Do you know what happens when you see something you really wished you had never seen? Something that you know will be imprinted in your mind like tattoos into skin for the rest of your life, it might fade a little over time, but it will still remain there when the school pen in your hand has been replaced by a walking stick and you're living life from a the depths of a comfy armchair, wrapped up warm with memories of the past.
You can see his long, bony fingers working through her light ginger hair. You had always thought that hair unremarkable in every single possible way. It fell short and choppy at her shoulders; lifelessly. It didn't have any extra shine or bounce or anything, it was just ordinary. But now. Now, it was different when it was slightly mused and with the rays of a setting sun behind it. It looked like her hair had been spun from the rays of sunlight and only his hands were permitted from Apollo to touch it, and you care about what those hands are doing.
Did you know that every single moment before that, the moments you wish you could erase from your memory, bubble right back up to the surface too? They punch you in the gut and that pain, searing and twisting, ripples through your body like it wants to get to know every single fibre of it as intimately as possible. The pain reminds you that you'll never be able to go back and change what you've done and what you haven't.
You can see her fingers in his hair too. Playing with the shorter strands at the nape of his neck and then twirling playfully with the longer ones on top, they looked comfortable their like they were familiar with the act; acting like it was normally to possess another person's hair that way. They're forehead to forehead, hip to hip and nose to nose; pressed together like two puzzle pieces that don't fit together but with all their soul want to. They want to so bad they'd push themselves into positions they've never been in just to fit. Cheek pressed against cheek. Knees brushing against knees. Nose rubbing against another's nose. Lips pressed against lips.
That's the first wave of memories that take over you. The second comes with startling clarity and vibrant colours, like everything but the past is dull and lacking in light and colour. The second wave hits and teases you, bringing forth all the clues, all the signals, which should have led you to this moment without you ever having to experience it. They should have shown you what was going to happen, make it easy to read and see the situation for what it is. But you missed them. You let them go; you let them waltz away like dust being brushed away. It was so easy to forget about those little, easily thrown away details. You should have held onto them tighter and built up armour with those pasts.
Lips pressed against lips
Kissing
They're sharing the taste of their lips with each other
The taste of their breath, sharing oxygen
They're sharing that feeling of being close to someone else and capturing each other unsaid words
That's all you can see, and you feel sick; sick to bone, ill to the core. It feels like a sickness you've always carried but you've only just became aware that it's there. It's like the floor has been pulled out from under you and you're falling and falling and you're never going to hit the ground. You feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. What you're seeing can't be real? It's all wrong, because this shouldn't have happened this way; it was never supposed to happen like this. You never saw this one coming.
You feel betrayed.
Then you become numb.
The numbness is always going to come to you eventually. It spreads over your body like how frost forms on grass through icy nights. You become numb because there really is no other way to deal with what you're seeing, because you hadn't prepared yourself for this. Numb and empty and lost, because you can't fathom how this can be real.
You hold your breath, you know that if you let out a sound they'll here you and you'll have to face the truth.
You want to run away.
You stumble back through the open door, catching yourself silently as you trip a little on the uneven flooring.
You want to hide.
You press the palms of your hands to your eyes. You don't want to see anything anymore, but it's painted across your eyelids and haunting the normally welcomed darkness.
You
Lift your gaze
Fight
Her eyes widen in surprise
The
He lets out a gasp
Tears
Because they've caught you and you've caught them
You can feel
And you can't escape and this is real
Burning at the back
Teal- green eyes meet your stare and his mouth opens
Of your grey eyes
"I can explain everything."
But you really don't believe he can.
A fist connects with his cheek as Armin tries to dodge to the right, he's not fast enough to miss it, but he doesn't get the full effect, thankfully. It's still enough to send him sailing into the brick wall behind him, though. The wall was part of the building he'd been hiding behind; hiding to complete the maths homework no one else really cared about. Blood gushes from a gash in his eyebrow and a small gasp escapes his lips as another fist finds its home in his gut.
He doesn't cry. Armin never cries and that only makes it harder to watch. Harder because someone who's getting beaten up for the first time would cry out and Armin doesn't. Armin takes it in silence, only speaking up when his bully finally thinks up something smart enough to say. Armin doesn't cry because this, being outnumbered and bloody, is a place he's been before.
The three boys who play the role of Armin's tormenter today are unfamiliar; perhaps they're boys from the higher year. One has hair like cooper, one is tall with an ugly tattoo creeping up under his school collar and the other has a shaved head with a bar going through his eyebrow. I don't care if I know them and neither does Eren as he slams a fist into the nearest boy's chin and tackles him to the ground. We stare at them for a split second; the boy, with the eyebrow bar, holding Armin by his collar, their third accomplice with the coopery hair and I.
They roll around; Eren swinging wild and unaimed punches while the other looks up at his friends to help. Neither of them does; something which I can't help but think is a smart move on their part.
I don't even give them a glance before I tie my fingers through Eren's hair and yank him always, staring stonily at the boy underneath him. A trickle of blood is running from Eren's nose, but he doesn't seem to notice as he squirms away from me and reaches out towards the boys, hands balled up into fists.
He won't get away; he should understand that by now. I've got nothing but a firm grip on him.
"Mikasa, what are you doing?" I tighten my grip in his hair and twist him away from the boys, so he's standing straight and looking right at me. I don't let go. The boys murmuring carries on the wind so I can hear him say something to the boy still holding onto Armin and as I glance at them, I see their eyes grow wider. "I was avenging-" I pinch his cheek before he can finish, earning myself a miserable look from him.
"You were about to get your ass kicked," I let go of him and look over to where Armin is, "Again." I add, knowing that without looking back at him he'd have turned two shades brighter pink then he was a minute ago, and five shades more pissed. Last time Eren got into a fight defending Armin was still fresh in my mind and the bruises that shaded his skin were too, he didn't need any more gems to add to his ever growing collection.
"Mi-ka-Mikasa? Mikasa Ackerman?!" The idiot holding onto Armin stumbles over my name and his grip loosens on Armin, who lets out a relieved sigh and pushes his hands away roughly before collapsing back onto the wall and pushing his hair away from his face before it gets stuck in it.
"Are you okay, Armin?" He nods slightly and raises his blue eyes to meet mine. He shouldn't have done that. I could convince myself that after years of receiving these beatings he'd build up some kind of resistance to it; that he'd become hardened against it and his skin wouldn't break and bruise as easily as a peach, that the pain wouldn't get to him as much. He even would try to convince me that he had, but I was wrong, and his wide eyes were what were constantly giving him away.
They were like blue crystal glass; clear, sharp and easy to see through. They told me that the cut on his eyebrow was deeper than it initially looked. That the hit to his cheek wasn't the first one he'd received, that this had been going on for a while before Eren and I had arrived. That if we had arrived a little bit later there might have been tears mixed in with the blood. Eren must see it too, because he's wriggled out of my grip and is jumping at the guy I had only just detached him from again.
I don't go after him this time. Instead, I rub the knuckles of my right hand against the palm of my left and shift my glare to the guy who'd been punching Armin a few minutes ago. It felt longer than a few minutes, but it always did. He had been laughing when Eren and I had rounded the corner in our search for Armin, his head thrown back with a grin spread from ear to ear. He looked more like a sugar addict who'd been given a shit load of candy for Christmas then a guy about to smash his fist into someone's face. "Tell me, will you still be laughing when I slap that grin off your face?"
He's not grinning now, in fact his friend is tugging him on his arm and he's backing away. Eren groans and I sigh when I see him lying on the ground clenching his nose. "Liam, let's go." Maybe the guy tugging with cooper for hair, the one who is talking to Liam, is pretty smart after all. He doesn't look like he wants to be there and he'd already been backing away with his tail between his legs when we got there.
We stare off against each other for a second before the three moves away from us backwards, their hands placed forward like they're trying soothe a wild beast, their eyes darting from my face to Armin and then to Eren and then repeating the sequence again. I look down at Eren; he doesn't look much like a wild beast with blood dripping from his nose and his school shirt and tie pulled askew. They don't start running until they've reached the far side of the wall and are tripping over each other in order to get around the corner and out of our line of sight.
We're behind the science block, a building situated on the Far East side of campus and away from the rest of the buildings. It had surprised me that no one else came down here when we first arrived at the school, so it had become our spot. People had tried to weasel their way in, like a group of smokers from the year below and a few couples searching for a safe place to make out, but Eren had sent them packing. Sent them packing after earning himself a swollen ankle and a grazed chin in the first case and a wave of the middle finger with the second case.
This was our place; mine and Eren's and Armin's. This was a quiet place just for us. When we needed some time away from the busy rush of the school day or wanted to breathe some air that wasn't been shared by one of our classmates or when Armin had homework he need to do, this was where we came. As we had climbed up the school years, most people had come to understand that and didn't bother us anymore, but there was always someone, or in this case three someones.
Eren rips some of his shirt off and presses it to his nose, making me want to roll my eyes at him. I would've gone to get him something if he had just asked. He knew I would've. I always do and I always will.
Hannes wasn't going to like it when I told him tonight on our weekly phone call that he'd have to buy Eren some new shirts. He had already had to buy a new pack a couple of weeks ago, he wouldn't be happy to hear that after two weeks Eren had already burned through all twelve of them already.
Eren bends down to help Armin, but he shakes his head and shoves away Eren's outstretched hand gently. I knew Eren was just trying to help him, but Armin never wanted help after being knocked down, so why they went through the process each time this happened, I would never understand. Armin would heave himself up in his own time, by himself.
Part of the charm of the science block was what lay beyond it. Blossom trees and this is where we sat every day, under the cover of the trees and away from everything else. The world seemed less real here, like there couldn't possibly be anything more to the world beyond the blossom and the science block. This was our world.
Armin shuffles over to them, dragging his bag behind him and wincing with every step. It was painful to watch and I had to fight to keep myself from walking over to flip him over my shoulder and carry the remainder of the way, but I knew better then to embarrass him that way, so I wait with Eren. Both of us watching and poised just in case we ever needed to dart over and help our friend.
I don't move until Armin has slid down the bark of the closet tree and Eren has moved to sit next him; I follow him. Sinking down on my knees besides Eren, I survey the damage inflicted on my two friends; nothing too serious, they might wake up a bit sore, but at least they'll be waking up in their own beds and not in the medical room.
"Why'd you stop me, Mikasa?" Eren looks at me sideways after interrogation Armin over what had happened. Armin said it was the usual, that they just needed someone weaker to take their anger out on and he was just there at the right time. I can't say I'd call it the right time. Eren also asks him how he got the cut in his eyebrow; Armin says that they were trying to make him more punk rock, whatever that meant. Armin said it like it was ironic and laughs lightly to himself. I asked him what they were angry about, but Armin just shrugs and says he didn't have time to ask in between the hits. Then he bows his head over as he pulls out his homework and hastily starts scribbling down answer after answer.
Eren's angry at me; he looks just like his mother when he's angry. The look he's wearing now, that was the last look I ever saw pass across her face and it causes me to finch away from him seeing it mirrored on his. He doesn't even notice. "I don't need you to look out for me." Funny that, I think, because can't he see I always am.
"I can explain everything."
You can't find your voice. It's stuck like bubble-gum in your throat and you're about to choke on it. Words, what are words? They are traps for people to fall into and they're trapped; trapped from escaping and making themselves real and trapping people with their pretty lies and hurting people with their revolting truths. The silence drags around you and you've lost sense of what you're eyes are looking at. You can't separate him from her, even now. Even now they've pull away from each other, heaving long, deep and fast breaths, breaths that fill the silence like rushing water in a glass case. The water only has to push a little too hard until the glass shatters. You feel like you're drowning in the silence, but also wishing that it would never go away.
But you don't need words because someone already has them for you. Someone you didn't realise was there, but a small, tiny part of you is glad he is. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder and his voice speaks up from behind you, his breath ticking your neck and making you shiver. He's made you move even though you were sure that you were frozen. "Are you sure about that, Eren?" He breaks the glass case for you.
You don't know how long he'd been stood behind you. The whole time? Who knew? He wouldn't need to have been there the whole thing; you already know that. Eren's top is scrunched up and wrinkled from when she had been holding on to it and her face is flushed and there was no denying both of their ruffled hair. He would have been a fool not to understand what had happened here, even without taking into account the pink lipstick which is smudged over each of their lips. He had seen it. You had seen it, and you almost wish you hadn't.
"Jean-!" And then it comes rushing down on you and you realise that you can't be there. You can't listen to him. You don't want to hear the words now; he shouldn't be saying them now. He could have been saying them ba- you run; leaving only Jean to shout after you. You would have told him, that's all you can think. That's the words you wish you could say to him; they're the words you need to say. They're the words lodged painfully in your throat. You wouldn't have betrayed him like this. Eren doesn't call after you and his quietness does nothing but push you on.
He's not even trying to stop and explain to you. That's fine you try to tell yourself, you don't need for him to explain to you and then
You run
"Mikasa!"
And you run
"Jesus Christ, Mikasa stop!"
Until you can't hear your own thoughts over you laboured breathing
A phone rings behind you, an annoyingly chirpy tune which is cut short by "Not now, Marco. Can we talk later?" then a pause and a "Mikasa, please you have to stop." He's pleading.
You don't stop and never want to. You speed up, pumping your arms and pulling away from the scene even further; pulling away from Eren. You've never needed the distance before, but now you need it like oxygen. You need the space between you, because right then it feels like it's closing in on you and you're starting to understand what it feels like to be claustrophobic.
"Mikasa, I know how you must feel, but-" The ringtone starts playing again and he lets out a string of curse words down the phone before hanging up with no explanation. He's breathing heavy now, but he doesn't let it stop the words.
Run
"Mikasa,
Run
TALK TO ME, MIKASA
Run faster
I'M RIGHT HERE
Run harder
YOU DON'T HAVE TO RUN FROM ME
RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!
I'M ON YOUR SIDE
RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!
YOU KNOW THAT, DON'T YOU?
Your thoughts are so scrambled, you don't think you do
MIKASA! WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL GROUNDS
You don't see anything around you but a blur of colours, colours that are too bright and beautiful to belong in this cruel world. You're running so fast you don't see details; you don't know where you're going. All you want is to feel the burning in your lungs and a stitch in your side and blisters on your feet. You want to run and run until it hurts so you can focus on something, on anything.
MIKASA!
You don't want to hear him
STOP, MIKASA, YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL OUT HERE
You don't see anything
STOP, MIKKKKAAASSSSSSSAAAAAAAAA
You don't see the car.
