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A red thread weaves itself into a scarf. A scarf that ties two people together, in a way its knot can’t be loosened, it would rather seep into the skin and make it bleed rather than let go.
A strange thing, fate. A boy destroyed the world for his friends, and they killed him to set him free. A girl dedicated her life to saving him, only to take his life in the end.
Blood and tears. Is this what love feels like? Is this what ties these lost souls together, making them inseparable, and they would rather bleed and cry than let go?
What a strange thing. He tells her he hates her, and somehow, that is love. She cuts off his head and cries at his grave, and somehow, that is love. So many things left unsaid, and yet all of it is heard. A tie strengthened by blood and tears. Even the shears of fate cannot cut this knot.
So it begins.
(And so it ends.)
—
In Eren’s dreams, he sees red.
A red ocean, a red sky that is unlike the red of the sunset he sees everyday, and a red scarf his mother hasn’t finished knitting yet.
To a three year old child, the sleepy horrors hold little weight, as he can wake up and cry in his mother’s arms, the ocean of blood already forgotten. But it is Grisha Jaegar who first notices something off about his younger son.
Eren is different.
Different in the sense that he is just five years old but talks about blood like he has truly
seen
it. Talks about seeing deaths of people in gruesome detail. Different because other children play with whatever they’re given - sooner or later - but Eren doesn’t. He is wary. Even as a child, it is awfully obvious. Something is wrong with Eren. He is given everything, but he does not take it. Because Eren
yearns
.
He yearns for something that his limited five year old vocabulary cannot express. He wants it, even though he was born with it in this life. Eren wants, and wants, until the need for
freedom
burns down his throat and boils in his stomach with a fire he can’t put out.
The nightmares lessen as he grows older. Not because they go away, no, but because he has grown so used to it that he stops getting scared of them. But he is restless. By the time he is seven, he doesn’t know what he wants anymore. But the restlessness doesn’t go away, and he spends his time turning his wide eyes to the vastness of the sky, taking in all the freedom, and he wonders - Where are the walls?
Grisha Jaegar takes his son to a paediatric psychiatrist when he is eight. The doctor says the same thing he’s heard for years - signs of ADHD, it is not abnormal, children are restless, it might go away in a few years, etc. When Grisha talks about the vivid dreams - nightmares, really - the doctor laughs softly.
“Children are extremely creative. Imaginative, you could say.” She says, and gently pats Eren’s head. “Does he watch a lot of movies? Or read stories like that?”
Grisha nods. “Sometimes.” He says.
The doctor says that there is nothing to worry about. If the nightmares persist, it is better to limit his access to such media. She says a lot of other things, but Grisha doesn’t bother listening to things he already knows. He looks at his son instead.
Eren is noticeably silent throughout the whole session. When they leave, Grisha asks him, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Eren says, but his eyes are knowing, like he’s accumulated years worth of wisdom in the one-hour session.
He doesn’t talk about his nightmares after that.
The strangeness is still there in him, though. When Carla finishes her knitting for autumn, Eren’s eyes never leave the bright red scarf that sits at the bottom of the pile. He touches it gently, and murmurs, “Mikasa.”
“What is it, darling?” Carla asks him, but he shakes his head, the odd wave of dèja vu already leaving him. And truly, he does not know. Because there
was
something - a glimpse of a girl with short black hair and immaculate face - but it’s gone as soon as it came, and he can’t remember anything except the red scarf around her shoulders.
Had Grisha and Carla paid more attention, they might’ve noticed, years later, that the half-Japanese girl who’s extremely attached to Eren has a familiar name. But they don’t pay attention; the name ‘Mikasa’ is lost to the sky, and Eren never mentions it again.
But he doesn’t let go of the scarf.
—
He meets her for the first time when he is nine, though he will not know this for many years to come.
It is a foggy morning, Grisha is taking Eren to their mountain cabin where Carla has already gone to, a week earlier, to prepare for a holiday. It is an uneventful morning, as Sunday mornings usually are, but there is something else in the air besides the fog that Eren can feel. Like an upcoming sense of doom, a thickness of anticipation, and he shivers, even though he’s wearing a woollen jacket, and the red scarf sits comfortably around his neck.
When the car suddenly jerks to a stop, Eren presses his face to the window and freezes at the sight. This is the first time Eren has seen a car crash.
It is a gruesome sight. A car - a red Volkswagen, Eren notes - has collided with a cargo truck so badly that its front part is a metallic mess. Some black liquid is coming from underneath the crashed mess, and when they peer into one of the broken windows, Eren gags.
He has seen death before, in almost each of his dreams, but to see it with his eyes, it’s not something he was prepared for. His father shields his eyes and drags him away, but Eren has already seen the bodies. The blood. The way their heads and shoulders are crushed with the parts of the car, bent in odd angles. Standing a few metres away, he can still see the images as if they’re imprinted in his eyes.
As Grisha opens the relatively intact backseat door, he gasps, breath leaving his mouth in foggy puffs. He reaches in, then pulls out a limp body. There is no blood on the child, her face and hair are not messed up, but she is unconscious.
“I’m a doctor.” He explains to some skeptical onlookers as he lays the girl on the soft grass by the road. He begins to check her pulse, her breathing, and in the midst of it all, Eren stands, still as a stone.
He stares.
Somehow, his body moves on its own, and he finds himself kneeling beside the girl. Grisha has gotten up, he’s speaking into the phone.
Yes, E-52. Two deaths. One child alive.
The girl opens her eyes blearily, and it sends Eren’s world crumbling apart. He does not know this feeling - this sense of recognition, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia - but he feels it so deep in his bones that it burns him from the inside, even in the cold morning air.
“Are you okay?” Eren says, looking at the girl who doesn’t do anything except stare at him. Her face has lost all its colour, her eyes are wet; somehow, by just looking at her blue lips, Eren knows that her throat has gone dry.
“My dad is a doctor.” He looks over to where his father is standing with the others who’ve come out of their cars. They are speaking.
Where are the police? Where’s the damned ambulance?
She does not speak, but she gets up slowly, and wraps her arms around her knees.
Oh.
Eren realises as the cold air nips at his skin.
She’s trembling.
Something moves him to take off his scarf. He gently wraps it around the girl, and she stares at him like she’s about to fall apart. He doesn’t know why he does it, but putting the scarf on her - it just
feels
right.
“It’s warm, isn’t it?” Eren asks.
She nods slowly, and her eyes are filled to the brim with tears. Looking over to where the car and truck crashed, she draws in a sharp breath, and the tears begin to spill. Eren is unsure of what to do, so he just stares as she buries her face in the folds of the scarf, her body shaking with wracked sobs.
He hears the ambulance siren before he sees it. Before he’s had the time to realise what is going on, people wearing blue have surrounded the girl, asking her all sorts of questions. Eren feels his dad pulling him away, and he twists back to see her clutching his scarf as she is taken to the ambulance.
Don’t let go of it.
His mind prays, stupidly, for reasons he can’t understand.
Keep it with you.
He presses his face to the car window - wiping the vapour that condenses with his slow breathing - and stares until the ambulance turns into a yellow speck in the distance.
For the first time, it feels like his life has served its purpose. He doesn’t even know why it feels this way. There are a lot of things that he doesn’t know about himself. (The dreams, why the deaths? Why the blood? Why does it feel like he deserves to die?)
But I know.
He thinks, even though he will never truly know
where
such thoughts came from.
We’ll meet again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Mikasa knows loss like the back of her hand. It follows her like the cold winter breeze, whispering by her ear, haunting her dreams, twisting her insides, making her freeze. The loss of things, the loss of comfort, the loss of people and the loss of happiness.
It has been this way for as long as she can remember. Even when she was too young to comprehend the concept of loss, it was in her, ingrained deep in her soul as if it was an inseparable part of herself.
At first, she does not understand. After all, she is a child, and the greatest loss she has faced is the loss of a colouring book in kindergarten.
When the dreams begin to make sense, it feels like being plunged in ice cold water - over and over again. What is wrong with her? Why does she wake up crying every night? Before she can recall the colour of the pair of eyes - were they blue or green? - the dreams disappear, like steam evaporating into thin air - Steam? Where had that come from?
In her dreams, she’s flying through the air - the whoosh sound of ropes being flung - and wielding a blade so sharp it cuts through flesh like butter. She doesn’t know what to make of it, but there is also a surge of fear and protectiveness - towards whom, she can’t recall - but the emotions are so strong it sends her staggering at times.
She grows quieter as she grows older. Everything feels too much, the world feels too free, and there is no one to protect, nothing to fight for; it feels like life has no meaning. And yet she feels like a killer, because there is guilt in her heart - so immense that it tears her apart - and still she can’t find the purpose of her life.
—
Mikasa is brushing the hair of her doll as her parents talk in the front seat.
“What do you think, Mikasa?” Her father asks. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
Mikasa turns her head towards him. Her mother is smiling gently and her father’s eyes are soft.
“I think it’s a boy.” She replies, fidgeting against the seatbelt she had been forced in. “Mama, is it true that boys kick more and girls don’t?”
Her mother laughs in response. “Well, you kicked me so much I was sure you were a boy.” She turns back and smiles again. “I don’t feel any kicks yet, though.”
Mikasa nods and leans back in her seat, but the doll slips from her hands just then, and she gasps.
“What happened?” Her father asks, looking back.
“Papa, my doll fell-“
She never gets a chance to finish her sentence, because there is a sudden jerk, a loud thud - then darkness.
The rest of the morning is a haze in her mind - just like the fog that was in the air that morning. She doesn’t remember much, but she can recall the biting cold, the boy who gave her the red scarf, the paramedics who asked her name and address and-
She remembers the car as clear as day. How it was ruined - it was new, it hadn’t even been a year since her father had bought it. The ugliness of the crushed mess, she distinctly hears herself calling for her mama and papa - the men in blue clothes smiling sadly, the road blackened by the leaking oil, the truck driver being taken into the same ambulance as her, and she remembers thinking, am I my parents’ killer, or is he?
Kiyomi comes to take her from the hospital. She is taken to an apartment that they say belongs to Levi; who she’d never known before but they say he’s related to her - second cousin or something. Then Kenny - who had visited them once or twice before (her mama had disapproved of papa keeping such criminal company) - comes and tells her she will live there until they sort it out.
Mikasa feels empty. There is a gaping hole in the pit of her stomach. When she falls asleep, new dreams of her parents’ bodies mix with the thousands of burning, crushed corpses of people she does not know.
The funeral happens, then the sad faces of Kiyomi, and Kenny, and cousin Levi, who - for some reason - looks at her like he pities her for everything. “It’s okay, girl, we’ll sort it out.” They say with a smile, but she hears them talking in the next room. It wasn’t even their fault, the truck was on the wrong lane. I don’t know, it’s complicated to get custody. She can’t live with Levi, he’s just started his job, how can he take care of a child? Then, with a sudden finality, Kiyomi comes into her room one evening, and gently tells her of their plans. You’ll live with me, dear. In Osaka, you’ve been there before, yes? Yes, start packing your things. There’s still some time before we go, so, ah, take your time.
When the plane lifts from the Franz Josef Strauss airport, she pretends to be unfazed by it all - by the cruelty of the world. It feels even more unreal when she steps foot on her mother’s homeland - it is everything München isn’t, and it is so different that Mikasa feels sick when they go out to the streets for the first time.
Mikasa soon learns that she doesn’t belong here either. Her classmates giggle at her bad pronunciation, her light eyes and tall frame. They look at her strangely when she tells them her parents are dead. Orphan. She hears them say, most with pity, some with blame.
It’s different, not having a real family. Kiyomi is an Azumabito - she’s not even Mikasa’s real aunt. The questions itch under her lips, so Mikasa asks her, one night, why she took her in when they weren’t even real family.
“But we are family.” says Kiyomi. “We are related by blood, if that’s what you’re asking.” She then puts the juiciest piece of meat on Mikasa’s plate and gestures her to eat. “Don’t speak while you chew.”
When Mikasa is twelve, she asks her again. “Why did you gain my custody? I know my mother’s parents are alive.”
Kiyomi sighs, puts her comb down, and moves closer to her. “I was your mother’s next of kin.” She says. “Your uncle Kenny - he has a number of criminal cases in his name, he couldn’t be granted your custody. But I have a stable income and I was your next of kin, by extension, so I was granted it.”
Seeing Mikasa’s unsettled face, she taps her on the head with the comb. “But if you think some papers is why I took you in, thats not true.” Kiyomi looks melancholic as she speaks. “Your mother was very dear to me.”
They do not speak about the topic again, but that night, Mikasa opens her laptop and types ‘next of kin’ in the web search.
Later, as she lies on her bed, she thinks where her real family is. It should not come as a surprise, really, going against your parents and marrying a Western man gets you disowned, but Mikasa feels proud for her mother - who was brave enough to leave her country, learn another language and start a life with a man her parents despised.
She feels grateful that she’s taken in by someone. She feels grateful to have a home.
But that feeling doesn’t last for long.
—
On her fourteenth birthday, she stands in the middle of her room, things packed in her suitcases, a taxi already booked.
Unwanted. She hears her heart whisper. Tossed here and there like a rag doll. Or it’s me who is the problem. Cursed orphan child. Kiyomi whispers a thousand apologies. I will be on the move a lot. It’s not even fixed where I’ll go next. Such is no life for a young girl. Be strong, okay? I will visit you when I can. While getting ready, she rummages through her drawers, and finds the soft red scarf. She doesn’t know why she has it still. It signifies that day. It signifies loss and death. But it feels like - for some reason - it feels like home. She hesitates, and puts it on. It feels warm. When Kiyomi waves her goodbye, she doesn’t let the tears fall. She presses her lips into a thin line and waves back. Mikasa hones a fine weapon of indifference now; a product of years worth of memories of loss and pain - and real deaths. Kiyomi told her none of it was her fault, but in every dream, she is the killer - she always wields the weapon that swings the final blow.
The sky is black when they take off. The only comfort she feels is the warmth of her scarf. I want to go home. She thinks, and buries her face in the folds of her clothes. But where is home?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They are on a school beach trip. It is a sunny day, the ocean gleams blue, and Eren is basking in this short moment of peacefulness.
Just then, there is a sudden splash to his side, followed by laughter. Eren turns around to see a boy on his knees, waves washing up to his waist. Three other boys are towering over him, and they are laughing - but it’s not a sound of happiness, no, they’re mocking the boy.
“Aren’t you gonna do anything about it, Arlert?”
The boy whimpers. Eren flinches - in realisation and recognition - and identifies the cowering boy as Armin Arlert - the top student in their year. He turns his nose up at the sight. What do grades mean when you can’t even defend yourself?
“Oi.” Eren calls, standing up. “You’re year fives, aren’t you?”
The boys turn to look at him. “What’s it to you?” One of them glares.
Eren makes a show of rolling his sleeves. “If you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to knock your teeth out. Then, I’ll drag your sorry arses to the teacher myself.”
They pretend to be unfazed, but he knows they’re scared. At least a little. He’s built a… reputation in his school, to say the least. It’s his way of taking out his anger. The inexplicable rage, the strong sense of power bottled up in him to the point where he feels like exploding at the slightest inconvenience - his classmates are familiar with it. After all, a few knocked out teeth and bruises brings wonders to the school environment.
And they’re year fives. They don’t know anything else about him other than the frequent fights and suspensions.
“Well?”
They shove Eren hard as they walk away, glaring and spitting curses at him. Well. He thinks. That worked.
“Armin Arlert?” Eren raises his brows at the boy who’s getting up. “Aren’t you going to report them? Do something about it?”
Armin only mumbles a ‘thank you’ in response, and instead clenches his fist tighter. Only then Eren realises that he’s holding something in his trembling hands.
“What’s that?”
Armin freezes, then opens his fingers - slowly, until light catches on the faint blue-grey thing in his hands. When it is fully revealed, Eren’s breath hitches - the flashes of red and blue and a boy so familiar yet so different - and he staggers back, as if shocked by the sight of the conch.
The ocean is suddenly red, and Armin has short hair, while his blue eyes hold a sadness so, so deep that it pierces Eren’s chest and leaves a gaping hole that bleeds and bleeds. Armin stares at him again - but this time he is smiling, laughing as he takes in the ocean for the first time in his life. Finally out of the walls, the salty smell of freedom, Eren pointing his finger to the horizon that he will destroy—
No. That’s not right.
“—you alright?”
It is Armin who’s speaking. Eren focuses again, the ocean is normal, Armin is right there - the conch still in his hands, everything is the same as it was before.
(But is it?)
Eren feels a surge of emotions, the same inexplicable feeling of dread, recognition, nostalgia - he can never understand his heart. But Armin has that same look in his eyes now. I know you. His face says. How do I know you?
“What is that?” Eren repeats his question, swallowing the questions bubbling at the tip of his tongue and pointing at the conch instead.
Armin seems to break out of his trance too; he draws in a sharp breath and begins speaking. As he goes on about the biology of that creature, Eren can only feel the cold waves crashing against his feet. Armin stays a constant presence by Eren’s side that day. Have I made a friend? Eren almost laughs.
But Armin is curious in a way that surprises Eren. He learns about things and babbles about them to him. They start to sit together in classes. Carla loves Armin. Even Grisha does, though he looks strangely taken aback when Eren first mentions the name ‘Armin’. Armin visits, time to time, and Eren visits him as well. His parents are glad he’s made a friend. Armin is intelligent, curious. He introduces Eren to superhero movies and comics. It’s ridiculous. Eren loves it.
It makes him feel a little more alive.
—
“Why do you like the beach so much?”
Armin is tracing odd patterns in the sand when Eren asks the question. He looks up. “Do you hate it or something?”
“No.” Eren says. It makes me feel sad. I don’t know why, but the enormity of the world seems too much to bear, especially when I look at the ocean. “My mum says I bring a sandcastle home every day.” He makes a face. “And I don’t like sand.”
“I don’t like sand.” Armin repeats, but his tone is off. “It’s coarse, rough, and irritating.”
Eren looks on dumbly when Armin laughs. “Star Wars, dude?”
He grumbles in reply as he stares at the pattern Armin is drawing. There are so many slashes - or are they curves? Lines of those slashes are facing opposite to one another, curving upwards, and Eren stares until - “Are those feathers?”
Armin tilts his head. “Looks like it.” He surveys his work. “Could be wings too.”
They both stare at the sand until a wave washes it away. The wings disappear with it - Armin’s work erased like it never existed in the first place. Eren feels a surge of sadness as it goes away. I’m going mad. He thinks. It was just sand art.
(But then again, in another life, didn’t he wear the same pair of wings to fly?)
—
It is mid December when Armin falls sick.
Eren gets a call from Grandpa Arlert at seven in the morning. Armin was supposed to come over to Eren’s later. But Grandpa Arlert sounds worried when he speaks. He says Armin had a heart attack. That he’s in the hospital now, but he’s been diagnosed with so many things Eren can’t even pronounce correctly.
Grisha is at Zeke’s - that is, he’s trying to see how he’s settling into his new flat, so Carla takes Eren to visit Armin.
“I don’t know why you bothered to come, really.” Armin’s grandfather says as they walk into the room Armin has been admitted in. “He hasn’t woken up. They say he’s in a coma.”
Eren freezes as he sees Armin laying still on the bed; there are so many pipes and machines around him that it feels wrong to see Armin using a tube to breathe. Why is Armin in a coma? He was fine yesterday.
Carla leaves a colourful card by Armin’s bed which joins flowers and teddy bears - someone must have brought them before. Eren hates seeing Armin like that. Armin is supposed to be lively, reading the newest Marvel comic, telling things Eren doesn’t want to hear. And they were supposed to watch movies at Eren’s later - when will Armin wake up?
Three days later, Grandpa Arlert calls them again. This time, he says he’s sorry to bother them, but the doctors say that Armin needs a kidney transplant. Grisha takes them to check if they’re a match. Eren would gladly give Armin a kidney - of all damned things - but he’s not allowed to do so. Grisha and Carla are not his matches either, so they drive home in silence; all the while Eren wonders - when will Armin wake up?
As it happens, Armin wakes up after a week. They’ve found a match, says Grisha, but he doesn’t know the man. Armin is taken into surgery almost immediately, so Eren doesn’t get to see him for another day.
When they clear him for visitors, Eren, Grisha and Carla are the first ones there. Armin is barely better, he’s still deathly pale, the red rings under his eyes still prominent, but he smiles when he sees them - Eren supposes that is a bit better.
“What did it feel like?” Eren asks.
“What?”
“Being in a coma.” says Eren. “Having your kidneys removed.”
Armin shrugs. “Dunno.” Then: “I heard some things, like voices from far, y’know, but I couldn’t see.”
He is quiet for a while, then he speaks again. “I had some strange dreams though.” He stares at Eren. “It felt so real. Like I was there.” Then he laughs. “But they were just dreams, right?”
Eren can understand that thought - dreams feeling so real that he gets it confused with reality - so he just nods and lets silence fill the room.
Armin recovers. It takes months for him to be able to run and bike again, but Eren visits him nonetheless, buying him comics that he loves. There is a different air to Armin now, he seems weirdly wise, and just… distant. He still reads mangas and watches movies, but he stays quiet for long amounts of time, and when Eren asks, he always says - “Just thinking.”
Eren has changed too. He grows tall - as tall as Carla and he’s still got years to grow - and the look in his eyes changes into something scary - his classmates comment on it all the time. Even his dreams are much milder - most of the time he’s flying peacefully over clouds, walking through an endless desert, trying to reach the glow, the freedom, and it never ends.
Slowly, he stops dreaming of the girl too. He used to see her face so clearly when he was younger, but now all he can remember is her short black hair and a scarlet glow around her face - is it some sort of cloth or is it blood? He can’t even remember what her eyes were like. It’s laughable - he’s worrying that he’s forgetting a face from his dreams.
Maybe its the onset of adolescence. Maybe its the fact that his body is growing in ways incomprehensible to his mind, but he just doesn’t feel the same way he used to.
Armin grows his mind with his age, while Eren seems to focus it all on his body. Armin gets the highest grades in every exam, always competing with the top students - Historia, Uwe and Maja - while Eren is perfectly average at studies. Instead, he beats up others over minor issues like teasing and gets suspended on a monthly basis. He’s only still in the school because of Grisha’s connection to principal Shadis - everyone knows this.
Carla worries for Eren, but his rage only seems to grow with him. He is quick to anger, quick to celebrate; Eren is impatient in every situation. Grisha takes him to Zeke’s sometimes - probably to persuade his older son to try and be a good influence on his younger brother - but Eren is everything Zeke isn’t. While Zeke had been a quiet, intelligent, and obedient child, Eren is wild, angry, and rebels at every chance he gets.
He has been accused of so many things: theft, vandalism, inflicting injuries on others, and so much more that it is a common occurrence for Carla to see him arriving home with a black eye, bleeding wounds, and bruises that don’t go away for weeks.
So it should not come as a surprise when Eren gets accused of something horrible. Not by law, of course, but by people. Yet it doesn’t sound right.
After all, wasn’t Historia Eren’s friend?
—
The incident that happened at the 47th anniversary party of the Fritz Jewellers is something that no one else knows the full truth behind - except the Reiss and Jaegar families.
People say it had been a security guard who’d found Historia Reiss in the gardens, crying for help in an undressed state, while Eren Jaegar was over her - his body completely covering hers.
It isn’t what it looks like.
(Don’t people assume too much?)
—
Historia is taken to a hospital nearby - the private and expensive sort; the Reisses will never stoop too low - even in an emergency.
Eren is surrounded by people, but now no one is pulling at him like they had been before Historia had told them to stop. “No.” She’d said. “He saved me. Just stop.”
Grisha’s eyes are red even though he is not crying. So many people had been drowning in wine and celebration, but now they look confused, curious, and sombre. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut, and Eren breaths, shuddering as he remembers Historia’s cry for help.
When Freida Reiss returns from the hospital, she marches straight to where Eren and Grisha are. She removes everyone else from the room and demands to talk with him, alone.
“I didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Eren says immediately.
“I didn’t say anything.” Her eyes soften slightly. “Thank you for being there on time.”
Oh. Eren realises. She talked to her, then. “How is Historia? Is she-“ He breaks off, unsure of what to say.
“She’s fine.” Freida looks almost offended when she sees the confusion on his face. “What? It’s not like she’s a broken doll or something. That bastard couldn’t do much to her.”
Though Eren knows being drugged and stripped is worse enough, he doesn’t dare interrupt Freida being in denial. She takes in a deep breath before she speaks. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something worse had happened. So, thank you, Eren.”
Eren nods. “Historia is my friend too.” He says, even though he isn’t really friends with anyone except Armin. She sat with me in Maths. Close enough.
“There is something else, though.” Freida says. Eren looks up. “Would you mind giving an interview to the police? I mean- since you were technically the only witness-“
“Yeah.” He interrupts her stammering. “Fine. It’s no problem.”
It ist almost midnight when Grisha and Eren get home. Carla runs to hug him immediately. “Oh, Eren.” is all she says.
“What a mess.” Grisha sighs as he takes off his coat. “We shouldn’t have gone to that party in the first place.”
Eren stares at the light on his ceiling as he lies on his bed. But papa, if we hadn’t been there, then the man would have-
He shuts his eyes, trying to ward off the images of her bent legs, then a wave of headache nearly sends his head splitting apart. A girl is lying on the floor, her hands are bound, she’s crying, and Eren hears his own voice. Fight. If you don’t fight, you can’t win. Fight. If you win, you live. If you-
He comes back to his senses with a gasp. For some reason, his eyes are filled with tears, and he’s trembling hard.
Later, he tells Armin of what happened at the party, but everyone seems to avoid him at school. Even teachers avoid asking him questions in class. There is no clear truth that they know, but Eren’s classmates slowly distance themselves from him, until Armin is the only one left. He never leaves. But the disgust from others, the looks he gets - anger burns hotter and hotter in his gut every passing day. What did I do wrong?
Historia doesn’t come back to school after the summer break. The Reisses cut off their contact with the town and move somewhere else. And people whisper of Eren Jaegar being taken to a police station. For what crime? Or was it the incident at the anniversary party? He did something to Historia Reiss? Yes, He-
No. That’s not right.
But don’t people assume too much?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The air is chilly when Mikasa steps out of the airport and walks towards the taxi stands. I am home. She tells herself until the words stop sounding like words. This is the land where I was born. This is home.
She plays some games on her phone as she waits for Levi to arrive. After waiting about ten minutes, a taxi pulls up and the windows roll down. When a familiar face looks out of the car, she gets up and drags her suitcases towards the vehicle. He had said that he would be there by seven, but he’s arrived five minutes earlier.
“Mikasa.”
Its strange to see Levi again. The last time they’d seen each other, Mikasa had been nine and hiding behind Kiyomi’s skirts as she waved goodbye. Now, she is fourteen and back in her country - about to be taken in by a cousin she barely knows, and starting everything over in a land her parents died.
It feels like she’s seen Levi a million times before - like she knows his habits, how he drinks tea (what on earth) - even though this is probably their third meeting. There is a certain air around him - like he’s willing to punch everyone who comes in his way. And he’s not smiling. Mikasa can’t remember him ever smiling.
“Levi.” She says. “Uh- you’ve come to pick me up?”
He nods and begins stacking her bags into the boot. She climbs into the backseat quietly as the car starts. The ride to Levi’s place is very awkward - no one really speaks except the driver, who is Lebanese; but even he speaks little - just the mandatory complaints about the roads, while Levi nods along politely.
They reach his place within ten minutes. It’s a pain to drag her suitcases to his rooms - which are on the second floor. As he unlocks the doors to his flat, Mikasa is overcome with an intense feeling of not belonging there. She stands by the door as he brings her things in, one by one, until there’s a neat little pile by the sofa. The flat is very clean; it’s like being in some movie set. Nothing looks overdone, the decorations are minimal, all things are in their perfect places, it looks like- well, it feels like Levi.
He leads her to a room that looks recently made. It’s just as clean as the others, of course, but there’s a distinct not lived in air to it - even though the beds are made and a desk set has been put by the window.
“There’s shampoo and whatever else you need by the desk.” Levi says. “The bathroom’s over there.” He points to a door by her room. “I’ll clean your bags and bring them in.”
When she’s showered and changed into clean clothes, Levi calls her to eat. He’s made mushroom stew that smells heavenly from across the flat - or maybe that’s just her hunger speaking.
They eat and clean up in relative silence - occasionally broken by polite conversation that feels absolutely unnecessary, but neither of them want to break that barrier yet.
“The stew was delicious.” Mikasa says. “Thanks.”
Levi looks surprised to hear it. “I’m glad you liked it.” There is the same silence for a while, only the sound of clinking plates as he puts them in the dish rack, then he speaks. “My friend taught me to make it.” He looks strangely nostalgic when he speaks. “In the army.”
You have friends too? is what Mikasa wants to ask, because how does he have even have friends when he’s such a cold man, while Mikasa - who’s far younger and friendlier - has never had any real friends - only classmates who were far too polite?
“Oh.” Mikasa says. “You were in the army?”
He nods and goes back to wiping the plates. Mikasa falls back into silence as she recalls what she knows about Levi. His mum had died when he was young - barely seven, as Kiyomi had told her. He used to be in the army, which is something she didn’t know before, but he works as a software engineer now. And he is her cousin - first, second or third, she doesn’t know this, but they’re related by blood - and he knew her father. Not as well as uncle Kenny did though. Speaking of which- “Where is uncle Kenny?”
Levi’s eyes darken. “He’s in Argentina.” He says. “I don’t know anything else.”
Mikasa frowns. Levi is not telling her the entire truth. Why on earth would he hide things she already knows? Its not like she’s unaware of Kenny’s international… network. Kiyomi didn’t lose her job for nothing, after all.
“You’re lying.” Mikasa says, jaw set. “Tell me.”
Levi frowns again. “Don’t be a brat. I don’t know where and why exactly he goes off to disappear every few years.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Mikasa yawns, feeling uncharacteristically careless about her manners. “I’m tired.”
“Go to bed, then.” Levi says, wiping his hands in the kitchen towel. “I’m not telling you to keep pestering me.”
Mikasa gets up. “Goodnight.” She says to Levi and heads towards the door.
“Goodnight.” Levi tilts his head at her. “Brat.”
—
August comes with a sudden drop in the temperature.
Mikasa makes the maximum use of her final summer clothes before the cold sets in. It was Kiyomi who’d bought her too many clothes near her departure. Mikasa had, of course, insisted against it - the clothes would soon be too small for her, but Kiyomi said that it was a farewell gift from her. Mikasa couldn’t say no.
Now there is a pile of all sorts of clothes in her cupboard that Levi hates. He tells her to clean up all the time - which is getting on her nerves because her room is very clean, but he just can’t seem to tolerate a single speck anywhere.
He is an orderly man - he likes to keep the rooms extremely clean, follows an unwritten routine of washing and cooking, and he expects Mikasa to follow it as well. Which is near impossible since no normal human can be so damn meticulous.
Levi is nearly thirty, but he looks a decade younger; so much so that people mistake them for siblings when they go out together. They are second cousins - Mikasa finds this out when she finally gets the courage to ask him about their blood relationship. Levi had been surprised at the question, then he’d taken out an old picture of people Mikasa didn’t know, and he’d told her that their grandparents were siblings - that made them related pretty closely.
Mikasa is supposed to start her classes the next week - she’ll be starting year nine in the school where Levi’s friend Petra teaches. He says that she is an English teacher and the school is good enough that she won’t have many problems. But Mikasa’s problem isn’t the school environment, it’s the damned dreams again.
They’ve gotten so vivid to the point where she can’t really remember where the dreams ended and reality began. The heat, the red sky, and the feeling of loss that hurts her deep - it’s confusing and irritating. There are sudden bouts of headaches that come after the dreams - and that is how Levi finds her one morning, clutching her head and squeezing her eyes shut.
“What are you doing?”
His voice seems to be coming from far away. There is a bright white light shining in her vision - it’s so blinding that it takes her a moment to realise that it’s the sunlight entering from the window and not some weird vision-esque dream again.
“I-“ She gulps. “Headache.”
He makes a face at that. “Don’t tell me you’re sick.”
She shakes her head in answer. “It happens sometimes.” He raises his brow at that, so she clarifies, “Nightmares.”
She can see the thoughts running through his mind - nightmares? oh, right. Her parents died in a car crash. She saw it. Right. Then he tells her stiffly, “If it gets too bad, I have some sleeping tablets.”
She nods, and he walks away, telling her to get ready - they’re going shopping today.
Mikasa falls back on her bed and sighs. There is something in her chest - a knot, and the tightness gets unbearable every passing day. It feels like something is coming. She doesn’t know what, but there is an unquenchable hunger in her. Anticipation burns through her for something she doesn’t understand. Her limbs tremble in excitement, but she has no energy to actually do anything; she’s just waiting.
Waiting for what?
—
The first day of school is always difficult. It’s like stepping into a different world altogether - new place, new people, having to find your place where everyone else already belongs.
Levi is walking her to the school. It’s embarrassing, but he says that its just for one day so that she knows which way to go. “You’ll bike to school from tomorrow.” He says. “Just don’t get lost.”
He leaves her by the gate and nods at her, lips straight. That is the closest thing to a smile from him.
The tightness in her chest gets painful as she walks into the building. She swallows. It’s just a school. I’ve been in a school before. It’s fine.
Students file towards a pair of double doors that lead to a large room. Mikasa stands a bit far from the crowd, wondering if she ought to follow them or not. Just then, a man wearing an ID card - a teacher, then - makes his way towards her.
“Is everything okay?”
Mikasa hesitates. “Is that where the assembly is?”
He looks surprised at her question. Then - “Oh!” He says. “You’re new here. I’m Professor Smith.”
“Mikasa Ackerman.” She introduces herself.
“Ackerman?” His blond eyebrows rise up to his hairline. “Levi Ackerman’s sister?”
“Uh-“ Mikasa isn’t sure of what to say. “Cousin. Do you know him?”
There’s a notable hesitation in his voice. “I know him.” He says. “You came with him for school visit last month?”
She nods. Her throat constricts as she looks around at the crowd of students again. Professor Smith is saying something - something about remembering her schedule and welcoming her to the school - but her heart is thundering within her. There’s the same feeling of anticipation again. The knot is too tight.
He guides her towards the hall where the assembly is starting. She loses the sight of him almost immediately as she’s lost in the crowd; everyone is moving towards their seats - most of them already sure of where to go, but some, like her, standing alone and looking around for an empty place.
She notices two empty seats beside a boy and goes over to it as quickly as she can. Maybe he’s saving it for friends. Maybe not. She’s just drawn there - as if pulled by an unseen force. For some reason, her hands tremble as she nears him, and the beating of her heart is so loud that it’s all she can hear.
She clears her throat as she stands beside him. He looks up, eyes wide.
Green. That’s the first thing she sees, then blue. His eyes are bright and dark, both at once. Then red - red sky, red lips, red blood. He’s looking at her and she can see her own face in his eyes, tear stricken and covered in dirt- What?
She blinks as he stares at her. There’s an odd tingling in her stomach, something flutters deep in her. She stares back, wondering why cold is seeping to the tip of her fingers at the action. There’s darkness around him, a sort of stay away from me sign, but she moves closer, breaking his trance of staring at her face.
“Can I sit here?”
He nods slowly as she sits down. Mikasa feels a strange wave of déjà vu wash through her. She looks at him again. Who are you? She wants to ask. Who are you that I have just met but it feels like I’ve looked at you forever? Why are you looking at me like that?
The voice from the speaker is a buzzing in her ears. No one takes the other empty seat beside him. No one comes to talk to him. Maybe he’s new too. She gathers her nerves and gulps.
“I’m Mikasa.” She says, and he turns to look at her so fast his neck should have snapped at the force. “What’s your name?”
It feels silly, introducing herself like she’s in nursery. It feels like she’s shaking from within - every part of her body trembles, and she’s not sure whether it’s the nerves of being in a new school, or something else entirely.
“Eren.” His voice sounds deep. Weary, despite his age. “Eren Jaegar.”
She shivers, even though it’s not cold inside the hall. “Are you new?” She asks him, trying to ignore the way his green eyes are piercing into her soul.
He tilts his head, as if to say ‘why would you ask me that?’, then his lips twitch. “No. I’m not.” He says. “You are, though.”
She just nods in answer. Just then, the bell rings, and students begin to file out of the assembly hall. Mikasa realises, embarrassed, that she’d forgotten to listen to the principal’s speech - she can’t even recall a single word he’d said. She recalls her schedule - she has History first, then Maths, then German, then there’s lunch break, and then—
“Do you know where to go?”
The boy, Eren, is speaking to her. He is not following the others, but instead he’s looking at her in the same intense way he had before.
“I have History…” She starts, but trails off when she notices a group of students leering at her and Eren. Two girls, three boys, and they’re making rude signs at them. Eren stiffens when he notices them. Ever so slightly, he moves forward so that his body is in front of her. She sees his fist clenching hard, and wonders if she’s going to see a fight on her first day here.
“Oi, Jaegar!” One of them calls. “You’re gonna take her to the bushes too?”
They laugh as they walk away, one girl looks at Eren with so much hatred that it makes Mikasa’s heart freeze. But then she turns her eyes upon Mikasa and the baleful look turns into one of almost pity. Why are they looking at me like that?
Eren relaxes his fist and puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Carelessly, as if he’d not been ready to smash their faces a minute before. Darkness shrouds his eyes, and Mikasa can feel the anger seeping through.
“Come on.” He says. “I’ll show you the way.”
Obediently, she follows him, both of them not speaking a single word as he shows her to a door and disappears into the hallway. She shrugs off her jacket as she enters the classroom and sits in the second row. She introduces herself when the teacher asks her to - her hands don’t tremble - and she feels like she belongs in her own body for the first time today. How is it suddenly so warm?
Mikasa realises, just then, that the tightness in her chest has loosened, and all she can see is the pair of green eyes of a boy she’d just met. Heat travels to her fingertips and she relaxes, trying to capture this fleeting moment of warmth - the rush of blood in her ears, the way her knot has loosened, and it feels right.
Maybe this will be where I belong.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Eren hates. Nothing in particular, but he just hates. Almost everything. The school, his classmates, the skate park, Zeke’s dog, even the hospital Grisha forces him to volunteer at. Armin is one of the few people he genuinely likes spending time around. And his mum.
At first, he had liked Zeke. His older brother, who had a job, spoke confidently with people, and taught him to skate. But as time went on, he realised Zeke’s presence made Carla unhappy. He was a constant reminder of Dina, Grisha’s first wife, who’d committed suicide shortly after his marriage with Carla. Maybe Eren had been blind to the tension caused by Zeke’s presence around his parents, or maybe that was just because he was a child.
Now that Eren knows Zeke doesn’t care much for them either, he doesn’t bother visiting his flat as much as he used to. They do occasionally see each other, but every meeting is due to something happening, not because they miss each other or something. No matter the efforts Grisha makes to push his sons together, Eren and Zeke just don’t connect the way he wants them to. Their passions are different - except skateboarding - and their views on the world are wildly different. Zeke was in the military, and discipline is something Eren despises. Eren likes to go rogue, and Zeke curls his lips every time he picks him up from school after he gets suspended.
Still, they are brothers. There must be something deeper than blood that connects them, because - despite whatever enmity between them - it is always Zeke who enters the principal’s office when Eren holds his suspension letter. Grisha is always at work, Carla’s shift at the restaurant ends at five, and somehow, Zeke is usually free around that time. Even though Eren doesn’t want to be close to Zeke, whenever he’s caressing his broken nose and his mobile between bloodied knuckles, his finger hovers over the contact labelled ‘Zeke’, and he hesitates.
This is what he’s doing currently. There are no broken noses or bloody hands, but Eren has spent the last five minutes hovering his trembling hand over the mobile. He can’t make out the letters clearly, but there’s green, so he hesitates again. Fuck it. He presses the ‘call’ sign.
Zeke picks up not even two rings later. “Eren?”
“I’m in Frankfurt.” Eren curls his lips. “Can you send me a money for a ticket back home?”
“…What?”
“I fell asleep on the train.” Eren says. Well, that’s technically true.
“And why were you on a train to Frankfurt?” Zeke’s voice sounds flat - the sort that he has when he’s angry. “Huh?”
“I- uh-“ Eren considers telling Zeke. I made ‘friends’ from Berlin, we smoked something, and I ended up here. There’s red in his vision, and the floor moves. But everything he says will be going straight to Grisha, then Carla. Yeah. That’s not gonna happen.
“Can you just do it quickly?” He says instead. “I don’t have money. And- I think almost all tickets are gone.”
Train seats are sometimes booked days in advance. Eren pretends not to know this. Then, Zeke starts speaking. Mostly to himself.
“…have to call Yelena again… this brat…” There’s a short silence, then, “I’ve sent you the ticket.”
“Yes.” Eren says. “I’ll see it now.”
“If you don’t thank me, your mum’s gonna hear about this.” Zeke’s voice is taunting.
“…”
“Do I hear something?”
“Thank you.” Eren grits out and cuts the call. There’s another ting, but Eren ignores it and shoves the mobile in his pocket.
An hour later, he sits on a bench in the station, tapping his feet against the floor. The train’s delayed, so he spends his time closing his eyes for some time and opening them, glad to see his vision returning to normal. His body has stopped trembling too. Never again. He swears to himself. I’m not losing control of my body like that again.
When he turns on the phone to see the time, he notices a notification. There’s a message from Zeke. Eren frowns as he clicks it open.
I called your mother. Expect to get your sorry arse whipped today.
Eren groans and closes his eyes again. That bastard.
—
It had been a long time since Eren last dreamt of the red ocean. But he sees it again that night.
At first, he’s walking through a field of flowers - beautiful, wide, green - and it feels like he’s walked through the place all his life. He bends down to pick up an oddly shaped purple flower - it looks like flowers that Zeke has kept in little pots, but there are red spots on it - as one would see in a butterfly’s wings. He caresses it, lets it fall to the ground, and there’s a splash. Red.
Eren looks around and notices that he’s standing ankles deep in a large lake - could be the sea, too. Then - there’s someone standing in the distance. He squints. There are more people, they seem to be coming from everywhere- suddenly, they’re all around him, and-
“Eren?”
It’s his mum. But she looks different - her hair is longer and tied oddly, her clothes look like they’re for some historical recreation, and she looks… sad. There are tears brimming in her eyes.
“Mum?” Eren moves closer. “What’s wrong?”
When he blinks, she changes. It’s not his mum anymore, it’s someone else. A boy with reddish hair and a smug face, but he’s bleeding from his middle. Then, it’s an old man who seems vaguely familiar, and he’s weeping. When he looks up, it’s his dad’s face. Grisha is looking at him with accusing eyes and Eren whispers, “Papa.”
Then the people inch closer and closer. He gasps. There are a hundred Armins around him. All the Armins chant in a single voice. “Why, Eren? Why?”
They push him back, but there’s nowhere to go. Eren lands arse first into the water. The faces change. It’s a boy from his school - Jean or something - and he’s crying too. Only a little girl with hair the colour of straw - only she looks at him with no hate in her eyes. Her eyes are wide, and she seems pleased. Then it’s a different girl - brown hair and sad eyes, and another again, and another - and they all say the same thing: “Why? Eren, why?”
A shrill sound pierces through the air. Eren realises it’s the sound of a child’s cry. He looks around; there are no faces around him, everyone looks like a blur, yet he’s still being crowded and - it suffocates, he can’t breathe, can’t listen any longer because he’s drowning - there’s red in his ears, red in his vision- “Eren.”
Eren opens his eyes. It’s her. The girl with raven silk hair and red halo around her.
“Where am I?”
He’s lying his head against a tree, and she kneels close by. “It’s alright.” She says. “You’re here now.”
He wipes his tears away. “Do you forgive me?” He asks.
She tilts her head at him. “Eren.” She says, and holds her hand to his face. Her touch - it’s so, so warm, it’s so good. He leans in to her hand. “I could never hate you.”
That’s not what I asked. He thinks, strangely. She tucks his hair behind his ears. When did my hair grow so long? Her eyes are wide. They seem to be filled with tears even though she’s smiling. He touches her face-
“Oi!”
Eren wakes up to Zeke shaking him. He blinks blearily as he pulls the blankets around himself. Discreetly, he adjusts his pants - but Zeke, that bastard - of course he notices. He smirks. “Had a pleasant dream?”
Eren flips him off and heads to the toilet. Zeke’s voice calls out behind him. “Your mum’s coming to pick you up.”
“I can walk.” He says.
Zeke just raises his brows at him. “Tell that to Carla, then.”
Eren doesn’t say anything in reply. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, feeling strangely out of place. My hair. He touches the strands that fall to his forehead. Huh. Maybe I’ll grow it out.
He concentrates, trying to remember his dream, but there’s nothing. There’s just a vague sensation of nostalgia, of all things. Eren shrugs it off. It was just a dream.
—
On a late August morning, Eren wakes up to the sound of his mother calling for him.
“Eren! Eren!”
He groans as he stretches and puts on his trousers. His throat is hurting. The entire neck area, for some reason. Wiping his face with a towel, he heads downstairs. “Why are you shouting like that?”
Carla makes a face at his appearance. “It’s the first day of school. At least try to look good.”
Eren grumbles a sound as he digs into his breakfast. Carla makes the best flatbreads - Grisha always asks her how she can make them so quickly when she herself has so little time left to get ready for work, but she merely smiles and says it’s a piece of her country. Eren loves it. Everything she makes. He complains when she lays out his yellow jacket on the chair, but he does put it on and smooths down his hair, as Carla asks him to.
Strangely enough, the morning seems to pass quickly. Before he realises it, Eren is on the road that leads to the school - and he’s dreading the day before it has even started.
He parks his bike a bit far from the school and walks the rest of the way; he learnt it the hard way - two dented bikes and insults carved onto them are more than lesson enough.
A large ‘Welcome back!’ banner flies near the school entrance, and he winces as he steps foot into the halls. Another bout of pain travels through his neck. Though he hasn’t gotten any glares yet, he knows it will be anytime now, and he braces himself for it. As expected, a girl - Jana or something, he can’t really remember every name - curls her lips at the sight of him, like he’s polluting the air around her. Eren stares back, pretending to be unfazed.
He looks around the hall, and notices an empty row - and at the end sits a boy with a large blond head, then he looks up and grins. “Eren.”
Surprised, Eren heads over to the seat beside him. “Armin.” He claps his friend on the back as he sits beside him. “You said you wouldn’t come to school today. Wait-“ He recalls the date. “You have an appointment today.”
Armin bites his lip. “Well, I came so that you wouldn’t feel alone.” At Eren’s confused face, he elaborates. “First day of school and all that, no? You’d be alone.”
Eren makes a face at that. “Don’t-“ He says slowly. “Don’t pity me.”
“What?” Armin laughs. “I just came to welcome you. Grandad’s picking me up in a while.”
Eren massages his neck. “Fine.” He says.
Armin gets up as the hall starts to get filled by students. He whacks Eren on the head as he moves out, warning him ‘not to lose his shite over stupid stuff.’
Eren feels small, all of a sudden. The two seats beside him remain empty as students file in to other seats. He doesn’t bother shifting over to the seat Armin left. Blood is pounding in his ears. The principal’s voice is disappearing somewhere far away. There is something in his throat - it feels like a tightened ball that he just can’t gulp away.
He freezes when he sees a girl making her way towards him. He doesn’t know her, but he feels like he’s seen her a hundred times before. Her hair is black, her face pale - she looks scared and alert of everything around her. He averts his eyes as she nears him. Her eyes, her eyes - why are they so- so seeing?
“Can I sit here?” She asks.
He nods slowly as she slides into the seat beside his, all the while his heart in hammering inside his chest, screaming at him. I know her,
I know her, IknowherIknow-
But he doesn’t even know her name.
The pain in his neck gets near unbearable, and it doubles when he turns around to her voice - “I’m Mikasa.” Mikasa. His blood hums. Mikasa. She’s staring at him with a small smile. “What’s your name?”
“Eren.” He says. “Eren Jaegar.”
Please don’t talk to me. His mind whispers. You won’t make friends here if you do. But she, of course, speaks again. “Are you new?”
He looks all over her face - the oh so familiar but strange features - and, for some reason, his lips twitch to a smile. “No. I’m not.” He says. “You are, though.”
She nods. He considers telling her to stay away from him, but then the bell rings and she looks around wildly - he just knows she’s unsure of where her classes are. He clears his throat - gods, it hurts.
“Do you know where to go?”
It comes out ruder than he’d planned to, and he tries to convey his apology through his eyes, but she doesn’t seem to pay attention to him. Her eyes turn to the ceiling as she recounts, “I have History-“
She stops. He notices her eyes narrow at something behind him. When he turns around - to those bastards making hollowed cheeks and raising their middle fingers like glorious trophies, he curls his fingers so tightly it almost bleeds. How dare they? How dare they? He seethes. They have no right to judge him. None.
“Oi! Jaegar!” It’s the bastard Hoffman who shouts. “You’re gonna take her to the bushes too?”
His blood boils. With every forced laugh they make, his fingers curl tighter and tighter - and gods, doesn’t the rage burn deep. He imagines choking Hoffman until he turns red and blue - the way he will gasp in pain, his breath running out, and slowly, the death. And the girl - Katharina - he will pull on her hair and drag her to the gates, then-
Eren breathes out. Putting his hands into his pockets, he turns to the girl again. Subconsciously, he’d moved in front of her. Mikasa. Why is she so beautiful? Why does he know her - like her name is etched in his bones, her face imprinted in his eyes - why, why?
“Come on.” He says, looking at her slightly parted lips and wide eyes, thinking: I’ve ruined this. This is her first impression of me. An angry little boy. “I’ll show you the way.”
Half his mind wants to grab her hand and pull her with him, but he walks beside her at a slow pace, stealing glances when she’s not looking. He leaves her by the door to her classroom and walks away as soon as he can. There’s no pain in his neck, but there is a feeling in his chest. Warmth. Absolute warmth that certainly isn’t from the chilly air.
He smiles to himself as he walks to his own classroom. Mikasa. He’s just met her, but she is flashing in front of his eyes every second, his blood hums with it - her name is etched into his bones. Mikasa.