- eremika oneshots.

hair. [em]

— in which eren asks mikasa to
brush his hair, leading to
a little chit-chat.

(( ✉️ ))

/ modern au. /

"Brush my hair."

Mikasa knots her eyebrows in confusion, her habitual stoic eyes focused onto the object held inches before her. "E-Eren— wh—" She halts mid-sentence, the fine-broad handled material settling against her lap. Her eyes dart up to the brunette, meeting his somewhat eager verdant eyes.

His rather glinting, turquoise orbs that could fill with viciousness in a heartbeat leered down at her. A familiar softness, and yearning she couldn't grasp filled his pleading gaps— their eyes engaging in a brief stare. Eren's left eyebrow arches up, indicating that he was awaiting for an answer— or more so, that he was preferably growing impatient. Typical.

"Are you sure? Last time, I—"

"Yes, i'm sure."

Mikasa heaves a deep sigh in defeat, lowering her shoulders— her petite fingers snaking to clasp the wooden brush. "Alright then, come here and sit." She utters serenely, shortly raising her head to meet Eren's gaze once again. Eren took no hesitation at her demand, momentarily turning his back to her— plunking himself on the floor whilst his back edged against her legs.

The noirnette— Mikasa, gulps. How had things ended up like this? All she remembers, was sleeping in peacefully on a casual Saturday afternoon. After that, the eager brunette had somehow broken in her dorm and roused her up. Surprisingly, her dorm-mate Sasha wasn't present. Otherwise, the hollow-headed woman would've begged Eren to leave— knowing how cranky the noirnette got.

Well, he's already here. No need to overthink.

Eren whirls his head over his shoulder, taking a worrisome glance at the woman behind him— whom he noticed went silent. Ah, she was probably tired. That must be it. Last night, he had caught her sneaking in from a late shift— maybe it was a bad idea to visit her as of now. "If you're tired, you should go back to sleep." He remarks, straightening his posture with a slight scowl— breaking Mikasa from her thoughts.

"It's okay. I've gotten plenty of rest." She protests, comfortably shifting on her seated-position on her bed. The brunette grunts in response, relaxing his tense shoulders— well, he had no intention of leaving yet anyways. Perceiving the noirnette's fingertips that had gently dug into his scalp, she idly finger-combs through his tresses for a brief moment.

"Your hair's gotten longer, Eren."

"Yeah, and it appears yours has gotten shorter."

Eren tilts his head back on Mikasa's knees— his view angled up to the noirnette, giving him a better field of vision beyond her. The filaments of mousy hair slopes off Mikasa's palm, her hands awkwardly flumped on neither sides of her lap. "Eren.." She murmurs his name simultaneously with a sigh, her right hand lifting to pinch his pointed nose.

At this, Eren slightly winces— but doesn't bother to stop her. Mikasa recalls the first time Eren had seen her, along with some other acquaintances— her hair had just been freshly cut. The rest— like Armin, Sasha, Jean and Connie; had flattering comments to her new look. But Eren, on the other hand— wasn't quite happy. Talk about a kill joy.