not like she’s overly fixating on the toned abs that are most definitely hiding beneath Eren’s shirt. She’s just thinking about them a normal amount, which is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal to spend some time thinking about your ex-boyfriend’s younger brother’s abs if he accidentally flashes them at you … but it does sound worse once she thinks about it like that.
Petra coughs, pretending that she has something stuck in her throat as she tries to compose her thoughts. “Sorry,” she says apologetically to Eren. “What were you asking? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“Oh, um,” Eren fumbles with a few shirts in his hand before picking two and holding them up against his body one after the other. One is a light blue denim button-up while the other is a white pinstripe shirt with little black buttons.
The short answer is that Eren would look great in both. He has broad shoulders that would look great in a plain shirt that would accentuate his build, but a striped shirt would help to make him look even taller than he already is. With his tanned skin, it would be difficult finding a color that didn’t look nice on him. Petra can’t really say that out loud though and advising Eren to buy both seems unhelpful since he specifically asked her to help him pick out a new professional wardrobe.
Petra smiles weakly and gently taps a finger against the denim button-up. “It’ll be easier to clean than something white,” she reasons.
“Ah, you’re right!” Eren says before hanging the pinstripe shirt back on a rack. He grins at Petra and she feels temporarily stunned for a moment. It’s hard to imagine someone with a body like Eren’s can have such a sweet smile and large doe-like eyes. “Thanks for taking the time to go shopping with me. I’d be totally lost without you.”
“It’s really nothing,” Petra says, and she means it.
There’s something nostalgic about being with Eren. They always had a good relationship before. Eren would always wait with her, chatting with her eagerly about his day as they both waited for Zeke to come home from baseball practice. It’s nice catching up with him now and seeing that, although they’re both grown up now, there are still parts of Eren that haven’t changed: his sparkling eyes, his wide smile, and the excited way he’d talk whenever he had something he wanted to tell her. She had always regretted not keeping in touch with Eren even after Zeke had broken up with her, but she couldn’t imagine facing Eren again after he had seen her that day in the rain. It always broke her heart when she looked out her window and saw Eren still waiting for her in the days after.
They end up with a good haul: button-ups for days and a handful of knitted sweaters along with a few nice dress shirts and blazers for the few occasions that Eren might have to dress up. Petra had also snagged a few khakis and pants trousers, although she told him that his normal jeans would probably do fine especially if he was going to run around with kids all day.
“Thanks again,” Eren says as they walk out of the store, his hands filled with shopping bags. “Maybe the kids’ parents will start taking me a little more seriously now.”
“They should treat you well regardless of what you’re wearing,” Petra comments absentmindedly. “You worked hard for your degree and you did well enough to get hired here. You shouldn’t have to be earning their approval at this point and if it’s something they’re demanding of you, then you should just forget about them. It’s the kids who you should be most concerned about anyway, and I’m sure they love you.”
Eren looks slightly surprised but he smiles almost shyly, cheeks tinted just the slightest shade of pink. “You’re right,” he says admiringly. “You’ve been really helpful in more ways than one.”
Petra waves a hand, brushing off his compliment. “It’s nothing. It’s scary teaching at first, isn’t it?” she asks. “People didn’t take me seriously at first when I was a TA, but I was also always scrounging for their approval and wanted them to like me. It took me a quarter or two to realize that I was fully qualified and if they were letting their perception of me keep them from learning, that was their own problem. Teaching got a lot less stressful after that.”
“That’s good advice. That’s much better advice than -” Eren cuts himself off there, but Petra feels like she already knows the name that was going to come out of his mouth: Zeke . He must have seen her flinch just the slightest bit because Eren turns his head and points at a shop at the food court just up ahead. He turns to her with a bright smile. He’s kind enough to feign oblivion. “Do you want an ice cream? I should get you something to thank you.”
“Ah, no.” Petra doesn’t really know how to explain it. She was feeling fine until just now, but it just feels like the energy has been drained from her. It’s even worse that she can barely muster a smile. It’s not Eren’s fault that she’s feeling this way. “I just … have some papers to grade, I just realized. Maybe another time?”
Eren blinks a few times and Petra sees through his faltering smile that he doesn’t quite believe her. He doesn’t say anything about it though. His smile widens just a little too much and he says, “Alright, then. I probably kept you here too long. I’ll definitely repay you another time.”
It feels a bit like she’s rejecting him, but Petra doesn’t know why it feels that way. “Hey,” Petra says as she brushes some hair out of her eyes. “Do you want me to give you a ride? It might be a lot to haul around if you took your bike.”
“Oh!” Eren says, eyes widening in surprise for just a second before he wrinkles his nose. He lifts the bags in his hands up and down. They’re hardly a bother to him at all. “No, it’s okay. It might be a little bit of a hassle, but I feel better taking my bike. The environment and all, you know?”
Now it feels like she’s being rejected. For some reason, Petra feels mildly disappointed. Did Eren feel this way earlier? She’s probably thinking too much about it. Eren probably has to clean up his closet after this, maybe go over his lesson plan for this week too if he has time leftover. It’s best if they part ways now.
They say their goodbyes and Petra thinks that’s that until she sees Eren turn around in the corner of her eye.
“Ah, Petra,” Eren says like he almost forgot. He looks bashfully at his shoes and then over at her. “Can I visit you sometime? If it’s not too much of a bother. I know you’re probably busy with all of your classes, but if you could use some company …”
She should probably say no. Just the chance of bumping into Zeke on campus should be enough of a scare for her. She shouldn’t get involved with his little brother, but her lips curl upward before she can help it and Petra finds herself nodding against her will.
“That would be great, Eren,” Petra says, and she genuinely means it.
Petra watches his back as he retreats, taking note of his broad shoulders. Back in high school, Eren was only a few inches taller than she was and Zeke dwarfed him in comparison. Now Eren looks as big as his older brother does, perhaps even bigger. For a brief second, Petra thinks it’s unfair for a kindergarten teacher to be so tall and broad-shouldered. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“Eren grew up well,” Petra murmurs.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Petra’s thoughts are filled with rain and large green eyes that plead with her not to leave. It’s been a while since she’s been consumed with thoughts such as these. She’s not sure who prompted them to return: Zeke or Eren. It’s difficult to say when both of them had come back into her life almost simultaneously. Both the Jaeger brothers are intertwined in the memory so closely that it would be difficult to separate them in the first place.
She really shouldn’t confuse the two for each other. It’s not that she would ever mistake Zeke for Eren and vice versa. The two are very different to begin with. It’s just hard to think of one without thinking of the other. Maybe it’s because Eren had been close to Zeke back when the three of them were younger. Wherever Zeke was, Eren was quick to follow. Once Eren had told her that he had signed up for baseball to follow in Zeke’s footsteps but he later confessed that he preferred swimming to his brother’s sport. Petra had always wondered why Eren idolized his older brother so much when they had such a complicated family history together, but it’s no doubt something Eren has grown out of from what she saw at dinner the other night.
Petra sits in her office with her lower lip protruding as she ponders some more. In her left pen she clicks a pen in and out, a bad habit she’s never really grown out of.
The two are completely different, though. It’s not just their appearances. Eren has always been more of an open book compared to Zeke, who always liked to keep his feelings hidden. While Eren was warm and friendly, Zeke could be described as cold and uncaring to people who didn’t know him. Their current situations were quite different too: Zeke had full support from his family and seemed to be doing well. She doesn’t know much about Eren, but he doesn’t seem close to his step- (kind-of step-, Petra thinks) family and his mother had passed away after he left for college from what she had heard. He’s really just fending for himself.
“They’re way too different,” Petra murmurs, the clicking of her pen growing faster and faster as she gets more lost in her thoughts.
If they’re so different, then she shouldn’t be thinking of one while she thinks about the other. It’s impossible not to, though.
Maybe it’s because…
That day in the rain she had stood there for a minute or five or an hour or two or ten. She didn’t really know. She wasn’t really counting. She had stopped thinking when Zeke had come up to greet her only to tell her he was breaking up with her. He had disappeared into his house without another word. He didn’t even bid her goodbye or ask if she needed an umbrella for her walk back home. It was only when Eren had appeared in front of her, his green eyes wide with concern, that she had realized she had been standing there for far too long.
She left after that. She didn’t look back, but that day still haunts her even now.
There’s a knock on her door that startles her. Sitting up, Petra clears her throat and tries to appear like she was doing something important the whole time. “Come in!” she says as she pretends to flip through a textbook she should really start reviewing for her next lesson.
Levi shows up looking as disgruntled as ever. Surprisingly, he has a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Is that supposed to be for me?” Petra asks, puzzled. Levi isn’t the type to buy anyone flowers. At the very most he’d probably get someone a nice card with a polite message already inscribed inside.
“It is, but it’s not from me,” Levi says. He leans over her desk to hand it over to her. “The delivery person accidentally dropped it off at my office. I have no idea why people get our buildings mixed up. They’re in completely opposite directions.”
“In all fairness, there’s literally just a one-letter difference between your building and my building,” Petra grumbles as she takes the bouquet from Levi’s hands. “What kind of narcissist names two buildings after himself?”
“Ask Rod Reiss,” Levi snickers. He takes the seat across Petra’s desk and sighs. Levi is, of course, referring to the very generous donor Rod Reiss, who had donated enough money to the university to grant them not only a new arts building but also a science building (the Rod K. Reiss building and the Rod Reiss building, respectively). Most students and faculty refer to them by their respective subjects to avoid confusion, but it’s not something outsiders would know about so there are often mistakes when deliveries to the buildings have to be made.
Petra turns the bouquet in her hands. It’s a pretty assortment of yellow flowers: bright sunflowers, golden roses, delicate carnations, and exquisite Peruvian lilies. When she puts her nose to them, it smells just like one would imagine spring to smell like. There are so many flowers that she can’t quite find the note that should be with it.
“Who sent it?” Levi asks. To an outsider’s eye, he hardly seems curious but it’s probably the most interested Petra has seen him.
“I don’t know,” Petra mumbles. She manages to find a card buried in between the flowers and fishes it out. She can’t bring herself to open it right away. For some reason, she says, “Maybe it’s Zeke.”
She knows it sounds ridiculous to hope that and the way Levi snorts only makes her feel more foolish.
“Zeke?” Levi scoffs. “Why? To apologize for inviting you to an awkward family dinner and making you walk back home?”
“He was busy,” Petra says weakly, but even she knows it’s a poor excuse. She doesn’t know why she went along with it. “And it’s only a few blocks away from our houses -”
“Open the card,” Levi says. He’s bored already, tapping the arm of his chair disinterestedly. He nods towards Petra and raises his eyebrows. “I know you’re curious, too. Open it and see if it’s Zeke saying he’s sorry.”
Petra bites her lip. She should probably snap at Levi and tell him she’ll open it when she wants — it’s her bouquet after all — but she probably would have hidden it in the back of her desk drawer and never opened it otherwise. Taking a deep breath, she opens it and reads it:
Hi, Petra!
Thank you again for helping me with my wardrobe. It was a big help.
-Eren
She didn’t even notice how disappointed she was until Levi comments, “You slumped your shoulders. I’m guessing it wasn’t who you wanted it to be.”
“N-no,” Petra stammers and accidentally crumples the note in her hand. Eren deserves better than that. Petra clears her throat. “It’s just … I didn’t think Eren would go out of his way to send me something just because I went shopping with him. He really shouldn’t have, especially on his teacher’s salary.”
Levi waves a hand around. “It’s not like bouquets cost a fortune. You should just thank him for it later,” he tells her. He slumps back in his seat. His posture is terrible, but Petra supposes with that surly expression constantly on his face Levi doesn’t need much else to command respect in his classroom. “You said he’s Zeke’s younger brother? They seem like the complete opposite if he’s buying you flowers just to thank you for your time and Zeke is giving you nothing for wasting it”
“I told you before,” Petra murmurs, “Zeke’s probably just busy.” She looks down at the crumpled note in her hand and frowns. She lays it down flat against the desk and tries to straighten it out, but the creases still remain.
Levi rests his elbow on the armrest and his cheek in his hand. It’s always so difficult to tell whether he’s judging her or not when he always has that frown on her face. She’d probably find it nosy from anyone else, but Levi does seem to care about her wellbeing in a strange way like that time he scoffed at her for grading papers while running a high fever and then graded them himself and substituting for her class last minute after he made her go home and rest. He just operates in strange and mysterious ways.
“You don’t even live that far from him,” Levi points out. He watches Petra with a tired expression as she fiddles with a petal. When it’s clear that Petra isn’t going to respond, Levi sighs and rests the palms of his hands on his knees. Changing the subject, he asks lightly, “So, since I so kindly delivered these flowers to you, you should definitely repay me. Perhaps by grading some of my students’ papers …?”
Petra isn’t in the mood to joke around anymore, but she half-heartedly replies, “I hope you know my math skills are probably twice as awful as your kids’. I might somehow end up giving people hundreds instead of zeroes. Numbers are all the same to me.”
“Fine, don’t help me, Ral,” Levi grumbles. He gets up to leave, scowl still on his face. If Petra didn’t know any better, she would think Levi was actually mad at her. “Just know that I’m not looking at any more literature papers for you after this.”
“As if I need help from someone who doesn’t appreciate Brontë,” Petra says as Levi shuts the door. As soon as it shuts and Levi is out of view, Petra’s smile falls from her face and her eyes wander back to the bouquet sitting on her desk. She has the strangest urge to pluck every last petal until nothing is left.
