IDOL || 𝐦. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

⁰¹⁸ after the storm

I know times are rough
But winners don't quit so don't you give up. . .

────────

You woke up alone.

You shifted on Mikasa's bed, sitting up so you were leaning against her headboard. Wiping your eyes as you let out a yawn, you let them slowly readjust to your surroundings, the groggy haze slowly wearing off. You checked the clock on Mikasa's bedside table.

7:01 am.

Maybe she's outside? Reluctantly removing the comforter from your person, your feet hit the soft carpet once more and begin your trip to Mikasa's living room. Your eyes scan your surroundings, feet carrying you throughout the large open space. It was quiet, eerily so. Nothing but the soft whir of the air conditioner and the gentle hum of busy LA streets.

"Mikasa?" You call out. No response.

Huh. Weird. You tread back to Mikasa's room to grab your phone from the charging cable with the intention to text your girlfriend.

Girlfriend. That's all you ever wanted to hear, but you couldn't help but feel conflicted. This past week took your emotions on a wild roller-coaster ride. You were ignored by Mikasa for a week, then come to find the reason for it was due to an accumulation of reasons: Kiyomi, fake-dating Eren, and fear. You didn't want to blame her for how she reacted – Lord only knows what you would have done if the roles were reversed. But that still couldn't erase the fact that it still hurt. However, the more Mikasa spoke to you about what Kiyomi had done, and the context she had provided you, the more you came to an understanding of her behaviour. All you could do now was accept her apology and work on it from here.

'good morning :)' you text. 'where are you?'

Two minutes later after a trip to the bathroom, a response came. 'Good morning! <3' she replied. 'Sorry, didn't want to wake you.. I went to the gym I'll be back in ten mins'

Oh. Makes sense. Mikasa had to keep up her athletic figure somehow. Your mind presented you with images of Mikasa working out, rippling muscles and all, but had to stop yourself before your imagination would spiral out of control, and the hot flush on your face would become unmanageable.

'oh okay, sounds good.'

'Are you hungry? There's food in the fridge or I can order something if you'd like'

You were hungry. You could really go for some food, asap.

'no need to order' you respond. 'can i please use your kitchen?'

'Of course, use whatever you want' she replies.

'thanks :) have a good workout'

You place your phone flat on the kitchen counter and begin your work. First, you open her fridge, and next, her pantry, allowing yourself to become inspired by what you had to work with. And before you knew it, her kitchen became lively as you danced from the stove to the sink, the perfect breakfast in mind. You weren't one to spend effort on all the fine details while you cooked – being a student and all didn't allow you as much. But Mikasa's kitchen was gorgeous, and you intended to take full advantage of that fact.

"Looks good," a voice suddenly says. With your heart rate racing, you shift your head to look for the source of the sound only to find Mikasa staring intently at your breakfast over your shoulder. You do her body a once-over. She was clad in white sneakers and loose-fitting sweat pants, the waistband low enough for her black Nike Pros to peek through and perfectly hug at her waist and defined lines of abs. She had a towel hung over her neck, her hands attached to carved arms holding onto the towel's ends, with a tight, baby blue sports bra to match, emphasising the contour of her cleavage. She looked really good right now. Too good. Your face heats up as you snap your eyes to her face.