The night was brisk and clear. Crickets chirped loudly, emboldened by the lack of predators and the hopeful prospect of finding a mate. There was a beautiful simplicity to their songs. Such a familiar sound. It filled Mikasa with warm feelings of nostalgia.
When her parents were still alive, her mother used to take her outside at night when the weather was favorable. They would sit in the dark, perched and listening carefully to the various sounds of wildlife around them. Her mother would point them out, whispering what creature made what sound, and why they did it. Mikasa would listen, thoroughly enthralled, struggling to keep her voice down when she guessed an insect correctly. Her mother would chuckle softly at the excitement gleaming in her eyes, ruffling her hair. They would stay out as long as they could before her father would sidle out, urging them to come warm up with some tea.
It was one of Mikasa's favorite pastimes, and now a treasured memory.
She stared at the ground as she walked, still overflowing with disbelief. She kept glancing at the man walking beside her, ensuring over and over that he was real, observing him carefully from head to toe. Every peek that she stole resulted in a fresh blush on her cheeks, so she never stared for long. She wanted to reach out, skim the sleeve of his shirt, trace the veins in his hands, feel the pulse of his heart. But she had his jacket for the time being, and she couldn't believe how amazing it smelled. She took regular sniffs, memorizing his alluring scent all over again. She wanted to bury herself in the dark fabric.
He walked with the same stride she had come to recognize over the years. He planted his feet confidently, each step firm. His hands were shoved into his pockets. The long sleeves of his shirt pulled tight against his upper arms and shoulders, betraying the strong build beneath. His shoulders lazily slouched forward. Even so, he was a lot taller than Mikasa remembered. She had to look up to meet his eyes - which was considerably hard to do without melting. They burned an emerald fire that stirred her heart like nothing else ever had. It was a feeling she never thought she would be able to experience again. But here he was, walking beside her like it was the most normal thing in the world, like he didn't just reappear that night. She had to keep taking soothing breaths to avoid diving headfirst into an excited frenzy.
She had always loved walking with Eren. It didn't matter where they were going. She had followed him with zero doubt, and he had never led her astray, always protected her with his fearless bull-headedness and sheer will. He had been that way since she first met him in that terrible hut in the middle of the forest.
She shuddered to remember how dreadful she had felt at that time as a child, hands tied, surrounded by traffickers. She felt as if she had been struck dumb, unable to move or fight back. She still had the blood of her mother and father splattered across her face. She could taste the iron of it on her lips. Their deaths looped in her head on repeat. She could still hear her mother screaming for her to run.
The rough rope burned her wrists, but the pain hardly registered. Her numbness had spread through every appendage, rendering her void of feeling. A welcome thing, really.
She strained to swallow, throat coarse and dry. The splintered floorboards raked against her cheek at the movement.
Was this what it felt like to lose everything? Was she going to die, too?
The slurring words of the traffickers flowed into her ears, sour like curdled milk. "Do you really think we can sell her?"
A shiver ran up her spine. So they were those kinds of people… the ones that sell humans. Her father had always warned her about them, told her that he would protect them… But he hadn't been able to stop the monsters at their door.
She wondered what she would be sold for. Meat? Slavery? Carnal purposes? She doubted anyone would want to buy her… she was small, and didn't know much other than the sounds bugs made… and choppy embroidery. If she did sell, it would most likely be for men's dirty purposes…
She felt overwhelming disgust. Nausea cramped her abdomen.
The men began to squabble with one another, but she tuned them out once she heard mention of her mother… something about how valuable she would have been if they wouldn't have killed her, something about her being a pureblood, whatever that meant.
Why couldn't they have left them alone? Why did they have to kill her parents? It was all too much for her young brain to comprehend.
Even now, walking under the stars with Eren, it was hard for Mikasa to understand exactly how those men had committed such heinous actions with no regard for life. She should have died, she knew. But Eren had saved her, burned the desire to live into her with his brash courage, gave her the push she needed to fight and establish her place in the world. He had given her purpose. She had followed him since, unwavering in her loyalty, hopeless in her obsession.
Fight, and you live. Give up, and you die.
"What are you thinking about?"
Low. Smooth. Lithe. She could not overcome how incredible his voice sounded. She could have bathed in its resonance. She resisted the urge to look at him, lest she simply melt under his disarming study. Clasping her hands behind her back, she pretended to find sudden interest in the bland weeds underfoot, watching as they collapsed and crumpled under her steps.
"I was thinking about when we first met," she responded simply. "About how you inspired me to fight."
Eren scoffed. "About how I murdered those guys?"
Mikasa could hear the mirth in his voice. "No," she insisted, lips pursing, "not that. Besides, I killed one of them, too. You're not the only hero in that story."
They fell silent again, unspoken words hitched in their throats, eyes averted.
Eren's hands balled into fists in his pockets when he thought of those men he had killed. Their intentions with Mikasa had been filthy, he knew. He hadn't dared to delve into detail as an eight year old kid, but his father had always warned him to protect his mother. Men were diabolical, he said. When Eren had seen the traffickers hovering over Mikasa, he knew what life was in store for her; abuse. Plenty of it. His resulting rage had given him the driving force he needed to destroy those who wished to imprison her.
He had wanted to protect Mikasa ever since. It was engraved in his lifeblood, and it ran deep. She was his purpose.
"I would do it again," he stated, resolute.
Mikasa looked at him, brow raised skeptically. "Do what?"
"Kill them."
"Why?" she asked, perplexed.
Eren smiled to himself. For someone so intelligent, Mikasa had a hard time reading the room sometimes. It was both infuriating and captivating. She really loved dangling that carrot right in front of his nose, intentional or not.
"Because," he said, "I just would."
He could almost hear the gears working in Mikasa's head, and had to turn to stifle the chuckle in his throat.
"What?" she demanded indignantly, tapping his shoulder.
Eren went to grab at her hand playfully, a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. But when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, his teasing came grinding to an abrupt halt.
They had never been incredibly physical growing up. She would give him an occasional slug on the shoulder to tease him. He would brush her hair out of the way if it impeded her. They would clasp hands to help each other stand. An occasional embrace would happen here and there. Even through the minimal contact, he knew how healthy she was. She always took great care to stay in shape, eat well, and get enough sleep. She was a soldier. Her body was a weapon, and he had appreciated it from a safe distance more than once (and was ashamed to admit it). But now, she was skin and bone. He had noticed how thin she was when she tackled him, when he had assessed her beautiful face at the tree, but he hadn't realized how sickly she actually was. It devastated him.
Mikasa detected his mood change instantly. Making brief eye contact, she panicked and whipped her arm away from him, pulling the sleeve of his jacket over her trembling hand self-consciously.
What does he think of me? she thought to herself, a dark cloud of self doubt looming. Did he think any less of her? Would he be disgusted? Before Marley, he would have come apart if she so much as bruised her elbow while training, and here she was, practically wasting away at her own hands. How would he react? Would he chastise her like he used to?
And, at the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder… Did he think she was any less pretty?
She waited for the scolding, bracing herself.
"Mikasa."
She was surprised. He didn't sound upset or disgusted. He sounded… sad? She stopped, looking behind her. He was a few paces back, staring at the ground. His face was twisted with a strange emotion that she couldn't quite place. It was almost a mixture of anger and agony. Standing there with his hands in his pockets, hair pulled into a messy bun, one knee bent slightly… she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked.
"...Yes?" she replied, biting her lip. Her heart palpated nervously.
Eren's gaze left the ground. He regarded her, eyes verdant as a deep evergreen forest, one she could get lost in forever. "Why… why haven't you been… taking care of yourself?" He picked his words carefully. She could see the concern and consideration he made sure to lace his question with. She could tell that he wanted to be brash and rough, like he was seemingly born to be, and she appreciated the effort he was making to be sensitive. It made her eyes sting with overwhelming emotion.
The last time they had spoken one on one in this world, he had told her how much he hated her, how she was nothing more than a slave. He had sneered at her, mocked her, and insulted her extensively. He had single-handedly torn the heart from her chest and crushed it in his grip, drinking the blood with dark hostility. All she had been able to do was watch and suffocate in his ungodly presence that was so very opposite of her Eren.
She pressed her lips together, hard. She wanted to lie to him. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, just like she did on a daily basis with Armin and the others. It seemed good enough for them. She wanted to put up her protective facade and fade into the background.
But this was Eren. This was her best friend in the entire universe, the one who had saved her and given her reason to live time after time. As desperate as she was to hide her decrepit state, she longed just as deeply to reveal every fragmented corner of her disconsolate soul. She had never allowed anyone into her personal thoughts since Eren had died. He was the only one she had given the privilege.
"I won't lie," she said. "Eren… Ever since the war, since I… killed you…"
The stars glimmered, peeking through the trees, and Mikasa was grateful for their ethereal comfort. She could feel the anxiety of reliving her worst nightmare biting into her.
"I lost my will to live. Entirely." She turned away from Eren, reluctant to see his reaction. The anxiety hovered, teeth sinking deeper, manifesting small trickles of anger and frustration. She continued to walk, and he followed soon after, footsteps loud.
Eren pondered what she had said, brows furrowed. His fists fidgeted in his pockets. "Why?" he asked.
Mikasa was not one to mince words for the sake of comfort, and her anxiety had a solid hold on her at the moment. Her words lashed out more sharply than she intended. "Because I lost you. What did you expect? That I would just go back to my daily life, find myself a husband, have some kids, open a cute bakery in town?" She kicked at a stone. "Did you think I would just forget you? The way you asked me to in the paths?"
Eren winced. Her voice was full to the brim with sharp torment, heavy sarcasm braided within the strands of the acute words. Her frame may have been frail, but her words packed a serious punch. Her apparent anger was very abrupt, and it was hard for him not to respond in a like manner to defend himself.
I deserve that, he reminded himself, holding in the hurt feelings. His heart hammered against his ribcage erratically. He pulled a hand from his pocket, raking the fingers through his hair as a force of nervous habit. Several unruly strands fell straight back into his face. For everything Mikasa had been through, everything she had done in his name, she deserved the raw truth.
"I never wanted you to forget me, Mikasa. Ever."
She stopped again, whirling to face him. Fury glinted in her eyes, bringing Eren to a staggering halt. Her displeasure was palpable - and frankly, quite scary.
"Then why?" she demanded, voice breaking. "Why did you tell me to forget you? You knew it was impossible!"
Eren's own passionate anger began to spark despite his efforts to tone it down. "Like fuck I knew, Mikasa!" he countered, frustration bleeding into his voice. "For all I was aware, I was family to you! I wanted you to find someone to love. Someone to protect you. Someone alive, Mikasa, someone who didn't commit fucking genocide!"
Even though he had wanted her to move on, the imaginary picture of her walking with another man made him ill.
Mikasa's eyes hardened, and she stood taller. "Eren," she asserted, "you were never just family to me."
The words knocked the air straight out of Eren's lungs, and he would have been happy to simply suffocate in that statement. Every ounce of rigidity and irritability streamed out of him, leaving only a hopeful, unstable man who had yearned for years to hear those words from her beautiful lips.
He knew that Mikasa had harbored some sort of affection for him when he was alive. He had suspected as much for a long time, especially after his conversation with Zeke, but never had the guts to stand up and ask her outright. Who would, with everything that they had been through? Only when he knew he was facing a critical fork in the road did he finally approach her, haunted by harrowing visions of the rumbling, only to be stabbed straight through the heart by the word "family". He had never hated that word so damn much.
If she had known that it would push him the way it did, would she have told the truth?
Despite the undeniable agitation between them born from the small dissent, exhilaration began to warm his chest. His fingertips tingled pleasantly, and he had to remove the other hand from his pocket to satisfy the pressing need to fidget. He flexed his hands, holding back the urge to close the distance between them in less than a second and claim her as his, because holy shit she had finally said it. He could feel the blood racing in his veins and hear it rushing in his ears. The feeling could only be explained as euphoria, and it brought life into his being. He had felt anesthetized for years. He had forced himself into a state of numb cruelty, subject to the role of the founder that he was ironically enslaved to. It was the only way he could function. He never believed he would ever have a chance to feel this amazing again, and he was going to fucking run with it. No remorse. No regret.
Mikasa watched on high alert as Eren's anger melted away into something else. He was an open book. She knew that what she had said would disarm him, but she now felt herself growing nervous as intense ardor dominated his features. The expression in his eyes was almost predatory, and in that moment, she felt just about as defenseless as a newborn doe. Swallowing, she took a small shuffle backwards, almost regretting what she had said.
Eren showed no deliberation for her hesitance and took a bold step forward. Making direct, scalding eye contact, he asked, "Then what am I to you, Mikasa?"
Alarms began to blare in MIkasa's head, screaming at her to turn and run from him, the exact same sirens that had howled at her to make up some pathetic lie in order to snub his advances in Marley. They pulled her every which way, and the chaos was unbearable. She wanted dearly to confess, to tell him just how much she truly did care, but she also felt incapable of handling the overflowing river that was Eren. She was afraid to touch that side of him, to catch fire under the smoldering vastness of his resolute dedication. He would give her everything. But was she ready for that? Was he ready for that? She still felt so broken in so many ways. Her head was messed up. He was obviously battling his own demons, too.
She couldn't tell him that he was just family. She would not do that to him again. However, she knew that she wasn't quite ready for that leap that he was clearly beyond keen to take. Despite what they had been through, despite their potential life that she had both seen and adored, something was in the way.
They needed time to heal. It could not be ignored. There was simply far too much that had happened since their lives could have been considered "normal". It needed to be addressed, otherwise it would absolutely destroy them. Building on an unstable foundation would do them no good.
Resolute, she approached Eren, hyper aware of the way his eyes devoured her. The closer she got, the more she was consumed by his feeling. It was a wonderful, dangerous mesh of so many things - passion, dedication, strength, vulnerability, warmth. He simply exuded everything that had ever attracted her to him, and it was maddening. A fervent confession pressed at her lips. She wanted badly to partake of those attractions. But it was for their own good… she needed to wait. She wanted to be healthy, mind and body.
Halting in front of him, she didn't hesitate to stand on her toes, brushing flyaway hairs from Eren's face. She swore she could see him shiver at her touch, and wondered just how much he was holding himself back.
"I promise to tell you, but not now," she murmured, heart panging at the instant disappointment that crumpled his face. "I know. I'm sorry. But, Eren, we have a lot to talk about and figure out. We have so much to work on. I'm not in a good headspace right now. Maybe I come off as collected, but… I haven't been okay for a long time." She frowned slightly, fingertips brushing over his lips, driving him more insane than she could ever imagine. "You have been struggling for so much longer than me, Eren. I know you have. You've been so alone. And this whole thing with you just… showing up? I need time to process that. I'm not even fully convinced that this is real."
Eren opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again when she raised an eyebrow at him.
"Can you blame me?" she asked, shrugging slightly. Sighing, she folded her arms and buried herself in his jacket again. "Eren, you and I have a lot of growing to do. I want to do it together. But I'm not quite ready for something more. Okay?"
She didn't wait for his answer, because utter exhaustion suddenly took her brain into a powerful vice grip. Her limbs felt heavy as lead. Her puffy eyelids drooped even further, and she couldn't stifle the heavy yawn that forced its way out of her lungs, making her vision swim with tired tears. The vast array of emotions she had felt over the course of the hour left her exhausted.
She didn't want to sleep. She was terrified that he would disappear. She was scared to face the gore of her nightmares. However, she truly did feel that if she didn't rest at least a little, she was going to permanently collapse.
"You need sleep," Eren asserted, not bothering to answer her response. He understood her request without voicing it. "Where do you live? I'll take you home."
He saw how reluctant Mikasa became. Her face fell. There was even a tinge of distress in the set of her mouth and the crease between her brows. It was concerning. Crouching down to see her face-to-face, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What's up?" he asked, genuinely worried. All the sexual frustration that he had been fighting tooth and nail went straight out the window (thank GOD), replaced with familiar distress over Mikasa's well being.
"Nothing," she replied, "I just don't particularly like sleeping. I have a lot of nightmares."
"About what?" he asked, uncouth as ever.
She didn't reply. Her expression said it all.
"Don't feel like you have to tell me," he quickly corrected himself. "I don't want you to have to think about it." Retracting his hand, he motioned to the road. "Lead the way. I'll follow. You don't have to talk or anything… I'll just make sure you get back safe."
He watched her oblige and begin to walk, scrutinizing the unstable teetering of her gait. She was like a drunk at a liquor party, and it wasn't long before her toe caught a cobblestone, sending her stumbling. He leapt forward, sweeping her effortlessly onto his back in a smooth movement that left Mikasa fumbling for words.
"Please let me do this," he interjected before she could form a coherent retort. "I'm worried about you." Beyond worried.
She stilled and said nothing. He took her silence as acceptance. Securing his arms under her bony knees, he made sure she was comfortable and began to walk, ensuring that not a step jostled her.
"Just let me know where to turn and whatnot," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I obviously don't know the area." A smirk twitched his lips.
He felt her head nod, then drop to his shoulder. "Smartass."
Swearing was a real rarity for Mikasa, and Eren couldn't help but laugh heartily. "Watch your language!" he scolded teasingly. "Someone might think you were raised in a barn."
"Might as well have been," she mumbled in response. "Growing up with you was like growing up with farm animals."
"Wow, that hurts!" Eren chuckled again, happy that he could still get a playful response from her. Then, acknowledging her need to rest, he began to hum a soothing tune, one that Carla often used to sing them. He felt Mikasa's body relax, melting against his back in a familiar way that stirred up his desire for her again. He knew it would only grow with every passing second he spent with her.
Fuck, this is going to be difficult… he thought to himself. But he respected Mikasa more than anything, and he knew that her words held undeniable truth.
"Eren?"
She sounded incredibly vulnerable. Not a trait commonly used to describe Mikasa.
"Yeah?"
Her arms tightened around his neck. "Don't take this weird, but… will you stay with me tonight?"
Eren felt his heart shift into another gear. Playing it smooth, he chuckled. "You sure you want a gross farm animal hanging out in your room?"
Mikasa didn't tease back. "Yes."
Sensing her agitation, he stopped teasing. Blushing furiously, he cleared his throat and pretended to be his normal, stoic self. He felt awfully like a pubescent boy in a bathhouse. "Yeah, of course. How come?"
Mikasa pressed her face into his shoulder. "You'll see."