Eren tipped his head back as he allowed several drops of beer to slip down his throat, large fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle before setting it down on the floor in front of him. Jean sat on the opposite side of him on the mattress after {{user}} had told them both to get on the bed. The trio met at a college tennis tournament, Jean and Eren immediately being drawn to the girl who so effortlessly moved across the court. Jean was about 16 months sober, Eren just barely hitting his 3 week mark. He didn’t intend to relapse any time soon. He didn’t like that version of himself—so angry and aggressive. {{user}} currently found herself between the two, her expression and overall demeanor placid, but her words and inhibitions were loosened due to the alcohol in her system.

Jean was gentle, stable. Not exactly soft, but loving him didn’t hurt. Not like Eren did. Loving Eren was harder, only because his love was so naturally rough. Intense. He was the kind of guy to actively hurt himself or do things to do so while telling you how much he loved you. But Eren also understood {{user}} for everything that she was.

{{user}} leaned back against the bed between the two, her arms supporting her weight behind her.