Why We Ended Things

Hair of the Dog

"I don't even know how she managed to talk you into going to that stupid party in the first place," Hitch said. "Even I couldn't do that."

You shrugged, bringing another handful of popcorn to your mouth. You steadied your eyes back onto the television screen, chewing slowly to avoid responding. She caught your attention once more as she made an exaggerated gagging sound, sticking her tongue out in disgust.

"It's so lame of her to start fucking your ex's roommate, too," she continued on.

You would call it a bit more than lame, but her faux nausea was more than called for. You had spent weeks frustrated over the situation only to conclude there was nothing to be done—if you wanted to stay Historia's friend, that is. And you did. So maybe that was why you let her drag you to that party.

While you wanted desperately to be mad at her, you just couldn't do it. That look she shared with you, just before leaving the party, made it nearly impossible. Those Miss America, 'I'd wish for world peace' eyes. It wasn't the let-loose sort of night that either of you was hoping for, to say the least.

Hitch looked like she was waiting for your big reaction. She had set the stage for you to monologue about your bitterness towards Historia. But instead of letting her gasoline catch a spark, you waved off her instigations.

"It's whatever. We're fine now," you replied.

She pursed her lips together in disappointment before wiggling her arms free from the blanket she had swaddled herself in. The two of you had been curled up in her living room for the last hour watching a movie. You were still no more than fifteen minutes into the plot, however. You had each taken turns pausing it to talk. It was now Hitch's turn, and she reached for the remote to stop the movie again.

Now that she had your full attention, she sprawled out on the couch, her legs draped over your lap. On her stretch, she yawned, "You should know better than to talk to her about Eren anymore." She took a beat to smirk at you. "Or Levi."

Yes. She, too, knew about Levi. All about him. After Historia said you were overthinking the situation, you started questioning yourself. Hitch may have had a screw loose, but you at least knew she would have your back on anything, just like she always had. And as you hoped, she reacted appropriately. She found the whole cigarette thing, in her words, 'really fucking kinky.' Whether that was true or she was simply good at being your own personal hype woman was yet to be determined.

"I didn't know who else to tell. She was just there," you said. "Also, you should give her more credit. She's a good friend."

"When she wants to be."

Hitch and Historia's friendship was a challenge. Would they be friends if you weren't the middleman? Absolutely not. But did they get along well enough when it was the three of you? Absolutely.

Hitch was crass and crude while Historia pretended she wasn't. Their outward presentations couldn't be farther from opposites but deep down, they were alike. Stubborn to their very cores. In reality, all three of you were. Together, you formed your own little band of scorned women. It was a miracle you could be in the same room together sometimes.

You let a few minutes pass, filling them by silently gnawing on your inner lip in thought. By the time the flesh felt raw, you asked, "Do you think Eren told Ymir about the kiss?"

"Don't know. Don't care. And neither should you."

You frowned though you knew she was right. "I know. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea."

Hitch opened her mouth wide—your cue to share the popcorn. You picked a piece and tossed it to her. She angled to the left and snagged it from the air with her mouth.