Horrifically Wounded, Strikingly Gorgeous & Deadly [ErenXMikasa] [Eremika]

XXV: Of Doves and Deliberation

[Eren] 

I step out of the shower, shaking my head vigorously as an array of water droplets are launched into the air. Wrapping a towel around my waist and tying my damp hair into a bun, I exit the bathroom - eager to get back to a certain black-haired beauty. As I approach my bedroom door, I can already feel the smile creeping onto my lips as I push it open - only to find an empty bed on the other side of it. For a moment all I can feel is confusion - where did she go? I scan my room - noticing her clothes are gone, her phone having parted with the surface of my bedside table. I feel my heart drop in my chest. What the fuck?  

"Mika?" I call, wondering if she's simply hiding - crouched impishly behind my closet door, perhaps, waiting for the perfect moment to take me by surprise. I get no answer. This has got to be a joke. She's got to be kidding. "Mikasa?" I call again. No response. I grit my teeth, turning on my heels as I search every room available. "Mikasa!" I call over and over - each and every time being met with unwanted silence. For some reason, this experience reminds me of the dream I had; of her name being sent out into the void from my lips, only to dissipate into unnerving silence. I stumble my way into the kitchen and am somewhat unprepared for the sight before me. 

My father sits at the table, newspaper in hand and coffee in the other. Piping hot steam rises from the ridges of the cup, and he turns his head to face me. "...Dad," I choke out. 
"She's gone, Eren." I swallow the stone in my throat. "...What?" 
"You're searching for that girl, with the black hair, right? The Asian one. She left about ten minutes ago. You just missed her." For a moment, I'm baffled; it's so disorienting to see my father so collected, calm. Sober. I feel my blood boil as he brings his gaze to face me. How the fuck can he just sit there? Look at me like I'm his son after a year of treating me like nothing but an old punching bag? I grit my teeth, anger seething beneath them. Stop it, Eren. Contain it. "Eren?" His voice is sickening. I let out a blow of air. "...did she say why?" He shakes his head. 
"Sorry, son." Those words hit like a dagger to the chest, and I find myself recoiling away. No, you're not. "She didn't say. She did seem a bit on edge when she left, though." I feel my insides churn; it makes me sick to my stomach, how nonchalant he seems. He doesn't even remember the fist fight we had a week ago, does he? I feel the bile rise in my throat as the fiery grip of anger takes hold. Cut it out, Eren. Calm yourself. Remember what happened last time? "...Eren?" He asks again. I turn away from him, clenching and unclenching my fists in a bid to prevent another fist fight - one which, undoubtedly, would be instigated by me. A sigh. "...Mind telling me what she was doing here?" I roll my eyes as I begin to walk away. That's it, Eren. Walk away, walk away, walk away.

"Nothing that concerns you." 

She left. Just... left. How could I not feel upset? Hurt? Used? And yet, even though I feel this way, I have a gut feeling that's not entirely it. She couldn't possibly have just been using me, could she? I recall the way she pressed herself up against me, the way her fingers dug tautly into my skin as she cried in my lap in the car - the conversation we had after the fact. All of those things being something a girl who was using someone wouldn't do. So, why did she leave? 

Last night was a mistake. Those words she barked at me the morning after we kissed for the first time echo in my mind. For a moment it feels as though a dagger has gone straight through my chest; she thinks it was a mistake. That I was a mistake. I clench my jaw as I play with a french fry between my fingers. Of course she does. How could I have been so stupid? So naïve to think that everything would just be fine now? I pop the fry in my mouth, biting down on it begrudgingly; although I haven't eaten anything today, it's difficult to find any motivation to do so. My appetite seems to have completely and utterly betrayed me. The cardboard-like texture of the fry sends an unpleasant sensation down the back of my throat, and I push the tray away. 
"Eren? You okay bud?" Connie's voice draws me back from the fourth realm, and I jerk my head up to face him. "Mm?" Is all I manage to stammer out.
"He said," Armin interrupts, "are you okay?" I glance around me; all eyes seem to have unmistakably landed on me. Jean sits with his arm slung around Marco's as usual, his brow raised in inquisition - yet his cocky disposition is undeniable even now. Marco, Armin and Krista all wear the same concerned expression. Connie and Sasha both sit cross legged across from me, their chins resting on the palm of their hands. "Y-Yeah," I say, "just not hungry." I watch as Armin and Sasha thin their eyes at me, as if to scrutinize my behavior, and for a moment I pray they won't pry - that they'll choose the better decision to simply leave well enough alone. I shoot them a subtle smile. An exasperated sigh escapes Sasha's lips. 
"Your hair looks nice like that," Krista's bell-like voice interrupts the awkward silence - an obviously desperate act at changing the tense atmosphere. "Wha- oh, yeah. Got too long to leave loose, I guess," I respond sharply; to say I sound unreceptive of Krista's comment would be an understatement - I come off completely and utterly cold. And yet, I can't shake this demeanor. "...we were thinking about getting together to study this weekend. Did you want to join us?" Armin's voice interjects. He poses the question timidly, as if the mere act of inviting me has overstepped multiple boundaries. I nod my head curtly. "S-sure."