Oct. 3rd
Levi Ackerman was someone who took personal hygiene very seriously. A little too seriously, according to most people.
Anyone permitted to enter his house—stranger, friend—had to leave their shoes outside. Afterward, he would also ask them to take a pump of the hand sanitizer planted by the front door as soon as they shut it behind them. And just as soon as they'd leave, he'd immediately spent the next hour arduously disinfecting every single spot they'd stepped on.
What Levi did wasn't normal. But he was proud of it. As a result of his exceptional methods of keeping his home hygienic, he'd never called in sick once.
Eren couldn't bear to think about living in a place like this. No way would he be able to keep up to Levi's standards of cleanliness. But when he'd entered the man's home for his weekly counselling meetings back when he'd been diagnosed with anxiety in middle school, he was able to appreciate how comforting and neat the space around him was. Even now, sitting in his home office after so long, that hadn't changed. Even the hospital wasn't anywhere near as spotless or lovely. It was a place he could focus on the promise and path of fixing his troubles.
Levi's relationship with Eren wasn't typical. Carla had babysat Levi when she was a teenager struggling for extra cash. She'd remained in contact with him and his adopted family as Levi grew older. He was distantly related to Mikasa—enough to visit her family a few times, though Levi wouldn't exactly consider himself close to her parents. However, none of this stopped Eren from feeling uncomfortable seeking treatment from someone considered a family friend. Still, Levi was tight-lipped and respected Eren's desire for privacy as much as any psychiatrist would be.
"How've you been doing, Eren?" he asked, comfortably seated on his recliner in his tiny home office. The room was skillfully decorated to the minimal effect—tribal masks from various countries hanging on the walls along with four-by-four pastel paintings, and a couch-side table where he'd lit an incense. Eren initially thought the smell would be too much for him, but the aroma only added to the soothing atmosphere.
"I've been well," Eren answered. A half-truth. Which Levi probably knew already.
"Well, that's good to hear coming from you. The first week out of the hospital isn't always easy to power through." He pushed his sleek ebony bangs out his eyes and grabbed the clipboard from the coffee table in front of him. "Before we talk about what's going on in your life," He started, steely eyes scanning the sheets. He flipped a bag over. "I'd like to start by asking how you're doing medically."
Eren nodded. "Okay."
He flipped another page. "I see your physical therapy's been progressing pretty well. Not much left to work on now that you can walk and drive with your prosthetic just fine. Though it'll be a few months before your stump has fully healed and you get your permanent one." He pointed at it with the pen that had been tucked on his ear. "You're taking the proper dosage of the meds I prescribed you, that's good. Did your mother change the pill bottle, like I suggested?"
"Yeah." They were now stuffed into a tiny blue jar instead of sitting in the regular, orange tinted plastic used by pharmacies. "Why's that?"
"I just figured it'd be a good idea for you not to be reminded of, well, that night, every time you took your medication. Taking medicine already isn't much fun as it is."
Eren sighed. Although he appreciated the gesture, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be triggered by the color of a pill bottle. Not when he had to use a reminder of what he'd lost to even be able to walk.
"Alright. So, I think that's pretty much it on that side," Levi returned the pages to normal. "How's your week been?"
Eren shrugged. "Nothing too eventful." He paused. "Well, besides an old friend coming by town and telling me she's pregnant with my kid."
Levi blinked coolly. He was probably already aware of that already—thanks to Carla, no doubt—but Eren knew Levi wanted his opinion. Not the opinion of others. "Tell me about it," he said gently.
Eren didn't know where to start, so he figured an introduction was the best bet. "Her father's Rod freaking Reiss, of all people." Levi's usually composed face faltered for a split second. "Yes, the Rod Reiss. Champion of the conservative upper class. Grade A moron with a shitty toupee, to literally top all that off."
Levi tried to hide a cheeky grin behind his wrist.
Eren shook his head. "Can't imagine how she managed to turn out nothing like him. She's got everything he lacks in: looks, decency. But that doesn't matter anymore. They got into a fight. She moved out and is living with her half-sister, who's not only a lawyer but also gay, which definitely makes them the apples of Daddy's eyes now. And she owns this really nice apartment, so Historia hasn't exactly downgraded from the mansion she used to live in."
"Ah, you've been there already?"
"Yeah. Got to see them reunited for the time in years. Frieda's a good woman, Historia's in good hands."
Levi nodded, jotting down something on his papers. "And are you and Historia dating? What's the relationship between you two now?"
Eren shook his head lightly. "I don't feel about her that way." He paused, eyes on the coffee table. "At least, I don't think I do." He gave himself another moment to think, propping his elbows on his thighs. "She's been through a lot. I've been through a lot." His eyes flicked to Levi, who was listening in earnest. "Pretty sure a relationship's the last thing on our minds." Not to mention there were other problems he hadn't worked out.
Levi didn't press him for more, but Eren plowed on, his fingers steepled. "She wants to keep the baby."
Levi raised an eyebrow. "That's… quite the responsibility she's about to take on, especially when she's still in school." Levi looked on at him. "What're you feeling about it?"
"I think… If she's confident she can handle it, then she can," he answered earnestly. "That's the kind of person she is. It's part of the reason why I admire her so much."
He would have her back on whatever path she chose to go through with. It was the least he could do for her given how inadequate he felt at any emotional support he should be giving through what would soon become a rollercoaster of an experience.
"I see. That's very kind of you," Levi said, nodding in understanding. "If I may ask, how did you two meet? Must be a very spicy story, eh?"
Eren had never discussed anything related to romance with Levi before, but now that the line had been crossed, he came to realize that his therapist was someone he could let his guard down with. At least a little bit. Unlike his friends, his peers, there was no risk of ridicule. Of failing to impress. Levi wasn't one to judge, though Eren wondered if the man had any experience on the matter himself.
"See," Eren spilled. "When we met at Orchestra Camp, she was really stressed about seating tryouts. She wanted to be first chair so badly. I'd never seen anyone work as hard as she did, staying in the practice room late at night, rehearsing her piece over and over again no matter how good it sounded. She's so passionate and decided and kind. And even if she was unlucky enough to have been gifted the genes of a complete asshole, how could I resist her?"
By the time Eren realized the implication of that last sentence, it was too late.
Levi let out a very loud, very fake cough into his elbow.
"W—What's so funny?" Eren asked nervously. Heat began to built up in his cheeks.
Levi's smiles were few and rare but Eren knew that curl of his mouth was a smirk. "Kid, you sure you don't have a lick of the hots for her? With what you've just said? You did end up sleeping with her, after all" He leaned back, rolling his ankle squared over his knee. "I haven't dated a single person who I could talk as strongly as you just did about Historia."
Eren kept quiet, letting his words sink in.
"Some might say it's the horniness you teenagers have to deal with," Levi continued. "But I'm not so certain. At least, not with you, aside from your shitty luck with whatever condom you used."
Eren pondered on that. He didn't believe in true love, much less finding it in high school. Despite how much Hollywood tried to push that idea, he'd seen the statistics—how shallow and temporary most relationships between people his age were. At best, he considered Historia a good friend. One he liked enough to sleep with. It wasn't necessarily romantic… and it didn't have to be. The events of summer and the calamity he'd had to deal with demolished any chance of him even considering the idea that he could date someone like her.
But now that she was here, living in town, dealing with the consequences of their night together… Eren realized that the questions were an elephant in the room, growing larger by the day, threatening to tear the roof off.
Would he be comfortable with the possibility that the mother of his child would spend the rest of her life with someone else? Have another person raise and care for his child? Could he even bear being in the same room with them?
It hit him, right at that moment, that those thoughts troubled him more than he wanted to admit.
"You all right?" Levi asked when the room had grown far too silent.
Eren's eyes snapped up to him. "Uh. Yeah. Sorry." He avoided his gaze. The incense wasn't working anymore. The room felt too much. "It's... nothing."
But it was clear Levi didn't believe him. "… Are you sure you're okay with this, Eren? I mean, think about it—therapy, finding out you're about to be a dad. Graduating. College…." He trailed off, letting the list settle. "It's a lot for a seventeen-year-old to process—even you." He leaned forward for his cup of cold tea. "There's gotta be something on your mind, no?"
"I…" Eren hesitated. "I don't think so. No."
Levi raised a brow over the rim. "You sure?"
You could tell him the truth about what happened that night. Eren scratched his jaw. Why you were really the only one who survived, a tiny, frantic voice whispered inside his head.
And risk losing everything?
You feel comfortable with one person, you won't be able to resist telling someone else, it reasoned. What if he tells Mom? Can he stop her from telling anyone else?
Eren sighed. This is Levi I'm talking about. What could go wrong?
"Remember," Levi said, tilting his head, and pointed for emphasis. "I'm all ears."
Eren shifted his gaze to his feet. He'd never felt more tempted to tear down the walls preventing him from spilling the truth. His friends would never look at him the same way ever again, not after how badly they'd all taken Marco and Sasha's deaths.
He'd already lied about them dying instantly.
He couldn't forget Sasha's cries for food, Connie, anything other than the pain from the shrapnel that had pierced her stomach.
He couldn't forget Marco's hysterical howls of pain, the left side of his body crushed by the truck that had rammed them from the side.
Not even his own numbness from losing all sensation in his left leg, crushed and keeping him pinned in place, could distract him from the agonizing cries that lasted forever, carrying into the frigid night, until the paramedics finally arrived to save him. By then, he'd already watched the life drain from their eyes, whatever fight they'd had left over vanish. They'd been dead for ten minutes by the time he'd heard the siren of the ambulance.
"Jaeger, c'mon. There's something in that head of yours you're trying to keep to yourself" Levi cut into his thoughts. "It's eating at you. You can't be upfront about it. Pretty sure you haven't and won't tell your family, or your friends." He said, tone tight. Levi relented, just a little, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I can't force you to tell me about anything if you don't want to. It's not my job. It wouldn't help me, or you. But can you at least tell me why you can't tell me?"
The sights he'd witnessed that night. Connie's smile. The smiles of everyone in his class upon his return to school. All of it flashed in Eren's eyes. Visions, as if Eren had his own personal ghost that reminded him of the consequences that lay in his future should he choose to stray from the path he'd chosen for himself.
So, he would talk about the pain. The usual flashbacks. The feelings of meaninglessness that Eren talked about every week. It was just another one, where he recited the same symptoms and lies he knew like the back of his hand.
Because there was no way he was ever going to let anyone—his family, his friends, and especially not his unborn child—live with the shame of what he'd done.
There was nothing fashionable about it at all.
Aside from having to meet the company's attendance policy and being at least sixteen years of age to work, staff were required to wear a blue, polyester vest. Easily identifiable. But ugly—a vest so gaudy in material and design that it was almost impossible to make it look appealing in the slightest. The only thing appealing about it was that it had pockets large enough to fit…and hide, a cell phone.
Still, Historia would be damned if she didn't try. She enjoyed a good style challenge; having spent months on end in stuffy school uniforms, she'd figured this one wouldn't be too difficult. She'd spent an entire hour of her morning in her room, sifting through her clothes, Frieda's clothes, questioning how far she could stretch the store's dress code.
Your baby is the size of a: Cherry! She'd read when she opened her fetal growth tracker app that morning. And yet, she looked like she'd eaten at least a dozen cherries. Though it didn't make it too obvious she was pregnant, her clothes were already beginning to feel small. But eventually she'd settled on a vanilla colored blouse, indigo jeans, flats, and a pair of sunflower-shaped earrings. She had squeezed into jeans Frieda bought for her, trying to see which worked best. At nine weeks, her baby was still too small to be much of a problem. For now.
At least what she wore was far more pleasing than the mustard stained plaid shirt and muddy jeans the person across from her wore: Bill, her new boss and the manager of the town's Kuklo's Kazingas.
"You sure you're not gonna get sick on the job?" Bill asked, though he did not take his eyes from the computer screen. He was a gruff, stout, middle-aged man who didn't care at all what he wore or looked like. "Not a good look for us if you throw up on a customer's shoes.
The clock above him said it was a little after eight in the morning. The two of them were in his tiny, cramped office in the back of the store for new hire training. Not much of that had happened yet, it was mostly paperwork and medical documentation that Bill needed to keep on record—in case of emergencies.
"I mean," Historia began, tapping her foot on the floor, rubbing her belly. There was a firmness to it now that she found mesmerizing every time she touched it: a strange, but comforting feeling. "Once I'm further along my pregnancy, the baby's gonna start using my bladder as a trampoline so I'll probably need to use the bathroom a lot more." She shrugged. "But, for now, I should be okay."
"Hmm," was all she received as a reply, his eyes ducking down at the insurance cards he was in the middle of organizing, and Historia fought the urge to roll her eyes. And throw up: the smell of stale coffee and Cheetos tickled the back of her throat.
Finally, Bill placed the cards into a file, nodding curtly. "That'll do," he said, an ear-piercing screech coming from his chair when he pushed it back.
Historia winced at the sound but followed him as they made their way out of his crummy office, into the fresh air-conditioned halls that smelled of cinnamon and everything autumn entailed. October was here, so the store was stocked full of plastic carved pumpkins, Halloween decorations, and bags of costumes.
They trailed down the toy aisle while Bill explained what Historia's assigned tasks were. "You'll get started with talking to customers, organizing inventory. You'll learn how to manage the register another day. All the registers are full right now."
Historia nodded, rubbing her stomach again. It was both strange and exhilarating that her pregnancy was becoming more and more pronounced as the weeks progressed. The morning sickness was still awful, and it sucked that any smell could reduce her to a fickle mess, but nothing would stop her from going through her day. It didn't prevent her from getting hired, that was for sure.
At the front of the store where the registers were at, the employees were opening cash drawers for the day. For a moment, Historia was a little nervous about introducing herself to a group of strangers. She never knew how someone might feel when they discovered her pregnancy. But, much to her surprise, she recognized one of them.
"Ymir?"
"What is it, Bill?" Ymir huffed, rolling her eyes. She dropped the counted bills back into the drawer, slamming it shut. "What did I do this ti—oh."
An ecstatic joy ran through her once their eyes met. She didn't realize how much she'd missed seeing her face around. She hadn't seen her since she'd been sent to the office for punching Flocke in the face.
"Quit the attitude, would ya?" Bill said. He gestured towards Historia by his side. "You're gonna be showing History here the ins and outs of this place. I expect you to be thorough," he said, warningly.
"Hi!" Historia exclaimed, not at all vexed that Bill just butchered her name.
Ymir laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. Her medium length brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail, a look Historia thought suited her. "And here I thought I'd only have to stick myself out for you at school." She grinned, leaning her hip against the counter. "At least I'm getting paid for it."
Historia laughed nervously. Ymir was a little confusing. She was sort of relieved not much had changed there. "Uh. You're welcome, I guess?"
Ymir rounded the register, striding up to Historia. With a wide, cheeky grin that showed off surprisingly white teeth, she stuck her hand out. "Welcome to Day One of The Hunger Games, trainee. Though at least you get to bring your own lunch."
Historia chuckled again, shaking Ymir's warm palm. "Thanks… I think?"
Bill rolled his eyes, clearly not too happy that he'd only made Ymir feel better, but didn't say anything more, slinking off in the direction of his office.
Ymir steered Historia through the aisles, while explaining the layout. Historia didn't see anything complicated about it, or why Bill needed Ymir to guide her at all.
Ymir agreed. "He probably just asked me to look bossy, as if we needed any more reminders as to who's in charge. It's all pretty straightforward." She finger-gunned down the aisle to their right. "You got your Lego rip-offs here," She switched to the left. "And the storage room right over there."
Historia tried not to smile, biting her lip. "Right."
"You'll know it like you've lived here your entire life." Ymir assured, before she suddenly stopped in her tracks. She faced Historia, brows furrowed. "Though, I am pretty curious… Why'd you come here?"
"Well," Historia started, ticking off the reasons on her fingers. "First, it's close enough that I can walk here from my apartment. I don't have a car yet. And it's the only job that I don't think I'll find too stressful later on. Like, I could be waiting tables, but the noise, the people, cleaning up their messes? No, thanks!" She shuffled her weight on her feet. "Pregnancy makes you sensitive to certain smells and I already saw myself throwing up all over them."
Ymir nodded, understanding. "Valid reasons." She took her in, but not with the eye of distaste. "But that's awful to deal with. Isn't there something you can do about it?"
Historia frowned, unsure what Ymir was trying to imply. "What, worried I'll throw up on you?"
Ymir cracked a smile, shaking her head. "No, but you'll be needing to eat a lot, right? So, if I ever decided to give away the crappy sandwiches my mom makes for me…"
"Aww, you're too sweet," Historia jeered, shyly touching her arm. "But, if anything, I'd share some of mine with you."
"Sweet!"
The tour ended there, Ymir needing to hurry back to the register since the store was now open. Much to Historia's surprise, there wasn't much for her to do. Aside from restocking the shelves, the only customer she interacted with happened to be a cute five-year old girl who couldn't reach a big Lego Death Star box on the topmost shelf. Neither could Historia, so she had to grab a stepping stool and get it down for her. She also helped get it to the little girl's parents, since it was much too heavy for any five-year-old.
It didn't seem like a horrible job. First days usually didn't mean much, though. She knew she'd eventually pick up more responsibilities. Still, it was nothing Historia didn't think she could handle.
Frieda insisted she could help her find a better job over dinner most nights, but Historia declined each time she offered to. She knew her older sister could find her a better paying job with her connections, but Historia didn't want that. She didn't feel comfortable relying on her sister for everything. She wanted the experience that came with finding her own job, working on her own, knowing she was fully capable of making her own decisions and her own money without being tied by family.
It was only a weekend job so far, but it would have to suffice.
Oct. 5th
Eren hadn't expected Historia to make a new friend so quickly. Given his personal experiences with her, and what she had told her about her experiences at her old school, she seemed to be one to be very reluctant to be trusting. But it wasn't as if he'd hoped for her to stay that way. In fact, he couldn't be happier to hear that the consequences of her neglectful upbringing were losing their grip on her.
However, there was no way he could have anticipated that she would have ended up befriending one of the shadiest people in the school, that Ymir of all people stood up for Historia when he wasn't available to.
Much to his surprise, Ymir was not someone he'd expected to be anyone's knight in shining armor.
There'd been rumors circulating around her ever since she transferred over to Shinganshima High. She'd arrived sporting a particularly large bandage on her cheek, staunchly refusing to answer any inquiry on why, which didn't exactly give a positive impression. She always sat alone, and only seemed to talk to people only when necessary. Then someone claimed that she was the teenager in the news who had started a fight with a cocaine dealer who'd been operating in the school's parking lot. What didn't help was when she had pulled out a pocketknife when one of her classmates harassed her and groped her breast. For even having one on her, she'd gotten a two-week suspension.
Eren, having never met her, expected her to look like she'd stepped off the cover of an N.W.A. album. But the real Ymir turned out to be nothing like that image. A tall freckled girl, gangly like Bertholdt, and clad in a plain white tee and grey joggers, and a little nervous as Historia led her to their table that Monday morning, the day after Historia's first weekend living in town.
"Hey everyone." Historia seemed to glow with happiness, being in a much brighter mood that Eren had seen her in all week. "Is it okay if I brought a friend over to sit with us today?"
"Hi! Nice to meet y'all, I guess," Ymir greeted in a small voice. "Uh…hope you don't mind me crashing in?"
Everyone, including Eren himself, looked at Ymir as if she had grown a third head. Her presence next to the angelic Historia all took them aback. But much to everyone's surprise, it was Annie who broke their silence and said, "Sure."
Ymir suddenly froze in place in what seemed to be disbelief that she would be welcome, but Historia continued to set down her plate of pasta, taking her seat next to her friend. She kept glancing up at everyone as if she were waiting for them to talk. Eren had a feeling she was still accustomed to eating alone.
Everyone else seemed to barely acknowledge her presence. Which, given the rumors surrounding Ymir, made sense. He figured they were just too polite to bring it up.
Pitying her, he decided to ignite conversation. "So, you punched Flocke in the face."
"Yeah." Ymir suddenly looked up at him. Her steely eyes scrutinized him, as if she were sizing him up for a fight. Historia had told Ymir her pregnancy had been an accident, right? "Problem?"
"Not at all," Eren replied. He'd wanted to do so ever since Flocke had gotten hold of the fact that Eren had kissed Hitch Dreyse in freshman year. Eren had only dated her once; she was a nice person but tended to ramble on and on about the latest school gossip too much for his liking. Still, he'd respected her wish to keep that date a secret, given his notoriety as a track star. And so when Flocke had posted a photo of the two of them on Facebook as if he were running a high school tabloid, Eren had found him and told him to take it down—as politely as he could, at least, while lifting him up by the shirt.
"I've wanted to do that for eons, man," Eren continued. "If I wasn't trying to maintain a clean record, sure, I would've used him as a punching bag without a care in the world."
Ymir's gaze softened. She nodded. "Ditto. Would've paid to knock him senseless."
Out of the blue, Annie interrupted them. "So Ymir, I was wondering if you could put this rumor I've heard about you to rest. Did you really in trouble for selling weed?"
Ymir didn't reply immediately, seeming to take her time to form a response. "No, I got in trouble for attacking a guy who was selling weed. I was trying to get him to stop selling it to me. I'm…recovering from my addiction."
"You sure there wasn't another reason you went on him?"
"What are you talking about?" Ymir asked angrily.
"You know the answer to that question, Ymir," Annie said. "I'm not mad at you. There's no need to be afraid of admitting the truth."
Ymir pushed herself up onto her feet. "I'm sorry, Historia," she said, shaking her head. "I-I can't do this."
"Hey, what's the problem? What's going on?" Historia asked, clearly confused.
Ymir just shook her head. "I told you it wasn't a good idea for me to join in. There was no way they weren't going to bring up this shit—"
"You did what anyone else would do, Ymir," Annie interrupted. "You gave him exactly what he deserved. I don't blame you for not intervening earlier. Not everyone has the guts to."
Ymir stopped moving. All eyes fell on Annie instead. Eren meanwhile was confused at what was going on.
"Earlier?" Armin asked suddenly. "Annie, wait, you're saying she was there when it happened?"
"Hold on," Eren cut in. He'd finally come to a realization. "Annie, is this about what happened when—"
Annie nodded. "I used to hang around a lot of nasty folk," Annie explained. "Dated a few drug dealers and gang members here and there, people who are in jail or juvie now with records as long as my grandma's shopping list. Hanging around them, you get to see things most people usually don't get to see. But I don't think I'll ever forget the look on your face as you watched one of them force me into his car and...have his way with me."
Eren couldn't believe it. Annie had been famously tight lipped about the incident after he and Armin found her crying on his porch. She had insisted she would never discuss what had happened with anyone, or so it seemed. Then she'd had the fateful fight with her abusive asshole father that resulted in her moving out, and the question of what had truly happened on that fateful day pretty much disappeared from everyone's mind. But the possibility that Annie could have been raped had never crossed his mind at all, which made Eren feel nothing but shame.
"I'll never forget the way you ran," Annie continued. "You sure as hell regret that, don't you? Not acting when someone needed you to. No wonder you didn't hesitate with Flocke."
"Maybe she didn't want to put herself in harm's way?" Historia asked, eyebrows furrowed in anger. "You said it yourself, you hung around nasty folk. Sound's like you're accusing her of being just as responsible as the man who raped you."
"Not at all," Annie said. "I'm just wondering why she seems to be so determined to hide it."
Ymir let out a long sigh, her shoulders falling as she tried to relieve any tension that had built up within her. She looked at Historia, who's eyes were pleading and filled with concern. She looked back at Annie, at everyone at the table. Nobody had made a sound throughout their entire exchange, a silence having fallen upon them all. Eren himself was still shocked that Annie had actually started a conversation with someone other than Armin. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened, and he had a feeling Annie didn't either.
The silence was broken when Ymir finally sat back down. For a moment, she looked down at her plate of pasta as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Though eventually she cleared her throat and began to speak.
"I ran away from home when I was only eleven. Spent years lon the streets, where at the first sight of trouble you learn to walk away and mind your own business. Otherwise you might not live to see another day," Ymir said. "Even when I got off the street, found a home, a family, that fear didn't disappear. That stuff's seared onto you for life. When I saw him…" Ymir paused, letting out an aspirated sigh. "...D-Do that to you," she stammered. "It was like I was back on the streets again. So I ran, as I usually did. But every now and then I always feel guilty whenever I thought about all the times I could've helped someone and chose to walk away instead. I start hating myself for it, and I realize that there's no good taking out that hate anyone other than the person who did it. So, when I got lucky enough to finally get that chance…"
She shook her head, tears spilling onto her lap. "I thought my parents would send me back. But they didn't. I'm still not someone who likes to draw attention to themselves, so I decided not to confirm anything. But I guess I couldn't bury that forever."
Annie got up from her seat, walked over to Ymir and put her hand on her shoulder. And she did something that Eren didn't expect. Something so inexplicable and un-Annie that it caught the attention of everyone at the table.
She smiled. Not a big one, but a smile nonetheless. "I'm the one who should be thanking you. And I am."
"You'd never had anything to be afraid of." Historia said. She took Ymir's hand.
So why are you? Came thoughts from the back of Eren's mind. Look at how understanding they are. Why are you being such a chicken about it?
The thoughts continued. Either way, as you can see, there's no hiding it forever. It's only about time.
He clenched his fists, not minding how his nails cut into his palm. It wasn't anywhere near as painful as what went on in his mind.
Oct. 11th
An hour had gone by since her lunch break when Hannah approached Historia on her way to the bathroom. She'd noticed a few of her coworkers were some of her classmates, like Hannah. The others were college kids scavenging for some extra cash. None of them were aware of her pregnancy aside from Ymir.
"Hey," Hannah announced, irritation etched in her pinched brows and creased forehead. "Have you seen Ymir?"
"No, why? What's up?"
Hannah tapped her foot impatiently. "The computer's acting up again. Ymir's the only other one who knows how to fix it, aside from Bill, but he's busy on the phone, and I need to stay around the gadgets section, so…"
Historia nodded. This was only her second weekend working, but she had noticed Ymir was sometimes… absent. She never wondered why, though. "Yeah. I'll look around and send her over if I find her."
After washing her hands and doing her business, Historia scanned the aisles. Only a few sprinkles of customers. No sight of Ymir and the ugly uniform vest that actually didn't look too bad on her. Historia gave the aisles another sweep, but there was nobody except the same family still examining the bicycles. The storage room was the only place she hadn't been by.
It wasn't really a storage room. More like a place where Bill stored defectives. All their supplies usually came in early morning and were stocked then.
Her nose crinkled at the room's odd odor, already fighting back nausea. There was also another odor she immediately recognized; that of cigarette smoke.
"Ymir?" Historia called into the dimly lit space.
Ymir jumped, something small and square and white falling out of her hands, landing on the floor. She locked eyes with Historia before she burst into action, throwing the bud on the ground, smashing it, and kicked the carton under a nearby shelf.
"Uh." Historia's eyes flicked to the bold red No Smoking on the Premises sign. There appeared to be no security cameras around though, which made it an easy place to violate the rule even when it was nailed right on the front of the door. "You're not supposed to be smoking in here, Ymir…"
"Y—Yeah. I shouldn't be smoking," Ymir reiterated, fiddling with her long fingers. She couldn't meet Historia's eyes, until her brown small brown eyes flew, realizing her mistake when Historia coughed from the smoke. "Oh, fuck. Especially in your condition."
Historia waved her hand in front of her nose, pulling back slightly from the room. It was stuffy in the storage room and the cigarette fog only made it worse. "It's no big deal, Ymir. Don't worry. Just open the back door."
Still, she ducked her head, but listened to her request, propped the back door open. "God, Historia. I'm so sick and pathetic," Ymir sniffled when she came back around. "And sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me," Historia said gently. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Take it easy—"
"I can't take it easy." Ymir admitted, tears pouring down her freckled cheeks. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing quietly into her pulled up legs. "I've been trying to quit, you know? It's been so hard on my parents, and it's been worse ever since they got divorced." She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm, sniffed wetly. "When I got suspended because of you, my dad was furious."
Now that the stench had lightened, Historia felt more comfortable stepping into the room, the door softly shutting behind her. "Because of me—"
But Ymir didn't let her finish. "I don't regret it. But I'm never gonna be good enough for them." She rubbed her temple with her palm, staring idly ahead. "I'm just another problem child," She muttered.
Oh, Ymir. Taking a seat beside her friend, Historia gently picked Ymir's hand away from her face, gently squeezing it. "You're not a failure," Not like I was, but Historia bit that thought back. This wasn't about her. "It's good that you care. You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
Ymir stared on, slack-jawed.
Historia looked away, down at their twined fingers. "But do you want to quit? Because I can't keep covering for you without someone."
Ymir pulled herself together, wiping her face with the sleeve of her free arm, and nodded. "Yeah," She chortled. "I never felt comfortable knowing that this shit is slowly burning my lungs to a crisp, anyway." She shrugged, jerky. "But I needed a relief, you know?"
She nodded. "I understand," Historia squeezed her hand again. "Have you tried nicotine patches? I'll buy you a few once we're done for the day."
She helped Ymir to her feet. The two of them closed the backdoor and exited the storage room, spilling into the store. Somewhere along the way, their hands fell back to their sides. Historia spent all day distracting Ymir, helping her manage inventory under the pretense she didn't understand. Ymir appreciated it a lot. She had to return to the register eventually, leaving Historia to sift through the shelves herself.
But she couldn't forget the sight of Ymir hysterically crying. Ymir was too… brash to ever be reduced to such a wretched state. After all that she'd done for her, Historia was determined to make it up to her.
"Hey," Historia greeted when she found Ymir at the front of the store after clocking out.
Ymir was stashing her vest into a black backpack. The early evening chill began settling with the approaching dusk. Historia's brain might've fizzled out. Ymir had changed into a Jurassic Park T-shirt, paired with a black leather bomber jacket, her hair still tied back and dark skinny jeans.
To put it plainly, Ymir looked hot.
Historia swallowed, refusing to be distracted. "You… got suspended for punching Floch in the face. Didn't you?" She asked. Ymir only turned to her, and she added, "You didn't show up to class all week."
She smirked slightly, zipping up her backpack. "You don't have to worry about that. I'll be back on Monday." Ymir shrugged into the straps. "I haven't gotten into a real fight in years. I've never been suspended for anything like that before."
Historia shuffled on her feet. "Well, I don't think it looks good on your transcripts. Colleges pay attention to that."
"College, eh?" Ymir repeated, shaking her head. "Nah, not for me. At least, I don't think it's for me."
At the CVS, Historia found a set of five boxes for a solid deal. She gifted it to Ymir, free of charge., and texted Frieda to let her know that she wanted to be picked up at a nearby shopping mall. They stopped at a café within the food court, where Ymir bought them strawberry smoothies and doughnuts, filling up Historia's starving black hole of a stomach.
"So your last name is Liu," Historia began after they had been eating at one of the tables for some time. She'd been surprised when she read Ymir's full name on her employee tag a couple of weeks ago. She hadn't had the time to really delve into it, but she never thought Ymir as someone with a lick of East Asian blood.
"是. Yes, I'm adopted," Ymir replied, wiping a smear of chocolate off her jaw with a napkin. Historia's fingers had itched to do it themselves, but she kept her hands clutched tight around her smoothie. "I've been off the streets for about five years."
Historia's eyes bugged, interested. "Does that mean you've spent your entire life there?"
Ymir shook her head with a soft, melancholy smile. "Nah. That was after I ran away from the orphanage. I was ten. Wasn't the first—that's how bad it was. My mother didn't want me so she gave me up to it when I was a baby."
I wish you were never born, a low voice whispered in the back of Historia's mind, a glimmer of a memory she thought she'd buried a lifetime ago. She couldn't remember what her mother looked like, but her raspy voice, the smell of cigarette smoke in her breath, her yelling and the pain that usually followed, she could never forget. Even though it had been years since the overdose which had taken her life.
Ymir continued, "I used to take naps in coffee shops, just like that one." She jut her chin towards the Starbucks over Historia's shoulder. "Even then I rarely got to sleep more than five hours. It was that dangerous, and I'm sure I'd probably be dead or dying if Social Services hadn't found me in time." Her eyes flicked down, fingers swirling the straw in her half-finished smoothie. "Many aren't so lucky."
Historia bit her lip. "That must've been rough," she said. "I mean, when I left my dad's at least I got to sleep on a bus," She waved her hands frantically when Ymir gave her a certain stare. "I know that's nothing compared to what you went through."
"Yeah," Ymir said, a dejected look crossing her expression. "When you're on the streets, you're exposed to the side of society most people have the luxury of ignoring. Gangs. Drugs. Prostitution rings. And the fucking stories you hear, man."
Ymir rubbed her temples, eyes flicking to Historia. "You know all those stories about veterans coming back from wars and finding God and stuff?"
"Yeah," Historia replied, suddenly feeling not so hungry. An image of a young Ymir flashed into her mind. Skinny. Greasy faced, fingers and toes caked in dirt, begging on the streets for money. It made her stomach churn.
"Me, though… I was never a firm believer. I still wonder sometimes how people, like war veterans and criminals, can continue to have faith in anything after all the stuff they've seen." She shook her head, running her fingers through her bangs. "Even when you've no longer got a shitty environment shackling you down, you're never the same."
Historia didn't know what to say to that, but Ymir continued, "I tried my first cigarette a month after I started sleeping on the streets. It was the easiest way for me to cope with stress. And it got so bad I started stealing from convenience stores. Eventually, I was caught." She smiled fondly, despite the situation. "I was so scared that they'd send me to juvie. I still can't believe the manager took a chance on me, gave me a new start. To have a family. A nice dude, Eren was."
"Eren?" Historia asked, confused. "That's the manager's name?"
"Sorry, should've been clearer," Ymir looked wistfully out the window. "Aaron Kruger."
Historia almost laughed at just how similar the name was to Eren's, but she bit it back, seeing how much Ymir seemed to hold him highly. "He sounds like an amazing person."
"He was," Ymir agreed with a mournful sigh. "But he passed away a year after my parents adopted me. I've been trying to quit ever since. Thing is, as you've had the pleasure of witnessing today, old habits are hard to kill."
Historia nodded, understanding. "Have you talked to your parents about this? A counselor?"
Ymir nodded. "I've been to rehab once. Came out feeling I could conquer the world if I wanted to. My parents thought that was the end of it, and so did I."
"…Are you afraid of trying again?" Historia asked, hoping that she wasn't being too intrusive with her questions. Still, her friend was struggling, and she wanted to do whatever she could to help. "Do you believe they'll think less of you if you went back?"
Ymir shrugged. "I don't know. Like I said, my parents aren't doing well right now. All the divorce has done is made them fight even more, whenever they're even together. I don't want to burden them any further."
"But they're your parents," Historia insisted, reaching out, squeezing her hand again. "It wouldn't hurt for you to try, would it?"
Ymir shifted uneasily in her seat. Ymir's long fingers were warm, and sticky from the doughnut icing, but Historia didn't mind. She shook their hands, trying to get Ymir's attention back on her. "C'mon, I know you can do it. At least tell them you've gotten nicotine patches."
Ymir's eyes flicked from their hands, back to her face. A slow smile spread. "God," She said sarcastically, "I'm just getting to know you, and, yet, I'm already pouring out my soul to you as if I've known you my entire life."
Historia grinned. "I tend to have that effect on people."
Ymir cracked another smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Historia really liked her eyes, they were a nice liquid gold color in the right tilt of the lights. And her hands were nice, too—not too rough, not too soft. Capable. They gripped hers perfectly. The warmth of them also made her feel at ease, and part of her wondered if Ymir felt the same way, or was too shy to ask her to stop.
Ymir chanced a glance at the café counter. She smirked. Historia took a moment to admire her side profile before she turned back.
"Hey," Ymir said, inkling her head. "See that girl at the counter? The one with the brown hair cut into a bob? Try not to look like you've noticed her."
Historia flicked her hair, concealing her eyes behind the curtain of blond. Through a small part, she saw who Ymir was referring to. She was very pretty—fluffy caramel hair cut into a bob, long lashes, shooting eyes at them, no, her. "What about her?"
"Think she's pretty?"
"She's all right."
Ymir laughed. "That's it?"
"Yeah." Historia shrugged, taking the last sip of her strawberry smoothie. But I don't think she'd find me an compelling option once I start looking like a blimp. Last time I checked, that wasn't most people looked for in someone to date. Too much baggage."
"That wouldn't stop me."
Historia froze, raising a curious eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ymir shrugged a shoulder, slowly sipping the rest of her drink while looking at her through her short, dark lashes. "That first impressions aren't everything."
Historia felt heat build up in her cheeks. Before she could think of something witty to retort, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Frieda was here. Did older sisters have a sixth-sense for being mood killers?
"Frieda's here," Historia said, getting up, grabbing her belongings. She paused midway, looking at Ymir, staring at her with a questionable expression. It was so dejected, screaming at her not to leave. "… I guess this is goodnight."
She put herself back together, sneering. "Aww, so soon, Historia? We were just getting started!"
Historia rolled her eyes, her cheeks still tinted.
Ymir softened, flashing her the peace sign. "Goodnight, Historia. Thanks for everything. I appreciated it."
But as quickly as her gratitude came, it was replaced by that earlier solemn look. Historia didn't like seeing Ymir like that. She should always be a playful pain in the ass, with the mischievous eyes and the freckled cheeks always blooming with a smirk. The girl with the ruthless attitude who'd break a boy's nose for her. For her. Even though they barely knew each other.
"Hey," Historia rubbed Ymir's arm. She tried not to linger on how lean she felt under the jacket. "Don't look so glum." She leaned over, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sure you can do it. Text me when you get home. And if you ever tell you parents. Okay?"
She didn't bother looking at Ymir's reaction. Historia turned on her heel and darted outside, into the cold, lonely night. Frieda's Tesla was parked right on the curb of the entrance to the mall.
"What's up, kiddo?" Her older sister greeted warmly when Historia hopped inside, warm air slapping her face. It was too hot unlike the heating of the mall she'd just left. "How'd it go today?"
She sunk into the leather cushions of her sister's car, rubbing her stomach. Her day had started off so well. And then her impulses skyrocketed at the worst possible moment. As if her life couldn't get any more troublesome than it already was.
"Um..." She swallowed, looking to Frieda. "I think I might've done something really dumb."