Maybe no one was home.

Just as you were about to turn around and head back to your car, the front door creaked open— a wide-eyed, visibly uncomfortable Connie stood stagnant from the inside. The staring contest that ensued between the two of you went in for a bit longer than normal, until finally, the familiar voice of the other homely inhabitant startled your attention.

"Y/n."

Jean says, monotone yet unmistakably upset with the fact that you've clearly been ignoring his texts. He stands tall behind his friend, almond colored eyes glaring painful holes into your own.

Fuck.

You really didn't want to do this now. Not when Eren is sitting in the fucking car, waiting for you to drop him home. Maybe you should've thought it through— of course Jean would be here. Why wouldn't he? Connie is his best friend.

Connie is your best friend too... or, he was, rather.You weren't really sure of the nature of your friendship under this circumstance.

"I just came to get my things. I have to run to work, I'm already late... we can talk about this later at home." Your words are sharp and to the point, not wanting to risk either of them finding out that you actually came here with Eren. It's not like your statement was false, you really didn't have time to finish your heavy-hearted conversation with Jean.

"Sure, I can grab it for you." Connie is quick to remove himself from the uncomfortable tension that's already arisen between the two of you. You take notice of how he doesn't even invite you in, as he normally would. Not that you would've accepted, but the fact remains painstakingly clear that Connie's loyalty lies with Jean— just as you expected.

You aren't sure where to place your nervous gaze. Jean has ceased to continue his menacing staring problem, but you can still feel his eyes glance at you every so often, peeking to see if you dare to make eye contact with him. Truthfully he couldn't help it if he tried— he still finds you so fucking beautiful, even when he's supposed to hate you.

He's waiting for you to say something.

The heavy sighs that come from deep within his chest tell you that much, but what can you even say right now? Anything you say would lead to argument, which you don't have the time to approach— thankfully your ass is saved when Connie emerges from the living room with your bag in hand, passing it over to you in an effortless exchange.

"Thanks Connie." You attempt to smile at him— a silent way of asking if everything is still cool between you... and much to your surprise, he actually smiles back.

"Jean, I'll see you later?"

He doesn't respond, instead he opts for a quick nod of agreement as he retreats lithely back into Connie's apartment, feeling utterly defeated as he can feel himself begin to tear up at the fact that you aren't even trying to fight for him. You couldn't care any less, and that manages to hurt him even worse than the fact that you laid with another man.

He watches you walk off, bag in hand. He quickly realized that he had no idea where you even came from— where you went after he abruptly ended your earlier conversation. His stomach churned at the thought of you running right back into his arms.

Did you?

Did you go see Eren?

"Jean, where you—"

He doesn't stop to answer Connie's question as he stomps after you down the stairs. If anything, he at least needs to know this one burning thought, or else he won't be able to focus on a damn thing else.

The answer to his problem smacks him harshly across the face, when he makes contact with a pair of jade green eyes peering through the sun-kissed windshield. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing, especially when you greet the man seated in the passenger seat with a kiss as you take your place behind the wheel.

It hurts; it hurts so fucking bad.

It's one thing for him to speculate, but to actually witness your lips kissing someone else's? His heart fluttered in his chest as it began to race, the feeling of panic sending him into a cold sweat. He felt dizzy with grief, choking down a sob that threatened to escape his throat.

He would have broken down, there was no doubt— if it wasn't for the wicked smirk on Eren's face, placed there at Jean's behest.

"We've got company, pretty."

Eren's words seem so nonchalant, despite the frenzied pace at which your heart beats upon witnessing Jean's disheartening expression. It's easy to spot, despite the sunlit glare through the window. Your heart drops into your stomach for the first time since you've confessed to your infidelity— you never wanted Jean to see it, even after the fact.

You're quick to unbuckle the seatbelt that you had only just fastened seconds ago, placing your hand onto the handle, until the heavy palm of Eren's hand grips your thigh.

"Where you goin'?"

His eyes glimmer pleadingly, silently begging you not to run after Jean.

He knows you want to. Maybe he knows you should... but overall, he wants you to chose him.

"Eren, I have to."

His lips purse at your four worded sentence, reluctantly releasing you from his grip. Your skin tingles in its wake, your body reacting on instinct to his calloused touch as you swiftly exit the car and chase after Jean, who's seen quite enough from you; enough to fuel his nightmares for weeks— maybe even months to come.

You call out to him, and he briefly glances at you over his shoulder. He's surprised that you came after him, he truly thought you wouldn't bother. He stops in his tracks, allowing you to catch up with him. Short tuffs of breath escape you after your momentary chase— your lips plump and parted, left kiss-bitten from their exchange with Eren's just seconds before.

It makes him sick, how they glisten with substance that doesn't even belong to you. How could you even speak his name with that mouth? It despairs him to even think about where else they could have been.

He parts his own mouth, prepared to give you an earful but alas... nothing comes out. He knows what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat; disgustingly so, like bile from the depths of his stomach that threats to come up with every anxious churn.

He feels your fingers grip at the sleeves of his shirt, the fabric pooling in between them as your grasp becomes tighter.

He can't even bring himself to look at you.

If he did, he'd be done for.

He would break down.

"Jean." Your voice is choked and cracked, evidence of potential tears that may or may not be falling; he still hasn't looked at you.

Why were you even crying?

He wants to laugh out of frustration, or maybe discomfort? He doesn't know, but fuck— it's almost comical how you manage to spill those crocodile tears.

Though, for you it was anything but.

Jean wouldn't accept that.

It was true, your love for him had faded but that doesn't mean you stopped caring for him. Maybe it's stupid for you to admit, after everything the two of you have done to each other— after how many times you've cried yourself to sleep because of him... but the fact that you've done this— hurt him— you couldn't bear to see him suffer.

Footsteps tread heavy from over your shoulder, as you feel Jean's body tense underneath your hold. He quickly pushes you to the side, forcefully but with no intent to hurt you— instead aiming his fury at the man who dared to step out of the car and approach the two of you. Your heart drops when your gaze meets Eren's, frigid and dark— unpredictable.

He lazily runs a hand through his messy brown tresses, brushing the strands up into a bun with the small, black elastic he had tucked in between his pursed lips.

You had to go after Jean; but he had to go after you.