Our Little Cliche (ereri/riren.)✔️

Eventually.

This is based on a true story. It is dedicated to my brother. I miss him. His name was Jacob. He was gay, and all the hate to him at school led to him making the wrong choice. I made up the smut but he always told me in detail how it was in his life.
So I present to you; his story.

(Sorry for spelling errors.)

Most people spend more time and energy going around problems than in trying to solve them.

I believe we are on a timer, on a countdown to the oblivion that awaits for us to reside in. Our death is coming closer by the minute. I should be living my life to the fullest potential before I wither away of old age or a car crash or anything. I could walk outside and get murdered. I should be traveling, exploring my life to the fullest while I still have in my grasp. But yet I still sit in my room, staring at my ceiling fan spinning in quick circles and wave wind down to me and cooling me.

'Damn, why does summer have to be so damn hot?' I thought as I kicked my feet up to my wooden desk, leaning back in my soft office chair, pencil in my hand twirling quickly. I had homework to be doing, reports that need filling. Stuff I had to be doing yet I reside in my dark and humid room, waiting for death to catch up to me and end me.

I wasn't an optimist most of the time, I just think the heat waves of death had been getting to me lately. Whenever I'm hot, my parents think it's cold and turn up the heat, making me boil in my own room. And whenever I am cold, my family thinks it is hot and then guess what? They turn it down to like, negative 1000 degrees and I am under millions of fuzzy blankets, craving the slightest touch of heat to get to me. This is why I didn't like summer, it was too hot, too humid.

I liked fall, or winter. Wearing big fuzzy sweaters made my heart warm up at the thought. A knock rapped on the door and my mother, in a sweater, walked in, a plate of food in her hands. "Dinner, sweetie," She placed the soup on the table and walked out after I thanked her. The soup was almost boiling hot and I had to eat it. I was sweating and basically dying of heat exhaustion. I waved my hand infront of my face, wanting for it to end.

Thankfully, and somehow, I had gotten my parents to turn down the heat to 60 degrees so I had stopped dripping from greasy sweat. I leaned my head back, fully laying on my bed, arms and legs spread. "Eren." Mikasa was at my bedside, a blank face pulled on her face. She was my sister, 16 years old while I was 17. Mikasa was adopted into the family from an adoption agency at the age of 12. Mikasa and I have been closer than ever, ever since she was welcomed into the family.

She also disagrees with me about my whole, 'we are timers, getting closer and closer to the end.' thoughts and tries to make me believe life was so long for me, all laid out and happy. My dad was gonna have me go to Maria University and my mother was gonna help Mikasa get into some math school for the advanced students in like, tokyo. While I was going to stay in this small town that was just named, Maria, after the founder.

I have been told a rumor that she still haunts the forest next to the park. And guess what the parks name is? "Maria Park." Pretty unique name, eh? "Eren." She had black short hair and grey eyes. Coiled tight around her pale neck was my red scarf I gave her when I first met her. I haven't seen her take it off since.

"Eren!" She nudged me with her leg but instead of talking actual words I just groaned and rolled on my side away from her, facing a wall and closing me eyes. "School starts soon." Was all she said. Oh, right. it was August, which was still a month of summer. And now we were only 2 days away from the great adventure of Senior year at Maria High. I, unlike Mikasa, was greatly looking forward to leaving this prison that they call a High School; it was cramped, small, and just an ugly High School to attend. But I can't complain much, I do have friends who go to this school that I would miss.