Author's Note: There will be two chapters left after this one. :)
…
When Sasha returned to the restaurant, she took charge, finally free of Nicolo's worry and eager to work. Historia was happy to step down, put back into the position of a waitress, she had been offered to work in the kitchen but she denied it, not wanting to take anyone's position. Historia could hear excited chatter between the restaurant owners from the kitchen as she finished cleaning up after one of the customers. Lunch hour was arriving and Historia was sure that Sasha was already enthusiastically cooking while also commanding around the other workers in the kitchen. She could hear a few sharp comments from Sasha that were meant towards Niccolo every time he tried to intervene.
"Historia," The blond strived towards a hostess, closing the gap as she walked towards a girl with black hair.
"Mina," Historia greeted. She was one of their newer employees. When Mina was employed, Historia had been playing manager as Niccolo and Sasha were on cool down. Niccolo had already had another experienced employee to take over the chef position but when problems arose, Historia had to be ready to address them. Historia joked lightly, "If a customer is asking to speak to the manager, that's not me anymore."
"I know that," Mina laughed back but she knitted her eyebrows and looked behind her own shoulder for a moment. "Um...there's a customer here asking to see you."
"Huh?" Historia tilted her head in wonder for a moment and then she waved a hand. "If they're here to eat, get them a table, I'll serve them."
"Uh, right," Mina nodded and blushed faintly as if she was ashamed. Like she should have known that in the first place. Historia offered a reassuring smile for Mina's sake hoping to ease her embarrassment. As Mina turned away, Historia nodded politely at a few leaving individuals who brushed by.
Her view was blocked for a few moments from Mina as she talked to the customer who wanted to see Historia. Historia could only see Mina's expression as she exhibited the enthusiastic manners expected from her position. Historia didn't know that those few moments were the last relief she felt before her body tensed into an instinctual state. A state had her revert to a terrifying mindset.
"If you would please, follow me," Mina said, her friendly tone blissfully unaware as she started leading the customer to the table.
It was an immediate recognition as Mina walked by. The customer followed after Mina, a man with grey eyes and an unnatural sober look, his hair neatly combed while dressed in semi-formal clothes. If Historia hadn't had brutal memories ingrained into her mind, she would have mistaken him for another man. But this wasn't a stranger, as much as Historia wished it was.
It was Porco.
Historia felt as if the walls were closing in on her and her lungs were caving in on themselves. Her muscles were tense but she didn't express fear despite her heartbeat hammering in her ribcage, ready to burst.
She wanted to turn and run the other way, tell Sasha and Niccolo what was going on, have them save her from this interaction. But instead, when she made eye contact with Porco, the way he stared at her, drinking her in, Historia felt an entitlement towards him. Her will to cater towards him like a chain wrapped around her neck and tugging her forward.
Historia tore her gaze away from Porco and she swallowed thickly. Mina walked by, sending a concerned look that made Historia force a comforting smile in reply.
Then, with a deep breath, Historia made her way towards Porco.
...
It's probably adding to Ymir's stress because of how careful she was behaving. As if Freyja was a fragile object Ymir was afraid to break. Reasonably she should relax, ease a little, for both their sake's but instead, she spoke tentatively. There were times where Ymir wanted to reach out and touch Freyja, just to know that her daughter was actually there and this wasn't some morbid fever dream. But she refrained from doing so, a part of her afraid to let go of this image of her daughter as if this was a dream.
"Can I have the crayons?" Freyja asked, her tone softer than expected. It wasn't like her daughter was speaking in a whisper, her voice just seemed naturally soft. She closed the book they were reading together and pushed it to the side.
Ymir nodded and reached across the table to grab a coloring book and crayons. She opened her mouth to ask Freyja if she liked coloring then refrained from it. Of course, she does, why else would she be asking for crayons, you idiot, Ymir hissed internally at herself. Everything Ymir wanted to say was at the tip of her tongue and yet she could hardly say anything. Ymir hated herself for the hesitance.
"Most of these pages are colored," Freyja commented, her eyebrows knitted together. She flipped through the coloring book a little curiously, her eyes observing both the well-done and not so well-done colorings.
"Do you want me to find another coloring book for you?" Ymir shifted in her chair, it was a lot smaller, obviously not meant for adults but Ymir was willing to endure discomfort to be by her daughter's side,
"No," Freyja shook her head, stopping on an untouched page and pulling out the crayons from their box. She tilted her head and looked at Ymir. Her blue-green eyes stared into Ymir's golden orbs for a moment before she reached a hand forward. Ymir thought, momentarily, that Freyja was going to touch her and braced herself but instead her daughter moved her hand to pick up her hair from behind. "I have the same hair clip at home. Daddy gave it to me. It's by my lamp near my bed."
"Yeah?" Ymir touched the hair clip she normally wore to keep her hair out of her face. Ymir had more than this one but they all looked the same, coming from a brand that was no longer in service. She had worn these hairclips since she was a little kid, Ymir's chest pooled with warmth at the thought of Val giving Freyja one of Ymir's clips. Though, she also had to ponder on the fact that the only way he could have gotten it was on the night the two of them had drunkenly spent together.
The mentioned man was watching from afar, giving them their space and looking a little into a children's book he had in his hands.
Ymir pressed her lips together and watched as Freyja colored carefully, making sure to not mark outside the bold lines of the coloring page. When Freyja noticed Ymir staring, she asked, "Wanna help me color?"
Ymir paused for a moment, somewhat surprised, then nodded, "Of course, I'd love to, sweetheart."
Freyja offered her a crayon. "Color inside the lines, it will look prettier."
"You got it, boss," Ymir replied, earning a funny expression from Freyja. Momentarily a wave of insecurity washed over Ymir as if she was afraid what she said disturbed her daughter but then Freyja's lips twitched into the tiniest of smiles and that was enough for Ymir.
After a bit, Ymir stepped away from Freyja, letting her daughter finish coloring the rest of the page. Ymir made her way to Val who was leaning against the wall, still very engrossed in whatever multi-chapter book he was reading. The brunette reached a hand out to place between the pages of the book, surprising Val and pushing the book downwards so Val could look at her.
"How's it going?" A natural charming grin spread across his face and his eyes glittered with life.
Ymir's eyes flitted towards the book then back at Val. "Whatever's "going" is probably not as interesting as that story you're reading."
"Probably not," Val said, his mouth slightly parted in silent laughter. He lifted the book to gesture. "Jack and Annie have some pretty interesting adventures in this magic tree house of theirs. But I'm sure whatever is going, comes close."
"I just don't know what to say," Ymir admitted, close to a splutter. She turned away from Val to look at Freyja who was still occupied with her coloring.
"You've done this before or has one year made you lose that parental charm?"
One year. It really had been one year since Freyja went to go live with Val. Ymir faltered, briefly, before shaking her head.
Val gave a sympathetic look and closed his book. "She isn't going to jud-"
"Don't tell me that," Ymir cut him off sharply. "Just like your eyes, Val, I can see the way she's thinking. It's like she's evaluating me-"
"Ymir, she's just a kid. She's curious and probably wondering why the mother she hasn't seen in so long is acting weird."
"I-"
"Freyja doesn't hate you if that's what you're thinking. It's hard to get a kid her age to hate you. If you're so worried about it though, go spend more time with her instead of talking to me. That's the whole point why we're here," Val spoke firmly, strongly suggesting the end of their conversation.
Ymir didn't bother saying anything else and gave an unsure glance at Val. Val gripped her shoulders and turned Ymir around, pushing her forward. "You're worse than a toddler, go."
Ymir couldn't help but flush lightly cause Ymir was also aware of how ridiculous she was acting. But even so, it didn't stop the doubt from eagerly gnawing at her stomach. She made her way back to Freyja and crouched down this time instead of sitting in the chair.
"You're right, it does look pretty," Ymir commented as Freyja nudged the coloring book towards her to see.
"I told you so."
"You sure did," Ymir replied, pausing for a moment to look in Val's direction. He met her gaze and waved a hand of encouragement. Ymir looked back at her daughter and exhaled, trying to get rid of the tension in her shoulders. "Do you want to tear this page out and take it home?"
Freyja flipped the page to look at the coloring behind it. She shook her head when she saw there was already a colored page that Ymir had to admit looked more like a schizophrenic mess. "No, it can stay."
Ymir couldn't help but let out a puff of amusement.
Freyja perked at the sound, once again her eyes looking thoughtful. Her eyes then drifted towards one of the large windows behind them where the playground was in view. "Can we go outside?"
"Of course," Ymir stood up and gestured a hand for Freyja to follow. "Do you want to tell Daddy where we're going first?"
Freyja nodded and without waiting for Ymir, she raced towards Val. Ymir watched as Freyja jumped into Val's arms, her daughter instinctually trusting her father. "Mom's taking me to the playground, do you wanna come with us?"
"Nah, I'm pretty into this book, sweetie," Val responded with an easy smile and Ymir could see the adoration emitting from him and her daughter. "I'm sure you'll have as much fun without me though."
"Daddy's not coming," Freyja told Ymir as if she wasn't there from the conversation. She wriggled away from Val's arms and went to stand by Ymir. She looked up at Ymir. "We can go now."
"Alright, that's fine," Ymir made eye contact with Val who looked back supportively.
As they walked outside, Ymir was acutely aware of how far Freyja was away from her. Even though they walked side by side and her daughter wasn't even arm's length apart, she was still enough distance away that had Ymir a little worried. She wasn't going to reach out for Freyja and force her to hold her hand, Ymir was giving her daughter that choice. Ymir refused to force herself onto her daughter although Ymir had the aching longing to just hold her and shower her in kisses. Ymir still missed Freyja even though they were currently with each other and she knew that their one year apart had changed her daughter. Freyja was older after all, even if it was just by a year, and her individuality was clear in her blue-green eyes.
Instead of Freyja running to the playground, she purposely steered Ymir towards the swings. As they walked by, kids bustled with uncontained energy and played rambunctiously. Freyja looked at them, with a sort of unease in her eyes that had Ymir reasonably troubled and her mind whirling with a million questions.
"Are you okay?" Ymir couldn't help but ask as Freyja grew closer to Ymir. As much as Ymir appreciated the lack of distance between them, the fact that Freyja was closing the distance because of nervousness had Ymir concerned.
"I just don't like how loud the other kids are," Freyja responded, honestly. Children were always the most straightforward and Ymir was glad she didn't have to pry for answers. Freyja's eyes never left the playground as they walked slowly though. Ymir followed her gaze and she saw that she was looking at a group of kids who were playing on the monkey bars.
Quite abruptly, one of the kids lost their grip and fell to the ground with a thud. It wasn't a far drop but the boy cried out in shock as he laid in the dirt.
Freyja instantly grabbed Ymir's hand as the boy started to bawl. It ripped Ymir's heart apart and she squeezed Freyja's to offer comfort. As they walked away, assumably, the boy's parents were quickly by his side and tending to him.
"Do you like school?" Ymir tried as Freyja let go of Ymir's hands the last few steps and trotted to the swing set.
"Yeah," Her daughter hopped onto the swing, standing unsteadily.
"Hey, careful," Ymir reached her arms out, ready to catch Freyja if she fell. Freyja gripped onto the chains that held the swing, her legs wobbling before she finally sat down properly. "Do you have any friends?"
Freyja nodded which sent relief washing over Ymir. When Freyja didn't elaborate, Ymir asked, "Who's your best friend?"
"I don't have one."
"But you have friends?"
"Yeah, but they're not the best."
"What makes someone the "best"?"
Freyja shrugged, biting her lip, considering the question. "I don't know, they're just not my best friends."
"Okay, okay," Ymir knitted her eyebrows together a little confused by her daughter's mindset but didn't push it.
"Do you have a best friend, Mom?" Freyja asked, she slowed her swinging to look directly at Ymir who leaned on one of the poles that supported the swing set.
Ymir was somewhat alarmed when the image of Marcel flashed through her mind but she pushed down the thought. They used to be best friends. But they were hardly even friends at this point. "Yeah, I do. The Yeagers…" Ymir paused before taking a shot, "Do you remember them?"
Freyja shook her head and Ymir couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Freyja can get reacquainted with them, Ymir reassured herself.
"Daddy married his best friend."
"Oh?"
"Mmhmm, Amara said I could be the flower girl at their wedding."
"Amara," Ymir echoed, assuming that was Val's fiancée. "She must be really nice if your dad wanted to marry her."
"She's weird like you," Freyja said bluntly.
Ymir blinked a couple of times processing what her daughter said. Immediately her face heated with humiliation and her insecurities tied her stomach into knots. "How so?"
Freyja tipped her toes to scratch at the ground and stop her swinging. She sat still, still clinging onto the metal chains of her swing, and looked at Ymir with a funny expression. "I don't know?"
"You don't know?"
"You're…," Freyja stood up from her seat and stepped towards Ymir. Ymir looked down at her as her daughter looked up at Ymir. Freyja extended a finger and poked Ymir's side. "You're that."
"Tense?" Ymir suggested.
"Tense," Freyja repeated then nodded with satisfaction. "You're tense."
Well, Ymir's been called worse things.
"Then, how about this," Ymir crouched down and looked into Freyja's eyes. Her blue-green eyes stared back and Ymir could only imagine what her daughter was thinking right now. Ymir could see the intelligence in her irises and the future they held. "Get me to stop being tense."
"How do I do that?"
"Teach me how to have fun."
"Oh," Freyja's lips formed into a perfect 'o'. Unexpectedly, she moved to grip Ymir's hand and tugged her. Freyja reached out her other arm, pointing in a direction where an ice cream vendor was parked. There was a small line, with children buzzing excitedly as they stood by their parents. "Ice cream. Ice cream's fun."
"I can agree with that."
Freyja beamed while Ymir stood up and let the girl guide her. Ymir was relieved to realize that her daughter was already opening up to her. Val had been right.
And for a moment, everything was okay.
…
"Would you like a drink to get yourself started?" Historia addressed Porco, trying not to shake. She tried meeting his eyes but she couldn't as she placed a menu in front of him. Historia could feel the way Porco's gaze beat into her, setting her skin aflame with mortification, feeling as if she had done something wrong and Porco was here to call her out on that. Historia waited for him to spew out venom, tear her down, and put her in her place.
"Water, please," It was a simple request and yet it caught Historia off guard. She expected him to be confrontational, to make a scene and expose his true nature in this restaurant. Revealing to the world the type of man he was to someone who was once his wife.
"Alright, it will be here in a moment," Historia replied, trying not to let her unease seep through. She turned around, walking away briskly, and was quick to get his water. When she walked near the kitchen, hearing the bustle of life and Sasha's voice over the clashing of pans and humming of stoves. Historia gripped onto Sasha's voice, telling herself that she could rely on the woman and her husband in case something happened. That Niccolo and Sasha would come to her rescue if Porco snapped.
A year ago, Historia wouldn't have that sort of reliance. It was a sobering thought and it was enough to go face Porco once more.
"Here's your water, are you rea-"
"Historia."
"Are you ready to order?"
"Historia."
She winced, the sound of her name leaving his lips was unnatural. She didn't want Porco to address her, to talk to her, and yet here she was, serving his table.
"What?" Historia snapped, the word torn from her throat as she felt her nerves crawl. Her muscles, despite all this time apart from Porco, flexed, bracing themselves to submit. But she wasn't going to. She refused to crumble in front of him. This restaurant wasn't that house of pain that she left so many months ago.
Porco's eyes averted away, maybe in an attempt of mercy toward Historia or for the sake of his discretion. He mumbled, low, "I didn't come here for the food. I wanted to talk to you."
"If you're not here to dine, then leave," Historia replied firmly, her heart beating against her ribcage.
"Can't we just talk?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Historia, please," His tone shifted into a level of vulnerability that Historia didn't think she had ever heard before. It caught her off guard and for a moment, she considered.
"I can't," Historia admitted, her voice wavering briefly before picking itself back up. She turned her body away, unable to face him any longer. "Just leave, please, don't make a scene."
He grunted, not in hostility but a note of acknowledgment. Historia could sense him shifting behind her as he stood up from his seat. Historia took a few steps away, a pull keeping her from parting from him completely. Porco brushed past her, his hand grazing her back before fleeting back to the side of his body.
The spot Porco had touched left Historia's skin aflame. And not in a good way.
…
"This was a great idea, Freyja," Ymir said, leaning back on the bench and looking at her daughter with a grin.
Freyja licked her ice cream tentatively. "Yeah, I think so too."
Ymir took a bite from her own treat and let her eyes drift for a moment. The playground was still full of energetic children whose excitement seemed endless. Their parents watched on while also talking to the other adults. Ymir turned her head and asked, "Does Daddy take you out often?"
"I usually go wherever he goes when he isn't working."
"What about Amara?"
"She's home when I come back from school," Freyja turned her cone, her tongue swiping over the ice cream that was dripping along the sides. "I said she's tense, right?"
"You did."
"She doesn't know how to play with me but I don't really mind."
"You two get along?"
"Mmhmm," Freyja responded, finishing the ice cream and proceeding to eat the cone. Ymir noticed a smudge of the food on the corner of her lip. "She's weird but she's nice. And she really loves Daddy, so it's alright. Amara makes Daddy happy."
Ymir reached out, a little hesitant at first before running a thumb over Freyja's skin to get rid of the mark. When Freyja didn't flinch away, Ymir felt comfortable warmth buzz through her veins. "Well, that's good to hear."
"Why weren't you and Daddy ever married?"
Ymir stiffened, the question catching her off guard. It wasn't a sore subject for Ymir. Val and she had been acutely aware of what they did and to be fair, Val never expected Ymir to get pregnant. At the time, it was just a stupid mistake mixed in with the nature of a one-night stand. Though, the thought of "stupid mistake" sent a heated ball of guilt to roll in Ymir's stomach. Because if what happened, never happened, Ymir wouldn't be sitting here with a little girl who held the world in her eyes.
"We didn't love each other like Amara and your father do," Ymir replied, simply. Or as simple as it got. It was better not to dance around the subject and give Freyja her answers.
Freyja wrinkled her nose, not in a disgusted manner but rather thoughtful. "That's why you're not together?"
"Yeah, but we cared for each other, we still do," Ymir explained, grabbing a napkin to wipe her hands. She offered another to Freyja and her daughter took it.
"Then why weren't you around?" The question flowed from her mouth fluidly and she gingerly took the napkin Ymir had offered.
"Uh, I…" Ymir paused, swallowing and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Mom didn't make smart decisions and had to better herself before seeing you again.
Freyja's eyes flashed and she finished her cone. Quite easily, she asked, "And are you better?"
"More than I've ever been in my whole life."
…
In a perfect world, that would have been the last time Historia saw Porco. But perhaps the world wanted to remind her how unpredictable it was because she saw him several times after that.
Historia's shift ended and she walked through the back door of the restaurant, Porco waiting for her, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring building.
His eyes flitted up as her shoes scuffed the gravel and her blue eyes hardened. Fear drummed within her but she stood her ground and emitted the distaste she felt buzzing through her veins. Historia pulled her gaze from him and turned the other way, walking from the small alley and out into the sidewalk.
"Historia," Porco called after her but he didn't follow.
She ignored him, refusing to give him her attention. Her fingers curled into fists and she felt the anxiety squeezing her throat as tears threatened to pour. She didn't want him to see her cry. She never wanted to cry in front of him again.
She pulled out her phone, texting Ymir to pick her up from a different location. Using the excuse that she had to pick something up from a store there. Historia made sure Porco wasn't tracking her and had her phone on standby just in case he tried anything.
Days went by and Historia saw Porco every single one of those days, he lingered near the restaurant, waiting for her. And every single time, Historia walked by, cold and distant.
The thought of telling Ymir was there, swollen on her tongue. But when she stared into those vivid gold eyes, Historia lost her words and she didn't mention it.
Ymir was walking on cloud nine. Her steps lighter, her eyes brighter, her features happier. Every other day, Val and Ymir had something arranged, every other day, Ymir got to see Freyja.
When Ymir came back from a visit, there was something so pure and hopeful in Ymir that Historia wouldn't dare ruin.
She didn't want to make Ymir worry about what was happening. That Porco was waiting for her as she arrived and left work. It wasn't exactly like he was forcing himself on her though, surprisingly. He just stood there, waiting for the acknowledgment that Historia wouldn't give him. If anything, the situation was handled despite the nervousness that drenched Historia when she walked by him.
When Historia went to therapy, she didn't bring the subject up to Dr. Zackley either. Usually ending up with her beating herself up the moment she left his office.
Guilt and betrayal were curling her stomach and the slightest glimpse of Porco was heightening those emotions.
"We can't keep doing this," Historia spoke after a week of his silent presence. Her eyes didn't meet his as she stood a few feet away from him.
Porco was by a row of newspaper racks that were placed on the right front of the restaurant. He replied, "We're not even doing anything."
His tone lacked an edge that made Historia's skin crawl. Porco sounded gentle, careful even.
"You can't be here," Historia's windpipe felt as if it was being stepped on and she desperately tried not to choke.
It was the morning, Nicolo and Sasha were already inside, probably in the kitchen. Historia's shift was about to start. She didn't want to look at Porco nor talk to him but it had to stop. He had to stop before he could even begin.
"I just want to talk," The way he said "I" was different also. Historia remembered when he used to utter the word, it would be latched onto a sense of entitlement. Now, Porco just spoke. He said words and made it sound as if nothing was ever about him, that no intention or narcissism was hiding behind what he said.
Historia shook her head. "And I don't."
"Then you don't have to, just lis-"
"Listen to what?! To you apologizing?! So I can hear you say you've changed and you want the two of us to try again? Fuck, Porco, I don't want to hear that. I don't want you here," Historia's voice broke, vulnerable, and she hated herself for it. For showing how weak she was despite all the time they had been apart. That he still had power over her even if he didn't do anything. That she couldn't keep up a facade long enough before she was bested by his beatings, physically and psychologically.
Porco stepped forward, reaching out but Historia reeled back, refusing to let him touch her. "Then I won't apologize if that's what you want."
"I want you gone! Why don't you get that?!"
"Historia-"
"Don't."
"I know I mess-"
"Stop it."
"Hear me ou-!"
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" Historia cried, her fist raising to her face, trying to rub away the tears that she didn't want to cry. She was making a scene, she knew that but she didn't care. She couldn't handle this, she didn't want him, she was tired. She was tired of the world being so cruel and unfair. Historia just wanted to-
A hand cupped around her mouth, breaking the quiet sobs. A brutal arm wrapped around her and instinctually lashed out. Her legs kicked as she tried to tear away from Porco's grip. She felt the way his muscles tensed against her body, squeezing her closely as he pulled her away from the restaurant.
He took her to the alley, the back entrance where employees could slip in and out. He let loose as Historia tumbled forward, tripping and falling on the gravel.
"Jesus Christ, you're hysterical!" Porco sharply snarled. His act of being calm and collected dissipating as he glared down at her. Historia was stunned silent but she met his gaze, finally, and tried her best to glower back. "I really fucked you up, didn't I? I fucked you up and there's nothing I can do to fix that."
Historia winced back, his admission raw and unexpected.
"I know that it doesn't mean anything, but I am sorry," Porco ran a hand through his blond hair and gritted his teeth. "Historia, I am a horrible person. Everyone knows that. A bastard who can't stop making mistakes over and over again. But I want to change, I've been trying to change and it's hard. And after all this time, Historia, I still fucking love you. Why don't you get that? I wouldn't be here if it wasn't true! And I know you don't love me back but I think we should try, just give me a chance and I'll make everything ri-"
"Dammit, Porco! I'm in love with someone else!"
"W-what…?" His expression fell, disbelief falling over his features. He took a step back and bit onto one of his knuckles. Porco's lip trembled helplessly and his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to comprehend what he had been told.
Historia lifted herself from the ground. Her legs wobbled unsteadily and her knees were threatening to buckle but she dug her heels into the ground and faced him. Her cheeks burned from tear stains. There was still an overwhelming sadness and dread that swam in her chest but she pushed through. She whimpered, "I don't love you, Porco."
Historia hadn't thought it was ever possible to watch something break Porco the way her honesty did.
He lifted his head and he looked at her, something panic-stricken and disconsolate swollen in his grey eyes. He asked, his voice airy and desperate, "Who...w-who is he?"
Historia refused to answer, shaking her head. Her body shuddering.
They stood there for a long few quiet seconds.
The tension closing in on them.
And then the world, for once, played in Historia's favor.
The alley door swung open, Niccolo walking out. His eyes widened at the sight of Historia's disheveled state then swerved to Porco. Niccolo's eyes hardened and he paced forward, "What's the problem here?"
Porco stood, like a deer in headlights. He took one glance at Historia then back at the nearing Niccolo before taking off.
Niccolo chased after him, as far as the alleyway ended and called out as Porco fled, "Come back here, you coward!" Before swiveling back and quickly jogging to Historia's side. "Hey, hey, are you okay? Do I need to call the authorities?"
Historia wanted to crumble on the spot but resisted the urge. She wanted to say something, but her mouth felt glued shut. She just closed her eyes, swallowing the pain, and shook her head.
Ymir filled Historia's thoughts and her bones ached in a desperate need for closure.
…
Marcel hoped that when Porco heard it from Historia, that'd he give up on this futile chase. But he should have figured that having hopes were just going to end up with them spat back in his face. Porco was the embodiment of greed. And Marcel just wished his charity countered that flaw.
He was, as he internalized it, a fool for having hopes and wishes. Because the brother that he wanted, would never be the brother he could have. So, Marcel stood in front of an all too familiar apartment door and he knew the moment he opened it, this would mark some sort of end. Either for Porco, for him, for Ymir, or Historia.
Someone would get their happy ending and another wouldn't.
If it meant Marcel had to threaten someone he cared for to give Porco his satisfying conclusion, then oh well.
What else could Marcel do in his already ruined life?
Smile and give?
How long would it be till he smiled no longer? When he couldn't give anymore?
Two brothers walked into an apartment that wasn't theirs. One held a gun and the other wasn't aware of that fact.
Two brothers with barely any life ahead of them. Two brothers with a toxic dynamic. Two brothers who had people they cared about living in that apartment that wasn't theirs. Those two people, the ones they cared about, who lived and loved together. Two brothers and two lovers with their lives unnecessarily and cruelly interwoven together.
One life was shorter than the others.
…
"I need you."
Ymir dropped everything. She didn't have to have an explanation. Historia's request was enough to recklessly drive Ymir towards an edge and fulfill everything her lover wanted.
"I'll be home in a few minutes," Ymir answered. It was three words but that was enough. "I need you" would always be enough for Ymir to come running. It's a terrifying and overwhelming emotion but reassuring despite the power it held over Ymir. That she could love someone to this degree and it could be returned.
After a tender "I love you" and a promised arrival, Ymir hung up and she turned her head. On the other side of Ymir was another person she would sacrifice everything for. And staring into those eyes, Ymir knew, for this moment, she could give up her time to spend it with someone else who desperately needed it.
Freyja tugged on Ymir's sleeve with knitted eyebrows. "What's wrong?"
"Something came up, Mom's going to have to go, I'm sorry," Ymir apologized, placing a hand on the back of her daughter's head to nudge her forward and plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Val stopped what he was doing, looking up from the lego house he had been constructing with Freyja. He shared a similar expression as Freyja and Ymir felt a twinge of something unidentifiable inside her. He gazed questioningly, bringing a hand to tug on Freyja's arm to let go of Ymir.
"It's…" Ymir paused, momentarily. She hadn't brought up Historia to Freyja yet but it wasn't exactly a subject she was shy of bringing up. It's just something that didn't feel necessary yet. Especially when the two had spent this past week reconnecting. There was a small cramp of guilt that throbbed inside her body but Ymir knew that even Historia would understand. "Someone needs me right now."
And if Ymir's attitude was any indication, a flash of understanding crossed Val's features and he nodded.
Freyja's eyes flicked between the two of them before sighing in a way that only children her age could relate to. Ymir departed from them with a goodbye, giving one last hug to Freyja.
The moment she was away from their view, Ymir raced to her car. She was aware of the risk she was taken as she hurried every action. That her lack of caution could lead to serious consequences. She teetered on the edge of recklessness and reasonableness as she drove home. Her pulse drummed to an arrhythmic beat as she shifted restlessly in her seat.
"Historia," Ymir said, worried, an edge to her voice as she shoved the front door out of her way.
"Ymir," Historia replied, her voice throaty. She stood up from the couch moving to meet the brunette.
The moment they made eye contact, Ymir saw the tears swollen in Historia's ocean eyes. Ymir closed the front door and she approached Historia's trembling figure. She didn't need an explanation to know that Historia needed Ymir to hold her.
She wrapped her arms securely around Historia and she felt the blonde wither against her body. Ymir heard the choked sobs, barely contained as Historia broke apart. Ymir held her tighter, her heartbreaking as the desire to make everything right rose from the pain. Ymir would do anything and everything.
"I'm sorry," Shame spewed from those two words. Regret tying into each shuddering breath Historia took. Ymir closed her eyes, swallowing, feeling the way Historia beat herself up over something she didn't have to. Ymir was all too familiar with that mindset.
"You don't have to be sorry," Ymir offered, a whisper of reassurance and comfort. "Don't ever be sorry."
Historia told Ymir what had been happening these past days. How she saw Porco, how she talked to him, how he touched her and how he still had power over Historia. Remorse hung at the back of her throat. As if she did something wrong as if this was her fault.
Fury filled Ymir's vision, the image of Porco and Marcel striking her mind before a fragile grip on her shirt tucked her away from the rage and sobered Ymir. She could be angry later.
"It's not your fault, Historia," Because how could it be. Historia didn't ask for what life gave her. No one ever did and sometimes people ended up with the shitty side of things. Ymir added, bitterly, "It's that bastard's."
Ymir guided them to the couch and she let Historia lay against her. She could feel the way Historia's heartbeat stuttered against her chest, how Historia was trying to ease herself from the overwhelming emotions that plagued her mind.
Ymir's slender fingers ran through her golden locks, pulling her in tighter as the arms around her shoulders wrapped possessively around Ymir. Ymir let Historia ease herself from the tension, to catch her breath and clear her troubled mind. Ymir would never blame Historia for her traumas and planned to always be there for Historia to rely on.
Ymir didn't want to live in a world where she couldn't be there for Historia. Historia needed Ymir the same way Ymir needed Historia. They found solace in each other and there was a relieving anthem in Ymir's chest every time the thought occurred. She loved someone who reciprocated.
It was enough drive for Ymir to grow reckless but also reasonable. Frustration bubbled in her veins and her lips pulled back as the embittered thoughts of what Porco and Marcel had done flooded her mind.
She wouldn't let Marcel win. He broke a promise that Ymir never should have trusted. She believed, for once, that Marcel would choose someone else over his brother. She was an idiot for thinking that. When you're willing to give the world to someone else, it's hard to choose anybody else over them.
Ymir understood that.
She'd give anything to Freyja and Historia if she could. And she wouldn't trade them, no matter what was offered.
Ymir wasn't sure how much time passed when she realized that Historia had fallen asleep. Her breath had grown shallow and the smaller woman felt almost limp against Ymir's body. After a few careful minutes, Ymir wriggled out of Historia's grasp and gently laid her on the couch. Ymir took a moment to watch Historia's resting features, internally fighting the tide of mixed emotions that wanted to drown Ymir.
Fuck, Ymir cursed internally, her jaw tense as she wiped at her face and stepped away from Historia. She was frustrated. The temptation to track down Porco and beat him to a pulp present but also disregarded. Marcel would protect his brother and Ymir was already familiar with the fact that Marcel knew how to pack a punch.
Rubbing her chin at the thought, Ymir turned at the sound of the front door opening. Ilse walked in, looking downwards for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Ymir's. Ymir placed a forefinger to her lips before gesturing to Ilse to move somewhere away from Historia so they could talk.
Ymir had a solution and looking into her friend's eyes, Ymir knew that maybe, just maybe, they could end this once and for all. Ilse just had to agree.
Ymir's plan contributed to the end of their four lives unnecessarily and cruelly interwoven together. When the strings that tied them together, were finally cut off. A string that abruptly snapped, unexpectedly, but ended the strange phenomenon of their entwined lives. Where one of them no longer lived, where one lived the rest of their life with regret and guilt and the other two lived freely.
Someone would get their happy ending and another wouldn't.
Four lives.
One life was shorter than the others.
…
Marcel felt like his life was one long lucid nightmarish dream and the moment they opened that godforsaken door led to the end of all things. He wished he had a chance to apologize. To Ymir, to Historia, and his brother. It's the first thing Marcel had ever taken from someone else in his life, something he thought about with morbid amusement.
This was the price he had to pay, he supposed. For finally taking something in his life instead of giving.
In resignation, he tried to smile. As the sound of sirens and loud voices filled his ears.
…
It was a weekend. Ymir and Historia were both off from work and cheesily cherishing every moment they had together. Ymir wasn't going to see Freyja for today, Val had something special planned for her daughter anyways. As he and Amara were off, they were taking the girl out to have fun together as a family.
It had been two weeks since Ymir started visiting Freyja. Ymir and Historia had finally chosen a house that they agreed on and it was far from here. Ymir already talked to Val and while there was a pang of guilt due to her selfishness, she knew this was what she wanted. Val was, of course, reluctant at first but they both reached a middle ground. Ymir was going to be allowed to take Freyja with her. Freyja was going to live with Ymir.
How alleviating was that.
Well, Ymir agreed that Val could have Freyja during the summers while Ymir had her during the school year and the two decided that when Freyja was older, she could arrange something else. But that was when she was a teenager, and there was still plenty of years before that.
Ymir felt as if her heart was soaring and with Historia by her side, there was a bit of clarity and peace that drowned her mind in complete bliss.
The front door tentatively opened and when Ymir turned her head, she had expected that Ilse was peeking through to see if Ymir and Historia were here. Probably to decide on whether or not, Ilse wanted Onyankopon in the house or Ymir and Historia to not know he was on the other side of the door.
Instead…
"Hey Ymir," Marcel greeted, smiling easily and a distant look lingering in his conflicted eyes. He took a step aside and Porco followed after him. Porco's features were far more serious and concentrated, a flicker of war in his grey orbs, his lips pressed together to form a thin line.
The moment Ymir made eye contact with Porco, she watched the way his expression contorted into a sense of shock and betrayal. He bared his teeth and took a step towards Ymir and Historia. "You have to be fucking kidding me." Porco swerved to Marcel before back to them. "This has to be a joke…" His voice wavered for a moment before he swallowed thickly and his expression hardened once more. "Historia, let's go."
It's then when Ymir became aware of how stiff the woman was beside her. Ymir glanced at Historia, feeling her heartbreak as she saw the fearful appearance Historia held. It made Ymir's stomach curl cruelly and stinging bile to form in her throat.
Ymir stood up from the couch and strode towards Porco, only stopping a few feet away from him. "You go."
Porco flared, his fingers curling into fists. His eyes flitted to Historia. "Seriously, Ymir is the one you love? How the fuck does that happen," Porco returned his gaze to Ymir and spat, "Look at you."
"I could say the same to you," Ymir countered, standing her ground.
Porco appeared ready to lunge at her but Marcel intervened. He slipped between them and spoke in hollow humor, "As much as I love reunions, I would like to make this short." Marcel sauntered toward Historia and looked at her, a lack of malice in his tone, "Hey Historia, I don't know if my brother has ever mentioned me but my name is Marcel. I'd appreciate it if you left with us."
Historia stared back at him, her eyebrows knitted together as confusion broke briefly through the fear. Before Historia could say anything, Ymir shoved Marcel away, scowling, "Don't talk to her."
"Hey," Porco barked, reaching for Ymir and pushing her back. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Don't you ever dare touch him, this isn't your business."
Ymir reeled back as if water had been splashed onto her face. She laughed with incredulity. "Holy shit! You really have lost your mind. I'll tell you this, if you don't get out of our apartment I'll ca-"
It was an unexpected impact. The taste of copper drenched Ymir's taste buds, a stinging sensation prickling between her eyes. Fury filled Ymir's limbs, adrenaline kicking in and something primal arising from her chest. Ymir retaliated, the satisfying crack of Porco's jaw gracing the room.
Her reaction led to the onslaught of angered fists. It took her a moment to realize Marcel had also gone against her as she tried to avoid Porco's fists in a blur. As betrayed as she felt, it wasn't surprising. After a few concentrated punches and frustrated shouts, Ymir was knocked into Marcel's arms. He gripped onto her tightly, holding her back as Porco let his indignation out.
"You won't do jack shit," Porco spewed out, venom lacing every word. He punched her in the stomach, venting his irradiation out onto her. Ymir doubled over, crying out as the air left her lungs, she felt nausea crawl up her neck and her mouth grow uncomfortably warm.
"Stop it!" Historia's voice ripped through the voice, shrill and panicked. Ymir could hardly process everything around her, but she looked up blearily in her hunched position. Historia was pulling at Porco's arm, begging him as a series of apologies tumbled out of her mouth and she pleaded with him to leave Ymir alone. "I'll go with you, just don't hurt her, please."
Porco glowered at her, his insecurities vivid in his position. He growled, bitterly, "But you don't love me."
Historia trembled and she raised clenched fists to hit his arm. Porco barely flinched as Historia shouted at him. "Of course I don't love you! All you've ever done is hurt me, beat me, insult me, fucking r-rape me! Fuck, Porco, how could I ever love someone like you..." Historia fell to her knees, curling into herself, sobbing.
The sound of Historia's weeping and Ymir's ragged breathing the only thing keeping the room from going completely silent. Tension grew thick in the air, tasteless and taunting.
Marcel broke out into hysterical laughter. Something off-balanced glittering in his eyes. "Porco, I think we had our fun. Let's get out of here. There's nothing to stay for."
"What? No, we're here for a reason," Porco responded, his eyes hardened and his features tense. "I'm here for a reason." His eyes flicked to Historia and he kneeled. Reaching a hand, he gripped Historia's face, a rough thumb squeezed her cheek as his other fingers rested beneath her chin.
Historia hesitantly met his gaze. Her lip trembled as she tried to curl it in disgust but her fear remained.
Porco's eyes grew even darker, a deep grey that you would find in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was the type of darkness that festered and grew, before consuming you. The type of darkness you achieved when you laid at the bottom of a spiral staircase with only two ways to go. Down or up. Porco laughed drily, something that was more akin to animalistic puffs. His free hand traveled to the waistband of his pants. "I know how I can make you mine."
Ymir's eyes widened and her heartbeat quickened. Absolute rage flooded her veins as she saw Porco unbuckle his jeans. She shot up, fighting against the ache in her body, and tackled Porco to the floor. "YOU FILTHY PIG!"
Porco wrestled with her, his hands finding Ymir's as they pushed against each other, Ymir was desperate to pin him down and bash his head open. She wouldn't let him touch Historia in that way ever again, regardless if Ymir lost her life fighting him or not.
An arm pulled Ymir off Porco, wrapped around her neck. Ymir kicked, flailing with uncontained anger as Marcel tried to restrain her. His grip tightened, closing her windpipe but she didn't care. She continued fighting, struggling.
Ymir managed to kick Marcel's knee, having him buckle over. She launched herself at Porco as he tried to get up and recover.
Right when she was about to land a blow to his already swollen face, she froze.
"Don't you dare fucking move," Porco commanded, a pistol aimed at Historia's head.
Historia didn't meet Ymir's gaze as Ymir turned her head. Historia had her eyes squeezed shut and Ymir knew Historia was reliving her nightmares, all over again.
I'm sorry Historia, Ymir thought, her chest growing hollow and her heart breaking as the weight of their situation continued to grow heavier. Why did it have to be like this?
"Porco, wait, relax," Marcel took a step forward, his hands raised in caution. Something finally changed in his eyes, a sense of humanity, and when he met Ymir's gold orbs, Ymir couldn't help but feel all the more bitter. It was obvious he wasn't aware that Porco had brought a gun. But none of them should have ended up like this in the first place. "Don't you think you're taking this too far?"
Ymir couldn't help but cackle, her resentment bleeding through. Before Porco could even say anything, Ymir replied, "This was taken too far the moment you didn't keep your promise, Marcel."
"What promise?" Porco asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Oh," Ymir perked a little and while fear drummed underneath her skin, she tried a smirk. "Marcel planned on helping us get out of here before you figured out that Historia was still in this town."
"What?" Disbelief shattered upon his features and a flash of hurt struck in Porco's stormy eyes. His grip loosened on the pistol and he lowered it away from Historia's head, showering Ymir with relief. Porco turned to Marcel. "What is she talking about?"
"Porco…" Marcel's voice broke for a moment before he shook his head. He admitted a hint of shame in his normally ingenious voice, "I didn't even keep my promise to Ymir. Porco, I wasn't going to betray y-"
"But you did," Porco breathed, realization edging his tone. "You kept me away from Historia for so long, you didn't want me to find out the truth, you were just buying time for Ymir….so what changed? Why now? Why did you let me get here after all this time…?"
"I-," Marcel's fingers curled into fists and the words caught in his throat. Instead of being honest, he looked away from Porco and locked eyes with Ymir.
Ymir didn't say anything, the throbbing in her head and abdomen from Porco's punches reminding her of the spite that brewed inside her. Ymir was frustrated beyond a point of description. Pissed off at two brothers, one selfish while the other selfless.
Well, as selfless as it got.
Everything Marcel had done since he walked into their apartment had lacked any mercy. Restraining Ymir and letting Porco scare Historia being evident that Marcel wasn't acting out rationally.
"What went wrong, Marcel?" Ymir couldn't help but ask, the question tumbling out of her lips, the bottom one busted. Her gold orbs flicked towards Historia for a moment and she noticed that the woman was slowly inching away.
Good.
Before Marcel could even think of something to say, Porco snarled, "What does it matter?"
"He's your bro-"
"That doesn't mean anything."
If all four of them were standing on a cliff, Ymir knew if she pushed Porco off, Marcel would follow. But if she pushed off Marcel…
Their brotherhood wasn't something that was returned to both parties, it was a one-way street.
There was a slap of reality on Marcel's features and his distant eyes grew present. As if ripped from a suffocating void, something dawned on Marcel's features. His jaw tensed and locked away emotions flooded into his eyes. The suffering he had endured throughout his lifetime rushing to the forefront of his mind. But despite the vivid agony and confliction in his eyes, he smiled. The type of smile that he gave everyone. The one that lied but reassured anyone.
Ymir couldn't find solace in that smile. She knew Marcel too well.
Before anything else could be said, a heavy and authoritative knock sounded at the front door, a symphony of sirens following.
"It's the police, open up!"
All four of them froze, looking towards the door. No one said anything, the intensity growing as the stiffness entered their limbs.
Ymir's solution had arrived.
"H-how…?" Porco questioned, his tone low.
Ymir's golden orbs hardened and she looked at him passively. "It's about time that this ended, Porco."
Instantaneous.
That's one way to describe everything that happened at that moment.
Maybe Porco was just that predictable.
Because the second Porco shouted out viciously, "BASTARD!", two people were ready to spring towards her and take the bullet aimed at her.
The gunshot broke through the room, the front door was knocked down as the police poured into the apartment and Ilse stepped out from her hiding place.
Ymir saw the flash of blond hair, running her way. Historia, willing to take the bullet for Ymir and sacrifice everything between them just so Ymir could continue living her life.
Ymir couldn't imagine a life without Historia.
Four bodies hit the ground.
A dead weight fell onto Ymir, knocking her down. Panic flooded her veins and she clung onto the body that tumbled into her. Blood started to coat one of her hands as she tried to stop the bleeding.
Historia had been shoved away, Ilse helping her up as they expressed shock, staring in Ymir's direction.
Porco had been immediately pinned down by one of the officers, the pistol taken from his hand. Porco struggled underneath the heavier man but that didn't matter.
Ymir saw the little humanity left in Porco's grey eyes.
"MARCEL!" Porco cried, his voice cracking in grief as he tried to lash out violently.
Ymir's gold orbs tore away from Porco and she looked down at the person she was holding.
"H...Hey Ymir," Marcel gasped out, blood spilling from his mouth. His eyes met Ymir's as he tried smiling weakly.
Ymir pressed even harder on his wound, filling the warmth of the red liquid stain her hand. She cradled his head with her other arm and she focused on him with disbelief as a bittersweet feeling stabbed into her chest. The sirens and voices around them were drowned out as she hunched over Marcel, the world closing in on them.
Ymir whispered, "You don't have to smile anymore, Marcel."
Marcel's lips twitched, his practiced smile finally disappearing from his face. His mouth remained parted as he tried to say something, his features strained. His eyebrows furrowed and he let out a small groan of pain. Ymir watched the life flicker out of his eyes.
"I could have been a better sister," Ymir told him, the words filled to the brim with regret.
But he was already gone.
And for a heartbeat, they were kids, laying in a grassy field behind a foster home filled with fear and hatred. They were seven-year-olds. But felt far from it.