My friend and Tumblr user Jungiana6 requested Mikasa trying to help a depressed Eren! Thank you so much for the request :') I wrote this with a little inspiration from Isayama's recent Q&A with fans.
For a while, she chose not to say anything. She wants to believe that she did it to give him space, but in truth, she was afraid of what she would hear. To this day, she has not recovered from learning about his and Armin's curse and she fears that asking him would bring about even more devastation. Because there are still memories he hasn't told her about, ones that belong to a time before either of them and she knows, can see the way they assault his conscious in sporadic intervals. Eren shakes her off the moment she comes to his aid and, with excuses thrown over his shoulder, he disappears until she seeks him out late in the evening.
"Why do you work late?" She asks one night, frowning at the slouch in his stance. "You've done so much already these past months. You should rest, at least a little more -"
He drops his head and sighs, irritated. She defeatedly considers abandoning the subject, again for his sake, but he turns around and the sight startles her.
"... Since when do you drink?"
He tips his head back in response, finishing what's left in the glass.
Despite the frustration that swells with this one-sided conversation, she remains calm and persists. "How much have you had?"
"Probably more than enough," he admits, refilling the cup. "Do you want some?"
For a minute, she actually thinks about it. The amber liquid is tempting with its supposed promise to make one forget, to help numb the pains of her past and present. She feels it; the ache in her chest that finds its way into her hands, in the arches of her feet and she weakens with a sudden onslaught of exhaustion.
She takes the glass from his hand, stares down at its contents with deep contemplation before putting it off to the side. She doesn't want to test that theory, not tonight. Not with him in such a state.
"Come," she says, tugging him by his sleeve. He stumbles a bit over his feet and she twines their arms, guiding them both towards the door.
"The paperwork -"
"Forget it," she replies curtly. "Someone else can take care of it in the morning."
After they round the second corner, he begins untangling himself from her grasp. "I can walk on my own, you know."
"It didn't seem like you could."
"Well I can," he shoots back, distancing himself from her.
Her tongue burns with pain as she bites down on it and she vehemently wonders where this attitude came from. But not minutes later, he surprises her with an apology. "I know you're trying to help. I don't mean - I shouldn't -"
"It's fine… it's just -" she casts her eyes to the side, hoping that her next words won't upset him. "You shouldn't be drinking. You are supposed to retest your shifting abilities tomorrow." He says nothing, simply walking beside her as they tread this familiar path. It doesn't take much for her to worry about him, but this behavior is beyond concerning. Never has he been irresponsible when it came to their duties, especially one as important as tomorrow's. Him working late, his mood swings, and now the drinking. The abnormality of it all is so blatant but she doesn't know what to do or how to help him, and it bothers her as much as it scares her.
When they locate his door, she pushes it open and sits him down on the mattress, seating herself on the empty space at his side.
"Why are you working so late?"
He runs a hand down his unshaven face, letting it fall to his lap. For the first time since she found him, he looks at her.
"It helps distract me."
She slants her head, prodding a little further in hopes that he'll talk more. "From what?"
To her dismay, he becomes withdrawn again and at this, she lets go of her resolve of coaxing answers out of him, decides to quit pretending like she doesn't know. "It's the memories, isn't it?"
His eyes fall shut, flinching at the question and he just nods, finishing the water. "You knew?"
Mindlessly, her fingers trace over the folds of her skirt. "When we were imprisoned, you talked to Armin about your father's memories. You woke up screaming because of them." Neither of them look at one another as the recall the time. "Ever since then, you've been spacing out and acting, well, not like yourself. I thought the memories might've been why."
"I don't even know what 'acting like myself' is anymore."
Her brows draw closer together. "What do you mean by that?"
He looks at her almost like he's revealed a secret before he shakes his head. "You should go to sleep," he suggests, clearly dodging the question. "Both of us. Like you said, I have another test tomorrow." He won't say it outright, but she can tell that he wants to be left alone again. "Worry about yourself. I'll be fine, Mikasa."
"I don't believe you."
His gaze snaps from the floor to her face, following her as she rises to her feet. "I wish you could believe me when I say I'm here, for anything. You don't have to shut me out."
The features of his face soften and she doesn't wait for him to answer. She mumbles a 'good night,' blinking away the moisture that collects in her eyes as the click of the door echoes through the vacant halls.
The test is disastrous.
She catches the gist of what happened from a conversation between two fellow comrades and is furious with the Captain for ordering her to stay behind. What she could've done, she isn't sure but that isn't what truly matters. In the medical ward, she glances inside each room she passes until she sees Connie, who pushes himself off the wall when he spots her.
"Connie," she pants, a little winded from rushing across headquarters. "Is he in there?"
"Yeah," he looks at the door she's pointing at. "He's in there."
"What went wrong?"
Connie leans back against the wall. "He got really sick after he transformed a few times. As a titan, he seemed distressed and wasn't listening to what Hanji was telling him. Captain Levi cut him out after he collapsed and didn't emerge from the nape on his own."
She blinks rapidly, looking at their boots as she remembers when something similar happened during one of Hanji's tests years ago. She's struggling to calm her nerves but manages one last question.
"Can I go in?"
"I'm pretty sure you can. He might be sleeping though. I'm waiting for Hanji-san to come back, but I think it would be alright if you see him. S'not like she could tell you no anyways."
She smiles at her friend, his light-hearted comment bringing her panic down a notch.
She touches his shoulder. "Thank you, Connie." He half grins, nodding as she turns the knob and enters the room.
She winces upon seeing him. The signs of his transformation replace the bags beneath his eyes, but his face is hollowed, skin a sickly color. His lids slit open when the door shuts, head lolling over in her direction.
"Mikasa…" She drags a seat from the foot of the bed, places it at his side and sits.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," he breathes, sucking in more air. "Better than earlier." He lifts a hand to his grimacing face, pushing away the hair that catches on his lashes and sticks to his neck. Immediately, she gazes down at the hair tie secured around her wrist.
"Do you think you can sit up?"
"I don't - think so. Could you help me?"
"Of course."
She can't help but notice how weak his grip is on her arm as they work to sit him upright, how she has to steady him once they do. Leaning over, she turns his head away and gathers his hair into her hands, combing her nails over his scalp to pull it back properly before tying it neatly into a bun.
"Don't you need that? Your hair - it's getting longer again."
"It's alright. I think I'm going to cut it soon. Besides, doesn't it feel better having your hair out of your face?"
He sighs, amusement pulling his mouth into a slight curve. "Yeah."
"You should probably lay back down -"
"No," he waves her off nimbly, eyelids sliding shut. "I can lean against the headboard."
"That's -" in an afterthought, she swallows her words and relents. "... Okay."
Without asking, she pours him water from the pitcher at their side and holds it out, carefully passing it into his hands when he reaches for it.
"It happened again," he states after he drinks, passing the glass back to her.
"What happened again?"
"I failed. I lost my head, or maybe I just couldn't think straight. One minute I'm getting ready to transform again and the next, I'm here. I don't really remember what happened, but it's obvious that I messed up."
"I talked to Connie. He said you got distressed as a titan and collapsed after transforming a few times. Captain Levi pulled you from there when you didn't come out of the nape on your own."
He scoffs, bitter. "What a surprise. After all this time, I'm still unable to small things like following directions. I must be a joke."
She looks at him sadly. "Please, don't talk like that. It's not true."
"It is true," he insists. A cloud passes in front of the sun, darkening the room. "I'm sorry, but it is."
"You're trying your best." She places her hand on his forearm, squeezing. "This isn't something that just anyone can do. It was only one test, I'm sure you'll -"
"I lied, Mikasa."
She retracts at the small confession and the air between them goes still. He peers at her from the corners of his eyes, to her hand lying limp on his arm, and back to the sheets crumpled at his waist.
"I do remember what happened, at least before I blacked out. The man who had his power before me and my father… something terrible happened to his family when he was a child and it was all I could see and hear at a point during the experiment."
His fists clench and the muscles in his forearm flex beneath her palm. She's absolutely speechless when tears begin to well in his eyes.
"I tried so hard to ignore it, but it seems that I can't even control as something as fundamental as my own mind. It's too frustrating and I just keep screwing up."
A tear falls on the back of her hand. "Eren, stop."
"I don't know what to do and I feel like I'm letting everyone down -"
From her seat, she reaches forward to tug him to her, the force of her embrace making him grunt. At the sound, she becomes mindful of her grip and lessens it, her arms gingerly wrapping around his torso. When was the last time she hugged him, or anyone? Holding him like this is unfamiliar, and perhaps he thinks so too. His body is stiff against hers, making her think that he might be uncomfortable with her affectionate gesture. She nearly chastises herself for being impulsive and inconsiderate, but his arms begin to move, lifting higher and higher until they settle. His touch is soft, barely there. His hands rest on her back the way leaves do when they meet a surface of water; silent and gentle in nature, the contact rippling warmth from his body to hers.
"It's hard, I know. This is something new to all of us too. But you don't need to cope with it on your own." She leans into him more, his neck hot and feverish against her cheek. "You're not a screw-up, Eren. It just wasn't your day. You'll have an opportunity to try again. As for the memories… I think we should talk to Hanji or Armin about this. It might not happen right away, but we'll figure something out to help you control them," She anchors her hands on his shoulders and looks back at him, feeling his fingers run down the ridges of her spine with the motion. "Alright?"
Eren lifts a hand and wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Okay," he whispers, and she's hugging him again. He reciprocates it quicker this time, securing his arms more confidently around her. "Okay."
She's never seen him quite so shattered. Picking up the pieces of him comes with an occasional prick of her skin and sometimes she questions if she can really help fix him. But as they break apart, he begins muttering sentences and through them, she realizes that he's asking her to stay. Relieved of any doubt she could have at that moment, she agrees and sinks back into the chair, rays of sunlight flitting back into the room.
In this chapter, I touched on only a few symptoms of depression, such as cognitive, emotional, and behavioral. There are many things that could accompany depression, as it may vary from each person who suffers from it. Through Mikasa, I tried to show that this kind of behavior is not normal and how it can affect others who know someone that is depressed. This mental illness is too often romanticized on different media platforms and I knew I had to be careful with my portrayal of it. It is not uncommon for a person (or people) to be at a loss for what to do or how to help, but acknowledging the symptoms as soon as they appear is the first step in getting help. There's nothing wrong with asking for help and I strongly encourage it for any of my readers who may be struggling with depression. There are numerous resources available online for more information about this topic.