Chapter Text
A front was coming.
What always unsettled me most about winter above the ground was the unmistakable gloom right before the first flakes of snow would escape the heavy mantle of clouds. It was the change in the already dim light when it assumed an intense, eerie glow that didn’t really seem to come from any particular source, but from everywhere around. For a few seconds I smelled the well-known staleness and the filth. The mud. The rotting. The walls closed around me, hemmed me in, and I felt my past settle on my skin until I truly was back there. Down in the Underground.
Where I was born.
Then, only a few breaths later, the first flakes would fall and break the spell, lift the old feeling of unease and restlessness, only to replace it with a sentiment of calmness and quietness. And every time these first flakes would fly, I stopped for a moment to regard them in awe. Just like that day.
I’d been feeling that familiar prickle since I’d returned from my ride. Like someone breathing down your neck, paired with the recent discomfort in my bones that only confirmed the knowledge of the approaching blizzard. It would snow any moment now.
I rechecked the blanket on my mare, patted her goodbye for the day, closed the box behind me, and left the stables for my house.
It was a particularly cold winter for us—according to Hanji and Armin due to our current location. When the war had been over the Survey Corps had been sent out to explore the world. We traveled, discovered new land, drew maps, and sometimes built settlements on our way. The creating process helped with the adaption to the new way of life and the villages proved to be suitable shelters during winter. It was a welcomed prospect to sleep in real beds in real houses instead of camping on the cold, hard ground in tents when the frost came.
Since our first leave townsfolk had made themselves comfortable here. The streets had been fortified with cobblestones and a certain bustle gave the village a homey atmosphere. That afternoon though not a soul crossed my path as my feet carried me down the twisting alleyways on their own. Going by the lamps and candles that had been lit in the homes, the people had already sought refuge. The warm shimmers of light waited silently for the approaching darkness of the evening and promised a cosiness the outside couldn’t provide these days.
Fighting against the rising images in my head I glimpsed up to a certain window of a familiar building, as always when I passed it. The room behind it was unlighted and dark. No one home.
And just at that thought the glow came. Grey clouds became yellow. The whole world turned too luminous and that unnatural frowst filled my nose. The sky got replaced by a dark, impenetrable ceiling of stone and earth and dirt. Noises reverberated unnaturally through my head, breathing was disgusting, and yet I knew it wasn’t truly real. It wouldn’t last. It would fade.
It did. Snow began to float down.
Gently.
Peacefully.
Freely.
Adding new spots of white to the old ones on the ground. And I watched.
Eventually the promise of an invigorating cup of tea alongside an anticipating flutter in my stomach made me wrest myself away from the sight and pick up my pace.
I hurried around a corner and stepped on a frozen pile of old snow. My boot lost its grip. My bad foot didn’t obey and slipped away under me. My arms flailed shortly in the air. Tried to regain balance. And then I lost my halt completely. A familiar shout echoed from the houses nearby just as I crushed forwards, downwards, only to instinctively land on my hands. Pain. Shit.
While my face was still on level with ice-glad cobblestones a quick body check affirmed my first impression—cold and dampness and dirt. The leg seemed to be still alright as far as I could tell. The other one too. But yes, there definitely was pain in my hands. Fuck.
And then I heard the running footsteps approach, despite the slippery road. That fool! He’d fall too.
He didn’t. He’d probably not have minded anyway.
Opposed to Hanji, who would have laughed their bony arse off at my sight, Eren kept a straight face as he helped me back onto my feet. He didn’t even comment on it. He did, however, look me over with a vigilant glance and accompanied me to my small lodge at the outskirts of the village. Most of our soldiers were housed in community centers. Only the senior officers had their privacy in form of little cottages which were furnished a bit more comfortably.
“Let me check these hands,” he said as soon as we were inside and he removed his wet boots in the entrance to put them next to mine.
I could never tell what it was that made me give in when he was like this. Probably a mixture of the glimmer in his eyes, the candid care in his voice and the knowledge that he wouldn’t give it a rest until he got what he wanted. So I held them out, albeit not without uttering my disapproval. “It’s nothing.”
It was merely a guess. The right wrist still hurt and even though I estimated that nothing was broken, rotating and squeezing it shut properly was uncomfortable. But Eren silently elided my rather weak grumble anyway and enkindled an oil lamp to have a better look at the injury.
“It’s already swollen.” Despite degrees under the freezing point outside his hands were warm as they skilfully applied pressure to my skin and bones and I tried my best to keep the scowl on my face. He had a few snowflakes in his hair that had begun to melt; the tiny drops glistened in the flaring light.
“We should cool it and disinfect the scrapes. I’ll make some tea first.”
With that his hands were gone and he slipped out of his cloak and jacket to hang them on a provided hook next to the door. It would be useless to protest, so I slipped out of my cloak and jacket too, rolled up my sleeves in necessity and sat down at the kitchen table, absent-mindedly stretching out my leg to take the weight off. I checked my knees. At least they hadn’t hit the earth too hard. The fabric of the trousers was only dirty, not torn, and they’d presumably be safe from Eren’s treatment.
I could hear him rummaging around, washing his hands, lightning a match, heating a kettle of water on the stove, and setting out to steep a pot of tea. When he rejoined me he had a first aid kit with him, as well as a washcloth. He handed me the latter—despite its dampness it was pleasantly warm—and I cleaned my hands, tuning out the twinge in the bad wrist. In the meantime Eren had already taken place on an opposite chair and was searching the box on the table for a pair of tweezers which he sanitised with some alcohol.
“Stretch.”
I defeatedly held out my arms to let him check the palms for dirt and small stones in the slightly bloody wounds. At least the scratches looked more nasty than they probably were—harmless abrasions that would bruise and heal during the course of a couple of days. “I can do that myself, you know.”
A pair of eyes shortly flickered up from their work to fixate on mine and I oppressed a sigh. I recognised that look. He’d been cultivating it for years. I had no other choice than to sit this out.
“I know.” He reached for some gauze and alcohol to disinfect the lesions on my thenars. His voice was quiet, but allowed no objection.
“Just get it over with.”
It had become our usual routine—him patching me up whenever I’d gotten injured during a mission or something else. By now we both were aware of the fact that he wouldn’t let me be until he’d vetted me to his satisfaction. As much as we both were aware of the fact that I would certainly not abide by any one’s advice as soon as I was alone again…which probably was the cause for Eren’s thoroughgoing care in the first place.
It was almost endearing how he always became some sort of mother hen that fluttered about whenever someone had gotten hurt in any sort of way. Especially regarding how he wouldn’t even so much as flinch when he’d get a spike through his chest or lose a limb. Why he always preferred to take care of my wounds personally instead of letting others deal with it, I could only guess. I had a hunch. It was a matter we both remained silent about, like we were walking on eggshells.
“It’s because of the leg, isn’t it?” The assumption was soft-spoken and made me look up in surprise. His expression matched the gentle touch of his fingers that applied some salve onto my palms, yet his jaw had tightened in an old worry. I asked myself if that guilt would ever go away completely.
At my threatening glare his dimples deepened in a mild smile. “You move a bit carefully these days.” He was finished and let me roll my sleeves back down while he stored away the jar with the ointment. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe. Apart from Hanji and me no one has noticed.”
“Guess I’m just getting too old,” I mumbled and massaged my injuries to make up for the fading warmth, now that his hands were gone. My own were always chilly and rough in comparison, but it had to be enough.
Eren let my comment slide. “Here, the tea.”
I nodded a thanks. “Sit down and have a cup as well.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled raptly in understanding and I stood up to change my clothes and fetch the chess board.
As we set up the game the usual familiarity settled around us. Like every winter it was strange to live in separate houses instead of sharing a headquarter or being crowded on a meadow. Even if it only would be for a couple of months. One day Eren had stood on my doorstep, a chess board in his hands and a question in his eyes. I’d been grateful for the company and had let him in. Two days later he’d been back and before I knew it, it had become a daily thing.
After a couple of manoeuvres I glanced up at him. “You won’t tell Hanji about this, will you?”
“About our private tea and chess parties?” He winked with a grin. “Or about how you graciously flew to the ground in an impeccable arc and squealed?”
“Tch.” I hadn’t squealed.
“You know they’ll find out anyway, though. It’s you dominant one.”
“Mm.” I took another sip of the tea. It was perfect.
“Tell me if it doesn’t heal. Ha-ha…check!” He always got carried away when he played white.
I let him have his moment. Then I smirked and took his queen. “Whoops.”
“Damn it!”
“For a soldier you’ve always cared–”
“…too less for bloody defense. Yeah, yeah. Good that Historia can look after herself on her own, huh?”
“Right,” I added drily. “She never got into trouble. Just like you.”
He stuck out his tongue and chuckled.
I smiled into my cup.
Needless to say I didn’t cool the arm. I didn’t rest it either. I also didn’t tell any of them anything about the stinging throb in my wrist that, as the weeks passed by, didn’t really abate.
Of course they noticed. And in the end I probably should have known better. I should have smelled the rat as soon as Hanji came up with the idea to sit together on my birthday in a small round of friends. “Nothing big or scary,” they had put it. “Just drinking your precious hot leaf water and noshing cake.”
So I had invited them over. Sasha had baked the cake and that alone was a nice surprise. And, fair enough, everything went well at first. Then Hanji got out their doctor’s bag with a dangerously determined glint in their eyes that felt like we’d been spending too much time together. Not good.
“What a nice tea party, birthday boy.” They opened the bag to fish out plaster and bandages. “Down to business.”
Everyday life with the cast that went from my fingertips all the way up to my elbow was, summarised, rather dull. At least, as I kept on telling myself, we still were on winter break which meant there simply weren’t so many duties to fulfill. Most of the tasks were related to keeping an eye on the horses, helping in the village, and chores.
It also meant cabin fever never was far away. It was a good thing that I still could train with one hand and arm and I continued with doing so, keeping my left-handed combat refined and making sure the muscles stayed strong; it would help the other arm as well. I could still do most of the housekeeping on my own and take care of myself. For everything else I had a nanny.
Eren would show up in the mornings right on time for breakfast to leave after dinner and in between he took care of everything he didn’t consider fit for my state. Cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, running errands…Eren did it all with a never-waving matter of course. Fortunately, he acknowledged that I needed some occupation at least and didn’t impose on me.
When we were finished with the chores—even with thorough cleaning the cottage still was a small one and the tasks were limited—he would retreat. He’d sit down on the sofa and read or find something to do outside that wouldn’t take him too far away.
Like that it went rather smoothly and complaining about the arrangement would have been stupid. Everyone else, especially someone like Hanji, would have driven me up the wall after one day. Eren had always been different.
Admittedly, for a day or so I found myself secretly searching for methods to get rid of the cast. I loathed the damn thing extremely and would rather have faced a discomfort in my movements than being immobile. But ultimately I faced the fact that it would be pointless in any event. Even if I would succeed Hanji would triumph in the end and the cast would be back, this time certainly even all the way up to my shoulder. Most of all, however, it would have betrayed Eren’s trust and so there was no other option than to grit my teeth and accept my condition.
Days became weeks and Eren integrated more and more into my daily routine in an effortless manner. Years of working like we did and fighting side by side made it seem a natural progress and being aware of each other’s character and quirks only helped. Free afternoons were spent with our usual games of chess, reading, and doing paperwork with a shared pot of tea between us. Occasionally Eren would stay after dinner and we’d go back to our reads. One evening he came across something interesting and read it out loud. We ended up talking about that and the habit somehow stuck.
I didn’t let myself think about how comfortable and oddly domestic it was. I didn’t let myself think about the fact that it would end eventually either.
The worst thing about the whole situation was the hygiene part. It was complicated enough with one arm in a cast, but worst of all I couldn’t even wash it. The dirt and the sweat crept under the plaster, made me feel itchy and appalled at myself, and I was disgustedly reminded of the fact that I couldn’t even shower efficiently with that hideous thing. Little things turned out to be the most tedious. Like putting toothpaste onto the toothbrush. Cutting my nails. Soaping the shaving brush. Shaving in general.
My frustration reached its climax on a particularly grey and misty morning when I found my hair falling into my face as I drank my breakfast tea. I emerged from the cup with tea trickling down from my fringe, running over my cheeks, and dripping onto my freshly washed trousers in amber coloured blots.
Again, Eren didn’t laugh. Instead he finished our shared breakfast of porridge and let me curse and go to change my pants. When I returned from the bedroom a couple of minutes later I wasn’t surprised to find him in the bathroom, waving with the clippers. “Do you’ve got proper scissors too?”
Another couple of minutes later the stained pair of trousers were soaking in the sink and I sat on a stool in the joint tiny living room and kitchen, letting Eren drape a towel around my shoulders. And as ridiculous as it was, I felt my heartbeat speed up.
I took a bracing breath.
“How short?” He handed me a second towel to put on my lap and fetched himself a chair.
“Shorter than it is now.”
He grinned. “Well, obviously.”
“Just don’t cut me or make me bald. I don’t care about the rest, it will regrow anyway.”
“Okay. No second Connie then. Got it.”
I snorted involuntarily. “Not if you want to leave this place alive.”
He grinned once more and held up the scissors. “Okay?”
By his look I could tell he wouldn’t start without an approval and I nodded thankfully at the question. Another reassuring nod on his side and then his fingers were on me. I felt them running through my hair to ruffle it up loosely in carefree movements, only to being replaced by a comb that smoothed it out again. It was followed by a gentle pull on my strands and then they got trimmed one by one, starting with those hanging over my right eye.
“Like this?”
I squinted up at the result. A little too long, I estimated. “It’s alright, I guess.”
“Hm…”
Taking a strand of the fringe between his thumb and index finger, Eren guided it over my brow to let it fall loosely again. “Usually you prefer it shorter, don’t you?” he contemplated out loud.
“Whatever.”
He bent over a bit, probably musing over the right position where to execute the cut correctly. And suddenly his face was close, his eyes looking directly into mine for a split second before he refocussed on the strands.
Sometimes I only could wonder about myself. Mostly it was when Eren was around and it unsettled me deeply. I’d never really been ‘attracted’ to anybody…whatever that meant. The mere concept was weird to me, abhorrent even. It caused so many problems and too much trouble. And for what?
I’d tried to explain it to Farlan once and then to Hanji years later. But both times it had been hard to find the correct words. How could you explain that you didn’t like what everyone else seemed to want or need? That fucking, live and let live aside, wasn’t something important in your opinion, or desirable? That, on the contrary, it only reminded you of death? That touch was okay in certain situations and with certain people and that simply being held was still some kind of secret and embarrassing wish?
Not that anyone would even dare to cross that line as soon as they saw me. Except…
Still so close.
Eren’s face was calm and his brows were knitted in concentration, their curves ending over the first trace of crows feet that would match his dimples when he smiled. Not for the first time I was amazed by how Eren, despite all the hardship he had gone through, had accomplished to get laughter lines this early in his young life. It was hard to look away from them.
Apparently he had come to a decision and cut the right side of my fringe anew. After ruffling it up and combing it once more he leaned back in his chair and examined the work from a bit afar.
Better. And the hair had the exact right length too, the tip of the inside strand barely brushing over my eyebrow and the outside strand hanging loosely over the corner of my eye, not yet reaching my cheekbone.
“Better, isn’t it?”
Not knowing how to respond otherwise I harrumphed with a shrug and Eren proceeded.
For a while there was nothing to hear but the sporadic snipping sounds of metal against metal while short wisps of black fell down onto the white towels and I let my mind wander. It didn’t get far. It obviously wasn’t Eren’s first time to cut someone else’s hair. And apparently he did it in the same manner he attended to wounds. Rigorous and with surprisingly gentle fingers that never were too careful all the same.
Also, as it seemed, with the same curiosity and openness he did everything else. “How do you usually manage to do the back of your head?” He stated the question as if he didn’t really anticipate an answer.
I decided to do him the favour anyway. “The same way as you, smart-arse.”
His movements stopped. “You let Armin cut your hair?” It sounded strangely offended and staggered and I desperately tried to push words like ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ far, far away.
“No, I settle for a strand and trim. Obviously.”
“Oh…right.”
Snip.
He hummed irritatedly and I gave in. “What.”
“It’s always so neat. And it’s not like you can see what you’re doing back there.”
“Ever heard of mirrors?”
“Hm?”
“Mirrors,” I repeated, not able to hide the sarcasm. “You know them right? Sparkly surface and useful?” Careful to not let the towel fall from my shoulders, I turned a bit in my chair and nodded at the bathroom door. “You can see yourself in them. You should try it sometimes.”
Eren laughed. “Oh, really? And I thought that was another person living in there. Looking just like me. Huh.”
“Silly questions…”
With another chuckle rolling out of his chest he nudged my jaw so I’d turn my head. “Eyes front.”
I searched for something distracting to talk about. “For what it’s worth, I seriously doubt Hanji knows about mirrors too.”
Eren, I felt it more than I could see it, shook his head in amusement. “Can’t wait to drag them into a shower again, can you?”
“You have absolutely no idea.”
“I guess I have some idea…”
“Did you see that nest on their head yesterday?” I shuddered. “Disgusting.”
He was smiling, dimples, crows feet, eyes, and everything. “Yes, I did…eyes front!”
I oppressed the urge to savour the feeling of his warm fingers on my skin while at the same time I talked myself into not liking the soft massage of my scalp, even though it made me relax on the stool. I also vehemently convinced myself that I didn’t feel my stomach tingle and churn at the proximity. I didn’t want to long for this. Didn’t want to dream about this any longer only to wake up alone, feeling cold.
Snip.
Snip.
Eventually I gave in and let myself soak it all up. When had I last been touched like this? I wondered. When had I last been touched at all—apart from rare handshakes that I always tried to avoid as much as I could, an occasional punch into my shoulder from Hanji or in situations that had involved injuries? I couldn’t recall. The thought preyed more on my mind than I wanted to admit to myself.
Knuckles brushed over the back of my head and my eyes closed on their own. There had been this one embrace right after our victory over the Titans. Surprising, shocking almost. Warm and strong and filled with hope. A powerful heartbeat against my ear mingling with a laugh that could bewitch the sun and the stars–
“I’m sorry by the way.”
I opened my eyes and couldn’t help a frown. “What for?”
“For the cast.”
“Don’t worry about it.” No, Eren wasn’t to blame for this. I never had imputed him in the first place.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
“It’s funny to know that I’ll never need one of these.” He moved his chair a bit as he continued. He was sitting to my left now. “I’ve been cut and bitten apart so many times and don’t have the slightest sign of that on me. It’s like it never happened.”
“But it did.” I had the feeling I had to confirm that point. Every single wound and cut…I remembered them all. Sometimes I caught myself looking at his hands, not quite believing they were actually there. It was beyond a miracle that he was still sitting here this day in one piece, fresh as a daisy and strong and breathing and happy—hopefully.
“Yeah, it did.” His voice was softer now and the scissors resumed their work. “It’s still strange to have no visual evidence of it.” A dry snort escaped him, almost like an excuse. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Mm.” I wanted to comfort him and tried to imagine what he would say in this situation. But instead of coming up with something sensible I ended up with blurting out the first thing that came to my mind. “It’s like eating without having to take a shit afterwards.”
Oh, just shut up!
Eren, however, had already burst out in laughter and leant away with the scissors in his hand. His eyes were watery, his chest was heaving, and it almost seemed like he couldn’t stop. Hearing him laugh always unclenched the knot in my guts and I couldn’t hide a content smile.
He still was chortling.
“Come on, brat. Cut my hair before I’ll have birds in there as well.”
He opened his eyes to look at me curiously in between a few last chuckles and when he spoke there was something underneath that I couldn’t put a finger on. “Very well.” The quiet smile that remained on his lips made my stomach flutter again and I didn’t know if I should curse about that or find out what was going on.
I opted for both. “What is it.”
“Nothing.”
Such a bad liar. His left earlobe was red. So fucking cute.
Snip.
“You called me brat,” he finally gave away, the dimples on his cheeks deepening as he shrugged and his fingers were running through my hair once more. “It’s been a while.”
Oh. That…
And as if these dimples and red earlobes weren’t enough already, Eren began to croon some tune to himself as he proceeded. I’d already heard him doing that during chores regularly, some song that I knew by heart by now. This melody, however, was new. More soothing and sweetly calm. It fit his voice that hadn’t changed so much over the years, but was considerably deeper when he hummed. It was a tune that made it seem almost too easy to curl up against it and close your eyes.
“Well, compared to me you still are a brat.” I tried to sound casual.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eren smiled, much too blithely. And not a moment later I felt him playfully tug at a strand on my temple he’d caught me lament over in front of the mirror just the other day.
“Oi.” Without minding about the scissors in his other hand I slapped his fingers away. “That’s not funny.”
“Trust me. It is. Only you could be so shirty about something silly like this. You still kick arse out there like no one else, but mourn over lightning hair as if it would make you a dodderer.”
“Mikasa–”
“Doesn’t count. She’s always been weird.”
“Tch!” Only siblings could be so undermining of each other’s abilities. Also, it was a bit thick for him to describe others as ‘weird’ given the fact that he’d once had a Titan coming out of his arse on a regular basis.
My thoughts nearly drowned out his next words.
“I like it. Shows me you are human after all. I was beginning to get worried.”
Apparently I had lost the ability to speak. And Eren, by now done with the upper part of the undercut, set aside the scissors, combed through the strands and bent forward once more to pull at both sides of my fringe. Mirth was still dancing in his eyes, shining in a compelling way that was not good for my peace of mind. At all. And he was too close again.
His look crept under my skin and made me think things. I wanted to catch it and lock it away inside of me to look at it in bad times. It was ridiculous. It should have been.
It wasn’t. It made my heart feel like someone would squish it. It kept on doing that more frequently recently. I couldn’t even tell anymore when this had started. Months, fuck, years ago. Probably it would break me eventually. It felt like breaking. Slowly and inevitably.
“Seems to be alright. What do you think?”
I glanced up, glad about an excuse to avoid meeting his gaze. “S’ not bad.”
“Mm.” He leant back. “Let me just get the clippers for the underpart after all.”
When he was gone I closed my eyes. There was no hope for me. My head was swirling and I felt sick to my stomach.
Breathe, I reminded myself. Only breathe long enough and ignore it and it will go away. This isn’t only completely inappropriate but you also can’t give him what he wants. What he deserves.
Breathe. Just breathe and bring your heart to fucking calm down.
Breathe.
I heard some splashing sounds from the bathroom—surely Eren checking on the trousers in the sink—and opened my eyes, forcing every thought of self-pity and pathetic longing away. One stuck around though, and it became louder and louder in my head, filling me with self-disgust.
If only I would be enough.
Just enough.