Chapter Text
Mikasa was giving him that warm soft smile again. She had already brushed her short bangs out of her face, a thick lock of ebony hair behind her left ear. So much had changed in the past few years, Mikasa was just happy to see him again. Between balancing her personal life and that of a soldier, she didn’t have time for everything, yet the man she loved who’s gaze was filled with all of the loving and longing she felt within herself.
“I- hope your… how have… how have you been, Eren?” His golden eye lit up, and Mikasa swore she saw dancing blue lights within his pupil.
“I’ve been okay. Working with my dad has been… interesting. It hasn’t been that bad. But enough about me,” Eren’s voice held the hesitation he carried with every word, and Mikasa assumed it was due to the things he’d seen as Doctor Jaeger’s assistant. People dying, something Mikasa saw nearly everyday. “How about you? I’m sure being a Scout isn’t all it’s glossed up to be.” Mikasa snapped back to reality upon hearing Eren’s voice again.
“O-oh, well… I’m in the Levi squad. I’m considered one of the best.” Petra’s death flashed before Mikasa’s eyes as the sound of Shiganshina buzzing around her faded to eerie silence, only broken by woodland animals and a Titan’s thundering step. Petra’s depraved laughter in her final moments, and the way she cried and screamed for Levi.
“Well, you are you after all. They have you to look after them, and you can follow in their footsteps and, I bet, easily surpass that tiny Captain Levi.” Eren followed his praise of Mikasa with the lightest touch of his lips to her forehead, rousing her from the thoughts that left the taste of bitter resentment in the air.
“Is something on your mind, Mikasa?” Eren could always see right through her, and after his mother’s death, he’d become the overbearing mom-friend of their little trio. He’d take care of his friends, no matter how far apart they were. Now here he was, only a few days too late for Mikasa’s liking. She would have given anything to have had him at that moment, someone who could have broken the trance she found herself in that caused the slip up. The slip up that cost the life of one her mentors from the squad.
Eren cupped her cheek with one hand, looking down to her, and all she could see was the warmth and sincerity in his eye. His left remained hidden by bandages, something Mikasa didn’t want to ask about. She merely basked in the comfort his presence held, closing her eyes, as he waited for a response.
“Someone died. Because of me , I hesitated. Eren, I never hesitate. She died protecting me.” The self-hatred emanated from Mikasa’s every word, and while her old Eren would have called the deceased weak for dying, this Eren, one she’d met after three years apart, was something akin to an empathetic creature. He hummed in thought, wiping the stray tear that escaped Mikasa’s left eye with his thumb. Eren gave her time to process, to gather herself.
“Even the strong ones need someone to protect them, Mika. People care about you, and you should feel important knowing they’d give their lives for you. They’ve just realized how special you are,” Eren praised her again, holding her face with his hands. Something in his eye sparked a fire within her, their proximity becoming increasingly heated. Mikasa fought the urge to argue, knowing she could never change Eren’s views of her value .
“The strong shouldn’t be the ones needing protection.” Eren narrowed his eyes at her statement, moving his hands down to her shoulders before giving them a gentle squeeze.
“You’re only human. Everyone needs… someone .” Eren nodded to himself, and suddenly Mikasa wasn’t sure if he was trying to assure her, or himself.
“Eren… are you sure you’ve been okay? You’ve… well, you barely wrote any letters and I… I was worried. If… if you’re the one who needs to talk, I can make us some tea and we can go sit down and just… talk.” She grasped gently at his wrists, removing his hands from her shoulders. She left a gentle kiss on both of his palms, feeling the blistering heat beneath his skin. Eren had started to naturally run warmer around the age of nine, but that hadn’t stopped Mikasa from worrying every time she felt his temperature.
“I’m fine, really. Work’s just been a lot lately, between traveling back and forth from the different Walls and… people. Lots of sick people. I don’t know how my dad does it.” Eren’s arms dropped to his sides as he sighed. It was at that moment Mikasa could see how tired Eren truly looked.
“Tea, then?” Mikasa fumbled for her keys, her hands digging through her several pockets before she felt the familiar cold metal. Eren nodded, silence overtaking them as they entered her house.
Small, neat, and overly minimalistic. Mikasa never spent much time at her home, only visiting certain times of the year and on occasional weekends. What was truly shocking was that no one had tried breaking in yet.
Mikasa heated a kettle on the stove, deciding a calming chamomile tea would suit their needs perfectly. Eren was waiting for her, sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other one as his body sank into the cushions. While Mikasa wouldn’t go as far as saying she’d chosen her furniture based on what Armin and Eren preferred, anyone who’d known her- or been in her house- would have known the exact reasoning.
Mikasa was perfectly fine and content sleeping on the natural ground, or a cold stone floor. She barely needed a pillow or even a blanket, and slept without complaint like the good little toy soldier she was.
Armin liked soft blankets, soft beds, things he could wrap himself up with and be content to snuggle in. The military life had been harsh on him at first, but by the end of the 104th’s training, Armin had been accustomed to sleeping on the hard bunk beds the boy’s dorms had. Armin would stretch like a languid cat upon waking up, something Mikasa missed once they became trainees.
Eren was different from the both of them, but held aspects of both of his friend’s sleeping habits. Eren was fine with sleeping on the floor, the bare earth, or even an uncomfortable bunk bed. He always had the option to use his arms as pillows, more than comfortable to lay on his stomach to drool on his own arms. He did, however, want a blanket to wrap himself in. And as a bonus, Eren was quite the cuddler, and had been his whole life.
Mikasa didn’t have the gall to look Eren’s father in the eye and ask him if his son still liked to cuddle people.
Once the water boiled, Mikasa prepared the tea with a simple straining process, watching the beautiful light orange fill up the ceramic teapot. She didn’t mind a few plant pieces in her tea, and neither did Eren.
Mikasa’s mind was running circles as she placed the teacups in front of them, on the coffee table as she took a seat next to Eren. An entire cushion apart, not too close, yet not too far that it’d seem as awkward as Mikasa felt. Her house didn’t smell like it was lived in, aside from gathering dust that made it feel abandoned. Nothing held Armin or Eren’s scent anymore, from the sweet perfumes to the musky colognes. Mikasa’s house, and her life, were pathetically empty .
Eren knew Mikasa’s eyes were glued to him, watching his every move. The tiniest muscle twitch was enough to draw Mikasa’s gaze, even as she silently sipped her tea. Eren simply folding his hands on his lap was enough for Mikasa’s spine to straighten, as if at attention and about to receive orders. The beast purred at the thought of ordering Mikasa around.
“I’ve been busy lately.” Eren felt a sense of pride that with so little words, Mikasa’s attention was already captured and she was focused on him completely, tea forgotten. Eren played with the hem of his shirt, exposing his midriff for a few seconds, smirking at the blush forming on Mikasa’s face before she quickly regained composure. “For a while, I was just reading the books and practicing mixing medications in the basement with… Father . It wasn’t until recently that he started taking me with him, to treat people. He’s never been the strict type, but when it comes to having people’s lives in your hands, he’s… serious about his work.”
Mikasa furrowed her brows, trying to contain the tiny voice in her head ready to rip Grisha Jaeger apart for stressing her Eren.
“People on their deathbeds, clinging onto life that only we could provide. People recovering from fist-fights. Others, injured by attacks… some of them Scouts that went on expeditions outside the walls. The mental hospital in Wall Rose has seen its fair share of scouts, and sometimes I go to volunteer there.” Eren sighed as his head went back, resting on the couch to stare out the window through the crack between the curtains. The sun was just barely above the Walls that enclosed Shiganshina, which meant he had to go within the next few hours. Eren wanted to talk with Mikasa and then Armin first.
“It’s just work? Nothing else?” Eren continued to glare at the sun for a few more seconds before he fixed his seating position and his posture. Regarding Mikasa with the softest look he could produce, watching the tension visibly leave her body.
“It’s just work, I promise.” You’re a liar , they told him. The voice belonged to someone he had yet to meet, yet rather than mocking him, they sounded just as guilty as Eren felt inside. Sitting there, comfortably in Mikasa’s own home as he lied to her face.
They spent the next half hour talking about each other’s lives, from interesting moments Mikasa had as a Scout, to Eren’s steadily growing knowledge of anatomy and medicine. Moments like these reminded Eren of his shame of not joining Armin and Mikasa as Scouts, instead following in his Father’s footsteps . Although the moments Eren shared with Armin and Mikasa had become brief and far inbetween, he cherished every moment, as they could be his last.
They parted with brief farewells, as Eren made his way further into the residential district. He knew every street like the back of his hand. Eren did grow up in Shiganshina, as did Armin and Mikasa. Eren passed a few food stalls on the way to where Armin lived and was reminded of their childhood.
Armin gets surrounded by a rowdy group of older kids looking for an easy target. Eren charged in head-first, with little thought of the size differences or whether or not he’d lose. Mikasa was always right behind Eren, her unnatural strength and innate talent easily turning the tides of every fight they found themselves in.
Those were simpler times. Happier ones.
Eren was lost in thought and soon found himself quickly approaching the steps to Armin’s childhood home. His grandfather had passed only a few years before, leaving the run-down cabin to Armin. Eren could only hope Armin was actually there as he raised his hand to knock on the door. While only a few minutes felt like an eternity, Eren was ready to knock again when he heard a voice behind him.
“Eren?” Armin stood there, holding a basket of presumably fresh produce from the market. His head tilted like a curious cat, watching Eren who froze like a deer with his hand hovering several centimeters away from the door.
“I- ah. Ah. Armin. Hi,” Eren struggled with words as he took in Armin’s appearance. While over tea Mikasa told him that her and Armin got matching haircuts, Eren hadn’t believed her. But there Armin was, taller than a few years ago- with his blond hair cut short, sides just above his ears with his bangs parted in the middle. Those once bright blue eyes held a certain dullness to them, eyes of a tired soldier. Eren composed himself, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers as he moved out of Armin’s way.
Armin easily carried the basket of produce in one arm as he held the key to the front door in his free hand. Eren was more than mildly interested, somewhere deep within he felt pride at Armin’s growth. Taller, stronger, less afraid of the world around him. Even by the way Armin carried himself in his stride, Eren could tell he’s changed. They all have.
Armin motioned for Eren to join him inside, letting Eren close the door as he set the basket of produce on the table. Armin pulled out a chair and motioned for Eren to do the same. Once the two of them were sitting, Armin leaned forwards, lacing his fingers together beneath his chin. Armin’s incredulous gaze swept all of Eren’s body that he could see, his eyes narrowing as his ocean blue gaze settled on the bandages that wrapped Eren’s head, covering his left eye.
“You look like you’ve had it rough.” Armin spoke in an even tone, unamused and almost cold to Eren’s surprise. Eren reached up to touch the slightly dirty bandages, letting out a sigh as his hand dropped.
“Y-yeah. I suppose. I got attacked by a mental ward patient in Wall Rose. They were more unstable than I thought and clawed my left eye out.” Armin’s facial features softened as the lies left Eren’s lips. Armin reached for Eren’s hands across the table, scowling slightly at his temperature. Eren gave Armin his best attempt at an assuring smile, which came out far too strained to be anything other than a forced, overly-toothy grin.
“Who cares about me? I just lost an eye, it’s no big deal. But how are you?” Eren’s head was tilted slightly to the left, his long black hair draping over his shoulder and partially obscuring his face. Armin shifted in his seat, but still held onto Eren’s warm hands. His steadily growing concern could be felt by Eren, judging by the way his golden eye seemed to roll in a circle before refocusing on Armin.
“Eren… don’t say that. You’re out here saving people’s lives. And people do care about you, regardless of how you feel about yourself.” Armin spoke slowly and willed his voice to be steady, hoping some of his poorly put-together motivation could rub off on his friend.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat things for me anymore, Armin. I can take it.” Eren was lost in that moment, seemingly looking past Armin to something the blond couldn’t see. Armin spared a glance over his shoulder, furrowing his brows when he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“I’m not sugarcoating anything, Eren. I know things have been difficult for you for the past… ten years. But nobody’s blaming you, okay? We never have.” Armin gave Eren’s hands a gentle squeeze, trying to bring him back to the present.
“I blame myself everyday. I’m a fuckup, Armin. Just a brat with an attitude too big for my size.” Eren’s laugh was lifeless, similar to a wheeze as he looked to the ceiling then back to Armin, as if remembering something.
Armin let out a tired sigh that an old veteran makes, exhaustion and frustration settling into his body.
“Are you eating enough?”
“According to Father, no.”
Armin’s brows furrowed as a frown was fully set in place. Eren’s low-cut dark green shirt easily showed off his protruding collarbones, and the various bruises along his neck. Armin quickly recognized the bruises.
“Did someone try to… strangle you?” Armin wasn’t going to approach things delicately. The Eren sitting in front of him was merely the ghost of the best friend he once knew.
“Yeah. It happens. I volunteer in Wall Rose for the mental hospital. I’ve had more than a few old Scouts say I remind them with a Titan. So they… like to… put their hands on me. The nurses usually get there in time to stop them, though.” Eren didn’t seem phased at all, even as he mentally recalled a tall, burly former soldier grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the wall. “This one guy… he was really pissed to see me. Said he’s seen me before, in nightmares he had after losing one of his arms to a Titan.”
Armin sharply inhaled as Eren moved to pull up his sleeves. The bruises and scratches on Eren’s arms burnt holes into Armin’s eyes.
“Eren… that’s dangerous. You should probably stop volunteering there before you get killed.” Another lifeless laugh left Eren, but this time his shoulders shook from the effort.
“And yet you live everyday risking your life. Ironic, coming from you.” Armin felt the tiniest spark of rage in his core, a building pressure that threatened for him to snap.
“Eren, I’m not playing this game of yours anymore. You have to get it together. We’re worried about you.” Armin knew Eren could feel the dissatisfaction emanating from him.
“I’m together.” The way Eren’s voice wavered would have been a dead-giveaway, but Armin had known something was wrong the moment his eyes landed on Eren.
“Eren… when’s the last time you’ve seen yourself in the mirror?”
“You sayin’ I’m ugly?” Eren’s attempt at humor earned an annoyed huff at best.
“No. You’re not ugly, you’re sick , Eren. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Eren was the one to squeeze Armin’s hands this time, hoping the blond couldn’t feel him shaking.
“I haven’t slept in two days, actually.”
“Eren! This is exactly what I’m talking about!” Eren sneered and bared his fangs, small but sharp little things that could tear someone’s throat out if he tried.
“How would you know anything?!” Eren flinched at the volume of his own voice, shaking his head several times. Armin watched the long black tresses wave with every movement.
“Your Father talks about you in the letters he sends Mikasa and I. He’s worried, Eren. We’re all worried.” Armin tried to calm Eren as best as he could, but his words weren’t reaching him.
“I’m a… I’m… I’m a failure, Armin.” The last time Armin had heard Eren’s voice so soft and broken was after his mother died.
“You’re not a failure, Eren.” Armin had let go of Eren’s hands in favor of grabbing him by the cheeks, forcing Eren to look him in the eyes. “Listen to me, I don’t know what or who has gotten into your head, but they’re wrong . You’ve never been a failure.” Armin wiped away a tear he’d been staring at, one Eren hadn’t realized fell.
“Armin. I’m one of them .” Eren spoke as if Armin knew a single fucking thing that was going through his head. “I’m a monster , Armin.”
“Eren, I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but I do know you. You’re not a monster.” Armin had walked around the table, settled comfortably at Eren’s right side. Hugging Eren was something Armin had dearly missed, although it was often Armin being the one held in a protective embrace. “I don't know what you’re going through if you don’t tell me, but I won’t force you to say anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Armin sighed as he felt Eren melt at his touch, and began running his fingers through Eren’s messy black hair. Eren’s trembling had intensified to full-body shakes, as pain gripped his chest. Armin let Eren cry, holding him and refusing to let go. While Eren may have believed he wasn’t worth the time or the effort, Armin had the opposite to prove.
“You and Mikasa mean the world to me, Eren. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. And… if something ever does, I’ll… I’ll get revenge, before I join you. We promised each other we’d meet again in hell, and I meant it when I made that promise.” Armin leaned in to rest his head atop Eren’s, deeply inhaling the fresh scents that still lingered on Eren’s clean yet unbrushed hair.
Eren’s scent was off. While not completely unrecognizable, it wasn’t the smell Armin was expecting. The smell of petrichor and pine were almost completely masked by something far sweeter, something that made Armin almost begin drooling. Eren was unmistakably anything but that .
“E-E-Er… Eren. Do you have ah… how should I say this, any Omega friends?” Armin knew the question was sudden as he felt Eren go rigid in his arms. Armin brushed Eren’s hair from his face, seeing the panic that had settled onto Eren’s features. The blueberry pancakes just simply couldn’t get out of Armin’s head.
“N-no. I am… the… it’s me.” Eren left the word Omega unspoken, gaze following Armin’s hands as he brushed the fabric covering Eren’s shoulders away. Armin was relieved to see there was no mark left on Eren’s shoulders.
“Does anyone else know?” Eren seemed hesitant to answer, but caved as he felt Armin gripping his shoulders. “Eren. Who else ?” he hissed, the unpleasant scent lingering in the air through his blockers.
“Just you and Father.” Armin Arlert and Grisha Jaeger were the only two who knew Eren’s secondary gender, and in his mind, the only other one who should have known was Mikasa. As for the others … “Anybody else who’s… um… gotten close don’t know my name or don’t usually remember my face.” Armin released Eren’s shoulders, stumbling back only a short space before he hit the table.
“Got close ? What’s that supposed to mean?” Armin was dreading the answer. He should have known better .
“Close and personal? I don’t know how else to describe it. It was uncomfortable and I hated it. If Gri- if Father hadn’t been there something bad could have happened.” Armin narrowed his eyes at Eren’s slip up, but they weren’t the most pressing matters.
“And you’re just… okay with this? With that ?” Eren shrugged, like the world so simple with such a broad descriptor.
“The only heat I’ve ever had is my first one. Father thinks there’s something wrong with me. I should have been an Alpha, ” Eren hissed as his displeasure was shown. He was looking at the table, once again seeing things Armin hadn’t seen. “Everything they targeted you for, I became . I’m the weak link, Armin. It’s me .” Armin didn’t have to ask for confirmation, he could smell everything clearly. The stress mixed with the faintest pheromones, weak enough to be called pathetic.
“Damn it, Eren… what they hell have they done to you?” Armin whispered mostly to himself, but quickly shook his head. “Actually, don’t answer that. You’re already suffering enough.”
“I wasn’t going to anyways. Or more so, I can’t. I don’t remember.” The guilt had crept into Eren’s every word, something that flipped a switch in Armin’s head.
“You don’t remember… anything ?” Armin was the one steadying himself now, nails digging into the old wood of his table. Eren didn’t seem too phased, only mildly off-put as put all of his mental power towards remembering the past.
“Well, not everything , but most of it is a blur. There’s bits and pieces of the past nine years. I feel like I’m missing something important, but I haven’t figured out what it was yet.” Eren relaxed into the chair as Armin once again approached him. The hands that felt their way to his shoulders were unnaturally heavy.
“You didn’t forget… Carla , did you?”
“No! No, no, no. I didn’t forget my mother.” Eren shook his head again, as if the whole notion seemed amusing to him. An odd grin had found its way onto his features, and Armin couldn’t help but move closer to try and break Eren out of whatever trance he’d found himself in.
“Tell me about the bits and pieces, then.” Armin took mental note the forced smile had fallen from Eren’s face in a heartbeat, replaced by the hesitation that kept his mouth shut. Armin took his time to slowly close the distance between them, a hand splayed on Eren’s chest to push him back in the chair. Sitting on Eren’s lap wasn’t something he did while making eye-contact often, but Armin felt like Eren needed the company.
“Some of the memories are… from the past. Things I’ve done, in maybe a past life. Lots of bad things. It’s like that… ghosts are eating up things I learn here. In my everyday life. I can barely remember whether or not I’ve eaten each day because there’s somebody in my head telling me I don’t deserve to eat.” Eren quickly brushed a bit of his hair out of his face, avoiding Armin’s gaze until he felt a hand on his cheek.
“Eren… How long has it been like this?” Eren glanced to the window, checking the time as he thought of the simplest way possible to answer Armin.
“Almost ten years.”
…
“Almost ten years ? Eren that’s… you need to get help.” Armin locked his arms around Eren’s neck, biting his lip when he could see the internal conflict behind Eren’s golden eye.
“I’m fine. I get by. Most of the time Father reminds me to do things. We sit down and talk, from time to time. I live with a Doctor, remember?” Eren’s arms had snaked their way around Armin’s waist, while Armin pressed their foreheads together.
“A Doctor that specializes in medicine and people’s physical health, not mental.” Armin knew Eren was going to try to find a way to argue himself out of this. At least, his Eren would have.
“How I think doesn’t interfere with work. So it doesn’t matter. I’m fine,” Eren spoke softly, like every word that he spoke of as the truth would fix the matter entirely.
“Just because it doesn’t interfere with your career choices now , it could later.” Eren hummed in a form of acknowledgement, but looked over Armin’s shoulder to check the time once again.
“Speaking of work , I have to go.” Eren didn’t want to let Armin go, and they both knew this. Parting reluctantly was something Armin did with a hiss, inner turmoil already wanting Eren to not leave him.
“Have you seen Mikasa yet?” As the two of them backed away from each other, Armin watched Eren’s nod and perplexion before regrounding himself. Armin had reached for his wrist, lightly tugging Eren to his feet.
“Y-yeah. We had tea and talked for a while.” Eren stood and dusted himself off, giving Armin his best attempt at another reassuring smile that was more for himself than Armin.
“Are you going to actually be okay, Eren?” Armin was still holding onto Eren, even the minimal skin contact was helping him keep a semblance of peace.
“I told you, I’ll be fine . There’s nothing wrong, okay? Just… don’t worry about me.” Pain was reflected in that single golden orb, but Eren tried his damndest to cover up what he felt. What he knew he was going to do. Armin was too good at picking Eren’s mind apart, the sooner Eren escaped, the better.
“I don’t believe you.”
Eren bit his bottom lip, drawing blood until he felt Armin’s hand grab his jaw.
“Eren. Don’t you dare do anything fucking stupid , you hear me?” Armin’s fingers dug into the tanned flesh, the blond ignoring Eren’s painful wince or how his stubble felt like tiny daggers. “ Eren ,” he growled low, waiting for Eren to look him in the eyes.
“I won’t,” Eren tried being reassuring once again. Armin was still shorter than Eren, even after several years and the chance to mature. Yet at that moment, Armin felt like the size of the Walls compared to Eren, with his disbelieving stare boring holes into Eren’s soul. “I promise,” Eren said finally, reaching to yank Armin’s hands from him.
“Okay. Okay , go.” Armin turned away before he had the chance to say anything else, movements short and choppy as he removed his groceries from the basket. Eren took the small opening in their brief meeting to make a break for the door, slamming it on his way out.
Eren ran home to who he knew was waiting for him.
…
…
Grisha was going over his notes in his basement office. The dark paired by the quiet, only lit by faint lantern light flickering by an oil-soaked wick was his company. The journal which he hid inside a locked drawer in his desk was wide open on a corner of the desk, Grisha and Dina’s photo on display.
Since revealing the Truth to Eren, he’d become more comfortable looking at the photo of his old family- Grisha himself, Dina Fritz, and Zeke Jaeger. Zeke’s wide, lifeless gaze reminded Grisha almost everyday of his failures as a Father , and he took those hits blunt. He couldn’t stop looking back to them, even as he shakily held a syringe in his hand.
Eren’s spinal fluid glistened in the dim lighting, a faint blue glow reflecting in the lantern’s dim lighting. The faintest traces of the Hallucigenia could be seen floating within the liquid, the smallest invertebrate dancing their colorful waltz within. The spinal fluid was similar to the one he had originally injected Eren with. Grisha hummed a Marleyan tune to himself as he placed the syringe into a small padded wooden box, akin to the same one he had once used to inject Eren. Closing the box, Grisha ceased his humming and sighed.
“I’m sorry, Carla,” having his ex-wife’s name on his tongue filled Grisha with the self-loathing he’d held before truly settling on Paradis, yet he set aside his disgust to say a quick prayer to whichever deity would give him pause and listen.
“I’m sorry, Dina.” An accomplice for a secret society of Eldian Restorationists , whom he fell into a sick and twisted type of love with. The mother to his first son, Zeke.
The thought of Zeke had Grisha’s mind doing marathons, all the things he wished he could apologize for. “I’m sorry, Zeke, for the hell that… that I’m about to unleash upon you.” He had a bottle of tainted wine nestled behind a few medical journals on his bookshelf. Grisha opened a bottle full of the dark red wine swirling with glowing particles, and gave himself a generous pour into the finest glass goblet he owned.
“Here’s to the unwritten future, may you survive and reunite with that which you have lost.” The cup of poison was merely insurance for survival, bitter with the taste of regret. Grisha swallowed every last drop of the resentful crimson.
…
…
Eren had fled home. Every step brought him closer to revealing his lies once more, while Armin and Mikasa remained heavily on his mind. What was once a cozy, inviting home full of warmth and a mother’s loving touch had become a dusty, pest-ridden metropolis that gave the Undercity a run for its money. Those distant memories of a happier time in his life had almost completely faded away, just like the color in his mother’s old curtains.
Stepping over the entry into desolation was a sensation Eren had become familiar with every visit. The door remained ajar even after Eren had shut it behind him, the warped frame too tight against the heavy wooden door. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, and with every step Eren left footprints like he was stepping through snow.
The smell of rot and decay permeated the air, just as he had remembered it, almost fondly. The tiny whimper from his own emptiness was quickly silenced by the sound of footsteps coming from the basement stairs. Grisha held his briefcase tightly, knuckles turning white as he looked to the floor. The sudden appearance of his father nearly knocked the air out of Eren, as he made a quiet wheeze once their eyes met. Grisha’s eyes widened upon seeing his son for the first time in over two years.
“Dad. Dad. Dad , I-I I saw them .” Grisha cleared his throat as Eren practically bounded over, that familiar crazed look in his eye. Eren’s desperation came in the form of gripping Grisha’s coat, holding on tight enough the man couldn’t move. “They’re alive .” With Eren begging for attention and praise, Grisha didn’t know where to begin.
“That’s good, Eren. Did it make you happy?” Every word was laced with poison as Grisha spoke, keeping his voice level and as calm as possible to avoid Eren’s quick-fuse triggers.
“I think so. I felt… something , when I was with them.” Eren’s gaze flickered to the briefcase Grisha held, the soft golden gaze hardening to sharp amber. “What are you… where are you going?” With Eren’s attention on Grisha’s briefcase, he hid it behind his back and had to remain steady as Eren’s trembling hands came to grab his collar. As Eren pushed him into the wall, Grisha had to retain balance to not drop the briefcase and its delicate contents.
“I still have work to do in Paradis. As I’ve said before, I won’t be joining you.” How Grisha wanted to avoid saying those words, to watch Eren’s heart break all over again by his eye alone.
“No, no, no! You can’t stay. You promised me. You promised .” Grisha was once weak to Eren’s begging and his toxic charms of innocence, easily manipulating people he came across. Grisha bit into his cheek as he had to avoid Eren’s watery gaze. “Dad, please. Please don’t go.”
“ Eren .” Hearing his name from Grisha caused Eren to freeze, relaxing his grip long enough for Grisha to wiggle himself free. “Please, don’t hold it against me. We both know there might still be people in Marley who would recognize me, we can’t risk it. I have to stay here.” Nearly every word caused visible recoil from Eren, who looked to his father with resignation in his eye.
“To hell with people recognizing you! These… these rats don’t deserve you!” Eren’s pain was temporarily masked by rage, a seething, jealous pain that lit his every nerve. “What the fuck has Paradis ever done for you?! Nothing! Leave it!” Grisha couldn’t look Eren in the eye at that moment, glancing up to the cobweb-ridden ceiling.
“Eren, please don’t do this.”
“I’m already doing this. And you’re not backing out like a coward now!” Eren had pointed a finger at Grisha, nail digging into his collarbone as he was set on driving his words into his father’s head. Coward . That’s what exactly does it, coward . Grisha is once again reminded where Eren gets his blinded rage from.
“ Coward ? After all of… this , that’s what you’re calling me? No, Eren. A coward is not the same thing as someone who's being cautious, ” Grisha’s voice grew louder with every word that was enunciated and was followed by a growl, his distaste becoming increasingly prevalent. “I’m not going to throw away everything I have here to follow your dream.” Eren was reaching his boiling point, the yellow lightning dancing around his body as a threat.
“Then you are going to die here, hated by everyone you once cared about. You’re going to fucking rot in hell, Grisha. ” Grisha scoffed, unable to hide his own loathing from Eren.
“I already knew that. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I still went along with it. I have no one to blame but myself.” The light died as Eren ran out of proverbial steam. He watched his father readjust his collar and smooth out his coat, the briefcase still secure in his grasp. Grisha could see the physical shift as Eren’s demeanor changed, the lost puppy-eyed look once again on his face.
“Please. Please. Please please please don’t leave me too. ” Grisha pointedly ignored the footsteps that followed him, even as he neared the coat rack by the door to retrieve his hat. Eren’s emotions were a tangled web of seething hatred and agony, sweeping the empty open room like a storm. Grisha’s fingertips only grazed the door handle before Eren had seized his arm in a shaky grip. “Please. I didn’t mean-”
“Yet it’s true, isn’t it? How long are you going to keep lying?” Grisha glanced over his shoulder, met with Eren’s bandaged half of his face. From the way Eren was trembling behind him, he knew his boy was crying. “Look, I… I can’t go with you. We both know this. We both knew this. And… I’m sorry. Hell, your entire life has been my biggest lie.” Grisha couldn’t stop the regret that bled into his words, yet he let them. The tears fogging his glasses weren’t held back either.
“I know. I know .” Eren wiped his tears on the back of Grisha’s coat, ignoring the disgusted recoil. “You didn’t want another Titan to fall into Marley’s hands. You were supposed to die after I ate you.” Memories of that night full of tears, begging, screaming, and finally a Titan-sized child filled Grisha’s consciousness.
“I don’t know how I’m alive.” Grisha slowly eased his way out of Eren’s sweaty hold on his arm, hand now firmly grasping the door handle. “I don’t want to know why I’m alive. I’m only going to use this as a sign to keep moving forwards. Something you should do, too. You’re trapped in the past, Eren. Let go .”
Eren looked on in silence as his father slipped out the door, leaving behind the key to the cellar hanging from the handle of their- Eren’s - front door. Crumpling to the dirty, dusty floor had become the least of his problems. Every sob wracked through his body painfully, while he weakly grasped at his chest in effort to soothe his breaking heart.
He’s said goodbye to them all now.
…
…
The Gate of Shiganshina was about to open. The Scouts were headed out for another expedition, unaware of an unknown figure within their ranks. He wore his cloak over his head, obscuring his face from view. The man who’s uniform he stole remained an unknown, unnamed body on a dark and dirty street.
Eren waited for several hours until the expedition was far enough away from the Walls into what ‘ humanity ’ thought was the uncharted. As a horde of Titans descended upon the humans, Eren made a convenient escape by faking his death. Even by being stepped on he knew he wouldn’t die, so he embraced the temporary pain that awaited him. Every minute playing dead he could spend in his head.
The group Eren was meant to intercept were only a few hours away on foot, time cut short if he was traveling via a Titan. He’d never transformed before, but he could remember his father’s warnings. The first time was uncontrollable.
Eren would simply control a Titan instead.