#'wow ouch okay i should try to write something lighthearted maybe that'll help me feel better'

[kaekiro]

Lest

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 3032 II [AO3] Warnings: Mentions of blood and death A/N: In which Eren thinks Mikasa is dead and he doesn’t know how to cope. Instead, he acts a bit aggressively out of despair and frustration. Alternate canon au where EM is 19 yo and are already together. 

A few months ago, an AO2 user by the name of Lola left a comment on chapter 49 requesting that I write this! I don't think I've written one of these before, so I took all the pent up angst from the recent manga chapters and dumped it into here 😅 Hope you like it! P.S. I threw in a reference from the Netflix Series Dark! If you know the series, see if you can spot it!

The news didn’t quite register in his mind. He fell out of touch from reality, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare that she’d wake him from, like she always did. The messenger left in a rush soon after the written note was handed off to the Captain, and he felt his body go stiff the moment the paper was lowered and Levi glanced to him, then to Armin. Levi’s eyes betrayed nothing, but he knew deep down that something was wrong. And when his fears were confirmed, his blood froze over, stilling every limb and breath and bodily function for a long moment.

“Mikasa is missing.” 

He blinked rapidly, unbelievingly, and he almost wanted to laugh because surely the Captain was just making another bad joke. Mikasa and her going missing is something that did not go together, it was impossible. Unthinkable. He looked to Armin for assurance, expecting him to voice these exact thoughts. But his best friend’s face reflected the anxiety he struggled to repress, and that was when he began to realize the gravity of the situation. Levi wasn’t joking, and Mikasa was missing. 

He stood and walked out of the room with firm intent, ready to get his gear together and leave to go find her. 

“Eren,” Armin called, following him out of the room, reaching out to touch his shoulder.  “Eren,” he said more sharply, moving to quickly jump in front of him and block his path. He glared hard, wondering why he wasn’t as eager to help or even join him. 

“What?” 

“I know what you’re planning. You can’t go out there.”

“And why not?” he challenged, his frustration and impatience flaring. “Mikasa could be hurt and she needs me. She needs us.”

“Or,” Armin began, stepping to block his attempt to get around him, “she could be okay. It takes time for these messages to be delivered. During that time, or even right now, she could’ve already used a flare to signal her and her squad’s location. Or they could have been found by other scouts. This is Mikasa we’re talking about. Have some faith in her. Who knows, she could return here by tomorrow morning after they check her health. Just -- don’t do anything rash. We don’t have the resources to help keep you safe out there. And we don’t need any more people going missing, you of all. ” 

He saw reason in what Armin was saying, he truly did. But the sense of alarm did not falter. Instead, it kept nagging and screaming that something was not right. It wasn’t easy, but he stayed quiet and swallowed a whole lot of what he was feeling, knowing and repeating to himself that Armin’s instincts hardly missed their mark. He also knew that he could trust in Mikasa’s abilities, trust in her to come back. He had to focus on that, lest he go insane with worry. 

-----

Without waiting to be told, he woke up earlier than his squadmates and began chopping wood outside. The exercise helped burn away the stress he still couldn’t shake off, but the real reason he was out here so early is that he wanted to be the first to greet Mikasa. He pictured lecturing her for scaring him, checking over her injuries himself if she had any. And perhaps, when they were alone, he’d take her in his arms just to feel her’s wrap around him, to prove that she was really okay and that he didn’t need to get as worked up as he is. The thought makes his face warmer but heart lighter. Yeah, he would definitely do that. All he needed to do was wait for her. 

Yet, no one showed up that day. 

-----

He didn’t mean to do it. 

This realization dawns on him when the room falls silent and he feels Jean restraining his arms, sees Armin gazing down at the broken teacup with tears in his eyes. 

The liquid that dribbled from the wall and seeped into the floorboards used to be warm. It was the Captain that had heated the tea, suggesting that Sasha bring it up to him as he hadn’t left Mikasa’s room since they all found out the news. Unable to sleep, he was the one a new messenger delivered the news to early in the morning. He should’ve given it to the Captain as it was his message, but desperation took over and before he knew it, he lost complete sense of balance and stumbled until his back met something solid, eyes wide but unseeing as the unfolded paper fell to the ground. Some of the corpses retrieved were scouts that were part of her squad. The mission had transitioned from a search to a recovery effort for Mikasa’s and the others’ bodies. Involuntarily, he recalled what the bodies looked like during the recovery missions he’d been a part of, imagined seeing a bloodied sheet with a tattooed wrist peeking out. He distantly heard a shout of his name as he doubled over and vomited out what little he had in his stomach.

He doesn’t remember when or how he got to her room. But his body was curled on her bed, stiff, unmoving, and to his misfortune, awake. Sasha must’ve known this as she quietly stepped into the room because she offered words of comfort, trying to sound optimistic yet her voice lacked the hope he desperately needed. He didn’t reply to her, did nothing to acknowledge her presence at all and she had in turn understood, whispered her condolences after setting down the steaming cup on the desk, and shut the door behind her. There was a fleeting feeling of guilt in his stomach when he ignored Sasha and let the tea go to waste, but it couldn’t be helped. The only thing that managed to bring him some semblance of consolation was turning further into Mikasa’s pillow and breathing in softly, the pleasant scent of her hair and clothes barely there, but there nonetheless. 

Falling asleep had been a slow and painful process for him, his mind and thoughts consumed by worry and memories of her. In his dreams, she was beside him as she’d always been, weakly scolding him about something he didn’t pay any mind to because she was so close and cleaning his cheek with her handkerchief. He wanted nothing more than to grab hold of the front of her jacket, to tug her closer and press his mouth to hers just to see her surprised reaction. But when he did, what he thought was a dream instantly turned into a nightmare. He pulled back to look at her and suddenly found himself kneeling over her body, his hands and her clothes stained with her blood. She tried to tell him something and he knew it was important with how she was clutching onto him, but she could only manage a terrifying mix between a gurgle and cough before the light left her eyes. He shook terribly, would have screamed if the pain hadn’t made it impossible to breathe. Tears fell from his eyes as did promises from his lips, whimpers of I’ll make it right filling the space between them as he clutched the hand that fell from his cloak, his other hand moving to gently close her eyes. 

He woke up in a panic then, became even more frightened when Jean and Armin came into his line of sight as they shook him awake. 

“Eren!” Jean whispered harshly, “snap out of it! It’s just us!” 

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as Armin helped steady his breathing, both of them taking in lungfuls of air and breathing out slowly, over and over and over. Eventually, with his legs tossed over the edge of her bed, he buried his face in his hands, rubbing furiously at his eyes to try and erase the remnants of his nightmare. Jean and Armin carefully sat on either side of him, offering their presence as he grieved. 

“Why did I let her go?” he asked tearfully, to neither of them in particular. 

“...Eren,” Armin started slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up hope just yet. It’s only been a couple of days. There’s no confirmation that…” the last words of his sentence, the ‘she's dead’ remained unspoken, but the three of them were painfully aware of it. Armin continued. 

“A-and besides… there was no way you could have known that—”

He startles both his friends when he stands up, grabbing the cup full of tea and smashing it against the wall. He completely ignored the cries of his name and would've swiped the books and sewing kit off Mikasa’s desk if Jean hadn’t forcefully held him back. 

“I did know!” he cried, tears dripping from his chin. Armin was telling him to be hopeful, but he knew that tone, knew that it meant that his best friend was assuming the worst, just like him. “From the very beginning, right when the three of us agreed to join the military! I just knew that something like this would happen, and I still let her follow me here!” 

The deafening silence that follows is what slowly drags him back to a more sensible state, enough for him to realize what he’s done. He takes in the scene before him, the broken glass, the tears in Armin’s wide eyes, Jean’s hands struggling to keep their grip on his forearms. What would Mikasa think…

His arms go slack at that thought. He wishes she was here to hold his hand like she used to when he was overwhelmed, and tell him that even if things didn’t turn out alright, she’d be right there. Perhaps she was there with him. Even if he couldn’t see her. He never believed in those kinds of things if he was honest, there wasn’t anything to prove it was true. But… there wasn’t anything to prove it was entirely false either.... and the idea that she might be here made him shift entirely. She wouldn’t want him to react this way, yet here he was, making a mess and about to damage her belongings. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, to Armin and Jean, to Mikasa. The hands holding his forearms let go. “I didn’t mean to…” 

He sees Armin nod, quickly wiping at his nose. “I’ll get something to pick this up—”

“No.” He reaches for the candle one of them had set on Mikasa’s dresser, using the light to carefully step around the broken glass. “I made this mess, I’ll clean it up.” 

“Eren,” Jean says as he clamps a hand on his shoulder. “you look like a pile of shit and you’re not doing well. Let Armin and me handle this.”

He sniffles, looking down. “You forgot to say ‘no offense.’”

“I fully intended to offend you.”

Though he can’t bring himself to smile, Jean acting like a jackass the way they always did with one another helped him a little bit, and it was enough to convince him to agree. When everything was picked up and fixed, they coaxed him to sleep in a different room, reasoning that he’d been in there all day and it’d be better if he was with them, in case of another nightmare. He takes one last look into her bedroom before leaving, an ache spreading within his hands and chest as he remembers sneaking in there late at night a little over a week ago, letting her head rest on his shoulder and arm sling over his abdomen. She was so warm, and the steady rhythm of her breath lulled him to sleep just minutes after laying next to her. He can’t imagine what he wouldn’t give just to be like that, at least one last time.  

-----

His eyes feel swollen and uncomfortably dry when he opens them, doing so long enough to notice the unmade sheets on the mattresses and floor, how he was the only one in the room. The morning light becomes too much after a few seconds and he closes them once more, his exhaustion from yesterday making him slump further into the flat pillow. I’m so tired… I wouldn’t mind if I could stay just like this for a while… 

He doesn’t know how much time passes but eventually, he feels his hair, outgrown and tangled, being pushed away from his face. The gentle nature of the touch is light but so familiar that he immediately peeks his eyes open, the silhouette blurry but undoubtedly her. His lips curl into a lazy and content smile before they part to say her name, his voice raspy but soft. Bit by bit, his vision clears until he can finally see her small, pretty smile. 

“Eren,” she responds evenly, her fingers carefully untangling the lock of hair caught on them. Her other hand is pressed against the floor she’s sitting on, supporting her weight as she leans heavily to one side. What he wants most is to nudge his way over and rest his head on her lap, but he hardly has the energy to keep his eyes open. And the soothing feeling of her movements was not helping at all. 

“Why are you on the floor? And not in your bed?” 

Not entirely sure himself, he makes a noise that, if anything, only tells how tired he is. She seems to leave the short line of questioning at that, successfully untangling another knot. “Well… you should start waking up so you can eat something before Sasha helps herself.”

A sense of anxiety washes over him for reasons he can’t fully remember at the moment, and he only shakes his head like a stubborn child, burying half his face into the pillow as if it helps make a point. All he knew was that if he listened to her, what has been happening the past couple of nights would happen again; he’d wake up from his dream and she would disappear along with it.

“I don’t want to wake up. I want to stay in this dream,” he says quietly, wistfully, closing his eyes tighter.

“...What?” he hears her ask, feeling her shake her head as she reaches down to touch his face and swipe her thumb across his cheekbone affectionately. “Eren… you’re not dreaming.”

He frowns and he opens an eye to look at her as if she’s said something crazy. 

“What do you mean I’m not dreaming?” 

“....You’re not dreaming? I don’t know a simpler way to say it.”

It takes all his effort but he pushes himself to sit upright then, a little more awake and even more confused. He takes in the sight of her, the concern on her face, and remembers thinking that he’d never get to see it again. That’s right, Mikasa was “missing,” but scouts were looking for her body. He had lost her. He briefly glances around the room, noting the white sheets and how they reflect the sunlight in a way that makes the room seem unnaturally bright, like he was in some kind of dream. Was this heaven? The afterlife?

“Am…. am I dead?” he genuinely asks, eyes widening.

Mikasa looks at him as if he suddenly sprouted an extra head, fixing herself into a kneel and pushing her palm against his forehead, the back of her other hand checking the temperature of his face and neck. “Do you have a fever or something? Why are you asking such strange things?” 

The firm and real touch of her hand snaps him out of whatever delirium he’s experiencing and he just stares at her, watches how she frets over his unkempt state. He couldn’t pay any mind to his dumb and embarrassing questions because this wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t dead. This is real. Tears start to pool in his eyes, falling from them in thick droplets.

She looks even more worried, opening her mouth to probably ask more questions but before she can, he grips her arms and pulls her close to wrap his arms around her waist, his entire being weak and ready to collapse at the relief that pulses through him. He clenches his jaw tight, stifling his sobs but unable to control how they wrack his body. Her scarf catches the tears that won’t stop falling, and he only embraces her harder as he manages a barely audible, “I thought you weren’t coming back… I thought I lost you…” 

He knows that she finally understands the reason behind his bizarre behavior when she relaxes against him, her arms curling around his shoulders and head resting against his. 

“I’m sorry, Eren...”  

They stay like that for a few moments longer until her left hand coaxes him to look at her, her thin fingers wiping at the wet and darkened skin beneath his eye. “Plans were compromised, and we lost more than expected,”  she explains regrettably, her gaze fixed on her movements. “A small group of us were stranded for a short while, but… but I’m here now.” 

Her voice and words reverberate so nicely in his ears after spending so many hours longing to hear them, and yet there is a part of him that still feared that somehow this wasn’t real. Even awake and wound up in each other's embrace, he wasn’t entirely convinced, and he was becoming acutely aware of how he craved something more. So, in response, he nudges her hand away from his face so he can cup her cheeks and swiftly guide her lips to his. She inhaled sharply through her nose, clearly blindsided by his kiss and he would’ve felt more sorry if it wasn’t for the soft sensation of her lips, her breath and skin reassuringly warm against his face. His slight regret for surprising her (especially in a way neither of them was used to) diminishes entirely when her hands rise to wrap around his wrists and she kisses him back, over and over. When he pulls away, greeted by the sight of her blush and shy gaze, he takes in a lungful of air, finally feeling like he can truly breathe.