A/N: I felt really inspired by a fanart and headcanon I saw on tumblr by user glitchgoat (/post/70526029853), and I also thought that this would work really well as a prequel to "When You Break," another one of my Eremika fics on FF. Updating this collection is really dependent on how many smaller fics (ones under 1k words) I whip out. The third and final chapter of "For All Who Remain," another Eremika fic I have going, should be out soon.

3. Rumors

"I saw it happen. Last night," Eren hears across the room. He begins to wash the dishes as quietly as he can. Beside him, Mikasa places the pots back in the cupboard with deliberate care.

"You don't think that they, you know..."

"I can hardly believe it either, but what else would they be doing?"

"Dammit!"

The two boys peer over their shoulders to steal a glance: Connie with stunned curiosity, and Jean with more malice than usual.

Eren returns with what he hopes is an expression of ambiguity, and he and Mikasa leave the room together—just to give them a good show. They share a quick smile upon making it to the safety of the hallway, but they soon remember the reality of the situation, wiping the slates of their faces clean, and parting ways in a cold and solemn silence.

. . .

"You're leaving again?"

"Go back to sleep, Armin," Eren whispers back, his hand on the door knob.

"Look, Eren I know what you're really doing, and the others think—"

"I don't fucking care what the others think, okay Armin?" In urgency, the words come out much harsher than intended, and Eren inwardly curses. But they're not the only two awake. Connie's snoring has ceased, and Jean, usually quite the restless sleeper, has gone stiff.

"Goodnight," Eren says. He leaves without apologizing.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, he holds his breath as he passes the Lance Corporal's room, cringing when he hits a creaky floorboard, he makes it safely past.

When he opens the next door, he's met with the sound of Sasha's thunderous snoring in contrast to Krista's deep, yet light breathing. Ever so quietly, he takes a seat on Mikasa's bed.

"Did I wake you?" he asks when she sits up.

Mikasa nods her head: "But it's all right," she whispers.

He can see the lie in her eyes—the tears that gather in the corners, tears the darkness fails to conceal.

She pulls back the covers like she usually does. "Are you ok?" she studies him with care.

"Yeah," he says, climbing in beside her, "I just couldn't sleep."

That's a lie too.

They always start out this way: on opposite sides of the bed, facing opposite ways, because sometimes that's enough to get them through the night. Simply being in each other's company is sometimes all it takes to console their troubles and soothe their minds. Other times, it takes something more.

Her hand brushes against his arm. "Eren?" she says, her voice wavering.

Turning, he wraps her in his arms, and pulls her into his chest; her hands circle around his waist, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming out in hiccups.

"You'll wake the others," he warns, but even so, he holds her closer, his fingers tangling with the hair at the nape of her neck.

The others. Jean and Connie. In their minds, he's validated every one of their claims. Though really, what they say and think is the least of his worries. He'll take their stares of shock, and maybe even horror, over their looks of pity any day.

There is, at least, some small dignity preserved in the rumours that surround them. It gives them room to breathe within the cramped walls of the cabin which threaten to suffocate them if the veil of whispers were ever to be torn and reality revealed.

For if it helps to conceal the truth, if it hides the tears dripping off her chin from view, let them gossip, let their minds race to scandal, let them think that she pulls her scarf to her face to cover the condemning marks that supposedly stain her skin. So be it. It is a small price to pay.

Let them talk.

While it is the past that plagues her thoughts—the two parents lost to the blade of the knife, a second home and future crushed in The Fall—it is the future that troubles him most. He fears what lies await in dreams, what the nightmares will foretell—a transformation he cannot return from, the blood on his hands of faces he once knew, the evanescence of consciousness entirely—he's seen it many times before. And though each time they crawl beneath the sheets it's not to lose themselves in the throes of passion, but to cry like the helpless children that they really are, being with her assures him that he has a heart. A beating, human heart.

She's still crying. Her hand to her mouth, she tries to stifle her sobbing, and all Eren can do is pull her tighter, and pray that the tears in his own eyes don't fall.

It's on the worst of nights like this one, when he wipes the tears that roll down her cheeks, that he's reminded of how the cruelty of the world corrupts all that is beautiful, how it steals the breath from all that lives.

And sometimes he wonders if kissing her would stop the tears from falling, because sometimes holding her in his arms isn't enough. But he never summons the courage to find out. Never summons the courage to confirm the rumors.

In the end, it would be best for talk to remain talk.

Also, just a reminder that you can PM or leave me a prompt in the reviews any time. I can't promise that I'll get to it or do it (if it's extremely OOC I might not be able to manage it), but I'll do my best. Thanks for reading!