A/N: umm I don't remember why I wrote this part but ehhhh so I'm gonna take an exam in less than 3 hrs I'm so gonna kick ass

the usual: WARNING: UNBETA'ED AND NOT PROOF READ I'M SO SORRY

Jean, hello? Is that you on the line now? Oh, thank God.

An eyeroll. Thank God, he said.

I'm so very, very sorry.

Of course, he is.

You're good with duck-pin, right?

Jean regrets the day he ever mentioned playing the sport.

This is really important. Please. Cough, cough. More coughs. Jean winces behind the line because it sounds like Armin might throw up a lung or two.

He's not sure if that's a part of his persuasion but it worked. He mentally kicks the part of himself who is a sucker for the weaker kind.

He should've endured the noises, told himself he heard nothing and close his eyes before slamming their house phone back in the receiver and pull the cable, just in case Armin calls again. He's such a fucking pussy.

Now look where that got him.

It's a Sunday, which means his mother will let him sleep in and wake up whenever he felt like it. She wouldn't barge into his room like most days and bring him meals lest he miss lunch. He can't miss meals, his Mama said. She's so fucking annoying. Jean's sixteen now, he doesn't need her babying him anymore. He's an adult now.

Anyway, back to Sunday. Yes, Sunday.

Sunday is his break from his Mama day. Well, his Sunday this week seems to be still following his preference, but there's a catch.

He can have a break from his Mama's annoying babying, but he had to baby someone else.

He doesn't really mind though, he thinks he's good with kids anyway. There are some weekends or after school hours when their neighbour who is a single parent, had to stay later for work and needs someone to look after their 5 and 7 year old. Too noisy and dirty, but Jean deals with them just fine.

The kids like him. Listens to whatever he says and behaves whenever he's watching. Like they want to impress him, catch his attention.

But that's not the case here this time.

Of all people that Armin had to meet with that day, it has to be Eren.

Why him? Why can't be anyone else? Heck, he'll even gladly accept to be in Mikasa's company, if that means he can avoid Mama or Eren.

But no, it's Eren.

Why him? Why, why, why?

To be honest, he has no problem with the kid whatsoever, but it seems like it was the other who has problems against him. From the intensity of the glare Eren sends him whenever they cross paths, he can approximate that's it's a lot.

He doesn't understand why though.

He never messed with the guy, respected whatever opinion he had, never even cussed in front of him…but they way he looks, it makes Jean feel like he just jeopardized the fate of humanity.

Jean flinches the moment he sees Eren step into the bowling alley. When those big eyes met his, he shed bullets of cold sweat.

Is this going to end with another quarrel?

He better start composing an apology speech later at the phone for Armin, he thinks. Just in case.

Then he mentally kicks himself again for being such a softie. He's too nice isn't he? Marco said so. It was both a blessing and a curse, he said too. Armin must've known that's why he was probably the number one guy to call in his list that morning. Damn.

The moment Eren's eyes met his, Jean saw hesitation in his steps, but approached his seat anyway.

Jean remembered Armin telling him a few hours ago that he specified a certain lane for them to meet, so it won't be a problem.

But the thing is, when Eren was close enough for Jean to hear, he told Jean, "What are you doing here?" Eren's voice tired and unamused. Like it was just some horrible prank. A horrible prank Armin pulled. He hoped so too. Eren makes him jumpy and nervous, and he knows well why. But he'd rather die than admit it to anyone, or well, to Eren, most specifically.

'Cause he's probably too transparent, he knows that Marco knows, Armin knows, maybe even the rest of the kids who knew both Eren and Jean. Except Eren, because that boy's stupid. He's actually thankful Eren's stupid, to be honest.

His train of thoughts come to a sudden stop when he notice Eren raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to answer. So far so good, he thinks. Then he swallows. Jean opens his mouth and feels his voice quiver so he speaks louder, hoping to cover the quiver in his voice and to be heard properly against the noise of crashing pins and restating frames from nearby lanes. It's suddenly too noisy.

"Didn't Armin tell you?"

Eren furrows his brows at this, looks down and pulls out a mobile phone in his pocket. Makes those motions with his fingers indicating he's scrolling through his contacts, maybe checking for unread messages and missed calls.

A few moments later, he looks back up to Jean, looking more confused than before, shrugging and showing his conversation thread and calls history with Armin.

There was nothing.

That coconut-headed asshat.

So far Eren is confused and looking at Jean as if he were his only salvation, and he supposes that that was better than getting ignored or anything else Eren does in his presence.

So swallows again, and formulates a legitimate sentence in his head, something that Eren would think was reasonable enough so they could do themselves both a favour and end this meeting without either of them rolling on the floor exchanging kicks and punches, because really, they're adults now. Hitting each other is so elementary school. Jean's sick of it.

Surprisingly, Eren listened. Nodded his head after his not-so-okay legitimate explanation and then moved to slouch on one of the seats beside Jean's.

For a couple of minutes they just sat there unmoving, the sound of crashing pins and occasionally bowling balls slamming harshly on the lanes.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Jean who broke the stifling air of awkwardness.

"Why are they small?" It doesn't really sound like it was addressed to Jean, it was more like a question Eren was muttering to himself as he glares down the lanes. Eyes squinting when someone from a lane nearby makes a strike and the striker and their friends screams in awe, some clapping and others whoop.

Eren's eyes move away from the lane to watch the striker's group, face turning bitter. He slumps deeper into his seat, hands stuck inside his dark jacket and mutters again, voice bitter and rather arrogant. "What's so special with getting a strike?"

Jean almost hears the its easy following the words and feel his eyebrows raise.

"Ever bowled before, Jaeger?"

"Huh?"

Eren's eyes looked deeper and the circle around them are dark, they look tired. Maybe the squinting thing isn't because he's bitter?

"Bowling." Jean clarifies.

"I know what that means." Was the reply and Eren's eyes immediately dart to the opposite direction where Jean was. Okay, he's scratching the tired theory. Eren's actually feeling bitter today.

Not too long after that Eren perks up again, returns his look back at Jean's and asks him, "Why are they small?" A hand still inside his jacket's pocket moves to point at the lanes. Oh, and he understands the confusion.

"Well, there's actually two types of bowling. One is ten-pin-the one you're probably used to see. The big ones." He pauses, and when he see Eren nod in confirmation, he continues.

"And then there's duck-pin," Jean gestures at one of the lanes, the same lane where one of players got a strike. As if on cue, two pins get taken down and the two hears the group go "Aw".

Eren gives them a look again, and asks Jean, "Why are they making such a big deal about hitting the pins?"

So Eren doesn't really know the difference between the two, Jean supposes.

"That's because its actually harder to score with duck-pins. Surface area and all that stuff." He explains patiently, feels like he's talking to the kids he used to babysit during his free time but with this one, he can freely go waving his hands in a "never mind that" gesture because unlike children, Eren could actually get "all that stuff".

And Eren did. Except he seems to have confidence in himself and thinks these people are just not that good with the sport when he suddenly stood up and walked to the counters.

Jean jumped from his seat, ran to follow Eren, confusion written all over his face. "Hey, wait what are you doing."

He was ignored.

"Open lanes 5 and 6 please." He tells the person manning the register. He gets handed a sheet and he gives it a bewildered look for a moment before nodding to the person in the register and walking back to their seat. Jean gives Eren's back a look of disbelief, pointing his retreating back to the person in the register who laughs at the obnoxious look Jean has at that moment and just waves at him to go follow his friend back and enjoy.

So they're actually gonna do this.

Fucking Jaeger, suddenly he wants to play? To prove he's better than all of them? Yeah, right. He snorts.

Sitting back to where he was before, he notices Eren wasn't making a move yet. He's still in his seat, staring at the scoresheet the register guy handed him earlier.

Seriously?

"Don't tell me you don't know how to score?"

Eren gives him the look of a lost puppy.

"Seriously?"

"Well, usually there's a big screen that tells the score. Is that what that slanted table was for?"

"Oh my God."

They ended up bowling.

They played fifteen games and it could've been more if Jean's mother didn't start calling him, worried because its already past 6 when he promised he'll be home as early as 5.

Eren did not look pleased. At all.

On his first try he immediately got into the canal, and that continued for at least three to five more frames. Then he's at the brink of screaming when the ball kept on rolling sideways no matter how steady his throw was, always twisting his hand in emphasize when he tells Jean, who gets an eight or a nine. Occasionally, he gets a strike, spare, and a break too, which pisses Eren off more.

Eren got nothing to say though, since they switch lanes every two frames. Saying that Eren's lane is the reason for his misses were out of the list.

Eren's a "let's play for one game, I'll show theses amateurs what a real bowling is like" turned into "one more game, I think I get it now".

Eren bowls a lot when he was younger, loved the sport. It helps him relax and it was something he does with his family, when his Dad wasn't so busy as much as these days and his mother didn't go travelling a lot.

Basically what he's trying to say is that he's pretty skilled himself.

When Armin asked him the other night to go visit a local bowling alley, he was elated.

Hell, elated was an understatement. He couldn't stop thinking about this day the day after that, couldn't sleep properly that night not because of the usual reasons but because he wanted the night to be over let the day happen already. He even brought his own ball for this.

Then imagine the surprise when he sees the lanes, the pins and the balls. They're tiny. It felt wrong and he felt like a person in a strange land with people who spoke different languages.

Can't say that wasn't the case either. The culture shock (can it be called as such?) was intense not only from learning there are different types of bowling, but as well as the scoring rules, how it differs from ten-pin and how its not so different at all.

He thinks it was ridiculous how one is provided with three balls per frame until he realizes that the game is giving the player a handicap because fuck its hard to control.

One miss is annoying but a consecutive is just a punch to the gut.

He hated the feeling of getting beaten at his own game. And by Jean of all people is worse.

The first game ends with Jean the victor, scoring 105 whereas Eren got a 45.

Pathetic.

Then he challenged Jean for another game and before he knew it they were in their fifteenth and Jean has to stop the game because his mother is getting worried.

Eren is still the loser. 15 out of 15 games the winner is Jean and it makes his blood boil.

They depart the bowling alley with Eren's eyes glaring daggers at Jean's retreating back.

Then without warning Jean turns to look back at him, then approach him in brisk steps it catches Eren off-guard.

"Oi, Jeager, what's your problem now?"

Huh?

"H-huh?" Eren got surprised at the sudden assault, his voice squeaking. Jean's brisk movements suddenly reminded his body what those brisk movements walking towards him associated it with.

Suddenly he feels small and his hands instinctively curl and he slips it immediately in his pockets, lest Jean notice. He braces for impact.

Except nothing came.

Jean was standing in front of him, not too close yet not too far to not hear his lowered voice.

"The glaring. What the hell did I do now? I won the game, big deal! You're a first-timer, its normal to suck on your first try. You think I'm a fucking expert when I started? No, I sucked just as bad as you do. I just happened to play all the time. It's called practice. Duck-pin is harder than ten-pin, Eren, so stop giving yourself a hard time like you're the only who sucked at duck-pin. The world won't care if you do and heck, I'm better than you, so what? Why do you even hate me this much?"

Eren was left speechless, unable to find a retort when Jean spoke so fast. Thoughts ran in his head for miles per second.

He was still lost in his own world when Jean mutters a set of cusses under his breath, turning his head left and right in exasperation and walks away calmly. Eren manages to hear him say "I'm getting tired of you and you're misplaced hate, to be honest. I don't even know what A…"

He thinks, why did he hate Jean again?

Still standing his spot, mortified, he doesn't remember.

He goes home with clothes damp because of his sweat.

His mother notices how he shivers underneath his jacket and takes it off for him. She scolds him, for walking around in shirts drenched in sweat, because the air is cold outside, he might catch something.

She points to his room, his jacket and shirt taken off of him, his sweaty back wiped off with his shirt. In her hands were his jacket and shirt and tells him to go take a bath. He might get sick.

So he did.

He has been thinking a lot lately. With the conversation that Armin seems to enjoy delaying and blurry memories. He's never been the type to remember things too well, after all. But sometimes they feel strange. Like doing something that felt like he had always did in the past, things he know and do that he cannot explain to anyone where and how he learned them. There's always tiny holes with missing pieces in his memory.

He yelps when he felt something poke his eye. It was sharp and painful and he cups a water with his hands to wash it off his eyes. Moving his eyes in a circular motion, he thinks it was probably an eyelash.

The mirror in the shower has gotten blurry due to steam, so he lathers soap in his hand and wipes the mirror down.

A swipe and he almost slips down the tiled floor when he sees him standing right behind him in the reflection. It was fleeting though, the moment he blinks the apparition is gone.

No baths for him then. His mother wouldn't know.