Paper Airplanes (Ereri - SNK)

Future?

Some people might hate me for this chapter? But eh idc it's my fic Imma write it how I want xD

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It's been almost two months since then. The longer time goes on, the harder it seems to drag myself out of bed, the harder it is to go to therapy appointments...the harder it is to do anything, really. Almost every time I sat in Thomas's office since showing him that drawing, it was due to someone's prodding and coaxing, particularly Mikasa.

Thomas does his best to try and get me to speak, too. To talk about my memories and shovel out the things stuck in my head like leeches, continuously haunting and hurting me. But it's harder to talk about it than it seems, or at least than it should be. There are times when I'll sit there in the chair and stare at the scars on my hands, made by my own teeth, and he'll ask me questions. Sometimes the same questions, about the people around me or the things that happened on expeditions, how my mother died. Sometimes about simply what I had for breakfast. And I won't say a word until he gets tired of my wasting his time and he'll dismiss me.

Other times I speak. Sometimes the answers spill from my tongue without my conscious permission, and sometimes a little voice in my head pushes me to tell him and convinces me letting it out will make me feel better. It never does.

I've thrown several more planes off the top of the wall since the first, too. Random drawings of things Levi told me he was fond of, like tea leaves (he collected them, though I'd never seen said collection) and rain, among other things...things he never told me that I'd just picked up on over the years.

Part of me feels the airplanes reach him, wherever he's gone, and I suppose it gives me some sort of peace. I've spent hours drawing things for him, about him, about us. Through my drawings, I'll convey messages, simply telling him about my day or new things that might pop up. Sometimes I'll draw hours into the night, and occasionally I'll wake up when the moon is watching over to scribble something onto a page in a sudden burst of inspiration. Not everything gets thrown from the wall, but they all pertain to my grief from the death I've breathed in, and not just Levi's. Everyone's.

There have been nights where I'd have fallen asleep in my own bed in the chilly air of the dungeon only to wake up and find myself in his room, in his bed, snuggled between the sheets as if I'd been there the entire night. I can't figure out why, and it's something I've told no one, not even Thomas.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?"

Mikasa and I walk on a stone path through town. She holds her arms behind her back as she gazes upward while I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me, habitually running my thumbs over each other. It's a clear morning, and she's pulled me away from HQ for a walk, though even after half an hour I haven't figured out what the purpose is.

"Hm?"

"Since the titans were exterminated, have you...thought about settling down?"

"Huh?"

"You know...moving out of HQ, finding a house, maybe falling in love? Even, I don't know, starting a family?"

I slow a bit. Sniff. "No, I haven't."

She nods a bit. I glance up, cut my eyes in her direction. She's hooked a finger beneath the scarf around her neck - the one I, or anyone else, have not seen her without since the day I gave it to her. Like all of us, it's witnessed and been through a lot. It's frayed at the ends, but otherwise in fair condition.

"I have," she goes on.

"And?"

She alters our path off the stones and through some buildings until we reach a field, just inside the wall. A few trees sprout out of the ground. Flowers sway in the light breeze that's no more than a breath. Spring is worming its way in.