Mikasa

Days have passed since Eren's private performance at the theater hall.

They turned into weeks, then into a whole month, and suddenly winter break is just around the corner. December brings a different kind of air around. You could say the colder it is outside, the warmer it is between them.

Winters are harsh in Paradis, yet each year the Titans refuse to acknowledge it, praying that global warming arrives sooner and they'll be spared from the extra administrational costs. Nature, of course, serves them a nice dish of 'fuckno' with a side of 'extra strong blizzards and heavy snow'. The roads get stuck, snow removal machines are nowhere to be found, heat pipes are frozen, trams don't run, you can't get to work, the school closes down and when the citizens ask why is this still happening after so many terms, the Titans merely shrug their shoulders and say ' we weren't expect such heavy snowfalls'.

Mikasa wants to punch someone in the face each time she hears of such incompetence, but Karla Jaeger, Eren's mother, has long lost such feelings and her mere thoughts now involve surviving instincts. The tactic at hand involves staying in the kitchen for as long as possible, where the stove is working (for now) and pots are always boiling with food. It's always warm in here and besides, who knows when the heating system might fail again.

So the kitchen table is a witness to many memories, good or bad, in the cold season.

This evening is no different. The young girl is keeping Mrs. Jaeger company while copying down some equations for her math homework. She solves them automatically, absent-minded, her pen dragging loudly across the paper. Pages are being turned, one after another. All of a sudden, a piece of paper pops up between two laminated sheets of her textbook:

I promise to love you completely in my next life. Forgive me for this one.

She skips onto the next chapter. On the opposite chair, Karla Jaeger is sipping her vermouth while listening to the weather forecast on the small radio. The atmosphere is familiar, cozy. The Jaegers are considered one of the wealthier families, and mother hen makes sure the household lives up to that reputation.

For example, Karla makes sure every inch of the kitchen is crowded with jars. Small, big, half-empty, it doesn't matter, recipients are scattered everywhere in an organized chaos. Next, there are the utensils.

Their knife collection could make any serial killer jealous.

Mikasa doesn't really get the hype with this maximalism. It's probably a thing in poor nations like Paradis. The more you lack, the harder is the impulse to show others you're loaded.

From time to time, Karla's eyes drift from the radio, to her glass, then the pots, and finally to Mikasa. The young girl literally feels the gaze silently judging her appearance. Mrs. Jaeger doesn't even need to say a thing it, the girl feels it. A silent disagreement regarding her crimson lipstick, heavy eyeliner or red plaid skirt.

But Mikasa has better things to think about.

She and Eren are currently in a relationship worthy of a telenovella. Secrets, hiding, dramas, and all the jazz, teenage love has a tendency to be troublesome anyway. Especially when you're involved with the son of your legal guardians. But it's not like they care, because now, two restless rebels find some peace within each other. Get it? Things are slowly working out between them, each subtle touch is reassuring, each whisper hot in her ear.

The young girl flinches when the steam hisses out of the pressure cooker, the domestic noise waking her up from the warmth-induced drowsiness. Karla dutifully gets up from her chair to check on the food, grabbing some spices from the top shelf. Black eyes drift to the small note Annie wrote that cursed day, the neat handwriting waking up something inside her.

In truth, she knows something is still lurking in the air at school. Each time Eren discreetly wraps an arm around her middle, or rests his head on her shoulder during recess, Mikasa feels a pair of blue eyes in the back of her neck. If she were to turn around, for sure there'd be the longing, apathetic gaze of Titan scum offspring. A conversation lingers on the back of her brain.

"Annie," Mikasa pants in her girlfriend's bed, drowning in post-orgasmic bliss. "I don't know what I'll do if we stop…" And the blonde girl rolls back on top of her, resting her chin on the other's chest. A light coat of sweat glazes her features.

"What do you mean by that?" Blue eyes question her.

"If you leave me…if we break up…what are we gonna do? Will we be able to never see each other again?"

"Mikasa… No," Annie whispers, in a rare moment of tenderness, while dragging her cold, clammy knuckles down her lover's face. "Silly girl, we'll see each other everywhere. Have you forgotten we learn at the same school, for God's sake? If we are to break up, we'll both inconveniently bump into each other every day, in classroom, or at sport practice, in the bus, and that will be it. You'll be with Eren, for sure, and I'll be dating someone else, Berthold perhaps, to get rid of the rumors.

And the more we cross paths, love, the less it will hurt, until finally, the pain won't matter anymore.

You're strong, Mikasa, and trust me, at the 10 year high school reunion you'll look once more right into my eyes and feel like nothing ever happened between us. I can almost see you." And the kiss that follows is bitter, gentle and holds an immense weight Mikasa hates to bear.

Annie was wrong, though. Her tired heart knows something will always be there, strange and otherworldly, but she's tired of letting 'ifs' and 'wills' define her. Mikasa needs compassion and she needs it now, and if someone gets you off doesn't mean they necessarily care about you. Of course, there's a long way to go and surely, the wounds still hurt, but she's more than a bad deed on a perfect record, a failed situationship or a misplaced act of rebellion. The grip on her pen tightens. The road to self-respect is very steep.

Besides, her loyalties have always laid elsewhere. This girl is now aware of what she likes or needs, and the best this whole 'Annie' ordeal can give her is some inspiration for a poem.

Yet she can't bring herself to throw away that little note for good.

Mikasa is nervously smoothing out the floral oilcloth when the front door opens. She turns around and sees Eren, cranky and handsome as ever, standing in the doorway. Green eyes make their way up to her figure, and they both exchange smiles so warm they could fix the heating problem of the whole neighborhood. Making his way to the kitchen, Eren takes off his boots mid-walk while unzipping the winter jacket.

"Watcha cooking, ma?" The boy asks while dipping his nose in one of the saucepans.

"Ahaaa…Look who's decided to show up now that they're hungry…" Karla scolds him while stirring the content of three pots simultaneously. "You're always out. Out, out, and never in, to help around. All you do is eat and sleep here. This is a hotel for you! Mhmm." But her son merely rolls his eyes and is already leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to Mikasa's head crown.

Eren absolutely adores the smell of that midnight-black hair.

"How's my favorite thing in the world doing?" . He manages to sneak in those low, sultry whispers that make shivers run down the girl's spine. She's not used to those low-blow displays of affection, even though they've been constantly happening for a while. Truth be told, things are perfect between her and Eren .

Sorta.

They still have to hide from their parents and most of their classmates. But this mess right here is on the right track. Whatever that means. Ever since the incident in the theater hall, Eren has been more genuine to her, less manipulative and so touch starved to the point that they can't be left alone for a second without him pouncing on her. She almost can't believe how lucky she is.

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Eren throws a small brown package on the table.

"This came in the mail for you." He then explains in his normal tone. Reluctantly, she opens up the envelope. Inside, there is only one cassette. The expeditor side is left blank, and when Mikasa opens up the cassette holder, there's only a handwritten note.

It's been weeks, Miss Rodin, and the pain is still pulsing in the imaginary spot we were connected. Sure, I've tried patching it up, with Annie and all that, and still the wound just won't close. It keeps bleeding and smells like an early death. So here I am. Laying on the operating room, waiting for the doctor to come and sew the stiches.

Her eyes widen as they drift over the inconspicuous words.

Stiches for your wounds.

All the love,

-Miss R.

She shuts the container close and hides it in her lap quicker than she can say 'trouble'.

"What's that, Mika?" But it doesn't matter, because mom pries anyway.

"My monthly subscription to audio plays. This month I get Hamlet." Too bad Mikasa can lie even better than the Government.

"Ohh, interesting." Karla comes up to them, ruffling Eren's brown locks. "See that boy? Your sister has such nice interests, why can't you be more like her?"

"Mom, I literally played Hamlet last year in the school play." He mutters in obvious betrayal, grabbing her hand and taking it out of his hair.

"Yeah, yeah, as if I don't know what y'all actors are into. Come on, let me smell your breath." Her son blows some air and after a few sniffs, Karla declares in defeat.

"Alright, you smell like mint. But remember, I'm watching you. I know what you're after, boy." Of course there has to be a way for her to come out on top. Like a cat which always lands on her feet. Eren gets that smugness from her.

"Oh really?" He cocks an eyebrow and grips the wood backrest of Mikasa's chair. "What am I after?"

"Drugs." His mom says all knowingly.

"Mom, we literally live in a dictatorship. I can barely get my hands on a Michael Jackson poster, what makes you think I can obtain drugs?"

"You never know Eren…I just want what's best for you."

"I know, I know. It's just that I'm tired. Been working with Armin on the presentation poster for this year's play. I can't wait to show it to you." He changes the subject while slumping down in the chair near Mikasa.

" Honey, that's great and all, but what about your grades?"
"What about them?"

"I've heard you aren't doing so well in math…" Karla starts pushing some buttons as she slides in her seat in front of the kids.

"So?" comes his disinterested reply.

"So you're not interested in good grades?"
"Mom. We've been through this before. The entrance exam to acting school consists on audition only."

"Eren…You know I support your passions, but your future is serious business."

"And I treat it as such. Acting is the only thing I wanna do with my life." Uh-oh. It's bad news if Eren's raising his voice so early in an argument.

"You can't say you have your entire life figured out when you don't even wanna try anything else. Math, English, Russian, Chemistry, what's wrong with all of these subjects?

Or think about those kids wishing they had a doctor in the family, like you do, to help them get admitted into medical school."

" For someone who calls themselves supportive you sure as hell don't say many supportive things."

Eren starts the usual riot nonchalantly, and Mikasa feels awkward, sitting between two hot heads who don't know where to quit. She can't bring herself to interfere, even after living with them for so long. Sure, the cupboards are familiar, and this house holds many happy childhood memories.

She and Eren used to play all the time as toddlers, from the crack of dawn until it was dark outside, but at the end of the day, mom and dad always came to pick her up, greeting their little girl at the front door of the Jaeger household with a warm smile. She vividly remembers gripping her mother's skirt while Karla is blabbering how this runt is the best guest she's had in ages.

Emphasis on guest.

Because that's still how she feels like.

A guest.

And she used to like it very much. The small girl could play with Eren for however long she pleased, and then, when things got either violent or boring Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman were there to take her away. Mikasa was truly getting the best of both worlds.

Until one day when she isn't.

There are still nights like these, when she stares at the front door for the longest time, waiting for her parents to just pop up in the hallway, ready to take their scared little girl home for good.

Her real home. With her real parents…

But the door never opens, and The Jaegars are now registered as her legal guardians.

Mikasa tears her eyes from the door and back to the catfight between mother and son.

From a logical point of view, who should she side with?

Defending Eren means more affection in the future and perhaps some stealthy-done stress relieving activities tonight.

But taking Karla's side means more pocket money aka extra funds to support her Marlboro bad habit.

It's a tough choice…

Lucky for her, guests aren't allowed to take sides.

"Eren, all I'm saying is not to put all your eggs in one basket." His mother interferes again.

" What eggs, mom? What eggs? Do you think I'm like Mikasa and have one egg reserved for each existing university in Paradis?

No mom. I only have one egg, and it's acting. I've never been good at anything else all my life, and believe me, the only time I feel proud of myself is on stage."

He pauses. A heavy silence sits on his shoulder.

"And you want to take that away from me too."

"Well, if you spend more time researching what you like instead of wasting it with a bunch of punks, perhaps you'd have more eggs to give!"

"What's wrong with not wanting a bland boring desk job?"

"I tell you what's wrong. You'll be able to handle this lack of stability when you're young, but what are you gonna do when you start growing tired, bald and sick? Others will come behind you, restless and more prepared, ready to replace a B-list actor the second you're not putting it all on the stage and you'll end up a homeless alcoholic."

Karla downs the rest of her vermouth in one go while Eren's grinding his teeth so hard it's audible.

"Name one actor you know with a stable income and a good mental health." This woman has a thing for getting on his nerves.

"Jeremy Irons. Juliette Binnoche…."

"From Paradis, boy. This ain't no Hollywood."
" Eren Kruger."

"That's one person! One, one good, rich, fulfilled actor amongst hundreds of others that graduate every year and end up working in a factory. And who knows what skeletons he's hiding in his closet!?" But he just scoffs and looks to the side, pretending the conversation is done, like an upset pug who thinks he's real shit when in reality he just looks hilarious.

"Your sister has her interests too but unlike you, she knows where to draw the line between fun and future."

Uh-oh. Guess who just made Etna reignite? Spoiler alert: it's a 30-something year old woman.

"Number one. She's not my sister. Number two, you have a lot of nerve making assumptions when you barely know anything about her, old lady." And his gaze is so hot and filled with hatred, it could probably cause that damn global warming the Titans are praying for.

"Oh, I know plenty about her. She's a wonderful young woman who has a beautiful road ahead and you'd better do well and make her feel part of this family too because I can't do all the damn work."

Are you familiar with the expression 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.'? Here you can see it perfectly illustrated.

"Really now?" Eren whispers, and Mikasa flinches when, under the table, hidden from the view, his hand comes to rest on her thigh. The boy leans back in the chair, locking gazes with Karla.

"Who's her favorite teacher?"

"What?" Panic and confusion seep in abruptly into Karla's features.

"You've heard me loud and clear. Who's her favorite teacher?"

"Can you please stop acting like I'm not here?" Mikasa questions in annoyance, and the more she growls, the further Eren's hand creeps up her thigh, warm finger pads stroking the inner side.

"Be quiet, please. I'm just trying to prove a point." He replies, never breaking eye contact with the enemy. She gently slaps his hand away, once, twice, signaling him to behave, but again and again he returns, each time more determined, until she can't resist anymore, leans back and enjoys the touch, especially since it feels so good, in its true simplistic defiance.

Mikasa knows better, this is Eren's way of saying ' I'm so head over heels for you baby, that I'm willing to get caught just because I want to touch you, so bad,

each and every time,

all the damn time,

not just when we're in bed, bored and alone.'

" The homeroom teacher."

" Buzz! Wrong answer!" Eren announces his victory. " That's my favorite teacher. She likes Mr. Smith more. Right, Mika?" But when she remains quiet, a stinging pinch on her leg gets her back to reality.
"Y-y-yeah. I find Mr. Smith more helpful and kinder."

"Round two, then. What does she want to do after graduation?"

"Become head supervisor at the printing house." His mom answers whole-heartily.

"She's got that one right, Eren." The girl says, trying to calm down the angry boy, but in return she just gets his hand to roam higher and higher, each syllable leading him to the junction between her thighs.

"Now Mikasa, I didn't take you for a liar. Everyone knows that the printing house bullshit is plan B in case you're not accepted into Journalism. Which, of course, you will. I mean, have you seen yourself? you're smarter than the whole class combined."

"That she is!" His moms jumps to add.

"You're not off the hook yet, mom. Final round!" He declares, as his fingers escalate dangerously close to her clothed lady parts. Mikasa is certain she can't handle this for long before she bursts from embarrassment.

"If she were a flower, which one would she be?"

"Oh, I know that one. She'd be a lotus flower."

"Mom, that's both wrong and racist. Mika, here, declared that she'd like to be a plastic flower, so that she'd never get thrown in the trash the second she starts withering. Tell me if I'm wrong." And he shifts his ocean-green gaze towards her, but she merely manages to nod while looking at the ground, her skin tingling all over.

"But that proves nothing, young boy!" His mom yells in defeat. And they say adults are supposed to have things under control…

"No, it doesn't. But it should draw the attention that perhaps, who knows, it's just an assumption…but maybe…just maybe…you enjoy more hearing about how great she is at the parent-teacher conference then actually listening to her. Consider it food for thought, mommy dear." And his fingers leave Mikasa's thigh just when it becomes hard to breathe, leaving her empty, disappointed, sad and aroused, a surely deadly combination.

"How about some food for thought for you, baby boy?" Karla crosses her arm, her frown just like Eren's. "If you ever speak to me in that tone again, I'll whoop your ass so hard you'd wish you were that plastic flower."

But he just rolls his eyes and mimics the same behavior.

"Classing grown-up move. Threatening me when they lose an argument. Whatcha gonna do? Ground me really hard?"

"I'll tell your dad you smoke."

"Uhhh. That's a low one, mom, even for you. Come on, Mikasa, it's late, let's go to bed." Eren gets up from the chair and gestures for the other teen to do the same.

But if it's one rule he respects in this family, it's to never go to bed upset with each other. Circling the table, he kneels in front of his mother, resting his arms on her lap.

"If I promise to reconsider my life choices, will you spare me the wrath of my father?" He tries to reconcile, and her calloused, worked fingers come up to pat his head.

" Get more than 80% on the next math test and my lips are sealed." This woman for sure puts up with more than the legal amount of bullshit.

"We have a deal, mother demon." He grins and rises to his feet, an ironic smile adorned on his face.

"Why are you such a handful, boy?" His mother asks.

" 'cause I take after you, mommy dearest. Goodnight."

"Goodnight children. Sleep tight, don't let the bugs bite."

Mikasa takes her stuff away, waving Mrs. Jaeger goodbye, and follows Eren to their shared bedroom. As soon as the door closes, both of them remain silent, an awkward tension hanging up in the air. Notebooks and pencils are passively-aggressively thrown on the desk, along with the anonymous-but-not-really package.

Recently she has discovered boundaries are a thing and Eren's not involved in everything she does anymore. Some privacy is supposedly healthy in any relationship.

And that's on self-respect, bitches.

Although she wishes she didn't have to play that card on him.

On opposite corners of the room, both of them grab sleeping clothes and start changing by their respective bedsides, bare backs turned on the other. As her white, stained nightgown drapes over her knees, Mikasa dares to take a look over her shoulder. She sees Eren's naked backside, olive skin adorned with goose bumps, and it's one of those moments when she's filled with longing.

The need for autonomy is important, that's what you learn in school. Part of the human nature is getting used with loneliness, with doing things on your own and accepting the fact people don't belong to one another.

But how do you deal with the needs of the soul? Because right now, Mikasa wishes she could sew herself to Eren using a red string. They could be happy as one and the sting of the needle will make it all more pleasurable when they'd finally be tied together for good. She can almost picture it, two people, back to back, some blood pouring down, bound for eternity. They wouldn't even have to voice out their inconveniences, as blood vessels would carry feelings, good or bad, loving or vicious, from one heart to the other.

But that thought alone is scary, so back to the subconscious it goes.

Besides, the second she shows him signs of her co-dependency, he will push her away again for sure.

So Mikasa settles for the boundaries, power games and feeding him some sugar once in a blue moon.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice cuts through the cold air, more dreadful that intended.

"I don't know what you're talking about, princess." Eren plays innocent, throwing a hand-crafted T-shirt on. On the nightstand, there are some wet wipes, and he takes one out and strolls to the mad, pretty girl that's still not looking at him.

"Turn around." The young boy whispers lowly, tapping on her left shoulder blade. Albeit reluctantly, Mikasa spins on her heels and faces his chest with a pissed-off expression. Eren gently starts to take off her make-up with the wet wipe. His moves are so soft and considerate on her skin, she can't believe it's the same person who was shouting ten minutes ago.

"Oh, you sure do know what I'm talking about. Did you enjoy it? Acting all high and mighty in front of your mom? And using me like I'm some kind of experiment?" She viciously bites as her not-official-boyfriend rubs her eyes with care. Off it goes with the dark liner, brown eye shadow and mascara. He grabs her chin and lifts her face towards him, carefully paying attention if there are any missed spots.

"Don't let her get involved between us. I just wanted to get my point of view taken seriously." Eren brushes her lips free of the usual dark lipstick she religiously wears, feeling her soft, plump lips through the wipe.

"I don't wanna fight." He says in a hushed tone and places a quick peck on her lips. She freezes for a second.

"Eren, you've never turned down a fight since the beginning of time." The girl declares with a sad chuckle.

"I'm not interested if I end up hurting you again." He responds so naturally. She crumbles a little.

Take that, boundaries.

"Me neither." And another short kiss follows her words. "I just need a cigarette."

Eren throws away the wipe in the trash and grabs his mess of a backpack. The plethora of rock band patches, badges, rainbow seams and whatnot makes it look so out of place in their world of conformity and norms. Mikasa thinks it look like vomit, but Eren takes pride in his 'walking alternative culture encyclopedia'. She has tried to explain him so many fucking times that he doesn't need to prove himself with some Nirvana, Queen and Sex Pistol merchandise, but who is there to listen?

A minute passes and he managed to fish out his hidden tobacco stash. Pulling out a white stick, he handles it to her. Mikasa can't help but scrunch her face.

"Really Eren? Camel? That stuff tastes like dirt from the road the Government still hasn't paved."

"If you wanted you precious Marlboro you should've saved up money. Take it or leave it." Seeing as she has no choice, the girl accepts his tiny gift.

Now, there is a little thing about how two teens manage to hide their mild nicotine addiction. The only available window in their room is the big one above the desk, which has to be wide open. But for the smoke not get inside, one must also lean over the windowsill, so that their upper body hangs outside.

That's why Mikasa's hopping up on the desk, opens the window, drags half her body out in cold air and lights up her cigarette. She has to sit on her knees and her legs are slightly spread for stability, showing her secret boyfriend quite the nice picture of her backside, totally not on purpose.

Yes, Eren has noticed.

Yes, Eren is staring.

Yes, Eren is having some…interesting thoughts people under 18 shouldn't have.

But can you really blame him?

Mikasa is totally gorgeous, even more so when she's not aware of it. With those soft Asian features and lean body, that girl is hard to resist.

" Earlier, you assumed you know me when I feel like I don't even know myself lately." She whispers, her dark hair reflecting the moonlight, as the winter chill makes her shiver with each taken drag from the cigarette.

Eren almost gasps.

She looks ethereal, like the lonely, misunderstood witch you find in every sad fairytale.

The neighborhood is completely silent, and the boring houses, the street, the clouds, her hands, everything feels strange, unknown, scary. A feeling of living someone else's life engulfs her, and it's not pretty. She doesn't feel this way in the summer, when Miss Rodin & Co. eat away all her time, but the winter is a different story. The isolation, the harsh weather, the long nights, makes her wonder when all of it is going to end.

How long will it be until she doesn't have to fake it anymore?

How long until she escapes with Eren from this world of hunger, oppression, chains and unjustified cruelty?

A whole other world is waiting for them beyond the walls.

How long until her life is in her own hands for good?

She's currently writing a poem about it.

"Eren, do you like cold or hot weather better?" her shaking voice asks in the dead of the night.

"I like warm winters and cool summers." Comes his honest answer.

"huh. That's because you're a coward. You only want the good part of things." Mikasa says, ash falling from the half-smoked cigarette. He sighs.

"Nothing I ever say is good enough for you. Mika, You're cruel as hell."

"Says the mean little bitch who teases me for their own pleasure."

The words sink deep into Eren's mind as the wheels slowly start to kick in. But it's not hard to guess what his girlfriend is trying to hint at.

"Oh my, I get it now, baby." His voice drops almost an octave as he makes his way to the desk. "You're mad because of the thing I was doing earlier under the table. Why didn't you say so from the start?" His left hand come to touch the back of her thighs, stroking the clothed flesh up and down in a slow pace. Mikasa's breath hitches in her throat and for sure the shivers down her spine are not from the cold.

"Aww, that's so sweet. Does princess want to be spoiled?" Well, he knows just how to tease, doesn't he?

"Absolutely fucking not." But she's no easy prize either.

"Come on, you've been so stressed out lately. Bet you pack of Marlboro I can make all your worries melt down." Eren's nimble fingers grab the hem of her nightgown and slowly lift it up her legs.

"You'll make it 10 minutes I'm never getting back." Mikasa bites her lower lip as she feels the material hunched up on her hips.

"Auch. That hurt. I'm wondering if there's anything I can do to change your mind."

"Maybe there is…" A rare smirk creeps up her face. The cigarette has long since burned out when Eren lays down on the desk, back against the wood and legs dangling over the edge. If it's something he's grateful for, is those sturdy furniture the country produces that can hold the weight of two teenagers.

Mikasa feels his head resting in between her parted knees, and when she looks down, a pair of ocean-green eyes is staring right back at her with a malevolent gaze.

"We're gonna get caught." She tries one last time to back down.

"If you keep quiet we won't." Eren grunts between her legs, warm hands running up and down her thighs, trying to convince her to give in, and doing a damn good job while at it.

"I hate it when you tease, Eren."

"Then why do you resist me so badly? Let me give you what you need, doll."

Well, she really can't say no to that.

"Come on princess…"

"Sit down."

~.~

Mikasa hasn't slept that good in ages. By the time consciousness creeps up on her brain again, she's all drowsy beneath the heavy blankets. It's the last week of school, the alarm hasn't rung up yet, and the rational side of her brain refuses to wake up. The darkness outside gives the young girl no indication of the current time. This is paradise.

No one in their small town likes the winter. Those superficial phonies perceive it merely as a season of inconveniences: cold days, watery mud on the roads, long nights stuck in the house, you get it. Perhaps that's why she feels entitled to like it so much.

Mikasa perceives this season as a mirror image of how other see her: distant, frozen, beautiful yet unavailable. She takes a deep breath, wanting to cradle winter's cold, dead face in her equally chilly hands and whisper ' I love you the most. Because nobody else will but me, and I want to make sure you don't feel left out. All the shit others throw at you, is because those dumb bitches are blind and can't see past the benefits you provide them. It does not mean you're hard to love. You are easy to love, winter, and it's fine not being everybody's cup of tea. You're my cup of tea. Boring normies opinions don't validate you, or take away your beauty.'

And besides, when it's warm outside, people always leave. It's natural of course, to get out, party, enjoy life and long walks under the moonlight. But both spring and fall mean that Eren's away too, most of the time, doing dumb shit without her. She recalls so many school mornings when he would just show up below the window after a wild party, with run-down eyeliner, tattered clothes and a burnt piece of hair, begging her to distract his parents so that he could sneak in.

She'd help him out of course, because she loves him, with those green puppy eyes that are hard to resist, but the feeling of abandonment would carry on well into the day.

This time, however, it's a different story.

Mikasa's eyes crack open and there he is, in bed with her. Waking up beside him is on top three best things in life. Eren's holding her close in his arms, his face an inch or two away, looking so calm and rested it's literally painful. Mikasa loves that soft look and the fact she's the only one allowed to see it. His skin is hot, the muscles are tense around the small of her back, their hold anything but gentle. It's needy. Eren is needy. He's right here, addicted to her, craving her presence.

And he's not going anywhere anytime soon.

Mikasa's smile is bittersweet. She takes a deep breath while nudging herself closer to him.

But sometimes even Eren's closeness is not enough to make her forget. Outside of his warm embrace, there is a world against them, distant and uncaring, people that at first sight seem to love his carefree attitude and her coolness, but who, deep down, would sell both of their asses to the Titan Police for two corn chips.

It has always been like this. The harsher this world is to them, with its shortages and discriminations, the stronger their embrace is. Who else could grant their wandering souls the solace they need?

For sure Mikasa can hide under their shared umbrella, but for how long? How strong is she really? People see her as nothing but an automatized object, ready to be charged with expectations.

"I cry for stupid, and so the stupid beat me," Her whispered voice breaks the primordial silence. Hands come up to explore Eren's sleepy face, the first and foremost witness to all of her creations. This poem she has in mind needs touch-ups, but the heavy feeling lingers too hard on her chest. It finds its natural way out sooner or later, and Mikasa's glad someone is there to appreciate her naïve attempts at writing poetry.

"Under the star I'm born they smile so shifty,

Of tenderness the more and more I darken,

My death will be from humanism and pity."

Fingers brush the nape of his neck, then her index runs softly over the shell of Eren's ear. He stirs in his sleep, but doesn't turn away from his touch.

"Heartwarming hands I stretch out to comfort

Beasts chasing me famished and cruel still,

And I feel sorry I won't kiss again," Her curious fingers dips into his parted mouth. She's fascinated by his sharp canine and presses her finger pad against it. For sure these teeth are a sign to stay away, but you know, self-destructiveness is her thing.

"Even the snout that comes for me to kill.

I haven't even lived, not to offend someone,

And so my roots have grown in earthly dust,

Wasting this life trying to grow,

Claws on my fingers, for I must." She finishes in the same hushed tone, caressing Eren's gorgeous features.

"Wow. I sometimes forget how talented you really are." Mikasa jumps when she hears his voice, hushed and so raspy in the morning.

"Did you hear that?"

"All of it, princess." His smile is so happy and he hasn't even opened his eyes yet. She blushes in embarrassment as the hand resting on her back comes up to play with her black strands.

"It still needs some touch-ups." Mikasa adds, disappointed in herself.

"Well, I think it's wonderful." She smiles half-heartily. Eren's words don't mean very much when he is so easy to impress. Perhaps that's why she even tells him all her works in the first place. Because there's no way to fail with him, no harsh words to come, and his awe expression boosts her ego to the maximum.

"Why don't we go back to sleep and cuddle some more?" He suggests, but Mikasa turns around, her back pressing against his chest.

"I don't know if I can…I have a lot on my mind."

"Thought so since you're writing such sad poems." Eren mumbles as his arms pull her closer, head resting in the crook of her neck. "What's upsetting you, baby?" He pauses to inhale the smell of her skin. Maybe that's how drugs are supposed to feel like.

"Same as usual. The sky falling, us growing old, the monotony of our lives but…I've been thinking about your mom."

"What about her?"

"About how she said you should integrate me into the family. And how we're doing the total opposite of that. Some thoughts just cross my mind but, we didn't even give it a shot, you know?. We just jumped into this relationship like two decapitated chickens. What if the grow ups know better, Eren? What if we'll end up breaking some rules for the sake of a doomed love story?"

But her boyfriend props his upper body up, resting it on one elbow, while his free hand grabs her chin and forces Mikasa to meet his annoyed eyes.

"Let's make one thing clear, you dumb girl." He growls.

"The only way I'm integrating you into this family is when I'll put a ring on your finger." He leans down seal his words with a kiss, but she turns her head away.

"Eren, don't. My mouth probably smells like a dumpster."

"Mikasa, do I look like I give a fuck?" He sighs and captures her mouth in a scorched kiss. She closes her eyes. Eren's touch is very comforting. His hands roaming, chest pressing against hers, heartbeats perfectly synched, they all tell her the same thing.

'Don't rush things. Time is on our side. Let's enjoy now.'

Winter is so nice.

A/N: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.