Historia doesn't exactly know how but she's managed to push through every day since the accident two months ago. Her mind's been so occupied with work and moving forward that she hasn't really had a moment to process everything. She can still smile. She can still laugh. Dark thoughts don't fester until she's laying in bed late at night but even then, she's too tired to get worked up over it. Her last panic attack was when she got the phone call when Ilse was on the other end and she said those words, "Historia, Ymir got into an accident."

Fear. She's never been this afraid. Historia didn't think she could be more terrified than the time Porco placed a pistol to her head. She dropped the phone Sasha had handed her, she didn't even question how Ilse managed to get into contact with her. Historia never ran so fast in her life.

She ran to the same location Ymir had once carried her to.

"Enjoy your evening, sir," Historia said as the last customer of the day left the restaurant. Sasha and Nicolo had already started with cleaning with another one of the employees, Historia quickly joining them.

She worked diligently and Nicolo had already joked about giving her promotion despite how recent it had been since she joined their team. Historia chuckled along with them and she didn't press. She was just glad she could work. She could make money and help Ilse out with the bills. Both the apartment's and the medical ones. The thought passes by quickly and she doesn't bother to go deeper than it's surface level.

Sasha's pregnant figure was growing as each day went by. Her movements were far slower and Nicolo's been fretting over her even more.

"I ain't no old lady," Sasha scowled as Nicolo stopped her from lifting a chair up to stack along with the others. "Give me a break for once and let me work, geez!"

Nicolo wrung his hands with a sheepish grin and said, "I just want you to be careful."

"I'm pregnant, not old!" Sasha huffed but Nicolo ignored her as she tried to take another chair only for her husband to pry it away from her hands.

Historia laughed at their bickering and once she finished cleaning, she clocked out. "I will see you guys tomorrow!" Historia called behind her shoulder as she walked out. The couple wished their goodbyes in unison, which Historia couldn't help but smile softly at. Love is a wonderful thing.

She wasn't allowed into Ymir's hospital room until a day later. Historia was put into the waiting room and she waited anxiously alongside Ilse and Onyan. Maybe it was because her nerves were a wreck and her heartbeat never seemed to slow down but she had never felt so annoyed by their affection. Onyan clutching Ilse's hand reassuringly. Ilse had the luxury to gaze into Onyan's eyes for comfort. Historia never felt this way before, the spite that burned inside her towards their affections but she's recently discovered that fear and worry can make you feel all sorts of things.

The night drags on and Historia couldn't even bother to sleep. Her foot tapped restlessly on the clean floor. The floors she used to roam on alongside Ymir when the brunette came to visit her. Ilse and Onyan have managed to snooze off, leaning against each other for support.

Her thoughts are starting to become merged together and she isn't sure if she's thinking at this point or simply just existing. Her body's exhausted but her heartbeat hasn't even slowed down.

"Historia?" It's late, almost 3 in the morning, usually visitors aren't allowed to be here at night but the three were an exception all because of the man who was currently approaching Historia.

"Eren," Historia stood up from her seat abruptly. Ilse and Onyan left undisturbed. Hope fluttered in her chest and she hoped he had good news.

Instead, he offered her coffee. It's almost 3 in the morning but that doesn't seem to matter. "It's going to be a long night," He said as she takes the plastic cup. Her face winced at the strong flavor but she continued drinking anyways. "And something tells me you won't sleep."

Historia placed the cup on the small table beside her. "How is she?" Historia asked, ignoring his words.

Eren doesn't say anything for a minute, his green eyes drifting around. There's a night shift janitor not far from them, cleaning slowly and silently. There's no one at the front desk as they are on break. It's a weekday and usually, weekday nights are far quieter than others. "She's alive."

"No shit," Historia snapped, her hands shaking. "Is she okay? Is she going to be fine? What the fuck happened, Eren?"

The doctor shows no reaction to her outburst. He has been through enough of these situations to know how to act. Even if this time his patient is his best friend. "As a doctor, I can't say. As your friend, I don't know. I don't know what happened to get her to this point but I know what's physically wrong with her."

"What's physically wrong with her then?"

Eren looks around for a moment before he says in a much lower tone, "She broke one of her legs, a few fractured ribs, she has a concussion and we were quick to stop the internal bleeding when she arrived. She's lucky considering how severe the crash seemed to be."

Historia swallowed. Not even sure if she could process what he just told her. "Is she even awake?"

Eren shook his head. "You weren't here for it but when she arrived, she was screaming, Historia. I had never heard her sound like that before. But I don't even think it was only because of the pain. She was angry."

Historia felt her breath catch in her throat.

"She passed out shortly after, her body couldn't handle anymore."

Historia's felt a lot of pain throughout her life, both emotionally and physically. She's suffered through a lot and hearing Ymir endure just as much was enough to make her heart shatter. Historia leaned back into her chair and she took another drink from her coffee. Hoping to drown out her own sorrows with the bitterness of the drink.

She doesn't know why but her feet lead her down the street she left a part of her behind. Maybe Historia was feeling delusionally nostalgic. It seemed like the only reasonable explanation.

Historia lifted her head to look at the stairs that a drunken man used to fight every night. Sometimes those stairs won the fights. Her blue eyes drifted to the window, through the curtains she could see the loveseat she used to perch herself on every night as she waited for someone she once loved to come home.

She felt a familiar drumming of her pulse that she's recognized as fear. Historia suppressed the feeling, knowing she hardly has the energy to even freak out at the moment.

There is a piece of paper stapled onto the front door. The words EVICTED bold in print. It dawns on her briefly that the place should have been cleaned out months ago as she knew she hadn't been paying the bills. So who had been paying the bills before then? Historia shook her head, chasing away the thought and started to walk away. Her feet were starting to ache.

She isn't aware of it but there is a pair of eyes following her. She's never met the owner of those eyes but she knows people who know them.

Historia entered the apartment she shared with two other people she's grown to love and care about. It's quiet and for a second she briefly wondered if anyone was even there. Closing the door, a couple of steps forward was enough for her to identify the sleeping figure on the couch.

Ymir.

Historia's feet ached but her heart ached far more. A simple glimpse at the crutches leaning against the arm of the couch was enough for her to remember everything that happened that day. Historia doesn't bother to think farther than what was the result.

The TV is on, the light reflecting off Ymir's face and making her freckles glow. Historia leaned over to grab the remote from her unconscious grasp and she turned off the television. Placing a hand to move the hair from her face, Historia gives Ymir a gentle kiss on her forehead. The ache in her heart is from all the love she has for the woman. Historia loved Ymir enough to ignore the multiple beer bottles that crowded themselves on the floor.

Historia made her way to Ymir's room and she leaned against the door as she shut it. Sliding downwards, she sat on the floor and sighed wearily. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know how she can manage to push through every day since the accident but she does. She will do the only thing she can. She will move forward. Anything to keep her occupied. So she won't have a moment to process anything.

Two months have turned into three. It was mid-January when the accident had happened. Just a couple of days before that, Historia had been away in a cabin with Ymir. It had been just the two of them. Historia doesn't understand how much can happen in so little time. But a lot has happened and she's still managed to continue with life.

Ymir could finally get her cast taken off. Before then, Historia had finally renewed her driver's license and she's been using Ymir's car to get around. She had dropped Ymir off at physical therapy. When Historia was given the option to tag along by the doctor, Ymir had quickly intervened saying it wouldn't be necessary. Historia won't lie to herself and say Ymir's words didn't hurt because they did. More than anything but she accepted it and kept going forward.

Historia's been to therapy multiple times since her first appointment. Today was one of her appointments and after she finished, she left feeling more anxious than relieved. Historia, of course, shoved the feeling down. She wasn't going to leave room for the emotion that wanted to fester. Yes, she felt guilty. While she definitely didn't lie, she didn't tell Dr. Zackley what's been on her mind. There's a lot on her mind. At the same time, there's very little.

Keeping yourself busy can be a wonderful thing. Historia learned that a long time ago when she lived as a "loyal" wife. She would do anything to keep her from thinking far more than she should.

"So…?" Ilse said, leaning back in her chair. Her fingers drummed against the metal of the table.

Historia was sitting across from her. After her appointment, Ilse suggested a quick lunch date. Historia isn't eating lunch though. A coffee is placed in front of her and every other minute, she took long drinks from the cup.

The liquid burned her throat alongside the sunlight that was beating onto the nape of her neck. "So?" Historia echoed, her eyes drifting over Ilse's expression. It's the same analytical look Ilse had given Historia when they first met. She knows what Ilse is trying to prompt and Historia won't let it work until Ilse says the words directly.

The two of them haven't really talked about it either. Historia doesn't know what Ilse is feeling but what Historia has seen tells her a lot about the woman. Ilse has distanced herself. She wasn't involved much as she used to be and seemed to focus more on her work. Historia won't resent her for it but she's not afraid to call Ilse selfish.

Ilse's eyes narrowed and she sighed. "Ymir?" Historia doesn't answer, causing the woman to huff with annoyance before continuing. "How are the two of you? How is everything going?"

Historia blinked. If there was a change in her expression, it wasn't a conscious decision. Her lips curled back unsure and she looked away. There's spite brewing in her mouth and she's tempted to release the venom. Historia knows that Ilse knows. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out how things are going between the two of them.

"She yelled at me," Historia offered, her cup of coffee ready in her hand as she takes another drink to keep herself from saying any more. She hasn't been thinking much and it keeps her from saying anything more than she could manage.

Ilse paused, processing her words before replying. "Excuse me?"

Historia finished her coffee.

Historia was there every day at the hospital until Ymir was allowed to be released. She stayed by her side the same way Ymir had done a few months ago. At first, Ymir seemed almost the same as she always had been. Sheepish grins and awkward chuckles. The same jokes and teasing as always. She'd get flustered whenever Historia made a quick remark. Everything seemed fine at the start but even then, Historia saw the light dying in Ymir's eyes.

When Historia had met Ymir, Ymir had looked almost dead. Somewhere along the line, life had breathed back into her and there was a vibrancy in those golden orbs that Historia hadn't seen in anyone else's eyes. Ymir's eyes were her favorite thing. They spoke so much for something that never talked.

It's something when you see the person you love break apart in front of you. They will pretend they are fine for your sake but then one day they will crack and when they do, when they stop pretending, you feel yourself falling apart the same way they've been for so long.

The two of them fall into a routine as Ymir was finally allowed back home. Historia took care of her until she could cope on her own and when that happened, Historia finally started work. At first, it started off easily, everything was the same other than the fact Historia had to help Ymir with basic tasks. But the air eventually shifted between them as things changed. Historia worked and she's trying her best. Ymir is hurt and she is doing her worst.

"Careful," Historia said softly as the brunette tried to get up a little too quickly from the couch. She could tell that Ymir had accidentally applied far more weight on her injured leg than necessary.

Ymir doesn't reply but it doesn't bother Historia at that moment. Silence has started becoming a more frequent thing between them but Historia could still find comfort in it. There's the distance in Ymir's eyes but she's still here. At least, that is what Historia hoped.

After a minute too long, Historia heard a yelp followed quickly with a crash. Historia swiftly got up from her spot and rushed towards the restroom. Thankfully the door wasn't locked and when she opened it, it took a second for her to process the scene.

It was an accident.

That's what she'd call it and she would continue until the memory became faded.

Ymir sat on the floor, struggling, but making an effort to lift herself up. Her leg laid awkwardly on the floor.

"Let me help you," The words are gentle and as caring as they had been since she walked into Ymir's hospital room.

"Don't."

Historia brushed it off. "Don't be silly, Ymir, here take my hand."

Ymir doesn't listen though and it doesn't take long to realize Ymir is trembling. She gripped onto the toilet seat and leaned to the side to allow her uninjured leg to have room to move. She's wearing socks and hardly any friction is made between fabric and tile floor. She slipped, her hand losing its grip and she leaned back too quickly, her back hitting harshly against the rim of the tub.

Historia moved forward, instinctively and kneeled down to grab Ymir's biceps and assist her up. She can feel how fragile Ymir is against her palms. She's shaking.

"Historia, please leave me the fuck alone," Her tone is low and Historia really can't make out the emotion Ymir was trying to convey. Historia can't tell if she's mad or simply annoyed.

She gently pulled on Ymir's arms to try and get her to sit upright. She can't see Ymir's eyes. They're covered by her brown hair. When Historia felt Ymir resist, pulling her weight against a much smaller force, it hurt her in more ways than one.

"Ymir," Historia said a little more firmly. She wasn't sure if she wanted to demand or beg.

Ymir shrugged her off. When Historia tried to clasp back onto her, Ymir raised her voice. "HISTORIA, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! WHAT DON'T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!"

Historia drew back as if she had been slapped. She still couldn't see Ymir's gaze and she knew she didn't want to see it. She picked herself up and she went to the door, her back faced Ymir. She didn't say anything. Her throat has tightened a little too much to try and utter a word. She won't let Ymir see her eyes, which were brimming with tears. She knew that wasn't what Ymir needed.

Historia closed the door, away from Ymir. Both of them have never been farther apart.

Historia got more coffee before she departed from Ilse and when she returned to work, she made sure a pot was ready in the employee's room.

When she helped close up the restaurant, someone from across the street watched her through the windows. When she left and went home, they followed.

Unlike the previous day, this time Ymir was awake as Historia entered the apartment. Her gaze doesn't meet Historia's but she spoke in almost a whisper, "Welcome home. How was work?"

Historia knew she said it out of respect for the girl. She could almost feel how empty the words were. They pierced her in all the wrong places leaving a numbing sensation behind.

"It was fine," Historia responded and as the sentence left her mouth, she knew how similar it was to Ymir's.

Silence lingered uncomfortably between them and Historia was half tempted to go take a shower just so she could wash away the pain. But Ymir spoke again, keeping Historia from moving.

"I am getting a job tomorrow."

"What?" Despite how sharp it came out, it wasn't intentional. "Ymir-...Ymir, you can't, you just started physical therapy and-"

Ymir cut her off. "The doctor said I could-"

Historia did the same. "Bullshit."

The same quiet settled between them but this time it is filled with attention. Historia could feel herself suffocating but she didn't care.

Slowly, Ymir departed from the couch and she made her way to Historia. Historia noticed her limp immediately. She favored one foot over the other but even then, she applied weight on the opposite one. Historia knew Ymir needed the crutches to depend on but Ymir's foolishness to make a statement kept her from doing so.

Ymir met her face-to-face. They both could feel each other's breath but despite that, they both had so much distance between them.

The brunette loomed over her. "I am going to work. Ilse and you can't continue supporting this place on your own."

Historia knew Ymir wanted to say the two of them couldn't continue supporting her. Historia met Ymir's eyes for the first time in a long while. She could see the self-loathing raging inside as her gold orbs started to turn into grey. The light inside was dying. It was almost dead.

"We are managing just fine, you don't have to feel inclined to help, we just need you to heal," The last word had multiple meanings and Historia could see that Ymir caught onto that.

"Historia, just let me fucking help," Ymir snapped but this time Historia stood her ground. It is the first time she noticed the scent of alcohol that hung around Ymir. So many dark memories rushed into her head at once but Historia fought back.

"What is wrong with you? Ymir, you're so stupid, we don't care-"

"You don't care?"

"Let me fucking finish," Historia took a step forward, glaring at Ymir. "I don't fucking care if you help or not around the house. I just want you to get better. I want you to return back to normal! I understand that you are so fucking hurt right now and you probably hate yourself but you need to stop with the self-pity!"

Ymir reeled back, her jaw tightening. She ground her teeth together. "Of course, I am hurt! I am in so much fucking pain right now Historia that sometimes I think it would be better to kill myself! It's not like you could underst-" Ymir stopped, her expression suddenly sobering as she realized what she said. She moved to hold Historia's hand and prepared to apologize but Historia pulled away. The same way Ymir did when Historia had tried to help her on the bathroom floor.

"Finish the sentence, Ymir."

"I-, I didn't mean tha-"

"Finish. The. Sentence."

Ymir doesn't reply.

"It's not like I could understand? Ymir, do you even know what is happening right now?"

The brunette turned her head away, Historia could see the tension in her shoulders.

"This is exactly how we started," Historia whispered and they both already know what she is implying. "But, I know we won't go there. I've seen more good in you than bad. You love your daughter more than anything and I want you to get her back but you can't start here."

Ymir's eyes are dark and she scowled, "I fucked up, Historia."

"We all do."

"No, I fucked up. Again. I don't deserve her back."

"What are you talking about?"

Ymir didn't reply but Historia could see what was lingering against her mouth. Historia doesn't know the specifics but she understood.

"I love you."

"Please don't fucking say that," Ymir said, a crack in her voice.

"But I do."

They stood there for an unprecedented amount of time before they both took action.

Each kiss was heavy and desperate. Historia could taste the spite on Ymir's lips and her heart continued to break.

Ymir's hands roamed over her body, causing goosebumps to form. Historia found her legs wrapped around Ymir's waist as they continued kissing and her body eventually found a place against the wall. Her lips grazed against her ear and down towards her neck, nipping. It's a quick pain and Historia doesn't care. Her breath was caught in her throat as she felt Ymir rock against her, friction growing.

Her work blouse was quickly unbuttoned in the mess and Historia felt herself moan as Ymir's lips roamed downwards. One hand clutched onto Historia's wrist as another traveled towards the dip between her legs.

Historia moaned.

Ymir's grip tightened.

And it tightened.

And tightened.

Historia felt as if her wrist was going to splinter.

"Ymir...Ymir, s-stop."

She doesn't.

"P-please, stop...you're-," Historia wanted to say she was hurting her but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

Instead, she managed to close her legs despite the temptation and moved a foot to push the brunette off.

"Ymir-"

Her eyes were red but she wasn't crying. Ymir took a few steps back, catching her breath. Then anger bloomed onto her features and she threw a fist at the wall behind Historia.

Historia flinched.

Ymir turned and fled. Slamming the front door behind her.

Historia chased after her, yelling her name but she knew it was a futile effort. She watched as Ymir tumbled downwards and out into the street, starting to run.

Historia hated Ymir for that. But she loved her far too much to do anything. She knew nothing would work. Her words wouldn't reach someone who held too much hatred in their hearts for themselves.

A pair of eyes watched the scene and lingered a little too long on Historia, who was looking into the distance. The owner of the eyes then threw down the cigarette and trekked after Ymir.