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Time Well Spent

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Eren Jaeger is indeed “bombtastic”.

At least that’s what he says. He says a lot of funny things. I remember when he first learned that my name was Armin, he called me Legout for weeks. I would ask him and beg for him to stop knowing he wouldn’t but I knew that I had to pretend to be irritated. Secretly, I enjoyed it. I really really liked how Eren had a little nickname for me. Outside of my brain I knew it was just a silly tease he would do all of the time; but on the inside, it felt like a pet name, like ‘Babe’ or ‘Honey’. Even though Eren would never even think of calling me that. I wish he would. I wish he would call me baby sometime or something other than my name.

I don’t know why he likes my name. I hate it. Just like how I hate other things about me. Well, hate is a strong word so maybe I’ll use strongly dislike? Yes that seems satisfactory. Eren’s satisfactory. Everything from the mop of chocolate brown hair that can never be tamed, to the bottoms of his size 10 feet. I found that out when I volunteered to take his combat boots and clean them up after he and his father went camping one weekend. He said that it was fine and that he could do it but I wasn’t having it. I’d do anything for him.

But does he notice? Maybe.

Sometimes when I talk to him about the vast oceans of the Earth or the planets or the world in general he seems to doze off or space out. His eyes are locked onto my eyes every time. Does he think they’re weird? Does he think they’re too big? Does he think that they’re ugly?

I know something that isn’t ugly. Him. I knew that when I first laid eyes on him. His emerald green eyes are so amazing. They aren’t just green. They like turquoise sometimes. When he gets angry they’re outlined with black. His pupils dilate and become a deep, deep ocean blue that’s mixed with green. If you ever wanted to paint that color it would take you an immense amount of time.

When he’s happy his eyes are just a simple green. They’re still beautiful though. Especially when he looks into the sun. They shine so bright it makes you want to reach out and touch them. But of course you couldn’t do that unless you wanted to injure him. That reminds me of the time when we were kids. Eren broke his arm and couldn’t do many of the games we played before. I was kind of upset so I came up with a suitable alternative for us to do.

I read to him.

I still read to him. Eren can read, very well to be exact. But I guess he gets too lazy and would rather listen to me read. I don’t mind it though. It calms him. When he’s angry or when something sets his nerves off I suggest that I read to him and you should see his face. His brows relax and go back to being nicely placed above his brighter than the Sun eyes. His eyes become that bright green with a little bit of excitement behind them. I adore it. Instead of barring his teeth in an intimidating snarl his plump, pink lips relax into a lovely smile.

And as ridiculous as it sounds I love his lips. They’re so gorgeous and they can do amazing things like make Eren Jaeger smile. I love his smile. It’s so adoring I’d do anything, anything in the world to see him do that.

Oh the things I would do for him. Does he notice? No. Does he care? Maybe. Will I tell him? Will I tell him that I think of him late at night after my studying? Will I ever develop the courage to tell him how I feel? The way he makes me feel?

I hate myself for it but I can’t help but touch myself thinking about him. It’s utterly disgusting and repulsing but I just can’t help myself. He makes it so difficult not to. Recently, he became a member of the track and the the conditioning that they do is just, God!

His muscles are so much more defined than they were before. He has toned thighs now and his jeans hug them perfectly. I also never knew this but apparently squatting can help to make your butt bigger? They do squats at practice and I get the privilege of watching when he asks me to come to his practices.

As soon as I get home I keep those thoughts in my mind.

The sweat glistening on his forehead, his bulging muscles, the way his legs look as he runs his laps, and those fucking squats that make me want to scream. For the past year or so I’ve found my climax to thoughts of him. To thoughts like his smile or how it feels when he holds my hand when I’m crying. I keep that feeling, that touch in my head.

I imagine it everywhere, just touching me. Touching my neck, to my collarbone, to graze my nipples bringing them to hardness. It’s actually fascinating how this has happened so many times. I don’t like to call it masturbation though. That word has been tainted by many people that use it for disgusting purposes.

I like to think of it as thinking about the other person.

I’m not wrong, am I? I do think about Eren, all the time! It’s not a wrong or incorrect statement to say that masturbation is just thinking about the other person, right?

This is my problem though. I spend too much time thinking about what could happen. I spend too much time wondering what could happen or what could’ve been. All this time is just corrupting my feelings for Eren to be told.

But if there’s one thing I know about this time, it’s that it’s been time well spent.