please me ; eren yeager x oc

back?

The sun streamed through the window of Emma's apartment, illuminating the clutter of the living room. A few crumpled takeout containers lay strewn across the coffee table, remnants of meals long abandoned. Emma sat curled up on the couch, her jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She had lost weight—too much of it—and the clothes that had once fit her snugly now hung loosely off her thin frame. She stared at the television, but the sounds of laughter and excitement faded into a dull hum, her mind lost in a fog of memories and thoughts.

"Yo, Emma, you good?" Connie's voice broke through the haze, pulling her back to reality. He leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, his crutches propped against the wall beside him. Despite the obvious physical challenges he faced, he radiated a casual energy that usually filled the room with light. But today, even he seemed to carry a hint of worry as he eyed her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. She quickly turned her gaze back to the TV, pretending to be engrossed in a random show, but the flickering screen barely registered in her mind.

Connie shifted uncomfortably, a frown creasing his brow. "You sure? You haven't eaten anything all day. Just a little breakfast burrito would—"

"I said I'm fine!" Emma shot back, her frustration boiling over as she turned to face him, eyes blazing. "I'm not hungry, alright? Just drop it."

"Damn," he muttered, pushing himself away from the doorway. "Just checking in. You've been acting weird." He walked away, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts, the weight of guilt settling heavily in her chest.

In the past five months, things had changed—school was looming on the horizon with football season starting in two months, and the dance team was gearing up for their comeback, but Emma felt like she was stuck in a moment frozen in time.

She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair, the glossy black locks feeling foreign as she remembered the navy blue she once sported. "I can't believe I'm doing this again," she muttered under her breath, glancing down at the small packet of pills on the coffee table. A part of her wanted to shove it away, to pretend it didn't exist, but the other part craved the escape it provided.

Just then, Eren strolled in, his usual relaxed demeanor slightly frayed. He wore a fitted white t-shirt and dark jeans, the same casual look that had become his trademark, but the shadows under his eyes told a different story. He paused at the sight of her, brows furrowed in concern. "Hey, Emma," he greeted, his voice low. "You been alright?"

"Yeah, I told Connie I'm fine," she replied curtly, trying to shrug off his concern. She could feel his eyes boring into her, searching for something hidden beneath her façade.

Eren shook his head, a frown settling on his lips. "You look like shit, honestly," he said bluntly, his tone both caring and frustrated. "You need to eat. And you shouldn't be isolating yourself like this. We're all still here for you, you know?"

"I don't need you guys hovering over me," Emma shot back, her heart racing as anger surged within her. "I'm not a fucking project to fix."

"Maybe you should start acting like you care about yourself then," he shot back, the tension palpable as they locked eyes.

"Fuck off, Eren," Emma spat, rising from the couch with an unsteady grace, her frame feeling lighter than it should. The moment hung between them, charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of her struggles—struggles she refused to confront.

He sighed, frustration evident in his posture. "I'm just saying...we care about you. You've been distant, and we're all worried." His voice softened, as if he were trying to find the right words to reach her. "We need you to be okay for when school starts. Football season won't be the same without you."