Wings
They say Mikasa could fly if she wanted.
Everything begins with Eren when he grabs the knife and sticks it straight through a human heart. He isn't the kind of boy who ever thinks twice about anything and it helps that his intuition is usually on point. Mikasa thinks that kind of thinking will get him killed someday—she knows that kind of thinking will get him killed someday. And she isn't completely wrong, but.
He saves her.
Things could've been different. She could've been sent away. She could've been a slave. She could've been turned into a commodity—a whore. Mikasa might've accepted her fate and let it eat her away from the inside out. She would've bled out the depths of her own despair and she probably would've taken away her own life if it hadn't been for Eren.
Eren.
He teaches her. There's value in your life. It's nothing something he has to say aloud for her to understand. His lessons stay hidden in his silences. You are valuable.
For once, Mikasa matters.
Even after everything is taken away from her, she still matters to someone. She is somebody's person. There is someone who wants her to stay alive; there is somebody who is willing to put life and limb on the line to keep her breathing. And knowing this little bit of knowledge changes almost everything.
Changes the way everything looks to her. She can feel it—she can feel something deep inside her shift and, quite suddenly—not all at once—the day feels a little brighter, a little longer.
Eren gives her his red scarf, and she gives him her life.
He shoots her a smile, "Just close your eyes and count to three, and we'll be home."
Mikasa has something worth living for now.
She learns to fight at an early age. It's something that comes easy to her. Something that doesn't come as easily to Eren. He knows she's better than he is so she tries to hide her talents to reassure him that they're on even footing. It's an easy sacrifice for her to make.
Mikasa doesn't want the most important person in her life to feel as if he's not good enough—especially when he'll always be good enough for her. She likes to see Eren happy. And she learns, at this young age, that his happiness will always be something that means more to her than her own happiness.
His happiness is her happiness.
"You don't have to go easy on me, you know," he tells her with a grin, "you shouldn't have to hide it. If you're good at what you do, then don't be afraid to show it. Now, c'mon!"
She blinks twice and pulls the scarf over her lips to hide the smile that forms on her mouth.
It feels good to have someone be proud of her.
You're always saving me, Eren.
Even when she wants to die alone in the middle of an alleyway, even when her wings wilt, Eren still somehow manages to find her and lift her into the blue.
Fragile isn't quite the word to describe her and Mikasa would quickly put a blade to anyone's throat if the word so much as slips from their mouths. But there's only so many encasements she can hide herself away in before she cracks under the pressure—before the walls collapses inside of her.
Despite everything, glass can still cut Mikasa open and make her bleed.
"Please…don't do that again," Eren says to her, and he forces a smile out of good faith, "you really had me worried."
Mikasa is quiet. I'm sorry she wants to say, but the words don't quite find their way out of her mouth. I'm sorry I disappointed you.
She realizes she's forgotten she has something to live for—someone to live for. She clutches the red scarf wrapped around her neck. (Just close your eyes and count to three, and we'll be home)
"It won't happen again," she tells him, "I promise."
It's a promise she won't break. Not any time soon while Eren is alive, anyway.
At some point, they are sitting in the middle of an empty field filled with titans closing in on them and Mikasa is almost sure they're going to die today. She can barely breath but she puts on the brightest smile she can manage—as bright as she can make it, anyway—and she tells Eren thank you. She's almost sure if she doesn't say it now, she'll never be able to tell him again. Thank you for teaching me how to live.
Eren has tears rolling down his face in big, fat globs. Mikasa can't tell if it's because he's truly afraid of dying, or—
They could kiss. She's so close. Mikasa almost imagined herself to be more panicked. But she'd never felt more relaxed.
The idea of dying isn't so scary once you watch it happen in front of your eyes over and over again. Mikasa should know. She's watched far too many people die. She's watched Eren die. She's watched him die so many times, she's lost count. And every time, it rips her heart apart in a different way.
The red scarf sitting on her lap feels heavy and she meets his gaze with a sad smile on her face.
Eren grabs the scarf and wraps it around her neck. I won't let you die. But he doesn't have to say it because she already knows.
Mikasa closes her eyes and counts to three.
"Eren," her voice is a low whisper and she holds his hand tightly at his bedside. Mikasa can feel every pulse, every muscle fiber tense and relax into her hand. She tries to force a smile and presses his hand against her cheek. Warm.
He's alive. Eren might not know it but it takes every bit of effort for her to resist the urge to cry right in front of him. Mikasa has to stay strong for him. If she doesn't, she knows nobody else will.
"I don't want to see you die anymore," it's a forced whisper, but she manages to get the words out without choking up.
Eren has this look of the perpetually perplexed, but it fades to a look of understanding and acknowledgment and he manages to give her a curt nod, "I won't," he tells her. And he smiles because, well, he's Eren and she's Mikasa. He's the kind of boy who lives for tomorrows and she's the girl who's trying to keep him alive all at the same time.
They say Mikasa could fly if she wanted to, but without Eren, her wings would wilt.
"Don't cry," he tells her, "it won't happen again. I promise."
He lifts her hand presses his lips gently against her fingers and for once—just for once—she doesn't believe him.