disclaimer: attack on titan does not belong to me.
my first (and only) time writing eremika.
eren thinks that sometimes people don't acknowledge mikasa's softness. she makes a very concerted effort to hide it from the world too, but he's taken a sneak peek a few times. she is still a girl. her softness is real, and she looks really good in a skirt. (he brushes that off, not managing to hide the blush that creeps onto his cheeks.)
he would know how attractive she is, better than anyone: he's seen her where other people haven't, changing clothes or taking a bath. he's seen all of that. it's so routine that it's almost ridiculous to go over it – yet the thought does enter his mind, and he lingers on the slimy, rose-tinted thoughts once in a while, when everything's going bad during the day and the weight of their training sneaks up on him. his superiors scream at him but he doesn't listen, content to just perk his ears up to feign interest; but his senses don't waver. he's not there, he's somewhere else. somewhere else thinking of her, with her.
so ridiculous. so stupid, eren tells himself when he's lying in bed at night, staring at his palm in the faint dusk light. he shudders and wonders how there's still room for softness within him.
what does he know about marriage? his parents had been together for years, they seemed to have loved each other and their whole family very much. he wonders if he too could do that, someday.
(with mikasa.)
(he smiles.)
would there be a time and place in the world for love?
the unrealized hope ate at him. sometimes eren swore to himself, being brave enough to love would be a much greater act of courage, much braver than swinging into battle to slay the monstrous creatures that kept them prisoners' of a grim fate.
what could he do, with the flame in his chest that ignited, other than bury it in the graveyard of all the things he wished for, but had no place being wished for in this world?
what should he do with the fire that burned within him whenever she flung her hair over her shoulder, so painfully pale and shockingly strong?
her soft, raven hair, "as dark as the night", he would tell her when they were smaller, shocked by the sight of such beauty, so rare in his life.
(then he would be rude and stubborn, and act like he didn't care.)
he catches fewer peeks of her skin now, less than he used to before they enrolled in the corps, but the same pale skin is still there, a white that glows yellow, edges softened with faint pink brush strokes.
although she looks frail from afar, from nearby eren sees the harsh lines that constrict the blouse, the strong, toned legs with knees so sharp they could kill a man; mikasa's anything but frail now.
and yet some softness has lingered, perhaps only as a figment of his imagination. eren thinks she's beautiful, like the moonlight coming through the window during a full moon. to him, everything about her is still soft – the soft tone in her voice when she calls his name; her hair, which he hasn't touched in so long; her midnight eyes that don't shine anymore, dulled by the many ways life has stabbed her in the back.
the way she cares about him is the softest part of her.
he dips into dreams of pure love, alone in his bed.
