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In Silence

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The sun hung low on the horizon, pale and dim behind a veil of cloud, casting its final glow across the barren fields that surrounded the barracks. The soldiers had dispersed, their laughter and footsteps fading into the distance, but Eren and Annie lingered. Training had long since ended, yet neither moved to leave. A silent understanding passed between them, a mutual decision unspoken, though neither acknowledged it with more than the briefest glance.

The dull clang of steel and the thud of footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, swallowed by the ever-present wind that swept across the landscape. But here, between them, the world felt unnervingly still. Eren could feel Annie's presence acutely, like the press of a blade against his skin, not sharp enough to cut, but always there, threatening.

They began as they always did, sparring in silence, movements fluid, deliberate, testing one another without speaking a word. Eren knew her style by now—cold, calculated, unrelenting. Each blow she delivered was measured, not an ounce of wasted effort, not a hint of emotion flickering across her stoic face. And yet, beneath that impassive exterior, he sensed something else. He had always sensed it.

Annie was more than the armor she wore so effortlessly. There was something beneath the surface, something that called to him, even if he could never fully understand it.

He didn't want to think about it, about her. Not now. Not when he should be focusing on the fight, on the next strike, the next dodge. But every time her gaze caught his, even for a fleeting second, his resolve faltered. The weight of her eyes on him, icy and penetrating, pulled at something deep inside of him, something that made him want to peel back those layers of silence and distance between them.

Eren gritted his teeth, blocking another of her swift strikes. He countered with a move of his own, though half-heartedly, as if he was fighting not just her but the thoughts she stirred within him.

She was a ghost in his mind, a shadow that never fully disappeared. Even when they weren't standing like this, inches apart, her presence lingered in the corners of his thoughts, in the silence between his heartbeats. It had been that way for years now, since their training days, when they had both been young and reckless and far too proud to admit they saw something in each other that went beyond rivalry.

Annie, for her part, was no stranger to the pull between them either. She felt it every time their bodies collided in the mock battle, every time their eyes met in the fleeting moments of stillness. Eren had always been different from the others, different from the countless soldiers she had fought and defeated. There was something about the way he never backed down, the way he stared at her with a fierce determination that mirrored her own.

But that wasn't what haunted her. No, it was the moments like these, the quiet tension that hummed in the air between them, when words were suspended in the space they shared, and neither of them dared to speak. She had learned long ago to build her walls, to guard her heart with iron will, but with him—gods, with him, it was as if every barrier she had constructed was fragile, paper-thin.

She didn't want this, whatever this was. She didn't need it. Feelings were a luxury she couldn't afford, not with the world on the brink of destruction, not with her burdens threatening to tear them all apart. And yet, no matter how many times she told herself it didn't matter, that he didn't matter, her resolve wavered when his green eyes locked on hers.

Annie didn't speak. She never did during these sessions, and that was fine by him. Her silence was a comfort, a refuge from the chaos that constantly threatened to overwhelm him. But in that silence, there were things unsaid, things that weighed heavily on both of them. Eren could feel it in the way she moved, in the deliberate tension in her shoulders, in the way her eyes—those cold, piercing eyes—would occasionally flicker toward him when she thought he wasn't looking.

She was beautiful, in a way that was hard to define. It wasn't the kind of beauty that stopped you in your tracks, that demanded attention. No, Annie's beauty was something deeper, much more than that. It was something that revealed itself in the quiet moments, in the flicker of vulnerability that she never allowed herself to fully show.

Eren found himself staring longer than he should have, his thoughts tangled in the mess of emotions that he didn't know how to sort through.

What was she thinking, in this moment? Did her mind wander to him the way his wandered to her? Did she feel that same tension, that same pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day? Or was he alone in this, caught in a web of feelings he couldn't admit to himself?

Annie shifted slightly, and for a brief second, their eyes met. It was fleeting, a moment so brief that it could have been imagined, but in that instant, Eren felt something stir inside him, something that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn't place. There was a softness in her gaze, a flicker of something warmer, something he had never expected to find in her eyes. Could it be?

But then it was gone, replaced by the cold, distant mask she always wore. She turned away, resuming her strikes with a focus that seemed almost mechanical. Eren sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. This was how it always was between them—a dance of almosts and maybes, a constant push and pull that left him feeling like he was teetering on the edge of something he wasn't ready to face.

He wanted to say something, to break the silence that had settled between them, but the words never came. What could he say, anyway? Every time he thought he understood her, she would slip away, retreating behind her walls of indifference and icy composure. And yet, despite all of that, he couldn't stay away. There was something about Annie that kept him tethered, something that refused to let him walk away, even when it would have been easier to do so.

Annie lunged, quick and precise, but Eren was faster this time, deflecting her strike with a fluid movement that brought him closer to her than he had intended. For a split second, their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling in the cool air. His heart pounded in his chest, too loud, too fast, and for the briefest of moments, he could have sworn he saw something flicker in her eyes—something not unlike the confusion and frustration swirling in his own chest.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them pulled away.

Eren could feel the heat of her breath ghosting over his skin, could see the fine strands of her hair catching the fading sunlight. There was something painfully beautiful about the way she stood there, poised yet vulnerable, like a blade that had seen too many battles and was just waiting to shatter. He wondered if she saw him the same way, if she could sense the cracks in his armor too.

But whatever moment had passed between them vanished just as quickly as it had come. Annie moved, swift and silent, slipping out of his grasp and resetting their positions as if nothing had happened. As if the tension that thrummed in the space between them didn't exist.

But it did.

God, it did.

The sparring continued, their movements more mechanical now, as though both of them were too aware of the unspoken things hovering just beneath the surface. Eren fought to keep his focus, to push aside the feelings gnawing at him, but it was impossible. Every glance, every near-miss, every touch that lingered just a little too long—all of it felt like a slow unraveling, a descent into something neither of them were ready to confront.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they stopped. Both were breathless, though not from the exertion of the fight. Sweat clung to their skin, and the silence between them was thick, heavy, almost unbearable.

Annie's gaze flicked to Eren's face, her expression unreadable as always. But there was something in the way she looked at him, a quiet intensity that made his chest tighten painfully. He didn't know what it was, didn't know if he wanted to know, but he could feel it in the air between them—a question, a challenge, a confession that neither of them was ready to make.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Eren felt his heart thudding in his chest, a rhythm that seemed to echo louder in the quiet. He wanted to say something, to cut through the distance that always seemed to hang between them, but the words died in his throat. He couldn't. Not now. Not today.

He needed space—needed to clear his head before this tension became something more, something he couldn't control. But that wasn't how it worked between them. They always stayed after training, sharing a quiet camaraderie that didn't need words. It was their unspoken routine. Their way of being close without acknowledging it.

But today was different. Today, that invisible tether pulling him toward her felt like a noose tightening around his chest.

"I should go," Eren said, his voice too abrupt, too final. He didn't meet her eyes as he stepped back, his body already turning away.

Annie blinked, her brow furrowing in the smallest flicker of confusion. "What?"

"I... I need to take care of something," he muttered, knowing how weak it sounded but unable to stop the words. His heart pounded in his ears as he took another step away from her, the distance between them growing with every inch. He didn't even know what he was saying—there was nothing he needed to do, no urgent task pulling him away. But staying felt impossible.

For a long moment, Annie didn't respond. The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. Eren could feel her eyes on his back, could feel the weight of her presence behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around.

She never asked him to stay. Annie was not the kind of person to ask for anything, least of all from him. But in that quiet, in that moment of hesitation, he felt something shift in the air between them. He didn't have to look at her to know she was watching him, waiting for an explanation he wasn't sure he could give.

"You always leave now?" Her voice was low, flat, but there was something else there too. Something he couldn't place. A question, perhaps. Or maybe a challenge.

Eren swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep moving, though every step felt heavier than the last. He didn't trust himself to respond, didn't trust what might slip out if he opened his mouth. If he stayed, if he looked at her for even a second longer, everything would spill out—the confusion, the anger, the longing he had been burying for so long. And he couldn't afford that. Not now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he threw over his shoulder, though the words felt hollow, like an excuse more than a promise.

Annie didn't say anything in return, and the silence that followed was deafening. It pressed against his skin, cold and unforgiving, as if the very air had grown heavy with the weight of what neither of them was willing to say.

Eren's footsteps crunched against the gravel as he walked away, each step pulling him farther from her, from the questions that hung between them like unspoken ghosts. And still, he felt her gaze on him, sharp and unwavering, like she was dissecting every inch of his retreat.

He could hear his own pulse in his ears, loud and frantic, as if his body was rebelling against the decision his mind had made. A part of him screamed to turn around, to face her, to break the silence that had become too much. But his feet kept moving, carrying him farther away from the one person who could see through all his lies.

Eren's chest tightened as he disappeared around the corner, out of her sight. The air felt colder, emptier without her near, and the absence gnawed at him in a way he hadn't expected. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he forced himself to keep walking.

Tomorrow. He would see her again tomorrow.

But tonight, he needed to escape. He needed to bury the storm of emotions that had been building for weeks, months, maybe even years. He needed to forget the way her eyes had searched his face, like she could see everything he was trying to hide. Like she was waiting for him to admit what he could barely admit to himself.

But tomorrow, the same tension would be there. The same pull he could never quite sever.

Eren's throat tightened as he quickened his pace, trying to outrun the feeling that clung to him. It was futile, he knew that. Annie wasn't someone you could just walk away from, no matter how hard you tried.

But tonight, he would try. Tonight, he would pretend he didn't feel the weight of her gaze lingering in the spaces between them. They remained as they always had—two figures bound by invisible threads, pulled together by something neither could name, yet always standing just far enough apart.