Eren Jaeger

The Jaeger estate was more impressive than you expected, especially at night. Which is rare for you to admit, given you’ve been surrounded by extravagance all of your life. It was hard for you to be impressed. The mansion’s white exterior glowed under strands of Christmas lights lining the roof, windows, and trees. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the house and tall columns framed the entrance. Snow faintly covered the grass on the front lawn. White marble floors stretched beneath a glittering chandelier, and soft holiday music floated through the air from a hired pianist playing next to a tall Christmas tree with organized ornaments, which was not too far away from the crackling fireplace.

You adjusted your dress—a long, tight red dress with a slit up the side, a white fur coat draped over your shoulders. Your red heels clicked against the floor as you looked around the room, glancing around at the well-dressed guests and taking in the formality of this Christmas party that your father’s coworker invited him to, who insisted that you must come along.

Soon enough, your parents approached Grisha Jaeger, a composed man in his early 50’s with a professional smile.

“Grisha,” your father greeted, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you for inviting us. And this,” he gestured to you, “is our daughter, {{user}}.”

Grisha smiled warmly while shaking your hand, though his attention briefly darted to his son, standing nearby. “Pleasure to meet you, {{user}}. This is my son, Eren.”

Eren quickly stepped forward, a soft smile on his face as he reached out his hand to shake yours. His long brown hair was tied back into a loose man bun, piercing green eyes staring into yours. His perfectly tailored tuxedo with a red tie made him look as polished as the rest of the party, trying to leave a good impression for the Jaeger family name. You note the small glimpse of a nose piercing, subtle but the glint of silver had you tilting your head.

Before Eren was able to greet you, Grisha immediately said, “Eren, why don’t you show {{user}} around while I catch up with her parents?”

You could have sworn you saw Eren glare over at his father, but it was quickly replaced with that same warm smile from earlier. “Sure,” he said, lips twitched in what might have been a smirk.

You were used to being handed off like this, as if your parents didn’t want you to mess up their ideal image of your family. Not like you were ever a bad kid to begin with. You followed Eren as led you toward a grand, swirling staircase made of white marble. The railing was wrapped in golden tinsel intertwined with twinkling, white Christmas lights.

Eren’s expression remained bored as you silently followed behind him, seemingly over his father’s tactics to get rid of him. As soon as you were out of earshot, Eren broke the silence. “You wanna see the house, or should I skip to the part where I ask if you want to do coke?”

You giggled as a reply, unsure if that was his way of making a joke. He didn’t stop to give you a tour of the upper floor. Instead, he began to lead you down a long hallway, white walls lined perfectly with minimalistic artwork and decor, and a small amount of professional family photos. He didn’t say anything, not even while opening the door at the end of the hallway

When you stepped inside, you immediately noticed how different his room was from the rest of the house. The walls were plastered with worn punk band posters, carelessly slapped onto the walls with some partially peeling at the edges. The bay window overlooked the backyard, a large pool with the tarp pulled over, with snow covering the perfectly trimmed hedges. The window itself had red lights hanging down from it, the cushion on the bench was black, and a red teddy bear with spikes was neatly placed on top. The shelf behind had framed concert tickets and misplaced movies.

A cabinet nearby was overflowed with CDs and vinyl records, an electric guitar leaned against the wall in front of a stack of magazines. The signature of a famous guitarist scrawled across it in black marker. An amplifier was next to it, littered with peeling stickers. Eren’s bed was neatly made with deep black sheets, the fabric rich and smooth, while a dark purple comforter draped across the bed. A leather jacket rested on the back of his chair in front of his desk. Slightly used candles scattered across his desk, along with a few antique items.

You barely even realize your widened eyes as you frantically look across the room, never being around someone with this taste in your entire life. Your parents protected you from people like this, never wanting you to fall into a bad crowd. Your life has been perfectly curated up until this moment, and you’re unsure of what to do. You feel like an outsider.

When Eren closed the door behind you, he walked over to his desk to grab something. You didn’t quite catch it at first, but then he brought his hand to his lips. It wasn’t until he moved his hand away that a black hoop in his lip was revealed. “My dad hates it,” he said with a shrug as he adjusted the hoop, “tells me to take it out when we have guests over.”

You wondered if this was some kind of setup, as if your parents were trying to see how easy you’d give up your lifestyle for some punk guy disguised as someone from wealth. He moved toward his record player, casually flipping through a stack of vinyls before selecting one. As the needle dropped, the room was suddenly filled with the strumming of an indie punk song, the type of music that made it feel as if you were sinking into the floor.

He moved toward his nightstand, a black polaroid sitting on top with a few pictures of him and his friends lying next to it. He pulled the top drawer open, rummaging for a moment before retrieving a small bag of white powder.

Raising an eyebrow, he held it up while looking at you. “You in?”