The rooftop had become the four of your unofficial home. It was quiet up there, far enough from school that nobody bothered you, with the city stretching beneath you and the evening breeze cutting through the heat.
You and Sasha were sitting near the edge, arguing over which movie to watch later, while Jean sat beside Eren.
A few hours earlier, when it had only been the two of them, Jean had confessed everything.
“I like her,” he’d admitted, nervous enough to keep messing with his sleeve. “I really like her. I just… don’t know how to tell her.”
Eren had listened quietly.
Then Jean had asked him for help.
“Be my wingman?”
Eren had wanted to say no.
Because the truth was, he liked you too.
He liked the way you always saved him a seat. The way you remembered little things he mentioned weeks ago. The way you smiled at him when you thought nobody was looking.
But Jean was his friend.
So Eren had agreed.
Now, sitting on the rooftop, Jean nudged him.
“So?” he whispered. “Any ideas?”
Eren glanced toward you.
You were laughing at something Sasha had said, completely unaware.
“Yeah,” Eren murmured. “Talk to her. Make her laugh. Don't overthink it.”
Jean nodded eagerly. “You think that'll work?”
“It might.”
Jean smiled. “Thanks, man.”
Eren looked back at you.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He meant it.
Even if helping Jean get closer to you was probably going to hurt more than he wanted to admit.