So far so good.

About an hour and a half later, they end up at Ehrmich with a few minutes to spare, one thing he notices right off the bat is that people are less impressed by the motor car the closer he gets to the restaurant, go figure. He stops right in front of the location, and to his surprise, a few men working inside are ready to take the motor car away somewhere safe until their return. Floch tries his best to look like he belongs while Hitch can't help but blatantly admire the decor and atmosphere, he wasn't sure if he was a fan of stuffy places like this but it's her wish he's obliging.

The grand façade of the restaurant's entrance looms before them, illuminated by ornate lanterns. Floch holds open the door for Hitch, and they step into the opulent interior decorated with intricate paintings, greeted by the soft strains of a pianist and the murmur of conversation behind the corner, a quick chat with the receptionist and the two are led to their reserved table.

Her gown sways gracefully with each step but he sees the nervousness in her step, call him old fashioned but he can't take his eyes off her ankles any chance he gets to see them. He adjusts his greenstone necklace out of habit, and walks in after her to join her side. They had been eagerly anticipating this evening for weeks, ever since Sasha had secured reservations for him at the supposed finest restaurant on the island.

Hitch marvels at the elegant décor and exquisite tables. The waiter soon presents them with menus, each item delicately handwritten in calligraphy, he nearly suffers a heart attack as he reads the prices but then remembers it's all on the house. He could still pay for it, but that would nearly empty all the funds he had saved up until now. She gives him an excited glance, knowing that tonight would be one to remember, and he suddenly feels that it's all worth it whether he paid or not. He really owed Sasha for this.

"It's better than I had imagined, and It's nicer than any place I've ever been in! Are you sure we're allowed here?" She jokingly begins chatting with him, revealing just her eyes above the menu she's holding.

"We are, just gotta make sure the old couple I stole this reservation from aren't found." He smirks back, and she giggles at that before she goes back to browsing the options.

One of the waiters suddenly approaches them and leans down to whisper something in his ear, he looks back towards the kitchen then to the confused Hitch. "One second I'll be right back. You can order on my behalf, surprise me alright?"

"Sure." Hitch replies as she watches him retreat to the kitchen.

Floch pushes through the door, and as soon as he goes inside one of the workers there points him to the entrance to the basement. He reluctantly follows their direction while keeping his guard up, discretely unfastening the holster of his pistol just in case. Halfway down the steps into the wine cellar, he's greeted by the face of their previous Marleyan prisoner of war, Niccolo. "Ahh, you're finally here! I was begining to wonder when you'd turn in your reservation."

"Hello to you as well, Niccolo."

He doesn't waste any time, getting straight to the point. "I apologize about pulling you away from your date, I simply wished to ask about Sasha's wellbeing. As you know, I'd be hard pressed to learn anything concerning the outside world these days and the recent mass arrests don't do me any favors either."

He feels slightly awkward at that, he can't tell the guy it was because of him. "I suppose you're right."

"So? Has she sent any word back? She... She told me she was heading to the mainland, but didn't specify why. Look, I'm not an idiot alright? As much as she tried to hide it, I know she went out there to join the war against Marley, the Middle-eastern soldiers I've been seeing from time to time touring around the city tells me that much." He says with genuine concern in his eyes, Floch could tell he cares about the girl, otherwise He and Hitch wouldn't be here right now.

The redhead sighs. "Yeah, she's fighting on the frontlines in the middle east currently, last we heard from her was a week ago, she's fine as of now."

This wasn't enough to satisfy him. "I know full well who she's fighting with, are you sure everything is alright? Please, tell me the truth."

Floch remembers how he tried to press Hange for information concerning those incidents and her refusal, this must be how it felt that day from her perspective. "I promise you, she's as fine as one can be out there in those trenches, she'll be back, Sasha's a tough woman so don't underestimate her."

"I'll take your word for it, I know she's a tough nut to crack. When do you think she'll be back?"

His expression shifts, briefly contemplating the question. "Well, she did mention it would only be a couple of months but I think she was only saying that to ease my concerns. Realistically it's either when the war ends or..."

He frowns at that. "I see, she said the same to me too." He sighs, and his worried expression turns into a strained smile. "I am sorry for keeping you, you can head back up now, we'll make sure to offer you both only the best for tonight."

"Very well, and thanks I appreciate it." Floch replies before he takes his leave and rejoins Hitch, he looks at the table to find a few delicious looking appetizers already placed down.

"What was that about?" She asks him curiously.

"The owner of the restaurant is a good friend of ours at the Survey Corps, we practically all lived together for the duration it took to build the southern port." He explains.

"I see, It must be nice for you scouts, having so many useful connections like this."

"Well, it only took getting our asses kicked a bunch of times to get where we are now. Too bad your branch didn't win that civil war a few years back huh? Filthy traitors." He replies in a playful manner, and she feigns taking offence at that. "Just think of all the swindled peasant money you could be swimming in had your branch had it's way!"

"Ha! Look who's talking!" That sends ice shooting through his veins, does she know? "Weren't you Garrison before you were a scout? Who's the real traitor here, Mister leaky pants?"

He inwardly breathes a sigh of relief, but that is quickly replaced by a blank stare. "...Leaky pants?"

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not the one who leaked confidential state secrets twice."

He scoffs. "Well, look where the second time got us, aren't you glad for that? Besides, shovelling Horse shit and guarding empty castles wasn't my thing. Much prefer getting chomped on by titans and dying overseas in the middle of nowhere."

"Don't say stupid things like that when I can tell you mean it." She hisses at him, whacking him over the head with the menu in her hands. "You really need to improve your outlook on life."

"That ship has sailed a long time ago." He chuckles dismissively.

"At least you've been doing better recently..." She softly mutters.

His expression shifts, and he looks at her with a surprised expression. That soon turns into a genuine smile, which she immediately takes notice of. She blushes a little and averts her gaze awkwardly. "What the hell are you smiling about? Do I have something on my face?" Hastily pulling out a small mirror from her dress to check herself.

"It's nothing, nothing at all." He chuckles, but he feels strange, for some reason, he's sleepy.

Soon enough, courses of gourmet cuisine begin arriving, Floch and Hitch savor each bite, delighting in the flavors and textures meticulously crafted by the Marleyan chef and his team. The last time Floch ate food this good was when the port was being constructed, ever since then it was a less than exciting return to whatever the Reeves company shipped them that month, not that it was bad, it just couldn't be compared to what Niccolo offered, and Hitch seems to agree if her delighted expressions were anything to go by.

"I think I love this Carbonara pasta, where has it been all my life?" She says, before biting into her fork with a dreamy expression.

"Overseas, probably." He curtly replies, causing her to snort.

"Here, try it." She offers some of it to her.

This startles him, his eyes immediately drawn to her décolletage right behind the extended fork. "H-hey, what are you-"

"Just quit being difficult and open your mouth." She furrows her brow at him, he glances to the side and notices some of the looks they're receiving from the older couples before he relents and accepts it.

"So?"

His cheeks are slightly red, but he nods back at her, and she grins at this. "You were right, it's good."

"Told you so!"

When they begin pouring the wine, he is a little hesitant at first, even if it was safe to drink. Hitch notices this and cracks a joke at his expense, thinking he was a lightweight, which is ironic coming from her. Before long, the initial awkwardness melts away and the two open up more, sharing conversation and laughter about their early days in the Military. Though to his annoyance, he finds it hard to keep up with her stories about her bootcamp days when he's battling sleep. Was something wrong with him?


"Are you okay?" Hitch worriedly takes notice.

"I'm fine. Must have caught a cold or something, feel a little tired that's all." He assures her.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

He'd spend the entire night out here with her if he could.

He raises his brows, shaking his head. "What? No, you've wanted to come here for so long, we're going to enjoy this as much as we can."

She smiles gently at that, before setting her fork and knife down. "Well, about that. I think I've had my fill, I don't think I can eat anything more if my life depended on it, and we've also been here for two hours already."

"What? Already? Damn, time just flew by." He mutters at that, checking his pocket watch to confirm. "Well, if you say so. We could... just leave I guess." He says, but inwardly he dreads having to drop her off and end the night.

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

He wishes he could tell her to stay and talk some more, but he keeps it to himself and follows her out of there after a few parting words with Niccolo. A cold breeze passes by and Hitch shudders from the cold, seeing this, he takes off his cape and wraps it around her. She quietly thanks him, and awkwardly avoids his gaze before the two make their to the motor car. Floch cranks the ignition and they sit there in silence for a minute, before he begins the journey back into Stohess. The two don't speak a word until he finally passes through the gate out of Ehrmich and into inner Wall Sina, Hitch decides to break the silence.

"Hey... Floch?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you make a detour? I don't think I wanna go home just yet if that's alright with you." She asks softly, that seems to breathe some relief into him, neither does he.

"I know this spot you might like. Jean and I go there sometimes if we've got nothing else going on, we mostly take a nap or just talk about stuff until the sun goes down." He suggests, and she hums in acknowledgement.

"You make it sound so romantic." She grins.

"You caught me, now you know he's my backup plan if this doesn't work out." He jokingly replies, before his eyes widen at what he has just said. He takes a fretful glance to gauge her reaction, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, only to find her staring down at her thighs with a stunned expression.

'Shit.' He curses inwardly.

"S-so I'm just standing in the way of your true love huh?" She attempts to play it off, but fails miserably.

"Just don't tell him I said that, he might take it seriously." She can't help but giggle at that before they lapse into awkward silence.

Five minutes later, they arrive at their destination and are compelled to abandon the motor car at the bottom of the hill. She reluctantly kicks off her heels, but as they ascend, he can discern that the sacrifice was worthwhile. Hitch strides ahead, her silhouette framed by the moonlit landscape. The gentle glow dances upon the lake below, while in the distance, the faint lights of Mitras, the capital city, twinkle. Yet, all fades in comparison to the brilliance of the stars above.

He joins her side, his gaze lingering on the profile of her face, captivated by her wonder as she mutters to herself. "It's beautiful."

"Just like you," he murmurs in agreement, though she doesn't hear him.

With a wide smile, she turns towards him, catching his gaze but thinking nothing of it. "You were right. I love it."

"Told you so," he mumbles, averting his eyes and scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Um, here, I brought a blanket. Let's sit down."


The two recline, their gazes fixed upon the canvas of the night sky, a tapestry of twinkling stars. His heart thrums within his chest, a cacophony of unspoken words clamoring for release, yet a lump lodges stubbornly in his throat. He steals a glance at her profile; she lies beside him, fingers intertwined over her stomach, her countenance radiant with a soft smile.

"This," she begins, her voice hushed yet brimming with sincerity, "has been the most extraordinary night of my life. Nothing else even comes close."

"Really?" he responds, his brow arching with curiosity.

She nods, though a wistful sadness tinges her smile. "No one has ever this much thought into doing something for me before. Usually, it's all superficial, just a means to get me out of my pants. But tonight... tonight was different." A hint of guilt flickers in her eyes. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to go to such lengths. Back then, after you accidentally told me you were leaving... I thought you'd be in danger, so I told myself, why not give you one more reason to come back alive? You know? But when you handed me those reservations, I was shocked, you meant it."

"I didn't have high expectations," she continues, her voice softening, "but at least I told myself I had the chance to see you off before you left. It meant more to me than I can express. So thank you, Floch. From the depths of my heart, thank you for coming back safely, and for tonight."

His breath catches in his throat, knowing exactly why she said that. He couldn't fathom her perceiving him the same, it felt like an insult to his memory.

"Don't mention it," he replies. "I only wanted to see you happy, especially after everything." He redirects his gaze to the heavens above.

There's a moment of hesitation before she gathers her courage. "And what about you? You're always so focused on my happiness, but what about yours? I can see you're going through a lot. You can talk to me, you know. What happened to you after you returned from Marley?"

His features betray a flicker of discomfort at her question, and he averts his gaze. "Do you really want to know?"

"If it helps you, then yes," she affirms, her voice gentle yet resolute.

He opens his eyes with a heavy, weary sigh, his gaze fixed upon the expansive sky above. "We were sent to track down Eren and Mikasa, clear across the ocean. Word reached us of their whereabouts in this town, and within hours of our arrival, we managed to close in on them. Armin and I intercepted them about to board a train bound deeper into the mainland. And then... I messed up. Mikasa somehow found us, I was alone with Eren after Armin had gone to get help."

"We fought, and midway through, Armin returned, drawn by the racket. But it wasn't enough. They slipped through our fingers, and by the time I regained my footing, Jean was there with us yet I left him behind with Armin to hurry after them. I was hot on their heels, almost had them too, but they blew my cover just so they could run away."

His expression darkens as he recounts the harrowing ordeal. "I had to fight for my life, those Marleyans wouldn't stop coming, it was ceaseless bloodshed. We lost a man in the middle of it but I had to leave him behind. The faces of those I killed blur together now, I can't even recall the tally. At some point, I was forced to scavenge another person's weapon when my ammunition ran dry. By the time I stumbled back to the safe house, I was drenched in the blood of half the city."

"Floch..."

"I showed them no mercy. Some begged, but I couldn't afford to hesitate. I did what I had to do, I had to come back home. And as you said—I fought because I wanted to be back here, with you. To fulfill the promise I made to you."

Her smile is tinged with sorrow. "And you did."

He can't bear to witness her distress, so he shields his eyes with his sleeve. "The moment I woke up, the weight of my failure crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. I felt like a disgrace for still breathing, for daring to face everyone, including you. If it had been anyone else, they probably would've succeeded and saved us all."

He pauses, debating whether to divulge the next part, but ultimately decides to do so. "Seeing you fretting by my bedside was like a slap in the face. I felt unworthy of your concern, of anyone's. To be honest, before you arrived that day, I was close to ending it all." He hears her gasp of shock beside him, but he can't bring himself to meet her eyes, afraid of her reaction to his selfish confession.

She inches closer, gently removing his arm from his face. She slaps him across the cheek then surprises him by pulling him up and enveloping him in a tight embrace before he could even react. Floch remains stiff at first, but gradually he relaxes, returning her embrace. "You're an idiot, you're such a fucking idiot. Thinking that's the solution to your problems. Never keep something like that bottled up ever again, especially not when I'm here."

As she wraps her arms around him, warmth floods his entire being. Her embrace is gentle yet firm, as if they're on the verge of melding into one. He feels the steady beat of her heart against his chest, every contour of her body pressed against his, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, he feels full and complete. Her scent surrounds him, stirring up memories and emotions long buried. He inhales deeply, trying to imprint her essence into his very being.

His body trembles with a sudden chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint you... but I've shed too many tears to count. I doubt I have any left."

He can feel her frame shake with mirth. "Idiot... You don't have to pretend anymore, at least not right now."

He tightens his embrace around her, seeking solace in the curve of her neck. Odd, his eyes are damp, but it must be the moisture in the air. A few quiet sobs escape him, and she responds by gently stroking his back, her voice a soft murmur in his ear. "You've been carrying so much weight, haven't you?" He feels her hesitate for a moment before she takes off her gloves and her bare fingers start to weave through his hair, he closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation, before she suddenly presses a tender kiss on his temple.

He stiffens in her arms, eyes wide open in shock. He pulls away from her, but doesn't pull far, just enough to leave a small distance between their faces, enough so that they can both feel each other's warm breaths. From the uncertain expression on her face, he can tell she thinks he might not have liked that, he wants to prove her wrong.

They gaze into each other's eyes for what feels like a lifetime, and he sees her pupils are fully dilated. His nerves block his airways as if he's choking, but he forgoes words and musters up the courage to close the gap between them. He closes his eyes and tilts his head to the right then presses his lips against hers, their pursed lips meld together tentatively, tenderly massaging each other. He can't even tell how long they spent locking lips together like that before he pulls back again to make sure he hasn't made a mistake, his heart leaping to his throat.

Her half-lidded green eyes glisten with tears, her soft gasps for breath mingling with the flush of her cheeks. With renewed confidence, he leans in to claim her once more, her arms wrapping around him desperately as he cups her face with both hands, brushing aside the two short curtains of hair that frame it. What begins as a slow and gentle kiss gradually escalates, fueled by their mounting desire and impatience. She responds with passionate fervor, pushing him back to straddle his hips, her gown momentarily hindering their connection until he assists her in finding a more comfortable position.

Their initial slow exploration transforms into a frenzied, aggressive exchange, each driven by raw emotion and the pent-up frustration of days gone by. He releases her face to envelop her in his arms, one hand curling around the small of her back, fingers digging into her hip, while the other wraps around from below her armpit to cradle the back of her head, his fingers entwining in her hair. Pulling her closer until they are completely fused together, they lock in place, unwilling to relinquish each other even for a moment, clinging to one another as if she were the antidote to his ailment.

"I've faced death more times than I can count, but nothing has ever made this heart pulse as you have... You're beautiful beyond words, Hitch." He whispers into her mouth.

Her blush deepens, and she bites her lip, bashfully avoiding his gaze as she retreats into the crook of his neck, she giggles with a shuddering breath. With a soft chuckle of his own, he brushes her hair aside before leaning in to nibble on her ear. She squirms under his touch, emitting a flustered giggle as she recoils, only to find herself gently guided back by his grasp on her chin, pulling her in for another kiss.

The pressure of her chest against his ignites a burst of warmth and energy within him. He wonders if she can sense the intensity of his desire, the way she consumes his thoughts, the irresistible pull she exerts over him. He can finally admit to himself that he's become achingly addicted to her presence, captivated by her essence without her even trying. The mere thought of her with someone else fills him with jealousy and contempt; in his arms, beneath the moonlight, she is nothing short of a goddess incarnate.

She emits a soft whimper as he explores her kiss-swollen lips, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his coat to slip her arms around his torso, seeking warmth. With a gentle push, he guides her back against the blanket, her legs locking around his waist in response. Sacrificing the sensation of her lower back, he begins to trace the smooth skin exposed beneath her dress, his palm trailing from her ankle up to the delicate curve of her thigh. She gasps into his mouth as he firmly grips her thigh, his touch sending shivers of desire coursing through her.

As they pull away from each other, both panting and lips tingling from their fervent exchange, he leans down to pepper her neck with kisses, eliciting a pleasurable response as her palms grip the fabric of his shirt beneath the coat. It was impossible to get enough of her, of her smell, her eyes, her perfect smile, that beautiful laugh, and every perfect inch of her soft skin. What has he done to himself? She was an incurable thirst, a persistent itch that could never be scratched, a sickness that could only be treated by her presence.

She was his goddess, his anchor, his light in the dark. It feels sacrilegious to entertain such carnal thoughts about her, to tarnish the purity of her image with his desires and actions. Yet, he is but a flawed and sinful man, and his body betrays the depth of his emotions for her, a discomfort gnawing at him from within. With sudden clarity, his eyes widen in realization—it is love, this elusive concept he has been grappling with all this while.

Or, at least, it's his interpretation of love.

She pulls him away from her neck and brings him back up to her lips, and even in that brief moment before she devours him hungrily, he feels gutted by having been sepeared from her but she kisses him again, and it makes up for everything.

The pressure of his bulge against her groin becomes uncomfortably evident, prompting them to momentarily break apart for much-needed oxygen before he gazes deeply into her searching eyes. There was nothing clouding their thoughts now, nothing that may taint the purity of the emotions they feel for each other, it was all them. With a deep breath, he gathers the courage to confess the thoughts that have only recently become clear to him.

"I love you."

She freezes, her eyes snapping open in shock. He returns this with a smile, his heart pounding in his chest—finally, he's said it. He notices her fingers easing their grip on his back, her lower lip trembling, a frown knitting her brow. Ignoring the unease creeping into her expression, he leans in once more, his lips poised to meet hers. But just as they're about to connect, she turns her head away, and they graze her jaw instead. He draws back, confusion etched on his face, his breath hitching as she meets his gaze with an unsettling mix of horror and regret.

"Hitch, what's wrong?"

She squirms, as though his touch burns like searing iron. "Get off, get off of me!"

Shocked and bewildered, he complies almost immediately, watching as she retreats, inching away from him. "Hitch?"

"I can't— I can't do this," she cries, hastily grabbing her gloves and heels before fleeing down the hill to the motor car.

Floch is left kneeling, watching her vanish down the slope, a familiar pang of hurt stabbing into his chest like a serrated knife. He's left to wonder what went wrong, his eyes narrowing in pain, his features contorted as he tries in vain to make sense of it all. It feels colder without her presence, as if his very soul has been torn from his body. He burns, just not like before.

Why? Why did she react like that? Was it because he confessed his feelings? Was she simply not ready? Or perhaps he wasn't worthy? The questions swirl in his mind, but he finds himself unable to think any further. He furrows his brow, shutting down his thoughts entirely.

A couple of minutes later, he rises to his feet, gathering the blanket and his cape before descending the hill. His eyes, once filled with light, are now dull and vacant, fixed on the ground as he moves like a mere shell of himself. He approaches the motor car with an almost mechanical gait, tossing the blanket and cape into the empty space beside the front passenger seat before taking his place behind the wheel. She sits quietly in the backseat, neither acknowledging nor being acknowledged by the other as he starts the engine and sets off for Stohess.


Not a word passes between them, the heavy silence hanging thick in the air like a suffocating fog. Nearly two hours later, the motor car pulls up at the front entrance to the MP barracks. He shuts off the engine and waits, a flicker of hope igniting within him, but as she remains motionless in the backseat, his anxiety mounts.

Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he resigns himself to the truth. It's then that he sees the weariness etched into her features, the sorrow weighing heavily upon her. She looks up briefly, but her gaze avoids his.

"I'm sorry. We should just stay friends," she murmurs softly.

His features soften, his mouth slightly agape, before he turns his attention back to the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. He nods wordlessly, the weight of her words settling upon him like a leaden shroud. She steps out of the car and heads inside without a backward glance. He watches her departure, his heart splintering with each step she takes away from him, shattering completely when she fails to look back.

And just like that, Floch Forster finally remembers why he never indulged his naive heart in the past.

Alone in the deserted street, with no other soul in sight, Floch sinks back into his seat, expecting to gaze up at the sky only to be met with the extended roof. He lets out a weary sigh, leaning his head forward against the steering wheel. Anger surges through him, and he grits his teeth before pounding on the dashboard a couple of times. He pulls away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A sniffle escapes him as he glances around to ensure he's not being watched. Satisfied, he cranks the engine, the motor car sputtering to life and lurching forward a couple of steps before abruptly shutting off. Furrowing his brow, he tries again, but the engine emits only feeble coughs before refusing to start.

With a resigned sigh, Floch steps out of the car and begins to push it along the empty street.

The following morning, he wastes no time and heads straight to Hange's office, where the two engage in a lengthy discussion. Emerging from the meeting, he holds a slip of paper in hand—an approved application destined for the Military Headquarters. Within a mere week's time, he will be joining the second wave of reinforcements destined to relieve their forces stationed in the Middle East, currently locked in combat a hundred kilometers west of Fort Slava.

Everywhere he went he felt far from where he needed to be, but right now he knew he wasn't any good here.


I have work tomorrow but decided to just be a trooper and finish this late at night, I should really start taking my time thinking of these author's notes, it's been like two years now but oh well. If you are for some reason crying or feel upset after reading this chapter, thank you, if not, then I'll try to improve my next batch of onions.

Anyway, enough sappy romance and drama for now and more action shooty shooty the next time, hope to see you there! (This might be a lie as I have yet to decide on how to cut the length of the next chapter but we'll see.) Have a good day/night!