It wasn't supposed to be like this. There was supposed to be hope, a brighter future.
There was supposed to be Franz.
"Hannah!" Armin said. "Hannah!"
The way he said her name made bile rise in her throat. Was that really her name? Was this really happening?
She just needed to try harder; Franz had promised to protect her, and it was only fair that she do the same.
"Hannah, you have to get away from him!"
Their lips met, and Hannah continued to try and get him to breathe. This was nothing new; Franz had choked during dinner once and needed to be revived. She had saved him before, and she would save him again.
Breathe, Hannah thought. She moved red hair away from her eyes. Breathe, Franz, breathe!
"Hannah, please listen to me!"
She closed her eyes. "Armin, I need to help Franz."
The front of her shirt and the sides of her lips were sticky and stained red. Hannah could wash that off later, once Franz revived and they all left with Armin. The Titans would be behind them, kept away by a stone wall. Franz would recover and everything would be fine.
Things would go back to the way that they were supposed to be.
"Franz," Hannah said, rubbing hot, salty tears away from her eyes. "You have to breathe!"
Usually he listened to her, pausing to let her share her opinion and try to give him advice. He was thoughtful and cared, always gentle.
"Franz!"
There were hands on her shoulders.
"Hannah, look down!" Armin was speaking again. He was nearly screaming, and his grip was surprisingly tight. "Does Franz look alive to you?"
It was hard to see between her tears, but she saw a lot of dark red. A long time before, that was the color of her mother's prettiest dress, the one that she had played in often as a little girl.
"He's dead." His voice lowered. "Do you think that Franz would want you to die too?"
Hannah stood up, her eyes never once leaving the body below her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Armin, we need to go."
Using her 3D Maneuvering Gear, she got to the roof of the nearest building. Her swords were out and ready for use.
Looking below, she could still see what was left of Franz.
She raised her swords; it was her job to protect him now, and she would be damned if she failed.