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All the girls at school rejected Eren, so he supposed boys were the next best thing.
He douses himself with a can of Axe body spray and sets out for his next target. In his head, he lists off all the tactics he's been taught from fetal podcast poisoning, amongst other things.
So, when he finds a boy, sitting all alone in the corner of a hallway, it's the perfect chance. A lonely, loser-ish guy is the perfect target, he thinks to himself. He tries not to think about how much of that applies to himself.
Girls are soft, and pretty. They bring the light to rooms. This guy looks clean, but he has that maleness emitting from him, and he couldn’t light up so much as a small bulb.
Eren watches the guy, earphones in each of his ears. Eren watches him softly nod along to the music, a sort of dumb contrived expression on his face. Eren doesn’t really get music. It’s pointless drivel to make people, who otherwise have unimportant feelings and emotions, think what they feel matters.
His hair is blonde. A sort of mustard-y blonde. Eren could shave it all off, and spread it on a hot dog, really. Speaking of hot dogs, Eren wonders what the size of his hot dog is. Probably small, by the looks of it. That’s probably for the better, right? Or should Eren start becoming a real sissy, ready to take it from behind?
Boys are desperate things. They’re not like girls, who have all sorts of reservations and qualms about dating. Or well, sex. Eren’s not sure which one he wants. So Eren doesn’t really put on his best face when he approaches the guy.
“Hey,” He says, ever so eloquent, “Scoot over.” He snaps his fingers in his face and makes a gesture, just in case he can't hear through the music.
The guy looks a bit disturbed, but he’s clearly the type to just bend over at the slightest inconvenience, so he obeys. Eren smiles, which only seems to make the guy even more perturbed.
They’re squished together, and Eren can smell a pleasant, lemony scent. It’s a bit artificial. Is he supposed to like it? Isn’t there all that research about pheromones and all that? Isn’t all this…excessiveness a turn off for girls? Eren would inform him about this important piece of advice, but he’s here to take him for himself, so he just keeps quiet. The less the girls like him, the better.
“You kinda look like a girl,” Eren says, taking off one of his earphones. He doesn’t ask for permission to touch him, of course. Isn’t negging like, the tactic? It hasn’t worked on any of the girls he tried it on, so he wonders how it’ll fare with a boy. Looking like a girl shouldn’t be that bad, anyways. Pretty boys are cultural icons. Although the dude isn’t exactly Greek towel boy material.
The boy kind of swallows, and looks around. He’s uncomfortable and Eren sort of likes that look on him. He feels powerful. Eren is kinda scrawny himself, and he’s rarely able to throw his weight around. It’s a nice feeling. Eren just squishes closer.
There’s a sort of disgusted look on his face. He sort of shoves Eren aside, and Eren’s a bit appalled. He sure doesn't want to be shoved around by some waif-ish dude. Eren pushes harder, and before Eren knows it, he's on the ground.
Lying on the floor, Eren decides to try again,
“So, what're you listening to?”
And that lights the guy's stupid face on fire, for some reason.
“What do you want from me?” He finally speaks, his voice going up and down, in a sort of pathetic way.
Eren thinks, which isn't exactly one of his strong suits.
“Your name, for starters.”
“Armin. Armin Arlert. Now care to tell me what you're playing at, exactly?” Armin is clearly trying to be brave, and Eren supposes he should clap. His new to-be boy is an official tough cookie.
Eren debates on how to go about this.
“I've been, um, looking for candidates. I'm looking to start a club for…um hentai…video games.”
“They're called eroges.”
“Yeah, um, that.”
Armin eyes him suspiciously, “Who else is part of your list of ‘candidates’?”
“That's been my problem…dude,” Eren sprinkles in the last bit like cheese grated from Armin's hair. He can't let him know his true intentions, not yet.
“Nobody here is into that kinda stuff. It's a bummer, isn't it?”
“I wouldn't quite say I'm ‘into’ that stuff…per se…”
“Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say. How about you just…um…put your number into my phone, and we can talk more about this later?”
Armin swallows again. Eren looks at his Adam's apple as he does, and the way it bobs up and down. Then he watches Armin squirm.
“Oh…um…I'm good. Good luck on the club, I mean it. But I'm not all that interested.”
Eren curses in his head. Was it time to switch strategies?
“Well…honestly I was just asking…because…” He lowers his voice, making sure nobody is able to hear, “You're kind of cute.”
Armin's face is tomato red again and Eren thinks about how he could be turned into a burger if some hot beef cake was smashing him. Smash burgers. Was Eren a cuck? Eren tries not to leave his mind in that space for too long. Cucks are the lowest of the low, after all. But does it count when you've turned gay?
“If this is some type of joke, I'm not amused,” Armin manages, not able to look Eren in the eyes, and Oh, he's a goner, Eren thinks. Boys really were easier.
“I never joke,” Eren says. Well, it's sort of true. Most people think he's joking, even when he's not.
“How do I prove it to you…?” Eren decides to make a sort of pouty face. It revolts him a little, but he decides it's time to go for some good old Moe Factor. Dweebs like him dig that shit, don't they? Especially if they're some sort of…homosexual. Eren clasps his fingers in Armin's t-shirt, which is abnormally clean for a white shirt. “I mean it, I really do.”
Armin looks like he's about to short-circuit. His pink lips are shaped into a little, perfect O, and Eren kind of wants to stick his finger into it.
“If that's so…” He says, all nervous and clammy.
Eren gets his number.
~
Eren's given Floch the rare privilege of having his turn on the console, indefinitely. Although Floch goes on twerpy rambles about the superiority of PC gaming, he's happy. Eren's not exactly happy that Floch is happy, but he deals with it.
Blah, blah, blah…Floch goes on, with a majority of his sentences starting with “you” and “we”. You this, and we that. Eren's going to get a headache. It's like he has a nagging wife. As desperate as Eren is, he's not really looking for that. He'd get to third base, and dump. And maybe go for a rebound. But that's about it. Floch would probably fuck/date/whatever him, but Eren won't stoop that low. It's also…like putting your dick in where you shit…or whatever the saying is…now that he's newly gay, he probably is putting his dick in where somebody shits. Whatever. You get the point.
Well, the reason he's decided to be Oh so benevolent to Floch today, is well, because he's distracted. He's racking his mind on what sort of…date he should take Mr. Armin Arlert on. That's the next logical conclusion, after all. Eren's still not sure about the whole “gay sex” thing. He did get a boner once, emboldened by looking at the underwear models on the packaging on his fancy boxers, special garments for the Jaegers’ golden child (To be clear, he was a golden child to the Jaegers and Jaegers alone). Armin probably wears boxers with…squirrels or some shit on them. Or maybe he went for briefs? Eren imagines them, squeezing tightly around his rather small (he looked) ass.
“We should like…bake some cookies.” Floch says, in that insipid manner of his. Eren almost barfs. That's crap you do to appease your girlfriend, just so she doesn't break up with you for wearing your backpack in an effeminate manner or whatever goes through girls' minds.
“Just shut up, Floch,” Eren says in a tone that doesn't even try to be biting. He sounds distant, and like he couldn't care less. He knows it hurts more, and he really couldn't care.
Floch makes a noise that sounds oddly like a distraught child. Eren kinda sorta entirely hates kids. He ignores him, and Floch gets the hint, and goes back to being hardstuck Gold. Poor Floch, Eren thinks. He can feel emotions, too. But he's not like the others, who get kicked around by ‘feelings’ like they're a football. So he moves on.
Eren looks at the new contact in his phone. It's easy to spot, because he has…a total of 5 contacts now, with the new addition. Dad, mom, Floch, Historia (who he's pretty sure blocked him), and…Armin. He's put some weird little emoji next to his contact name. Eren's mouth twitches a little.
He starts a new message:
Eren: I'll pick you up at 1pm, tomorrow.
Eren: Be ready.
Be assertive, Eren remembers. Don't ask, just tell.
He watches Floch brick people’s games with his Junkrat as he waits for a response.
Armin (´｡• ω •｡`): huh? pretty sudden ~(>_<~)
Eren: Just send me your house's location. I'll take care of the rest.
Armin (´｡• ω •｡`): ok…
Armin (´｡• ω •｡`): [Attached a Location]
Surprise. Floch doesn't rank up.
~
Eren takes his dad's car. He failed his driver's license test, but he drives anyway.
There’s a fair, not that far away. It’s an ideal place for a…date, is it not? Eren has a stack of different magazines and newspapers, and he keeps up to date on all the events that go on. He likes the feeling, he supposes, of knowing things.
Armin gets in his car, because he told him so, and he sits next to him because that's the place that was made for him, perfectly according to Eren's plans.
Armin sits in a sort of sissy way, putting his legs together and crossing his arms together. He looks at Eren with shy, soft glances that make him feel something. Nobody looks at him that way. It's embarrassing, in a way, to have such a dweeb affect him in this manner. But Eren has been longing for warmth, anyways.
“We'll be going to a fair,” Eren says. He doesn't really need to inform him, but he does anyway. He's nice like that, sometimes.
Armin's face lights up, “I've always wanted to go to one!”
“Well, here's your chance.”
The situation is a bit weird, he supposes. They sit mostly in silence as the drive stretches on. Eren's not sure how to feel about the company. Is this crap what he's been dying for all this time? There's no music, and he can just hear the whoosh of the car.
It's not bad, Eren thinks.
They arrive at the fair, and the smell of burnt popcorn and saccharine sweets blend together. It's a bit dead. Fairs don't seem to catch on nowadays.
There's plenty of treats, and Eren guesses he should pay. But Armin isn't a girl, right? So he gives a sort of doleful look to Armin and says, “I forgot my wallet.”
Armin dishes some cash, and they share a funnel cake and cotton candy. Eren takes a big bite out of both.
“You have a sweet tooth,” Armin points out, all smiles and grins. Eren grumbles.
“I don't.” And Armin just laughs, an irritating sort of noise.
“Let's catch a ride,” Armin excitedly says. Eren thinks Armin would probably faint a second in.
It's a rollercoaster, and it's the type of thrill seeking shit Eren can't stand. People come up with this crap because their lives are that dull. But it was his idea to come, after all. So he gets on.
In the end, it's Eren who throws up all over himself when it’s over. Armin just gives the sort of sympathetic look that makes him want to throw up all over again.
“Let's get you cleaned up.”
Eren decides to hold Armin's hand as they go to the bathroom. It's small, like the rest of him. Armin holds on, even though it has vomit residue.
Armin smiles.
~
They find themselves tangled together, again. It's a weekend, and what other time is there for young love?
“How come your parents are good with you being out so late?” Eren asks. His parents are pretty much okay with anything, and it's partially because he's him, but Armin seems like the sort of kid who's wrapped in bubblewrap and clingfilm.
Armin looks at him a little strange, “I don't live with my parents. They're, well…dead. Just me and my grandfather at home.” Eren thinks this through. Did he just bring up a sensitive subject? He doesn't really want to hear any sob stories today (or any other day, really).
“Oh. That's um…pretty sad…”
“No reason to be sad about it, really. Happened a long time ago.”
And because Eren can't say anything else, he blurts out, “Wanna fuck?”
“Hm.” Armin says, “Thought you'd never ask, really.”
And before Eren can mess things up, Armin grabs his jaw, and starts to line kisses against it, gentle and small. Almost too gentle. Eren, for some reason, just stays still and takes it.
Armin leans in closer, and Eren is sort of unnerved by the face he's making. It's all blown out and glassy eyes. He looks like, well, a pervert, to be frank. Eren thought he was supposed to be the desperate one.
The kisses on the jaw lead to a rather sloppy kiss on the lips. Eren’s lips part like second nature. Eren can taste Armin, who tastes like citrus and all things fresh. They're both flushed, like they'd just ran a mile.
Armin decides to push his tongue in, which feels objectively weird. Where was he learning this shit? Eren feels his tongue twisting and turning, and it locks in with his, like they were meant to be.
Eren’s already hard by this point, and Armin has noticed. He lets out a sort of weird noise - a purr? - and starts palming it. Sort of pressing against it, and it feels all weird. Eren's stomach feels hot, and he feels like he’s about to…burst into flame or something like that. He leans back in the car seat, and lets himself let out all sorts of grunts (that do not sound like whimpers).
“You respond well to touch,” Armin says, as if he’s running an experiment. Eren really wants to shut him up, so he grabs his neck and bites down, hard. Armin just mewls in response, all breathy and high-pitched.
Armin leans over and presses himself, flush to him. He unzips Eren’s pants, and frees his dick. He shifts up and down, letting friction do the work. Friction is awesome. Eren just grabs his waist, to which he gets a satisfying moan in response. It’s small, and it feels good to grab it, to know it’s his for the moment. That’s the appeal of sex, he guesses. To know somebody is yours, even if it’s just for a short time. Someone being reduced to a banal state, and it’s all because of you.
“It's a bit above average,” Armin says, grasping it. Eren wants to kill him. Turn him into bones, but he can't do that until he, himself gets boned.
Armin presses his mouth downwards, and continues his…mission of kisses, starting to lick the tip. Eren grabs his hair. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Armin looks upwards, as if asking for reassurance. Eren just strokes his hair in response.
Armin suddenly takes him all in, sputtering and choking over it. Eren kind of likes that look. Heat engulfs him, and he feels everything, everywhere. Before he knows it, he's bust a load. Fuck. He's a premature ejaculator. That's great.
Armin's mouth is covered in Eren's jizz.
“Wanna be my prom date?”
~
This is stupid, Eren thinks. Suits are not his thing. His idea of dressing up involves the rare clean t-shirt, and that's about it. Heck, even going shirtless is dressing up to him. Your shirt can't be dirty if you're not wearing one right?
His mother smiles at him, and so does his father. It's like a cheap parody of a happy family.
“You're so big now,” Carla says, lines rehearsed from what Every Parent must say before a momentous event.
“Not to mention, looking very sharp in that suit,” Grisha smiles, lightly squeezing his ear. Eren grimaces.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Armin's a nice kid. Be sure to treat him well,” and Eren doesn't even want to ask how they know about Armin. Word sure gets around fast.
Eren just grabs the keys and heads out. He has…a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Roses, because those are flowers for when you're a…couple? If that's what he and Armin are.
He heads to Armin's house, and opens the door, without knocking. It's open. The neighbourhood is as safe as safe. His grandfather sits on the sofa, with a grandfather clock ticking in the background. It goes tick, tick, tick, and it's an unnerving soundtrack for his…little prom date.
“I've been waiting for you, son,” His grandfather looks at him with piercing blue eyes, cold unlike Armin's warmth. “Sit down, and wait for him here.”
Eren can't disobey, so he sits down next to the geezer and waits.
Armin comes out, and he looks a bit ridiculous. His suit is light blue, and it has all sorts of ruffles on it. Eren wants to laugh and ask where he even found a getup like that, but he doesn't.
“Hello, handsome,” Eren says.
Armin just blushes in response, the picture of propriety.
Eren opens the car door for him, because that's what you're supposed to do, he supposes.
“Why not put on some music?” Armin speaks, his voice as small as he is.
Eren really doesn't like music, but he puts on a station anyway.
When shitty pop music blares, loud, too loud, he doesn't try to hide his smile as Armin sings along. He might've hummed along too, a couple of times.
~
Prom sucks. Everyone knows that. Everyone should know that.
The girls look like cupcakes, which is ridiculous, and the boys just look outright silly. It looks like some sort of cosplay.
Shitty, watered down punch and greasy pizza is served. Bon appetite. He feels a bit nauseous.
“Let’s dance,” Armin says.
Everyone's looking at them, and Eren can't seem to care.
It's like it's just him and Armin, alone together.