Why We Ended Things

Rose-Tinted Glasses

It was after your show. The time when you would normally go find Eren.

Normally.

As if you hadn't been searching for a new routine for the last month. Just about anything to waste time would beat going home to an empty apartment. It wasn't so bad until Historia moved out, but you were growing desperate for anything to cure the boredom. You no longer had a cute bartender — boyfriend — to play with, and you were learning that old habits died hard.

But tonight wasn't one of those nights. It was strange to feel full off something other than emptiness. You didn't go find Sasha to talk trash with, and you didn't ask Connie about his recent conquests (those tales were always entertaining). You didn't even pause to catch your breath. From the moment you left the stage, you were rushing to the back, tearing yourself free from your stupid get-up. You grabbed your coat, the last of your belongings, and made for the back alley. You needed a breather. For real, this time.

Outside, it was quiet. The difference between inside the club and outside was like stepping through some sort of portal to another dimension. A more peaceful one. A moment ago, you couldn't even hear yourself think, and it left your palms clammy from balling your fists so tightly. Now, it was tranquil, and your damp fingers tingled in the frigid air.

You weren't sure if you welcomed the silence or you hated it. Either way, the feeling was always the worst after a long night. And this time, there wasn't a tequila shot waiting for you at the bar, even if you asked nicely, because tonight was just as rough for Eren. You could see it just by the look on his face. Like you, he was smacked right across the face with the past — and hard.

Let's rewind that movie of yours, shall we?

It was back when Levi first started to let up on you. Just a bit at first, but then he finally released his metaphorical chokehold on your neck. Enough time had passed since the Panty Incident that he no longer glowered at you when passing each other in the corridors.

This was also around the time that you and Eren had started dating. Officially, that is. Things were good then. It was springtime in every sense of the word. The weather had warmed, life was blooming — love was blooming. Something must have been in the air because why else would Levi let you get away with more and more? And when he didn't, well, you were always of the belief that it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, anyway.

You found it easy to lose yourself on stage. Whether it was getting lost in the adrenaline, the attention, the music — you didn't know for sure. Maybe it was because it was fun, and not much felt all that fun anymore.

Except for Eren. You were still a couple of honeymooners back then. You were all woozy and love-struck every time you looked at the guy. It wasn't like you, but still, you wanted any excuse to get your hands on him, even when you were on stage. Especially when you were on stage.

You liked the way he looked at you. Not just liked — adored. You could recognize the burning intensity behind his eyes, even from behind the bar. It was as if you were the only person in the room.

One would think you would have been used to the feeling. When you were on stage, every set of eyes was glued onto you. It was a scary thought, but like with many things, you grew bored of it. But after Eren came along, you could only think of him. His eyes. How they admired you with a look of lust and worship, all at once. That was the feeling you craved.

It was exhilarating, to say the least, so it only made sense for you to try to sneak a touch when you could. Even when it felt forbidden.

You were performing to Cherry Pie by Warrant. It was a little campy, a little tongue-in-cheek, but it was fun, and that was what you were after. And nothing bad ever came from good, old-fashioned fun, right?