a miraculous escape
It was a cool summer night, a toying breeze running its fingers through the tall grass. The air tasted like the sun had baked the earth dry, and the moon was attempting to cool it with the sweet release of darkness. The thick acidity of rain was haunting them as they walked, blades of grass scratching their bare legs as they parted the field with their stamping feet and waving arms.
"Isn't there a race tonight?" Armin gasped, still very young and small and stubby. Eren and Armin had always been physically opposites.
As a child, Eren had always looked wild. His eyes were big and green but cut sharply, remarkably bold and bright, like faceted stones, inlaid emeralds glowing fiercely behind feathery black lashes. Like any child, his face was round, but it was smooth and dark and strong where it would eventually become sturdy and sharp. His skin was already dark, but back then he'd spent days and days and days on end lazing half-naked in the sun, and his entire body had become like a small bronze statue because of it.
Armin was so different. His eyes were always huge, always round, always watery and innocent and glimmering curiously. His face was round, but chubby. His skull was small beneath the roundness of his cheeks, his button nose pushing into his face. His skin was wan and translucent, patchy and red in the summer, peppered with light freckles that stretched his reddened nose. His limbs were short and bony, and he was somewhat sickly and asthmatic.
But that never stopped either of them. They ran completely wild, exploring and running and falling into heaps of trouble, but that never mattered because it was fun. It was fun to be with Armin, fun to laugh and breathe easy, fun to be free.
It was considerably more fun nowadays, since the haunting had begun.
"Is there?" Eren whacked at the long grass, raising his head toward the cloudy sky.
"Mikasa might be there," Armin said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should go?"
"There will be other races." Eren exhaled sharply through his nose. They were twelve, and that babyish roundness of his face was slipping away. He could feel his limbs stretching out, the proof being the myriad of pale marks drawn across his thighs. He something hit his head. He turned his face up toward the dark sky again, and a grin split across his face. "Ah! Fucking finally!"
"What?" Armin blinked at him curiously, and he yelped when Eren grabbed his hand and pulled him through the grass.
The droplets were unevenly spaced, fat and heavy as they plopped against Eren's wrist, slid against Armin's cheek, crashed into Eren's neck. Eren led Armin through the grass and into the woods, skirting the edge of the trees while minding Armin's heavy footfalls.
"It's raining," Armin remarked.
"Thank you for that amazing observation," Eren snorted. "Like I couldn't tell!"
"Ha ha," Armin stated flatly. "Very funny. Shouldn't we head back? It'll be a real mess if we wait for it to start pouring."
"No, no," Eren gasped, jumping up onto a rock and whirling to face Armin. In the darkness, the only thing truly discernable about his appearance were his great, shining eyes, pure beacons in the mist of rain. "Don't you see? We want it to pour!"
"Do we?" Armin's eyes narrowed. "Do we really?"
"Don't get snippy with me, buddy." Eren squeezed Armin's hand. "Let's have a fucking adventure!"
"Eren," Armin said gently, "when are we not having fucking adventures?"
"Well, then, it's just another to add to the list!" Eren dragged him up onto the rock, and he grinned broadly. "What, are you scared or something? Trust me, Armin, this is gonna be fun!"
"What are we doing, exactly?" Armin asked weakly.
Eren flashed him a wicked grin. He jumped down from the rock, and then he bolted into a sprint. He was, by all accounts, feeling the buzz of summer coming to an end. He wanted the high to continue, and he wanted to feel like he was good, like he was in a good place, like the days didn't drag, like the fear wasn't a constant throttling presence.
When he was with Armin, he could pretend like he wasn't teetering on the edge of madness, living life with whispers clogging his ears and screams wearing down his throat.
And this feeling? This great rush, this holy high, this exhilaration that seemed so powerful and unending, it was consuming him. He felt happy.
Eren's happiness was so often eclipsed by his growing terror that times like this? They never really felt real.
He was so happy and dazed, it was like he was in a dream.
Rain splashed against his face, and his laughter echoed against the trees, bouncing through the slow, thick drops and waving back at him.
He skidded down an incline, his heart pounding in his chest, and he whirled around to look up at arm. Sounds of nature, croaking frogs and chirping crickets and the sweet, familiar rush of the river just behind him, and the distinct patter of raindrops against leaves, water, and soil, collided in a humming symphony inside his ears.
"Come on, Armin!" Eren gasped. "Hurry up!"
Armin stood at the top of the incline, his hair in disarray, his mouth gaping, and he heaved deep breaths. Another beautiful sound to add to the other instruments of nature. A flute amongst percussion.
Eren kicked off his shoes and removed his shirt, grinning so broadly that his cheeks hurt. Armin came stumbling slowly down the hill. The rain was heavy now, coming down quick and sudden, splashing in Eren's gleaming eyes.
"What are you doing?" Armin shouted over the din of rain and river.
"Living a little!" Eren laughed, kicking off his shorts, his fingers flying to the waistband of his boxers.
"Are you kidding?" Armin squeaked.
"Nope!" Eren felt his chest rising and falling in great, shuddering movements. The night was cooler than usual, but he still felt a buzzing beneath his skin, a heat of madness that preyed on his happiness and launched him into a frenzy. He had to have this.
It would be like washing away all the dirt and grime that had accumulated on his soul since this had all started. A christening of his own making.
Absolution of sins he'd never committed.
"Eren," Armin gasped as the crumpled clothing was tossed onto a mossy rock. "Eren, your clothes are going to get all dirty!"
"Who cares?" Eren jumped, the river guttering and splashing up to his bare thighs, a cool rush that made his muscles tingle from his toes to his lips. He moved quickly, wading into the river and throwing himself into the current, the mist spitting into his eyes as he laughed. The sound was drowned by the forest's shuddering symphony.
The water was cold and biting of course, but it was a minor discomfort against his naked skin as he floated on his back, feeling the urgent push of the current kick feebly at his skull, irritable and weak.
The raindrops were gathering in the creases of his nose, fat and slippery. He kicked his legs out, stretching his limbs out and feeling his body turn about in a slow, lazy motion. He was floating on the busy surface of the water, too heavy to be moved downriver and too light to be sucked to the bottom.
"Eren!" Armin sounded distressed. "Come on, what are you doing?"
"You come on!" Rain gathered in his gaping mouth, and he smiled contentedly. "Come here, Armin! Swim with me!"
Armin sighed so loudly it carried above the rain. Eren leveled himself, standing upright in the water. His feet brushed the cold, squishy moss at the bottom of the riverbed, and he waded back carefully toward the bank. The water was black and white, utterly still in sections of the stream and violently strong in others.
In the dark, Armin's pale skin was electric. He glowed like a pallid, luminescent mushroom on the forest floor, his thin shoulders hunching anxiously. He didn't remove his boxers as Eren had, though Eren couldn't understand why, and he dipped his toes into the rocky edge of the stream.
"Come on," Eren said gently. He moved closer, beckoning Armin into the water, his fingers playing at the air, plucking at words like they were lyre strings. "Don't be scared. Why should you be? I would never lead you into anything dangerous, Armin."
"Of course not," Armin said bitterly. His feet glided against the rocks that Eren had dodged to get to the deeper part of the river. It was so dark, and Armin moved so slow, feeling at the bottom of the river blindly. His arms were outstretched to help balance him. The rain struck him, unkind slaps against his bare skin.
Armin nearly slipped, and Eren jerked forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him gently. Armin was shaking a little, his hands falling blindly against the ridges of Eren's ribs. His head drooped, his wet forehead smacking against Eren's chest, hair tickling his throat and hot breath blooming beneath Eren's collarbone. He was panting from terror. His hands moved desperately, likely trying to find a sturdy place so he could push himself upright, but his nails raked Eren's skin, pressing to the flat of his abdomen and causing his breath to hitch.
The water barely reached the base of his hips, and that was where Armin's fingers decided to linger, biting into the concaves of Eren's hipbones. His throat felt dry, and his stomach felt uncomfortably empty, and he stood a little dazedly as Armin pushed himself upright.
"Sorry," Armin mumbled, prying his nails from Eren's skin to mop his stringy blonde hair up on the top of his head.
Eren managed a shaky grin. "You're okay?" He didn't sound as strange as he felt.
"Yeah. Fine." Armin laughed weakly. And then he splashed water Eren in the face.
"Shit!" Eren grabbed Armin's arm as he tried to slip away. "Not so fast, motherfucker!"
Eren tackled him and pulled him underwater.
"Surprise?" Historia's voice was hoarse as Eren's word spilled out of her lips. Armin's heart thudded hard against his chest, and he wanted to skitter back, move far, far away from this girl— his best friend trapped in Historia's body.
"Fuck no," Armin said flatly. Blood flew from his lips, speckling Historia's immaculate face. Eren did not even flinch. Big blue eyes watched him unblinkingly, a sheepish smile tugging on plump pink lips. "Get out of her body. Right now."
"She said I can stay for a little bit." Her shoulders shrugged, and she touched her throat vacantly. "Holy shit, ow…"
"Eren," Armin said sharply. "I'm not fucking kidding around. Get the fuck out of her body right now!"
"No." He stood up, wobbling a little and stumbling back. "Whoa! Tiny legs. And…" She held her head, her lips parting dazedly. "Oh… light headed… okay…"
Armin's stomach clenched up. His head was pounding, his body shaking, his limbs jerky and achy, and he could not even breathe properly. He winced, and he picked himself up, dragging his feet as he caught Historia's arms. She collided with his chest, sinking into his arms and laughing weakly.
"You're so tall!" Eren was laughing through Historia's throat, and the sound was weak and pretty, like distant wind chimes. "You've never been taller than me before. Oh, ew, you smell gross. Ha!" Hysterical laughter began to vibrate against Armin's chest. "I can smell things! Oh my god, this is amazing."
"Eren."
"Armin…" She lifted her head, and Armin's heart sunk. Their eyes were glistening, their lips split into a wide, shaky smile. "Please… please just let me have this… just for a little while…"
The light flickered, and the voice lingered, breathless against the chilled air. Tears sprung into Armin's eyes as he hugged the tiny girl closer. I'm sorry, he thought to her, biting his tongue to keep from screaming, from spitting vile words in contempt of Eren's selfishness. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't be angry, not when Eren was so desperate and so happy.
"You know how wrong this is," Armin murmured. Historia's head nodded sharply, tears slipping against her rosy cheeks.
"Yes," Eren said thickly. "I don't actually want to keep her body, I…" He coughed, a sharp, knifing sound that shook Historia's whole body. "I just… I need time. I can't disappear right now, not when you need me. This way, with Historia accepting me, I can…" He held her head, blinking dazedly. "I can conserve some energy… I think…"
"I thought possession took up energy."
"It does," Eren said quietly. "When the host soul fights back. But like I said. Historia isn't fighting. She said I could do this."
"Why?" Armin's lips were numb. His fingers shook against Historia's shoulders. "Eren, what happened to her?"
"Kenny just did to her what he did to Levi all those times, I guess," Eren said distantly. "I don't know. She doesn't remember."
The light flickered sharply. In the instant of pure darkness, Armin could hear skittering in the empty space. Something was moving. Crawling against the cold concrete floor, fast and jerky. He held Historia tighter, pulling her defensively toward his chest. They blinked up at him, their eyebrows arching.
"Uh oh. She's here," Eren said, tilting Historia's head and glancing around the basement.
"Who?"
"Shh." Historia's index finger snapped against his lips. The sound continued, and Historia stood, her shoulders hunched and her dirty feet bounced against the floor.
"Eren," Armin snapped.
"Shh!" Her pale nightgown fluttered around her calves as they turned about slowly, her chapped heels scraping the dusty floor. Wispy, unwashed blonde hair fluttered around her head, and blue eyes flashed dangerously. The sounds were growing louder, rustling emitting from the gathering shadows, shuddering like breath expelling into the air hitting their ears. They stopped. "Armin, get up."
"What?" Armin tried to push himself upright, but he was too exhausted, his limbs too heavy.
They whirled to face him, hair whipping against their cheeks, and she spat a bit out of their mouth, grimacing and huffing. "Get up!" They started toward him, and Armin watched a great, shuddering shadow rise up behind them, the air turning cold and stale and the only breathing sound coming in short, disembodied bursts. Armin could only gape. Blood was pouring into his mouth.
They glanced behind them, and their teeth bared in contempt. "Armin, move!" Eren snarled, using Historia's soft little voice to spit and growl and snap like a feral beast.
Armin shook as he pushed off the ground, swaying in shock and pain as the shadow solidified, becoming a small, hunched body crouched upon the stained concrete floor. The jerky little form was wearing a white frock almost identical to Historia's however it clung to her luminescent skin, discolored and blue and sagging. The ghosts sat crouched on the balls of her feet, her bony shoulders taut and her scraggly hair dark and damp and dangling in a slow, swaying motion.
She raised her face. Her bloated purple lips parted, her white teeth gleaming as a guttural sound escaped her mouth. Armin stumbled back, blinking rapidly as he met the monster's black, pitted eyes, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising in horror. When he blinked, she was gone, and that sent a cry of terror from his lips, shuddering through him and shaking him to his core.
There was shuffling. It moved all around, creaking in his ears. It stopped.
A pair of slender, stone-cold arms snaked around his chest.
He shrieked as the cold, wet body of the shivering ghost pressed against his back and dragged him down to the floor once more.
"Eren," Armin gasped, twisting against the vise grip of the ghost, icy fingers biting against the skin of his adam's apple. Blackened nails were clawing at his throat. He struggled, stretching himself forward and snatching at empty air, his eyesight blurry from panicked tears. "Eren!"
"Armin, relax!" Historia's voice was no comfort. It was shrill and vibrant, panicked and thin. There was no reassurance with Eren's shaky fear represented by Historia's feeble words. "Listen to me, okay? You'll be fine if you calm down!"
Armin let his arms fall, his lips trembling. He sunk in the arms of the predatory ghost. Her stringy hair was brushing one of the cuts on Armin's neck, grime settling inside the wound and stinging it. He bit his tongue. Her bony chin dug into his shoulder. Her clammy cheek slid against his. He could see her cracked, discolored lips parting into a chilling little smile.
He couldn't help but whimper.
"Don't look at her," Historia said. It was her voice, Eren's words, and none of it helped. Armin wanted to scream. "Look at me, Armin."
"That doesn't help!" Armin squeezed his eyes shut, a sob catching in his throat. "It doesn't help at all!"
"Armin—!"
"Little boy…" The ghost spoke in a thick, twittering rasp. It sent cold trails raking down Armin's spine, and he shook against the iron grip that held him firmly to the wavering ghost. It was a strained voice, sing-song and childish. "Little boy, don't you think you're too old now to be using a toy?"
"Listen." When Historia spoke, there was clear fury in her small voice. It shook and spat. "I don't need your fucking games right now. Just let him go!"
"Why?" the ghost hissed, spittle clinging to Armin's cheek. "What gain is there from releasing him when he is the reason little sister didn't die!"
"Calm the fuck down," Eren replied in a clipped, dead tone. "I was the one who let Historia off the rope. I'm the one who saved her. Why do you care so much, anyway? I don't get it, I thought you wanted her alive!"
"Stupid, silly, simple little boy!" The ghost let out a choking little laugh. "All I've ever done for that poor little girl was ruin and madden and destroy."
"I'm not going to pretend to get it," Eren said calmly. He was growing more accustomed to the pitch of Historia's voice, and it no longer wavered from his passion, because he'd carefully reduced it to a minimal presence. "I don't know you. But you don't know me either, and you definitely don't know Armin! Let him go. Let us both go. We can fix this!"
"Lies." The word slashed at the air, tearing open the tension like a saber through tender flesh. It stuck against his cheek, her lips vibrating in her rasping, rattling breaths, and she pulled him closer, closer, closer still. She hugged him to her like a child holding a stuffed bear.
"Please let him go," Eren whispered. "I don't understand. I thought you loved Historia!"
"What is love?" The monster murmured, turning her face into Armin's cheek and nuzzling his neck. His eyes were wide and teary, the basement a blur of black and yellow, and he could not hear her breathing any longer because the only sound present was the impatient drum of his heart beating at his ribs. "To a little boy I suppose it is this…" He could smell her breath, cold and terrible, the pungency of death wafting like the odor of a bog. She dragged her muddy fingers through his damp, shorn hair. He bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut. "And this…" She jerked his head back, and he felt his neck being exposed, his adam's apple pressing viciously to his skin and providing a strain upon his neck muscles. "And a little shove."
"Stop," Eren pleaded. "What the hell are you doing? I know you're not crazy, okay, stop the act! I'm a ghost too now! We need to communicate, you and me, because we're the only people who can possibly know what the other has been through!"
"Give me my little death," the ghost snapped. Armin choked as her grimy fingers clasped against his throat, her fingernails digging into his jugular. She's going to rip my throat out, he realized in muted horror. Every second that ticked past was another painful deepening of her overgrown, dirt encrusted fingernails. He couldn't breathe. "I want to see her bleed and break and be relieved of breath."
"You're a demon," Eren snarled, coiling Historia's body in a strange, feral hunch. He bent forward so he had the tiny body on all four limbs, and through the blear of Armin's sight it was clear that there was a great, predatory smile biting through the curtain of Historia's pale hair. "You want her death? Take your best fucking shot!"
The ghost made a whispery noise, like teeth chattering, and the pressure on his throat lessened as her nails pulled out from his skin. He was thrown to the ground, and he felt a great rush of air as she skittered over him like a shadow, creeping along the floor at an alarming speed. Like a centipede in a frantic motion, legs and arms in an odd, twitching blur.
There was a crash, and the lights flickered, plunging the basement into unsettling darkness.
The sounds that came from that darkness made Armin's heart leap out of his chest.
Snaps and growls and hisses sprung from here to there, echoing in the small space. The movements were harsh, limbs scraping across the floor thunks and thumps and thwacks, bodies colliding and fingers scraping. It was like listening to wild animals slash and gnash at one another, a claw tearing against flash, a maw closing around a throat. It was all senseless noise, all of it coming fast and hard and ceaselessly, and it made Armin scream.
"Stop it!" He dragged himself across the floor blindly, his heart palpitating in his throat. "Stop— stop it right now!"
His words did nothing. The sounds only continued.
"Stop…" Armin's voice was but a wisp, a rasp, a tender croak of despair. He couldn't tell where Eren was, if he was okay, if Historia was okay, if anything was okay, and it terrified him.
He grew lightheaded. The darkness was feeding on his fear, on his pain, on the monstrous headache that beat at his skull. He was bleeding profusely from multiple places, and he felt wetness on his lashes, be it sweat, be it mud, be it blood, it didn't matter. The effect was the same.
The darkness was laced with blotted white dots.
"Eren…" Armin didn't know where he was reaching, but he reached, and he reached, and he reached a little more. It didn't matter. He lost himself in a sea of white, and did not register hitting the floor.
In a dream he stood in that very same basement. It was empty. Emptied. Of life. Of character. There was no swaying light bulb, and yet it was lit up, starkly bright and ugly. It was cold. Cold, yes. He shivered. He rubbed his arms. Cold.
There were storm shelter doors. Rusted and creaky, they screamed open. He watched lazily. He peered around the empty basement. Cold and empty. And he left. He climbed up the stairs, blinking into the streaming rays of sunlight, blinded and confused. His bare feet sunk into soft grass, and he was able to relax. Finally.
He was sitting in a ring. Flowers grew in a circle around him. Fat and red. Fat and orange. Fat and happy. Levi sat across from him.
"Why do you think I died?"
He was a child. Small and soft and dazed. He was twirling a knife in his tiny hands. Handcuffs swung from one scrawny wrist. The chain snapped as it made its way round and round and round. Then round and round and round again.
"Because…" Armin didn't really know what Levi wanted to here. He was hard to read, implacable and inscrutable and indomitable. But here he sat, a child. Thin little lips pursed into a strong pout. Pale eyes drawing sharp lines across Armin's face. Shaggy hair framing sharp, malnourished cheeks. He was the picture of misfortune. "Because, Levi, you had no life to begin with."
"That's not very nice." The knife whirled. Eyes flashed. Head lolled. "Explain."
"Your father raised you just so he could sacrifice you," Armin explained. He spoke, and the words spilt like a milk bottle shattered upon tile. His teeth were glass. "He took you, took your head, and he broke you, and he broke it, again and again and again and again, and you couldn't do a thing to stop it. Memories make a person who they are. You were continuously plunged into a state of shock, tabula rasa, over and over and over. You never lived, Levi."
"I lived once," he said softly.
"And what kind of life was that?"
The boy lowered his head. The knife glinted in his tiny fist.
"A sad one."
"A sad life," Armin whispered, "and a sadder death. You have nothing of your own."
"I had friends." Levi stabbed the knife into the grass, and he stood on his tiny legs, his body shuddering. He was battered now. Bruises snaked up his scrawny little legs, up beneath the hem of his shorts, darkening his sickly pale arms, lacing his collarbone, clamping around his throat, kissing his jaw, biting his lower lip, tracing his left cheekbone, blackening his already swollen eyelid. "Did they love me? Even a little bit?"
"Don't you remember?"
"I remember only the bad things."
"Oh." Words. Milk. Teeth. Glass. "They loved you. They loved you so dearly, and you never even knew it. You were so loved. It wasn't fair that Kenny stole that from you."
"Did I love them too?" He looked up at Armin innocently.
"I couldn't say."
Levi's innocent gaze turned hard.
"What good are you?" he spat. His battered little body collapsed into a pile of bones. The sunlight that bathed the little field was stolen, blanketed by steely clouds. Trees sprung up from the ground around him. Limbs stretched up toward the sky. Skeletons of branches. Hulking trunks. The grass receded into the ground, and roots snaked across the loosened dirt.
The flowers the ringed Armin shed their skin like writhing little snakes. Mushrooms bloomed where petals fell.
Eren scooped up Levi's skull. He grinned as he plopped down across from Armin. The mushrooms were bioluminescent, and Eren's dark face glowed in the shimmery blue light. He thumbed at the hollows of the skull.
"Why did you have to die?" Armin blurted. Tears sprung into his eyes. Tears. Eyes. And Eren's smile. These were forever things.
"Alas," Eren said with a joyless sort of smirk, "poor Levi."
"Don't start quoting Hamlet at me," Armin pleaded. "Or I'll kill you again."
"To be or not to be," Eren said, gripping the skull with two hands, "ain't that just the kicker?"
"Eren!"
"You want to die, but you can't figure a decent way to do it yourself, because you know you might fail or worse." Eren shrugged. "Life's such a pain. I'm glad to be rid of it."
"That's a lie." Armin watched the skull as it was juggled, tossed from one hand to the other. "Eren, please… tell me, why did you have to die?"
"Why do you think I died?" Eren tilted his head. He tossed the skull up in the air, and he caught it with one hand.
"Because I pushed you," Armin whispered. Fat and miserable tears drooped from his eyes. "I pushed you because I was scared, and now you're dead, and why do I have to live with that? I don't want to. I hate this, Eren. I hate all of this."
"You pushed me because I wanted you to." Eren sounded bored. He tossed the skull like a baseball, up and up and then it was caught cleanly in his palm. "One little death for another. Simple. But why do you think I died?"
"I told you—"
"Why do you think I wanted to die?" Eren pushed. He leaned forward. He grinned. "Get a clue! I hated living."
"No you didn't."
"So maybe I didn't." Eren looked away. "What's the difference? I was miserable when I was alive, whether you noticed or not. Being dead is better. I can sleep."
"But you can't do anything!"
"I can see you," Eren said vacantly. "I can talk to you and Mikasa. What else could I ever need?"
"A life, Eren!"
"Fuck that!" Eren smashed Levi's skull upon the forest floor. It shattered into a thousand tiny shards, made of glass like Armin's teeth. "I don't want to live if it means I have to sacrifice one of my friends!"
"I never said it did!"
"You don't know anything!"
He disappeared in a great burst of flames. The forest around him caught fire, and he felt vaguely panicked, like he should run, but he couldn't budge an inch, so he watched as greasy smoke smothered him and made him wheeze and cough and cry. The ring of mushrooms were seared away, and in their place a ring of fire danced around him.
Historia stood dazedly before him. The rest of the fire had died. All but for the ring, which swayed and waved, bending to a rhythm only it could hear.
They stared at each other.
"Why do I have to die?" she whispered.
Armin sat. He stared.
"You don't," he answered simply.
He stood up. The flames tickled as he walked through them, and he held open his arms. She eyed them warily, so he hugged her without hesitation, feeling her sink into the embrace. He could smell the fragrance of her hair, soapy and dull.
He opened his eyes blearily. The fragrance did not die with the dream.
Through his foggy vision he was able to decide a few things.
One, he was awake.
Two, he was lying in a hospital bed.
Three, Historia was curled up beside him, her face buried in his chest.
He groaned as he tried to shift in the cot, his entire body rejecting the motion. His chest hurt. He inhaled, and he coughed.
Historia's eyes snapped open. She sat up, and her pale hair settled in a terrible nest upon her head.
"You're awake," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. She pressed her fingers to his cheek, the back of her knuckles grazing his cheekbone. "Your fever is down too. That's really good…"
"His…" he choked, jerking away from her touch. "Historia, what…?"
"Oh." She slumped. As his vision sort of returned, half there and half not, he could tell that she was rather banged up. There was a large bump on her forehead and claw marks crawling beneath her hospital gown. Her wrist was bandaged. "Armin, it's me. Eren."
"What?" It took him a moment to remember what had happened. And then it all hit him at once. "What the fuck?"
Armin shoved Eren off his bed, listening to Historia's body thump against the floor, and he drew the covers over his head, ignoring the tug of the wires stuck inside his arm.
"Um, ow?" Eren's words sounded very frail in Historia's voice. "What the fuck right back, pal!"
Armin threw the cover away and he huffed. "I don't want to talk to you until you get out of that body," Armin said. "I don't. I won't."
"Fine." Eren stood, dusting off their gown and rolling Historia's thin shoulders. "Suit yourself. Don't find out what happened after you passed out. Fine by me."
"You—!" Armin seethed.
"Me?" Eren was at the doorway when he turned, batting Historia's eyelashes innocently. "Why, I haven't done anything wrong."
"That's a fucking lie and you know it!" Armin gritted his teeth. "Why would you use Historia's body and crawl into my cot like that? It was creepy!"
Eren looked surprised. He leaned back, and gaped openly at Armin. "I was scared you wouldn't wake up," he said in Historia's soft, high voice. Her eyes drooped, and Eren leaned against the doorframe. "I'm sorry. I know this is weird."
"Give her back her body, Eren."
"I will," Eren promised. "But not right now. I still need it."
"For what?"
"My plan." Eren smiled weakly. "Historia will be fine with it. When she gets her memories back. But for now, we need Historia Reiss without amnesia."
"I'm sorry, you have a plan?" Armin sunk into his cot. "Were you… gonna tell me… like… at all?"
"I didn't really think of it until like, a few hours ago," Eren laughed.
"Wow."
"Yeah, you were totally on the verge of death, so don't be sad you missed it." Eren shrugged. "It's not on you, buddy."
"How…" Armin pinched the bridge of his nose. "How long have I been out?"
"Umm, a few days?" Eren shrugged. "Give or take. Oh, Armin, I got to eat stuff! Granted it was nasty hospital food, but!" Eren bounced up and down excitedly. "Isn't that great? I forgot how good food was!"
"That's…" Armin's eyes slid away from Historia's vibrant face. It was blooming with a fresh blush, pink dusting her pale cheeks as her smile made her pretty features round and puffy, sort of awkward to behold, but fun and genuine nonetheless. Armin wondered if that face had ever smiled this much in its entire existence. And so he relented. "That's great, Eren. Holy shit…"
"Yeah!" He bounced on Historia's tiny feet, bare heels clapping noisily against the linoleum. "Yeah, yeah! And I get to feel things! It was raining yesterday, and I opened your window, and I got to feel the rain gathering in my palm! It tickled. It was so cold, too! Cold, Armin!"
"Yes," Armin said distantly. "I'm pretty well acquainted with that feeling."
"Right, yeah, stop killing my mood." Eren rolled Historia's big old eyes, and he laughed her tinkling laugh, whirling around and around, as the hospital gown whirled around their knees. "The tile is cold too! Historia keeps chiding me to put shoes on though. She's doing it right now."
"You should listen to her," Armin said flatly. "Considering it is, in fact, her body."
"Yeah…" Eren looked down. His beaming smile crashed to earth, shattering upon a rock and oozing discomfort. "Right. I'm sorry, Armin, I know this is weird."
"I don't care how weird it is." Armin folded his arms across his chest. He wanted to seem stern, like he was prepared to fight Eren on this issue, when in reality… his grip was slipping. He was giddy with joy at how goddamn happy Eren was. Not even his horror at the fact that Eren was in Historia's body could change that. "You are taking someone else's body and parading around like you own it. You know better than that, Eren. I know you do."
Eren lifted Historia's eyes. He smiled, and it was small and sad and soft.
"You don't know me nearly as well as you think you do," he whispered.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Eren sighed, walking slowly toward Armin's bed, "I have some owning up to do."
They jumped up onto the end of the cot, and he folded Historia's slender legs beneath them. Armin watched tiredly. He could barely keep his eyes open, and everything seemed to hurt even beneath the dull buzz of morphine shooting through his veins.
"Okay…" Armin shifted. "So is this the part where everything starts to make sense?"
Eren blinked at him. He snorted, gave a meager shrug, and let out a garbled, "I dunno."
"You're no help at all."
"Let's start with you." Eren leaned forward, eyes big and inquisitive. "Armin, is there anything you want to ask me? About what happened seven years ago, and even before that? I'm sure you don't know how to feel about anything, since I'm pretty inconsistent with my existence."
"Why did you have to die?" Armin asked without even pausing to think. The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. They caused Historia's face to turn stony. Her jaw moved, and her eyes flashed, and Armin could sense Eren's signature tics springing forth from Historia's movements.
Eren closed his eyes. The way Historia's body was poised, she could have been a life-sized doll. When he moved, her limbs jerked, like a wind up toy. Her mouth opened and it closed mechanically as he spoke.
"Some people just can't be saved, Armin."
"That's bullshit," Armin whispered, tears springing to his eyes.
"Yes." Eren bowed his head. "It's fucking bullshit. It's bullshit that I had to die, but it had to happen anyway!" Their voice shook, and when he raised Historia's head, her cheeks were bright red, and his tears were welling up in her eyes. He coughed, and they averted their gaze quickly. "Urgh! Armin, stop making me fucking cry!"
"S-sorry!" Armin squeaked.
"It's okay, man, just…" Eren sniffled, smeared snot across the back of Historia's hand. "I just hate you a little right now, that's all."
"That's reasonable, I guess."
"Ugh…" He tilted his head back. His voice was thick and distant. "What was I saying…?
"I don't know, you were answering my question?"
"Oh." Eren sighed. "Right. Why I had to die. I guess I was too naïve, or too dumb. I couldn't stop the ritual on my own."
"You're not dumb!" Armin gasped, a burning sensation capturing his chest as he jerked forward, his fingers splaying in the air. "You're so smart, Eren, really! Don't belittle yourself! You handled the haunting stuff way better than I did."
"Nah." Eren smiled weakly. "You actually figured things out. I just tried to make connections, and failed to do it right."
"That's not true."
"I made a choice." A fierce stare was held between them, shot like a fire tipped arrow and striking Armin between the ribs. He found it difficult to breathe under that stare. "I don't regret it. I don't want to take it back. My death meant I got to give Mikasa seven more years of life. It was worth it."
"I don't understand," Armin murmured.
"I don't expect you to." Eren smiled, and he grasped Armin's hand, Historia's tiny fingers closing around his. "I kept you out of all this intentionally. I wanted you to be in the dark."
"It ruined everything."
"But it made me happy." Eren shrugged. "So I don't regret that either."
"How selfish of you."
"Caring about your happiness is not selfishness, Armin," Eren snapped. "Get your head out of your ass and open your eyes. The goal is always to achieve happiness. That's what living is! Taking strides to attain comfort and contentment. So stop sacrificing your happiness for the sake of others. You need to live just as much as they do."
"Those are some funny words, coming from you," Armin said coldly.
"Listen, I know that my death hurt you," Eren spat, Historia's lips twisting into a sneer, "but you need to stop acting so fucking bitter about it! It happened! It's over! We can't do anything about it!"
"I killed you."
"And if you didn't, I would have done it myself!" Eren smacked the mattress with both palms, and Armin huffed, biting his tongue and sinking against his pillow. "I hate this conversation! You don't understand how bad it was, Armin!"
"You think I wouldn't understand?" It was strange how vicious Eren's words were. They held a power over Armin, rattling in his chest and striking his heart like shrapnel. He couldn't breathe correctly with all of this negativity crashing on top of him. "Eren. Eren, I've been a total wreck since you died! I really don't know how I survived it, I— I didn't eat sometimes, sometimes for days at a time, I barely slept, and I was constantly just spinning in this circle of hating myself and everyone, because you weren't there, and what was I supposed to do?" The tears were falling fast, skittering against his swollen cheeks. His voice was quaking and his breath was short. "What the hell was the point? The only reason I kept going was because I had some bare hope that maybe you were alive somewhere, and that was all that helped me through the— the episodes, and the dreams, and the spells of lethargy that became anxiety. But you're dead. You're fucking dead because of me."
A sob bubbled up, bursting from his mouth, and he clapped his hands over his face, heaving great gasps of air because he couldn't breathe, and there were sharp pangs of pain like hammer strikes against his ribs.
Everything seemed to be crashing down at once.
His whole world.
It had ended the night he'd pushed Eren, and he'd built little pillars out of the mud left behind, but now the mud and clay had cracked, and he was pinned beneath the rubble. Coughing and gasping and crying for help.
He tried to fight the small, dexterous fingers that snaked behind his neck, pulling him close until his face was buried in Historia's shoulder. His sob was garbled as he gripped both her arms, twisting his face away and heaving a deep breath. Her hand cupped the back of his head, gripping his hair and holding him tight.
"S-stop it," Armin mumbled, wriggling and twisting through his great waves of sobs. "Lemme go…"
"Historia says you should calm down and let us hug you," Eren murmured, resting their chin against his head. "I think you should keep screaming. People are so scared of screaming, but I think it's better to scream than to bottle everything up. Let it out."
"I don't…"
"You and Mikasa were the only things that saved me," Eren admitted. He held Armin's head, rocking him gently to and fro. It was a slow, swaying motion that reminded Armin of being on a boat. He felt a wave of nausea. "I mean, for as long as I was alive. Armin, when I was thirteen and I tried to hang myself, I wasn't really conscious of it. But sometimes, after that, I really wanted it all to end. I was scared of everything. I was terrified of living. But you and Mikasa always brought me back from that terror. Always."
Armin's sobs became louder and louder until he could no longer hear himself think.
And then he wasn't sobbing at all.
They sat for a long time, his whole body shaking in small spasms. Eren simply held him. And for a moment, that was enough.
Armin wiped his eyes and hiccupped, pulling back a little. Eren stared at him, his hands dragging toward Armin's cheeks, lifting his head up high.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
Armin took a deep, shaky breath. He cut Historia's hands from his cheeks, pushing them away and scooting backwards.
"No," he said firmly.
Eren looked a little dejected for a few moments, but then he smiled, and shrugged. "Yeah, okay, that's fair." He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "I guess I have to tell Mikasa about this now, since you're awake."
"Have you just been pretending to be Historia for days?" Armin's voice was hoarse from his sobbing.
"Um, yeah?" Eren spoke incredulously, as if to ask what else he'd be doing. "Mikasa hasn't come to visit me. Historia, I mean. So I haven't gotten to speak to her. I had to talk to Ymir, though. That was weird."
"I'll bet."
"Historia doesn't even remember her." Eren sighed. "I feel bad."
"Is there any way to fix that?" Armin really didn't like the idea of Eren just parading around, pretending to be Historia for weeks. Maybe months! He also didn't like how easy Historia was taking it. She should be angry that some weird ass stranger stole her body! But considering she had no memory, she probably didn't have the will to resist. Which was shitty.
"We can search Kenny's house for whatever he gave her," Eren said, scratching the back of his head. "I heard he's going to be in jail for a little while. Whatever that means."
"Good!" It was a relief to hear, but Armin felt skeptical that it would last. Kenny would be back. And Armin had to be ready. "Oh… shit. Shit!" He bolted up straight, scanning the room with wild eyes. "Where are my clothes?"
"Mikasa probably took them to wash them." Eren glanced at him curiously. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Yeah, Armin." The door had opened, and Armin jolted, sinking deeper into his cot and pulling his covers over his mouth sheepishly. Mikasa stood in the doorway, her dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," Armin squeaked.
"You better be." Mikasa strode into the room, her foot falls heavy and pronounced. She stopped at the foot of Armin's bed, and she took a deep, shaky breath. "What were you thinking?"
"I don't know…" Armin mumbled. That was the truth. He had trouble recollecting what had even happened, let alone his mindset when sneaking out. All he could really attribute it to was Levi's bad influence.
Eren slipped off the bed quietly and crept toward Mikasa. She eyed him, decided he wasn't worth reprimanding, and then returned her gaze to Armin. Her eyes widened a bit when Eren threw Historia's arms around her, and he buried her face in Mikasa's side.
"Oh!" Mikasa gasped. "Oh hi. Are you okay, Historia?"
Eren gave a muffled reply.
"What…?"
He lifted Historia's head, and he smiled sadly up at her.
"Mikasa," he said, "it's Eren. I possessed Historia."
She stared at him vacantly. Then she shoved Eren off her, whirling around and marching toward the door.
"Mikasa, where are you going?" Eren gasped, sounding very put out.
"Away from you."
"Mikasa, come on!" Historia's face was growing gnarled and red from all the extra strain Eren's myriad of emotions were putting it through. Mikasa paused by the doorway, her shoulders hunched and her eyes flashing. "I had a good reason, you know, I didn't just steal her body without asking!"
"You better have more than just a good explanation, Eren," Mikasa said darkly. "Or else."
"Stop patronizing me," Eren snapped. He blew a piece of blonde hair out of Historia's eyes, and he rolled them back into their head. "Historia's got amnesia right now, and she's literally hopeless. It's better if I take over for now until she gets her memory back. Then I'll be out even if I wanted to stay."
"You're ridiculous."
"I thought you'd be happy!" Eren looked so very confused. "I have a body again! A real corporeal body!"
"It's not your body." Mikasa shook her head furiously. "So it doesn't matter."
"I'm sorry!" Eren threw his arms out in defeat. "Is that what you wanna hear? Fine! I'm fucking sorry I'm dead!"
"Eren!" Mikasa snapped. Eren looked at her with fiery eyes, long strands of hair falling into Historia's face, scraggly and unkempt. He huffed, tiny shoulders rising and falling sharply. He was so angry, and Armin wanted to shout at him to stop, stop being unreasonable, stop possessing people on a fucking whim, stop, stop, stop, but he couldn't.
Because Eren was right. He was dead, and he had a right to be angry and unreasonable about that fact.
Jean poked his head into the room, his amber eyes glassy and tired. He glanced between the three of them, and he let out a long sigh.
"What the hell is going on now?" he asked flatly.
"Eren possessed Historia," Mikasa replied in the same empty tone.
Jean's eyes shot to Eren, who was standing with Historia's skinny arms folded across her chest and a scowl on the girl's pouty lips.
"That's freaky," he said weakly, his lips twisting back into a sneer of disgust.
"Speak for yourself," Eren spat.
"Eren," Armin warned. His voice was hoarse and his eyelids were drooping. He felt awful. "Can we… please just get back on track? What's your plan?"
"Oh." Eren blinked rapidly, his rage dissipating rapidly. "Right! I'm gonna tattle on Kenny."
"That's insane," Mikasa said. "Who's gonna believe you?"
"No idea," Eren said with a shrug. "Don't really care. I'm going to push Kenny and Reiss into the spotlight. Historia's existence itself is enough to spin some controversy, so that's why I need her to be, you know, not an amnesiac."
"You don't have to be possessing her, though," Mikasa said, shooting Eren a vicious glare.
"It's either this, or I go to sleep for an indefinite amount of time." Eren shot her a glare just as furious, and Armin sunk into his blankets and closed his eyes.
"Please stop screaming…" He groaned, and he touched his forehead gingerly. "Eren… what happened? In the basement, after I passed out? How did I get here…?"
"Huh?" Eren blinked rapidly. "Oh! That was Annie. She found us, and managed to chase Frieda away."
"Who the fuck is Frieda?" Jean gasped, grasping at the air with twitching fingers, irritable and confused. "What the fuck even happened to you guys? Armin, you have a cracked rib, a broken nose, and a nasty concussion, like what went down?"
"Kenny beat me up," Armin said distantly, rubbing his bandaged forehead. He thought about it for a moment. "Oh, that was after I crashed his truck into the river."
"Armin!" Mikasa cried, looking at him with a stern gaze that reminded him of when they'd been younger, and Armin had been roped into one of Eren's more dangerous schemes.
"Yeah, Armin, what the hell?" Jean pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Oh wow," Eren said blankly. Historia's eyes were big and wide. "That explains a lot."
"You're not gonna yell at me too?" Armin eyed Eren suspiciously.
"With your driving? I'm not surprised."
Mikasa seemed to consider it. "You are a pretty bad driver, Armin," she admitted.
He didn't say anything, because he didn't want to show how offended he was.
"So who the fuck is Frieda?" Jean asked.
"Uh…" Eren scratched the back of Historia's head. He didn't seem to know how to manage her hair length, considering he simply let long strands of it gather in front of his face as he spoke, not in any desirable way, but in a scraggly mess. It was clearly knotted and matted, frizzy and limp. Eren's hair had always been naturally soft and wavy and smooth, so he probably had no idea how to deal with someone else's fine, delicate hair. "That's actually a story and a half. Let's wait until Armin's released from the hospital before I get into that."
"Fine." Armin hoped whenever that was, it was soon. "So what about Levi?"
Eren stared at him blankly. "What about Levi?" he asked confusedly.
"Why did he leave Historia for dead?"
"He did what?" Eren's eyes lit up in a blaze, his disgust suddenly smeared across Historia's pretty face.
"Was he being controlled by Kenny?" Jean asked, sounding very bemused and very innocent. Armin shook his head slowly.
Mikasa shifted. She looked uncomfortable, as though perhaps her skin was too tight around her chest, and she was finding it difficult to breathe. Armin watched her fingers lock, twiddling anxiously around each other. He watched and he knew.
"Mikasa," Armin croaked.
She looked at him.
She closed her eyes.
"Levi… he's been visiting me at night again." She glanced at Eren. Her eyes were dim and sad. "He said… he told me that I should let Historia die."
"Burn him," Eren said immediately, Historia's voice eerily empty and bright.
"Chill." Mikasa rubbed her face tiredly. "I'm not going to actually do it, but… I don't really understand why he's so against her all of a sudden."
"Yeah, isn't that kinda weird?" Jean glanced around. "Oh, wait, our entire lives are fucking weird, I forgot. Silly me. Nothing makes any sense. I need to lie down. Someone get me something that'll make me high."
"Why don't you go consult a nurse," Eren told him sharply. Jean shot him a discontented glance, but he said nothing in reply. Eren shifted the mass of Historia's hair out of his face, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Listen, it doesn't matter. Christa— Historia. She made some shitty choices, but she's not a bad person. Levi is wrong. There has to be a way to end this without any one else dying."
"Why would Levi think Historia's death would help anything?" Armin whispered.
Eren glanced at him.
"I have no idea," he said. It was Historia's voice. She sounded like a bird twittering away in a tree, vibrations tingling the air from the stretch of the skin of her throat. And Armin heard that voice, garbled from tears, chiming softly inside his head.
If you were as smart as you think you are, you'd just let me die!
Eren turned away. Armin's eyes moved from the crown of Historia's head to the tips of her fingers. The insides of her arms were chalky white, blue veins luminescent beneath papery skin. Dark scars traced a pattern down her forearm. Even strokes marking up a haphazard path toward her skinny fingertips.
Everyone would be so much better off…
Armin bit his tongue.
You're lying, he thought at Eren bitterly. You're lying to me again.
He plucked at the intravenous drip that dug into his arm. He swallowed his accusation with a shaky smile.