Chasing Summer

Black Hole

Eren's time was sand in an hourglass, and that day on the bridge, he had turned that hourglass over. Now, every minute was accounted for, tiny grains of sand that, when put together, added up. I didn't want to think about how much time he had left, so I did what he asked of me: I pretended that we had all the time in the world.

For the next week, we floated through the remaining days of school until it was graduation night. Unlike every other senior at Shiganshina High, I wasn't going to be walking the graduation stage. Movies about teenagers always made it seem like every senior was excited about walking with their fellow students, but refused to shine a light on people like me: the people who'd rather get their diploma mailed to them.

So, on graduation night, our little gang sat in Petra's living room, watching an exceptionally boring movie that she had insisted on watching. Not that I was even paying attention to it. Eren was sitting by the fireplace, drawing something on brown cardstock paper. Various colored pencils were scattered around him, but all I saw was his intense expression. He looked concentrated: eyebrows drawn together, eyes slightly narrowed, lips set into a thin line. I wanted to go sit behind him and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

After another failed attempt at focusing my attention on the TV screen, I stood up and went over to where he sat. He flipped the cardstock over when he saw me coming his way, but didn't say anything as I settled down behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and turned my head to rest my cheek in between his shoulder blades. I hugged him close, letting his familiar scent wash over me. It comforted me in ways nothing else could.

"You can keep on drawing," I said. "I won't look."

He tipped his head back onto my shoulder, turning his face toward my neck. "No, it's okay. I need a break, anyway. My legs are all stiff." He stretched them out in front of him, and I reached around to rub circles onto the tops of his thighs. "Also, I want a snack. I get really snack-y when I draw."

I smiled against his black shirt, because how could someone be this cute? "What sort of snack did you have in mind?"

"I want an oatmeal bar."

Petra didn't have oatmeal bars. "Are you up for making a trip to the grocery store?"

"That depends: Will I be considered a bad boyfriend for making you go all the way to the grocery store just for oatmeal bars?"

"No," I said, propping my chin up on his shoulder, "because I'm willing to go to the grocery store, if that's what you want."

"I'm barfing out rainbows over here," Jean declared from the couch. "Are you guys aiming for nauseatingly cute, or what? But if you're going to the store, I'm coming with, because I want chips, cookies, and a soda. Basically anything that can guarantee me a heart attack at the age of twenty-five. That's my goal in life right now. Don't judge me."

Petra shut off the TV with a sigh. "We'll all go. That movie sounded a lot more interesting than it turned out to be, and Jean, you're not getting all that junk food."

"What? Why not? Can I at least get Twix ice cream?" He stood up and pulled her to her feet.

"Why not?" she repeated in a condescending tone. "It's unhealthy, that's why not, and I won't have you dying at twenty-five, or battling diabetes."

As they continued to bicker, Eren looked at me and whispered, "They argue like a married couple."

"I know," I said. "I have to listen to it all the time."