eremarco week days 4&5: sweater weather and stars

a bit late but still C:

Ours.

At first, he thought it’d be a catastrophe. A foolish idea. “I don’t think you understand,” he told Jean and Eren over and over again, fingers tangled tightly in his lap, knuckles white, insecure. “You don’t – I can’t. I, I love you both, f-fuck, I do – but you wouldn’t be happy – ” Jean then leaned in to kiss his mouth, gently, and Eren ran a warm hand through his hair, fingers grazing his neck. “We love you,” Jean said solemnly, and Marco wanted to object, but Eren went on “and we know what asexual means. But we love you. We do. We want you to be ours, and we’ll belong to you.” Jean kissed him again, and Marco nodded, heart aching and tears welling up in his eyes.

It isn’t a catastrophe now. It’s good, it’s warm when he’s sandwiched between their bodies at night, when Eren’s hands rest on his stomach, heavy and strong, when Jean nuzzles his nose into his chest. They’re good. Maybe he can start believing… that they do love him. Because the tenderness they have for him is all he needs, all he thought he’d never get.

Eren can’t imagine not loving Marco.

He’s there when Marco has his coming-out, and they’re both sixteen, young and hungry for the world and love, and Marco falls in love with an older boy named Jean. They become a couple, and Eren’s silent. He yields, he’s soft and warm and by Marco’s side when he laughs, happiness sparking in his eyes.

He’s there when Jean’s done with school and goes away, leaves the continent to study, and after three weeks Marco’s crying in Eren’s arms because it didn’t work out, not even with skyping every day, and it’s not anyone’s fault but it just didn’t feel the same and Jean skyped five hours with him when they broke up, apologizing over and over again, cooing I still love you but not as much anymore and crying just like Marco. Eren tries not to hate him but it’s hard when Marco’s curled up against his stomach and hurts his soul out of his body.

He’s not there, not with Marco when they’re somewhere in their twenties, in college, when someone hits on Eren and he thinks “fuck it” and kisses a whole night long. Marco’s eyes are wide and sad when he comes home to their shared flat with a stench of beer in his mouth and red lips. They fight, loud and heavy, and then Eren’s spitting I love yous and You’d never look at me like you looked at hims, and then there’s nothing but silence and tears.

Eren stays. For a day, there’s nothing, just a void swallowing him deeper and deeper. Then Marco knocks at his room. Eren can’t not open – he has to be there. For Marco. He can’t imagine not loving him, and Marco’s dark red-rimmed eyes, tears on his cheeks, tell him that Marco knows. He apologizes between sobs, and Eren holds him. He doesn’t know what they’ll become. But the way Marco’s nose brushes his, that can’t be just – Maybe, he can allow himself hope.