Sasha pulled her fingers through her hair, making faces at herself in her tiny old mirror as she tried to brush out the tangles. It was the first night of that summer, and finally warm enough to sleep with the windows open. The sounds of her friends' laughter and raucous singing drifted into her room with the smell of clover and new leaves.
She smiled as one of the boys broke into a botched 'Long Live the King.' "I think Connie's drunk," she said softly, putting her mirror down and looking out the window. Outside, a cloud of fireflies danced like festival lights in the little field between the house Levi had brought them to and the forest beyond. Connie and Eren were splayed out in the grass, laughing loudly and passing a pilfered bottle of whiskey back and forth. She looked back at her bed. "D'you wanna go join in?"
Jean rolled over and looked up at her with sleepy eyes. "Nah," he mumbled, grinning stupidly at her. His hair was a mess, flat on one side and sticking up on the other. She laughed, pulling the collar of his shirt up to cover her mouth. He rested his head on the pillow, still smiling. "You look cute." She blushed, tugging his shirt tighter around herself. He held out his hand. "C'mere."
Sasha crept over to the bed and sat down. He reached up and ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. "You have to go back to your own room, y'know." She caught his hand and pressed a kiss into his palm.
"We have plenty of time," he said lazily. "You have pretty hair."
She blushed again. "Shut up," she muttered.
Jean laughed, sitting up and pulling her into a hug. After a second, she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, slow and steady. "You're dumb," she whispered, leaning up and kissing his cheek.
He drew back and smiled slightly, then pressed his warm lips against hers. Sasha laughed and kissed him back, the air from the window like a breath of summer over her bare skin.
He tugged at the corners of the shirt and she pulled it off, sitting on his lap.
"Wow, Sash." She saw his light eyes running over the curves of her body. Suddenly, he broke into a wide smile. "You have the greatest tits."
"You ass!" she giggled, and punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Don't tell me you're only here for my boobs."
"Of course not," he chuckled, pulling her down on top of him and burying her face in her chest. He kissed the spot between her breasts. "They're just so nice."
"Ahaha—Jean! That tickles!"
"You're prefect all over." He bent and pressed his lips into the pale patch of skin above her belly. "You're perfect here," he kissed her wrist, "and here," he kissed her collarbone.
She smiled to herself, looking down. "Nah."
He looked up at her, his amber eyes catching the glow of the fireflies from outside. She could lose herself in his eyes. Before he could say anything else, she touched his chin and pulled him into another kiss. Her stomach fluttered at the feeling of his lips against hers, her heart warm and full of the fact that there was nothing to hurt them there. No titans, no gangs. Just him and the summer night.
He kissed her nose and pulled her down beside him on the bed. "I love you, Sasha, all of you," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers and rubbing his hands up and down her back.
"I know," she said, wrapping her arms around him and touching the tip of her nose to his. "I love you too."
.
She kicked open the doors of the old barn, the rusty hinges creaking loudly as they swung open. With Jean draped over her shoulder, she staggered in, her legs feeling like they were about to give out beneath her.
She brought him to a pile of old hay knelt down, laying him out as best she could before slumping against the wall of the building and closing her eyes. She blew out a slow breath through her nose. Her head was pounding, her muscles like jelly. All she wanted was to do was lie down and sleep.
No, she told herself, grunting and forcing herself back up. You have to help him first.
Her eyes fell on the cut on his head. She touched his jaw, moving his face to the side to look at it. It wasn't deep, she saw, and already scabbing over. It had just been on his scalp. Scalp wounds always bled the most, right?
She couldn't help but sigh in relief. Then she looked down, and that relief was gone.
His leg was bad. She swallowed, bile rising in her throat. Worse than she had thought. The bone was not only broken but splintered. He would be lucky if he could ever walk again. And that wasn't counting infection.
"I have to make a splint," Sasha said, as if he could hear her. "That's the first step." She could use strips of her uniform, but that was hardly enough. She pushed herself up and looked around the barn until she found a harvesting scythe. It was old, and the wood was dry. She took her blade, still covered with his horse's blood, and started to saw away at it.
What if he dies?
The thought wandered into her head like a thundercloud on a spring day. He's not going to die. She told herself, frowning and trying to focus. I just need to make him a splint and disinfect the wound and he'll be fine.
But disinfect it with what? She didn't have alcohol, and it wasn't like she could pour boiling water on an open wound.
"Shut up, Sasha," she scolded herself. "He'll be fine."
She broke the last of the wood free of the scythe with a kick and turned back to him, spreading his leg out on the hay.
Oh god oh god it's so bad.
She was going to vomit. There was blood and mangled flesh everywhere. He didn't need a splint; he needed surgery.
She didn't know how to put a bone back together. She didn't even know where to start. She could feel herself about to cry again, but she grit her teeth and swallowed her panic. "I'm so sorry, Jean," she whispered, then scraped the grime off of her fingers as best she could and tried to put the pieces of him back together.
.
Her horse pawed the packed earth floor of the barn. There was no point. And what the hell could a splint do if he died of infection anyway?
Sasha sat back and held her head in her bloody hands. She had been at it for hours, working by the light of the moon as it cut through the holes in the decrepit roof, trying to put the little fragments and slivers of his bone back where they belonged, but it pointless. It was useless.
She pushed herself off the ground and kicked the wall so hard that pieces of rotten wood rained down on them from the roof. "Dammit!" She shouted.
Her horse snapped its head towards her, its eyes wide and ears flat back at the sudden sound. Sasha sighed heavily, reaching out and touching its soft nose. "Sorry, boy," she said, stroking it until it perked up again. "Good boy."
Glancing back at Jean, she saw him lying in a patch of blue moonlight. "I can't let him die." She looked back up into her horse's big brown eyes. There were a few hours left before the sun rose. If she was going to do it, she had to do it now.
Sasha sighed again. She pulled off what remained of her uniform's jacket and laid it over Jean, a pathetic excuse for a blanket, then pulled her exhausted body up into her saddle.
"Let's go find some booze, buddy."
