We got used to us
Paring Eren x reader
Rating : general audiences.
Summary : You knew you and Eren were bad for each other and that your relationship was unhealthy but that never helped breaking away from him.
Tags: Modern AU, aged-up characters, Angst, unhealthy relationship,
1,2 k words
AN: Guess who's back with a new selfship with Eren Jager story!!
This story is inspired by we got used to us by riverside. I hope you like it.
Everything was falling apart.
You knew that; you could feel him slip from between your fingers, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Unable to sleep, you rolled to your side and watched the man sleeping next to you. His chestnut hair had fallen from his manbun, covering half of his face while the other was buried in his pillow.
Though they were there, clear as day, somehow you never picked up the signs. Neither of you. Instead, you continued, you persevered into hurting one another. Not out of malice or ill intentions, you just thought that was how love worked. You just thought that was the way of the world. Young and foolish, both of you believed you were in love when, in fact, you were just being devoured by pain.
You met Eren four years ago at one of the fraternity parties near your campus. You were a freshman, and he was a senior. It all started with friendly flirting on the veranda while sharing a bottle of cheap wine. Those late-night drunken conversations soon turned into casual hookups and ended up becoming whatever was going on between the two of you.
You had always told yourself that you should’ve noticed that there was something wrong with you. You should’ve known you were bad for each other. You should’ve recognized the telltale signs. Like the time you baked muffins at three a.m. It was so romantic, but you fought the whole time, and ended up going to bed angry at each other. It would’ve been okay if it was something that occurred only once. But then there were other times—plenty of them. Like when you discussed the Higgs boson, or was it chain reactions? You couldn’t tell anymore. Though you knew you were supposed to learn from that conversation and not end up calling each other names and getting into yet another fight in the middle of the night.
You reached out a hesitant hand and pushed back his hair, wondering if this was the right way to love someone. If, in the middle of this chaos you had both created, there was room for happiness. You grazed his cheeks and jawline with the tip of your fingers, trying to find a solution to this dilemma. A way to fix what was broken and damaged.
You thought you were passionate, even though you couldn’t tell love bites from bruises anymore. They meant the same to both of you anyway. You thought it was you against the world, even though you never tried to tend to others wounds. You just continued blaming each other for whatever unhappiness you were dealing with. You thought you were meant to be together, even though all you could remember were the times he made you cry. Or the times you hurt his ego and broke his heart.
You screwed your eyes shut, trying to remember all the moments of intense and pure joy you had shared with him. way before jealousy and possessiveness became a part of your routine. Way before bitterness and disappointment tore you apart. With a broken smile, you recalled the slow dances in the middle of the night to old jazz. You would stand on his shoes with your bare feet and lovingly move across your living room. Those frantic drunken kisses you exchanged under the pouring rain. The lighthearted giggles, the dreams you shared, and the way you used to look at each other.
You took a deep, shaky breath, conjuring yourself to not burst into tears. To not let your weakness show. You begged your eyelids not to give in and let them stream down your crimson cheeks.
Afraid you might wake him up, you cautiously slipped out of bed and locked yourself in the bathroom.
You told yourself that you should’ve known you were a dysfunctional couple when ‘I love you’ became a way of marking territories instead of manifesting feelings. You should’ve known that you were toxic when your bed became a battlefield. When making love was a way to express your frustration and nothing more. You should’ve known that you were done when longing and enamored stares traded places with ones full of hatred and despise.
You let yourself fall to your knees, crying your heart out, crying all the things you would never be, all the happiness you would never experience, and all the hardships you were bound to endure. Pressing your forehead against the cold shower door, you give in to your inner demons and negative thoughts and feelings. You surrender and let the void consume you for good. You had always known that, despite all the odds, your soul was intertwined with his. That even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to stay away. That you would be leaving half of your being with him if you ever chose to leave. You and Eren were drawn into each other, hypnotized by the darkness you both emitted. You knew that you were far too gone and that it was too late for you to save yourselves.
You kept repeating to yourself that you should’ve left earlier, but you were too addicted, too lost, and too broken to admit that your love had died long ago. That it wasn’t meant to survive and prosper. You were so used to it being poisonous that you thought this was the only possible way to love and be loved by him. You were too numb, too young, and too stubborn to end things. You were so used to you and whatever fragile equilibrium you managed to create over the years.
“But I love him and I need him,” you hiccupped.
The mere thought of not being able to caress his hair as soon as you woke up, not being able to breathe in his comforting scent, not being able to kiss him, and not being able to feel his arms wrapped around you made your heart shatter into millions of pieces.
You were still sobbing when you heard a light knock on the door.
“Is everything alright, love?” you heard him ask from behind the closed door, his voice filled with genuine concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a wobbly voice.
“No, you’re not. Open up,” he insisted.
“Just leave me alone, would you?” you shouted. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone for once?”
“Because I promised to stick by your side and look after you. Now, open the damned fucking door.”
Your trembling hands reached out and unlocked the door. Unable to look him in the eyes, you brought your knees against your chest and hid your face.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, looping his arms around your shaken figure. He buried one of his hands in your hair, scratching your scalp gently. The contact of his skin against yours felt so wrong yet so soothing. The warmth radiating from his body eased your soul but made you want to throw up at the same time.
Not knowing what to do, you allowed yourself to melt under his touch. Nestling your face in the crook of his neck, you let his body tour over you. You let him hold you and share your burden. You let him in once again.
Everything was falling apart, but you knew there was no way out.