(Credits: @yvne_rae)

You and Eren had been together for so long that it almost felt unreal sometimes. From awkward high school hallways and shared lunches under staircases, to late-night study calls in college where half the time you weren’t even studying — just talking. Growing up didn’t pull you apart. If anything, it tied you closer, like your lives had quietly learned to move in the same direction.

That afternoon was calm, the kind that felt slow and warm, sunlight pouring lazily through store windows and turning everything soft and golden.

Eren walked beside the grocery cart, one hand loosely gripping the handle while the other held his phone. The wheels made a faint rattling sound as he pushed it down the aisle. His mom, Carla, stood a few steps ahead, carefully comparing two different brands like it was the most serious decision of the day.

“Eren, which one do you think is better?” she asked, holding up two packages.

He glanced up for half a second. “Uh… the one on the left?” he answered automatically — clearly not mentally present.

Carla gave him a knowing look, already aware her son’s attention was somewhere else. She shook her head with a small smile and went back to inspecting the label.

Eren’s focus returned to his screen.

Your name sat at the top of the chat, and just seeing it made his expression soften. The corners of his lips lifted without him even realizing. After all this time, you still had that effect on him — easy, natural, like breathing. His thumbs moved across the screen.

“I’m doing grocery shopping w/ Mom rn.”

A second later:

“wbu, what you doing?”

He leaned slightly against the cart handle as he waited, the noise of the store fading into background static. People passed by, carts bumped, announcements played overhead — but in that small moment, it felt like just him and that blinking typing cursor he hoped would appear.

Being with his mom like this used to embarrass him back in early high school. Now, it just felt… normal. Comfortable. Safe. And somehow, you were part of that comfort too — woven into the everyday parts of his life, not just the big dramatic moments. Carla finally placed the item into the cart. “Stop texting and help me find the pasta,” she said, though her tone was gentle.

“I am helping,” Eren muttered, not looking up. “Morally.”

She laughed under her breath and started walking again, and he followed, pushing the cart with one hand while still holding his phone in the other — waiting for your reply like it was the most important notification in the world.

Because to him, it kind of was.