"Nice place."

And you more than agreed with Eren's observation— to the point where it was almost intimidating with how welcoming and inviting Mr. Ackerman's condo presented itself for his patrons. Everything was put in its proper place, the hardwood floors softly reflected against the warmth of the cream-tinted, dimmed lighting fixtures as the atmosphere wafted a gentle hint of citrus scented cleaning supplies.

Your venture takes you further into your temporary home as your curiosity becomes more and more imperative with each step you take— quickly popping your head into the bedroom where you would be sleeping. It was a decent sized master bedroom, fully furnished as was the rest of the condo— Mr. Ackerman was clearly a minimalist with the way it was designed. Just a bed, a lamp and a dresser— dark wood with an antique glaze.

You can hear Eren's heavy footsteps make their way over to what you can only assume is the couch, by the way the cushions sigh underneath his weight. With the faintest of sounds, a flick of a lighter sends panic through your body as you launch your way into the living— your feet scrambling as the shiny floors create slippage underneath your socks.

"Eren!"

You scold, ripping the half-smoked joint from his lips just barely before he lights it. "You can't smoke in here!"

You promised Levi that you would keep it clean in here, and you were positive that he wouldn't appreciate the smell of marijuana sticking to his furniture.

He pouts a little, before reluctantly slipping the lighter back into his pocket, spreading his legs a little wider for you to slot your way in-between them. Gripping your belt loop with a thick finger, he pulls you forward until you're straddling his waist— a gentle brush of his lips against your collar bone runs a shiver through your core, as his hands grab themselves full of your ass, just before delivering a playful smack.

"Can we fuck in here?"

He teases, the low timbre of his voice reverberates against the shell of your ear as he holds you close. "Won't make a mess if you can keep it all inside."

Your body instinctively burns up at his words, and truthfully aren't sure if you'll ever get used to his rather blunt way of saying things that— well, you couldn't deny you were thinking about as well— even if you wouldn't ever dare say it outright.

The chuckle that escapes his lips tells you that he's just messing with you, at least partially anyway— with the way he looks at you so lustfully with those beautiful viridian eyes, telling you that he's definitely going to fuck you dumb into the mattress tonight. You made a mental note to pick up some laundry detergent for washing those sheets afterwards.

As much as you wanted him to take you right then and there, the urge to just enjoy his presence was far greater. For once, it was just the two of you, unabashedly intertwined with one another as you simply melt into each other's embrace. For once, you were free to be with him without any interference; without worry or self-doubt, and without fear of being caught where you shouldn't be.

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you pull him closer into you— soon feeling his own wrap themselves tighter around your waist as he breathes you in, matching your soul's energy with his heart's rhythm, beating similarly at the same pace.

You were just two people connecting on a level greater than you could possibly comprehend, an inexplicable difference between the way you felt when you were with Eren, versus the way you felt with Jean. Nothing would ever compare to this feeling— it both scared you and excited you all the same.

And it doesn't take long for his lips to find yours, almost as if they were magnetized by a simple kiss— a sensation so intense that you craved more and more every time. It was no wonder that things happened the way they did— despite everything in you telling you not to, it just wouldn't be possible to stay away from him.

Even if Jean was the perfect boyfriend, even if your toxic relationship with him was pure and not barely hanging on by a single thread of hope... would you still want to be with him? If you had asked yourself this question years before, your answer would have been undoubtedly yes.

But that was before you knew anything different; when Jean's lips were all you'd ever known, his touch was the only you've felt... before you met Eren.

You don't even realize how fervent your kisses had become, each part of his lips had you dipping your tongue in to taste as much of him as possible, and you can feel him smile against every press of your lips. He likes you like this, so needy for him in more ways than one— just as much as he is for you, and he appreciates the fact that you aren't hiding it anymore.

"W-wait—" he mutters between each attack of your lips, gently pressing your shoulders back to permeate some space between the two of you as you attempt to suction yourself around him like an adorable little octopus. "Almost forgot, I have something for you."

You flop over to the side of him, curious to see what it is he's talking about— your eyes carefully focused on the way he re-ties his hair after you had mussed it by rubbing your fingers through the strands. He stands, walking over to his bag and pulling out a tubular roll of canvas that sticks out over top. You aren't sure how you didn't notice it before.

Sitting back down next to you, he unfurls the piece, revealing a stunning black and white charcoal painting of yourself. It's stunning, of course— you remember his artwork from the very first time you entered his room that was otherwise dark in nature, although this piece was quite the opposite.

You had been portrayed almost ethereally in the way your face seemed to be at such peace, eyelids drawn closed with exceptionally detailed strokes of pretty lashes that dust your cheeks.

Truthfully, he believes it's the most beautiful thing he's ever composed— you can tell by the way he beams at his masterpiece.

"I sketched it while you were sleeping... that day we fell asleep after we smoked. Woke up to your pretty face and I just couldn't resist." He smiles, his cheeks dusting the slightest shade of pink.

Your silence worries him for a bit, wondering if maybe he's crossed a line. Perhaps he should have asked your permission first— surely you must think he's creepy for artistically studying your face while you slept.

"Sorry if it's weird."

He quips, reaching out to grasp the piece from your hands as if he was ashamed to have even shown it to you.

It's one of the few times that you've witnessed his resolve quiver, and it becomes apparent that Eren's artwork is entirely based around his emotional state; like a peek into his soul—

a wordless diary of sorts, where he's free to let his vulnerability seep out onto the canvas. You wonder how much courage it took for him to a show this to you.

"No, Eren— I love it. It's stunning... this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

And it's true— so much so that you almost begin to swell salty tears before swallowing them down.

Is this really how he sees you? Like some sort of angelic creature on earth? It hits your harder than you anticipated, especially with how much of a monster you've felt like as of lately.

He smiles awkwardly— you can tell he isn't used to taking compliments that aren't about his physical attributes, so you grab his hand within yours and squeeze, silently reassuring him that you truly mean every word.

"I've wanted to give it to you for a while now, but it never seemed like the right time." He explains, but you've hardly heard a word of it over the pounding of your heart.

Is this what it's supposed to feel like?

If you could offer him the moon, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

"It's snowing."

You whisper, your eyes catching sight of the flickering fallen flakes as they begin to pool together atop the balcony's railing.

"You even listening to me?"

He chuckles with a shake of his head, soon following your gaze out into the night's darkened sky.

The moon— the very one you desired to gift your lover— served as a reminder of how beautiful life can be when you don't take it for granted.

You didn't want to take it for granted anymore; you didn't want to take him for granted. You wanted a new life with new experiences.

You wanted to make new memories with your new friends; most importantly, you wanted to embrace this new version of yourself who was just beginning to come out of her shell.

The way you watch the snowfall with such wonderment as if you've never seen such a sight, tickles him. He sparks an idea, soon grabbing your hand and hurriedly leading you out the front door. You hesitate for a moment— it's cold and windy, you certainly aren't wearing a proper jacket— but Eren's almost child-like smile beckons you into the the frigid air.

"Come on, y/n. Live a little."

He teases, just before taking off into a sea of flurries— the darkness of the night shielding him from your eyes, from the view of Mr. Ackerman's doorstep.

A brief gust of wind sends a shiver through your trembling body, it prickles your skin in an almost foreign sensation— you know if things were different, you'd probably be at home in your apartment. Perhaps Jean would be next to you or maybe he would be stuck at work, but regardless, you would be safe and warm, cuddled up with a book and a hot cup of tea.

But... maybe you were tired of playing it safe.

You've been doing it most of your life, and where has that gotten you? Stuck in an unhealthy relationship with nothing to show for it. The one time you decided to throw caution in the wind, everything had changed. Whether it was for the better, you weren't entirely certain of that just yet— but you had no doubt about the way you felt so inexplicably happy, even when you probably shouldn't be.

Live a little or live a lot— you would do it for yourself, if nothing else.

You ran outside after him, freshly fallen snow crunched underneath the boots you hardly had time to throw on while being dragged out the door. Glancing to your left, then your right, Eren was seemingly no where to be found. With furrowed brows, you searched the yard for any sign of life until you spotted the large footprints trailing off from behind a bush of perfectly clipped shrubbery.

As your footsteps approached louder, he took that as his cue to jump out of his hiding spot and pelt you with a decently sized snowball. Startled by his sudden action, you jump on contact, mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

"Did— did you just throw a snowball at me?" You snort, almost in disbelief because honestly, you haven't participated in such a childish game since you were— well, a child.

"Obviously."

He patronizes, trying to hold back his laughter from the way you yelp when some of the ice falls onto your chest.

"Oh, it's funny?"

You smirk, bending down to pick up the largest scoop of snow manageable, launching it in his direction. He's too quick on his feet, as he easily dodges your attempt at revenge.

He takes off and you chase after him, the two of you going at each other, taking turns obliterating each other with your icy weapons. Whisking you up into his arms, he threatens to throw you into a pile of snow— you respond in turn by locking your legs around his waist, causing him to lose his balance. The laughter that escapes you as he tumbles down into the snow himself, instead, was damn near loud enough to disrupt the neighborhood.

"Not fair, you cheated."

He pretends to pout as you hover over him, admiring the way little flecks of snow stick to his pretty lashes.

"You started it, loser."

You tease, playfully sticking your tongue out as you bend down, offering both of your hands to help him out off the ground.

Dusting himself off, he figures it's time to start heading inside before the both of you freeze to death. Well, not before finishing his joint, of course. The two of you find a spot that's mostly guarded from the windy snow and huddle in closely as Eren sparks his lighter. You shiver, the cold finally starting to take its toll on your extremities that almost feel numb to the touch.

He notices, soon unzipping his jacket and allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist before he zips it back up over your backside. The warmth of his body heat melts your icy exterior away almost instantaneously— like your very own large, muscular, deliciously scented human furnace. It's a tight squeeze, but neither of you mind it. Any excuse to get closer to each other is a blessing in itself.

You peer up at him, your chin resting against his broad chest as you watch his lips part to exhale the smoke. He's just so handsome— each time you look at him, you find your self admiring the littlest details that you had never noticed before, like the tiny freckle just underneath his chiseled jawline; how cute.

Noticing your gaze, he offers you a hit, holding the joint up to your lips since your hands are otherwise occupied. You take a small drag, the heat from the embers warming your insides as you inhale.

"You know, I actually hate the snow."

You speak up, your heavy-weighted thoughts interrupting the calming silence the two of you had found yourselves enjoying.

"Why?"

He asks curiously, wondering if he made the wrong decision in bringing you out here.

"It's how my parents died, sort of— they were run off the road by a drunk driver during a pretty bad snow day."

There was a considerable silence, and you hoped you didn't ruing the mood by bringing up something so personal during an otherwise lighthearted scenario. That is, until...

"Pffttt!"

Eren spits out into laughter, soon boisterously chuckling at... your misfortune?

"No offense y/n, but that's the most cliché, hallmark movie orphan type shit I've ever heard."

Your brows furrow in annoyance for a brief moment... and maybe it was the weed leading your next action, but you find yourself soon joining in with your own case of the giggles. After all, he wasn't necessarily wrong.

It was almost refreshing to experience this type of reaction from someone; after telling people your parents were dead, it was always soon followed up by an awkward conversation of apologies and pity from someone who had nothing to do with it.

It grew tiresome, honestly— Jean especially would always walk on eggshells around this type of subject matter, never wanting to talk about it or let you vent your feelings. It was too uncomfortable for him and you respected that.

Eren's reaction came solely from the fact that he's experienced the death of a parent himself; he could relate, and it was nice having someone to share this with.

"How did your mom die?"

You hesitate after the words escape you. You probably shouldn't have asked or even assumed he would want to tell you, even if you did start to open up about your life.

"I mean— you don't have to tell me if you don't want to... forget I even asked."

You squeeze him a little tighter in reassurance, hoping you haven't made him uncomfortable.

"She was murdered."

He says the words so nonchalantly, while your eyes widen in their sockets. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

"My dad's crazy ex-wife put a bullet in her head. Shot her right in front of me when I was ten years old."

"Fuck."

You murmur breathily, your heart pounding in shock at the darkness surrounding his confession. "Well, you definitely win that one. Beats my stupid sob story by a long shot."

He chuckles once more before throwing the finished joint down into the snow, watching the smoke fizzle out. As soon as he unzips you from his jacket, the cold air hits you like a slap to the face— shuddering, you take his hand that he's held out for you and lace your icy fingers within his.

"Come on, let's go inside before we get fuckin' hypochondria or some shit."

"Hypothermia."

You correct him, teasingly.

"How did you even make it into college?"

"Good looks and a big dick can get you pretty far in life." He smirks, flinching when you playfully smack his arm.

"I hate you." You retort, rolling your eyes as you drag him along inside behind you.

"You sure about that?" He asks rhetorically, pulling you into a sweet kiss after you finally make it through the doorway.

Of course, you don't hate him at all; you weren't sure if you ever could.