I never told him when he was alive, and he did not say the words to me. We both knew that it was neither the time nor place for that. It would have made us weak, vulnerable. We could not let that truth out. We would no longer prioritize our mission had we done so. This world we lived it had no place for that. We didn't know if we'd survive the next day, the next week, the next month. Those words would have changed everything, would have made the eventual pain impossible to bear. I think he knew though. Like I also knew. And we both held a hope for a future in which we would be free to express it though words, through promises, but until then we made do with stolen glances, a wayward touch, and sometimes when it all became too much to bear we indulged in physical contact, in the mindless, satisfying comfort we could only find with each other. We never talked about it afterward. I always went back to my own quarters, and dreamed of a future. A future we would never have. And I regret that I never told him. I will always regret not giving him the serum. But this was your wish, wasn't it? Erwin? To finally let go of your burden? Which is why I did what I did. And as I carried his body and laid him to rest in that place that I had chosen as his grave, I allowed myself a short moment to grieve. There would be more time later. My tears fell onto his chest as I finally said the words I'd never told him. No one was there to hear them.