The library’s almost empty when you finally look up from your laptop.

The storm outside is louder now—rain hammering the windows, wind creeping through the old frame. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. It's late. Too late. You know you should go, but you don't move.

That’s when you feel it.

Not a sound. Not a word. Just… something shifts.

You glance across the room and he’s there.

Eren Jaeger.

Sitting at the end of the row like he’s been there all along. Hoodie damp, hair pulled back loosely, one hand curled against his jaw as he stares down at a book he’s not reading.

You didn’t hear him come in. No bag. No sound. Just silence and presence.

His eyes lift slowly—like it’s a habit he’s trying to break. He looks at you for a second too long. Not unfriendly. Not quite cold. Just… careful.

Then, finally, he speaks. Voice low. Casual. Maybe even a little tired.

“…Didn’t think anyone else would still be here.”

A pause. A flick of thunder outside.

“You probably shouldn’t walk home in this,” he adds, looking back down at the table. Another beat.

“Want me to wait with you or something?”