Sweet Tooth

PT. 1

The only thing you knew as you rolled over was pain. Your legs hurt, your throat hurt, and most of all your head hurt. Opening your eyes and adjusting to the spinning of the room, you thought all you might ever know again was pain. Pain and the never-ending buzzing of your phone somewhere on your bed. Your only friends should all be in the same boat, you don't remember how you got back into your own bed, but you certainly remember distributing many, many shots among all of you.

"Please shut up," you groaned into your pillow, feeling around with your arms and legs under your cushy blanket, hoping to spare yourself from sitting up for a couple more minutes. You must have done something saintly at some point, karma smiling down on you for it as your palm smacked the screen without you having to move even an inch.

(( Call from - Jean K. ))

What the hell would he want from you, especially after he was there last night as drunk as you were?

The two of you weren't particularly close, hell, you had to settle for an initial because you still screwed up the spelling of his surname. You didn't not like him, but for whatever reason, the two of you just never talked much. It was never on purpose, maybe it was just because the two he was closest with had such overpowering voices, or maybe it was because you and Eren got close before the two of you got much of a chance. You didn't go out of your way to avoid him, but it seemed that you were stuck in a limbo where you'd known each other for so long it was weird to still be at the small talk stage, but you also weren't comfortable enough with each other to talk about important things. It just felt easier to smile at each other and join in on the group's conversation than to catch up in your friendship, you thought. As you missed his second call, the chats that popped up were further proof — happy birthdays, holiday wishes, questions about school or things asked for other friends while they didn't have the hands to spare themselves. That was basically it.

So why was he calling a third time?

"Jean?"

God, your voice sounded horrible; how much were you screaming last night?

"Where are you?" His voice sounded oddly excited, and you grimaced to yourself because you hadn't a single clue of where you should be by the sounds of it.

"In my bed, slowly dying," you wanted so badly to roll over as your arm started to get tingly, but you were scared of what the outcome of adding another spinning feeling to your body would be.

"I'm already here ... Breakfast? Don't tell me you forgot?"

You swore under your breath, the back of your hand moving up to cover your eyes.

"Is everyone already there? Because I don't know if I can move without puking, I might have to cancel Jean," you felt a little bit guilty, you really did. It wasn't like you didn't want to be as close with him as you were everyone else. When Eren wasn't around he seemed alright, he said some funny things sometimes. Canceling on the only plan you've ever made with him, even though you were both drunk, seemed like a step in the opposite direction.

"Holy shit, you really did forget," he sighed, and you could imagine the way he rolled his eyes, " no one else is coming. Just get here, you'll see me when you walk in."

-

Now you stood where here was, Jean expanding on your short text history when he sent you his location. He wouldn't explain why the two of you were grabbing breakfast together, alone — he even insisted on that part when you suggested picking up some of the others on your way. He told you it would ' all make sense when you remember last night ." Still, you racked and racked your brain and couldn't find a single reason, or rather a single memory of what the hell this boy was going on about.