Chapter Text
The silence of the apartment was loud. It sat heavy against Kate’s eardrums, a thick, velvet weight that smelled faintly of lemon oil, expensive wood polish, and the sterile, recycled air of high-rise living. The apartment felt unfamiliar in a way that had nothing to do with the moving boxes stacked neatly near the entrance. It was spacious without being cavernous, all warm hardwood floors, linen curtains, and soft afternoon light spilling through wide windows overlooking the city. Whoever had designed the place clearly loved natural light, because even now the room glowed, casting long ribbons of amber across the floorboards.
Kate stepped further into the common area, her sneakers silent on the expanse of hardwood. The realization that she was all alone in a new country came to her faster than she could process it. Paradis was known for their freedom of expression, and in contrast to her life Marley who was built heavily on its rules. Kate no longer wanted any of it, so in her apartment, her doors weren’t closed so she could train, study, or audition. She was there simply for the sake of being there.
Yet, as she moved through the open-plan apartment, she felt the phantom itch to retreat, a nervous twitch in her fingers that had been conditioned into her by decades of strict supervision.
She walked toward the living room, her eyes tracing the architecture. It was spectacular—a bright, open space of warm wood, clean lines, and towering windows that made her feel like she was floating above the city, suspended over a world she wanted to belong in. She reached the center of the room and stopped, her gaze drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the glass, the city was beginning to ignite. Windows across neighboring buildings blinked awake one by one, headlights stitched glowing ribbons through the streets below, and somewhere in the distance the skyline shimmered beneath the approaching dusk.
She dropped her last box—a small, battered thing labeled “Misc” in her own shaky handwriting—onto the pristine floor. The sound was a harsh, physical intrusion on the silence, a dull thump that seemed to startle the very air. She didn't flinch. Instead, she let her hands fall to her sides, her shoulders dropping in a way they never would have in her father’s house.
She walked over to the armchairs, her fingers trailing over the smooth, butter-soft leather. It was perfect. Every cushion was fluffed to a precise, calculated height; every fold was set in a professional, artful drape. She paused, her hand hovering over a velvet throw pillow. Her father’s voice, a cold, detached lecture on order and presentation, echoed faintly in her mind.
“Kate, a home is a reflection of the family’s standard. Don’t let it slip.”
She looked at the pillow. Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, she gripped the corner and tossed it.
It landed skewed, halfway off the arm of the chair, ruining the symmetry.
Kate felt a jolt of genuine, terrifying adrenaline. She waited for the panic to set in, for the familiar, suffocating need to rush forward and fix it, to restore the order. She waited for the shame. But it didn’t come. Instead, a strange, tingling warmth bloomed in her chest. She wasn't being watched. There were no housekeepers coming to reset the stage, no judges taking notes on her presentation.
She turned and began to pace the floor, slowly, methodically testing the space. She wandered into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the cool marble. The kitchen was sleek without feeling cold. A broad quartz island sat at its center, framed by warm oak cabinets and brushed brass fixtures. She ran her palm across the countertop, feeling its cool, smooth surface before opening the refrigerator. It had everything she needed, arranged in their little sections, a few vegetables that her mother had sent her off with.
She hummed, “ Guess I should go grocery shopping later..” she muttered to herself.
She closed the fridge and leaned back against the counter, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor, her legs pulled up to her chest. She felt small here—not the "small" she felt when her father belittled her, but a "small" that felt like freedom. It was a vast, open space that she hadn't yet been forced to shrink into.
She sat there in the growing dark for a long time, watching the way the city lights shifted and bled through the immense glass, casting long, bruised shadows across the hardwood. As the shadows deepened, turning the sharp angles of the designer furniture into soft, blurred shapes, the apartment seemed to expand around her. The towering ceilings, the uninterrupted windows, and the infinite sprawl of the city beyond made her feel impossibly tiny, as though the sheer magnitude of the quiet might swallow her whole.
A sudden, sharp knot twisted in her stomach.
Do I deserve to be here?
The intrusive thought climbed into her throat until she could hear nothing over the frantic, heavy pounding of her own heartbeat.
Please… someone tell me I belong here.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her palms against her sockets, trying to manufacture the sensation of being elsewhere.
Just wait,
she told herself, the mantra cycling through her mind like a broken record.
Wait for it. Someone will come.
She had always been a master of being alone, but there was a distinct, shivering difference between solitude and abandonment. She listened intently, her senses heightened to an agonizing degree. The building groaned—a deep, metallic settling in the bones of the skyscraper—and she flinched, her heart leaping into her throat.
She uncurled her legs, the floor feeling hard and unforgiving beneath her. She stood up, her movements restless and jerky. She needed to anchor herself. She wandered back into the living room, drawn like a moth to a flame back toward the massive windows. The city outside felt like a vast, indifferent ocean of light, and she was stranded entirely alone high above its raging currents. She looked at her reflection in the dark glass—a ghostly, pale outline set against the glowing neon grid of the skyline.
She looked at her reflection in the dark glass—a ghostly, pale outline against the neon grid of the skyline. She looked like a doll that had been placed in a display case and then forgotten. She felt that familiar, cold panic rising, the urge to reach out and touch something—anything—to prove she was real, that she wasn't just another piece of expensive inventory in her father's collection.
She pulled out a small framed photograph of herself, Kyle, and Kiara beneath a warm Marleyan sun.
Kiara smiled brightly at the camera, long black hair spilling over her shoulders, her deep blue eyes almost identical to their father's.
Kate and Kyle stood on either side of her, matching brown hair tousled by the summer breeze. Their mismatched eyes—one blue, one red—caught the sunlight as they grinned at the camera.
Beside them, Kiara looked almost as though she belonged to another family.
Kiara Hansen.
The odd one out.
Kate traced the edge of the frame with her thumb, her gaze lingering on her sister's smile.
Beneath it lay a pair of worn-out, lumpy woolen socks that Sasha had impulsively gifted her for her birthday. She held the socks to her chest, the coarse, cheap wool scratching against her skin. It was a tangible, messy, imperfect reality. She squeezed her eyes shut again, fighting the urge to cry—not because she was sad, but because the contrast between this beautiful, soulless cage and the warmth of the people she loved was becoming unbearable.
Please, she thought, the plea directed at the heavy mahogany door she had walked through earlier.
Please be real.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ now playing: Landslide —Fleetwood Mac
Just then, a faint, rhythmic chime hummed through the walls. The elevator.
Kate froze, her breath hitching in her throat. She stayed on the floor, the woolen socks gripped tightly in her hand, her eyes fixed on the hallway. The mechanical ding of the elevator arriving sounded like a symphony. Then, the muffled, energetic thud of footsteps, and the unmistakable, boisterous sound of Sasha’s laugh, followed by Mikasa’s lower, calm reply.
The pressure in her ears snapped. The room, which had seemed to be expanding into an infinite, lonely void, suddenly shrank back to the size of a living room.
Kate exhaled, a ragged, shuddering sound, and began to scramble to her feet, hiding the socks behind her back before she realized she didn't need to hide anything at all. She stood there, waiting, as the keys jingled in the lock—the most beautiful, chaotic sound she had ever heard.
The muffled debate on the other side of the door was the most grounding sound Kate had ever heard. It was an ordinary, human sound, completely devoid of the performative elegance she’d grown up surrounded by.
"Mikasa, are you sure this is the right place? It looks way too fancy for someone like... well, for us." Sasha’s voice was pitched high, followed by the clatter of a rogue suitcase wheel bumping against the hallway trim.
"Yes, for the fifth time, Sasha," Mikasa replied, her tone a perfect, unflappable anchor. "The address is 4209. This is 4209."
There was a pause, a brief metallic scrape—likely Sasha trying to find a doorbell—and then the heavy mahogany door swung open.
Kate stood in the center of the room, her heart finally settling into a steady, rhythmic cadence. As the two girls spilled into the entryway, the apartment seemed to visibly shift. The pristine, museum-like atmosphere vanished instantly, replaced by the chaotic, vibrant energy of life. Sasha was wearing a faded oversized hoodie that looked like it had survived a dozen laundry cycles, and Mikasa carried a duffel bag slung over her shoulder with the effortless ease of someone who knew exactly who she was.
"Whoa," Sasha breathed, her eyes widening as she took in the panoramic sprawl of the living room. She did a slow spin, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. "Kate, this place is so pretty!!” Sasha immediately dropped her suitcase by the door and rushed past Kate, pressing her palms on the glass that separated their world from the city, “Oh my.. Mika, look you can see UP from here… AND LOOK THERE'S 7-ELEVEN"
Mikasa walked past her, her gaze softening as she saw Kate standing there, looking smaller than usual against the grand backdrop of the city. She didn't say anything about the vastness of the room; she just walked over and pulled Kate into a brief, solid hug. The touch was firm—real.
"You okay? You look exhausted," Mikasa noted, her voice low.
Kate let out a shaky, half-laugh, the tension finally evaporating from her shoulders. “ Well yeah, moving is tiring in itself. I had a lot of stuff.”
Mikasa didn't let go immediately. She held the hug for a second longer, her hand resting firmly on the back of Kate’s neck—a grounding, physical anchor that made the vastness of the room feel irrelevant. She pulled back just enough to study Kate’s face, her dark eyes searching for the truth behind the smile.
"We missed you," Mikasa said, her voice dropping into that quiet, perceptive tone that always seemed to read right through Kate’s defenses. “ We’re happy to be here with you, Kate.”
Kate’s eyes widened slightly, then they softened, showing Mikasa a smile.
“ Hell yeah we are,” Sasha declared, already halfway to the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing her face against the glass like a child at an aquarium. "But look, we didn't actually bring any of our stuff in yet. We left the bulk of our gear at the dorms—the administration was being a total pain about move-in times, so we figured we'd come find you first.”
“ You guys didn’t have to do that, I would've picked you up from campus.” Kate frowned.
Mikasa let out a short, soft scoff, her hand finally sliding from Kate’s neck to her shoulder, giving it a playful, firm squeeze. "We know you would have. You would have been waiting at the curb with the engine running and the trunk open five minutes before we even got out."
She stepped back, finally giving Kate a little space to breathe, though her eyes remained locked on her friend’s. "But you’ve been 'the person who takes care of everything' your whole life, Kate. We wanted to be the ones who came to you for once. Besides," she turned toward Sasha, who was currently trying to see if she could leave a smudge on the glass with her forehead, “ that’s what friends are for right?”
Sasha whipped around, her oversized sleeves flapping as she gestured wildly. "Exactly! We had a bet, actually. I said you’d be pacing the floor trying to organize your books by color. Mikasa said you’d be standing in the middle of the room staring out the window,”
Kate blinked, the corners of her mouth twitching. "And who won?"
"Technically, me," Mikasa said, a ghost of a smirk appearing.
The playfulness of their exchange did more to dismantle the apartment's polished, almost intimidating atmosphere.
"I have the car," Kate said, feeling a surge of genuine, unburdened energy. She grabbed her keys from the counter, the metal jingling—a bright, sharp sound against the quiet.
“ We should probably get dinner on the way back too,” Sasha pondered, already drooling at the thought of what Kate might cook. “ I’ll get the ingredients while Mikasa loads all our stuff in the trunk.”
"Deal," Kate laughed.
As they made their way toward the door, Sasha paused, looking back at the vast, empty space of the apartment. She didn't look impressed by the luxury anymore; she looked like she was already mapping out where they’d put a pizza box, a pile of laundry, and maybe a few stray posters.
"You know," Sasha said, her voice dropping to a rare, sincere register, "this place is huge. But it’s not going to be empty for long. You’re stuck with us now."
Kate looked at the two of them—Sasha, the chaotic force of nature, and Mikasa, the steady, quiet center of her world. The fear of the "vastness" that had been swallowing her whole just an hour ago was gone, replaced by a warm, crowded certainty.
"Good," Kate said, and she meant it. "I don't think I'd know what to do with all this quiet anyway."
She held the door open for them, the two girls went ahead and stepped out of the home that the three of them now share together.
Kate turned back to lock the door, the soft jingle of her keys echoing through the quiet corridor. She tested the doorknob once before shoving the keys into her pocket.
"Kate, when are you going to bring your cat here?" Sasha asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"You mean Fluff?" Kate tilted her head, she shoved the keys into the pockets of her lavender hoodie. “ I’ve yet to ask if they allow animals here in the apartment.”
Sasha gasped dramatically. "You mean there's a chance they don't?"
"I'm hoping they do," Kate replied with a small shrug as they made their way toward the elevator. "If not... I'll have to figure something out."
"If they don't," Mikasa chimed in as the elevator doors slid open, stepping aside to let Kate stand between them, "I'm sure Eren wouldn't mind looking after him for a while."
Kate stopped dead in her tracks.
"Hell no."
She turned to Mikasa with genuine horror etched across her face.
"There is absolutely—absolutely no way in hell I'm leaving my son in the hands of.. the Eren Yeager."
"What's wrong with Eren?" Sasha asked, tilting her head. Kate pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Lord... where do I even start? Everything is wrong with Eren."
"That's a little harsh," Mikasa muttered
"Mikasa, I can't leave Fluff alone with him for more than five minutes."
"He's not going to hurt your cat."
"Maybe not intentionally," Kate shot back. "But somehow Fluff would come back muddy, soaking wet, and mysteriously missing for six hours."
Sasha snorted, already trying to picture it.
"Honestly..." Kate sighed as the elevator doors slid shut behind them. She leaned against the handrail, absentmindedly curling a finger around the ribbon scarf hanging from her neck.
"He's one of my best friends and all, but... my point still stands."
The elevator eased into its descent. Kate felt the familiar dip in her stomach, the sensation creeping into her chest as the floor seemed to fall away beneath her. Her grip on the handrail tightened almost imperceptibly. She focused on the illuminated numbers above the doors instead of the feeling, counting each passing floor until the discomfort dulled.
Without a word, Mikasa's hand found hers. Her fingers slipped between Kate's with quiet certainty, giving a gentle squeeze that said everything she chose not to voice.
Kate glanced sideways.
"...Thanks."
Mikasa only hummed, her attention still on the floor display. "Mm."
On Kate's other side, Sasha noticed the exchange and, deciding that one gesture of affection clearly wasn't enough, dramatically rested her head on Kate's shoulder.
Kate smiled. It was small enough that most people would've missed it, no more than the slightest lift at the corners of her mouth. But Mikasa caught it. Sasha did too. Neither of them pointed it out. They simply stayed where they were.
A soft chime echoed through the elevator.
Ground Floor.
The doors slid apart with a quiet hiss.
The cool air of the lobby greeted them first, carrying the faint scent of polished stone and freshly brewed coffee from a café tucked into one corner. A concierge offered them a courteous nod as they crossed the marble floor, while a courier maneuvered a trolley stacked with packages toward another bank of elevators.
Sasha stretched her arms over her head as they stepped through the revolving doors.
The late afternoon greeted them with a pleasant breeze, warm enough to carry the lingering scent of summer. Cars rolled steadily past the entrance while the city buzzed around them, alive in the effortless way cities always seemed to be.
Kate clicked the unlock button on her key fob.
A few spaces away, the silver-gray Range Rover responded with a pair of flashing headlights and a cheerful chirp.
"There she is," Sasha grinned, immediately making a beeline toward it.
"I still can't believe this is your car."
Kate shrugged as she fell into step beside her.
"It gets me where I need to go."
"It sure is one hell of a ride to be 'just getting where you need to go.'"
Kate blinked. "What does that even mean?"
"I mean…" Sasha gestured broadly at the SUV,
"She's not that fancy, c'mon. She's a few years old already."
Sasha stared at her in complete disbelief.
Kate sighed through another laugh.
“Get in the car, Sasha."
The drive to the university felt less like a commute and more like a gentle decompression, the hum of the Range Rover’s engine vibrating a steady, rhythmic lullaby against Kate’s palms. Outside, the world was no longer a blur of high-speed steel and glass from the apartment window; it was textured, tactile, and achingly alive. She navigated the campus arteries with a quiet, newfound ease, eventually tucking the SUV into a parking bay near the common housings, where the air smelled faintly of dust, old brick, and the electric ozone of a new beginning.
"Kate, you can wait for us over at 104th Field," Sasha said, her voice bright and unburdened as she hopped out of the passenger seat. She pointed across the sprawling, verdant expanse of the lawn, where the late-afternoon sun was casting long, honey-colored fingers across the grass. "It’s the best spot for people to wait. Watch, we’ll be down with the rest of our lives in a box in just a bit."
"Don't get lost," Mikasa added with a teasing glint in her eyes as she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. "We’ll be back before you even realize we’re gone."
Kate watched them go, their silhouettes shrinking against the vast backdrop of the campus. She didn't head straight to the field immediately; instead, she took a moment to just breathe.
"I'm not a child," she mumbled to herself.
She slipped her AirPods into her ears and opened Spotify.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ Now Playing: Here Comes a Thought — Steven Universe
(I love you Kate)
She leaned back against the cool metal of her car, feeling the quiet pulse of the university around her—the distant chatter of students, the rustle of leaves in the ancient trees, and the low, steady murmur of a day winding down.
She began the short walk toward the 104th Field, her steps light and unhurried on the pavement. The field itself was a cathedral of green, a massive, unmanicured sanctuary that seemed to draw the entire campus into its orbit. She found a spot near the gnarled, protective roots of a sprawling oak tree, sinking down into the grass with a sigh that felt like it had been held in her lungs for years.
Here, the world wasn't a performance. It was a mosaic. She watched a group of students sprawled out on a picnic blanket, their heads bent over shared notes, and felt a strange, piercing pang of longing—not for the life she had left, but for the simplicity of just existing alongside others.
Across the expanse of the field, a familiar, chaotic energy caught her attention. A small group of guys had staked their claim near the center, their voices carrying on the breeze like fragmented music. They were setting up a game, their movements loose and unrefined, completely indifferent to the "order" Kate had been trained to worship. She watched them, a small, secret smile finding its way onto her lips. For the first time, she didn't feel the need to straighten her posture or mask her gaze. She was a silent observer in a world that didn't know her name, and for right now, that was exactly enough.
The grass at 104th Field was still slightly damp under Kate’s sneakers, soft enough that each shift of her weight barely made a sound. She had chosen a bench near the edge of the field without thinking too hard about it, just somewhere far enough from the main activity that she could exist without being noticed.
Sasha and Mikasa had left her there a while ago, vanishing into the maze of the dormitory blocks with promises that they’d be “right back.”
But "right back" stretched into a sprawling, golden expanse of time.
Kate didn’t mind. In fact, she leaned into it. She sat with her legs crossed, phone balanced loosely in her hand, the screen glowing faintly against her face—a digital tether to a world she was slowly learning to disconnect from. She scrolled without much attention, reading messages she’d already memorized, watching the progress bar of the afternoon crawl across the sky.
The sun began its slow descent, turning the edges of the trees into shimmering silhouettes of amber and bronze. Around her, the field moved like a distant, hypnotic current. She watched a group of students pack up their frisbees, then a pair of runners do a final, breathless lap, and then, eventually, the shadows grew long and spindly, stretching across the grass like reaching fingers.
She watched the sky shift from a brilliant, piercing blue to a softer, bruised violet. She sat through the transition of the day, becoming a fixture of the park, an unmoving witness to the casual, messy rhythm of university life. Voices rose and fell in the distance; laughter carried on the cooling breeze, hung for a heartbeat, and then faded into the rustle of the leaves.
Somewhere far off, a rhythm took hold—the metallic clink of a bat, a rhythmic, repetitive percussion that underscored the evening. Every so often, a burst of shouting erupted from the center of the field—a surge of youthful, unrefined energy—but it didn't concern her. It was just background noise, a soothing, human soundtrack to her solitude.
The world was slowing down, and Kate was drifting with it. She didn't track the minutes; she didn't check the time. She let the silence of being alone—the real kind, the kind that wasn't pressurized or haunted by her father’s expectations—wash over her until she felt almost invisible. It was easy to stay like this. Unattached. Unbothered. A girl resting in the palm of a fading day, letting the encroaching violet shadows swallow the last of her responsibilities.
“Kate!”
The voice was a sudden, sharp intrusion, followed by a blur of motion. Sasha materialized from the periphery, popping into her line of sight with such abrupt energy that Kate flinched, her breath hitching in her throat.
Sasha came to a stop a little too close, slightly out of breath, a triumphant grin spread across her face.
"We're done!"
Kate blinked up at her. "Done?"
"Done done," Sasha nodded enthusiastically. “ Everything is in the car, loaded up.”
Kate glanced past her. "Already?"
"Well..." Sasha rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "It took a little longer than we thought."
"A little?" Mikasa's voice drifted over as she approached, balancing two cardboard boxes in her arms with alarming ease. "Sasha spent twenty minutes trying to decide which snacks deserved their own box."
Kate huffed out the smallest laugh, shaking her head as she stood. "Twenty minutes?" Kate teased, her voice softer than it had been all day, laced with the lingering calm of her solitude. "I hope you at least prioritized the essentials, Sasha."
"Everything is essential!" Sasha declared, grabbing the remaining box and balancing it precariously on her hip. "If I have to choose between a box of instant noodles and my sanity, I'm choosing the noodles every time.”
“I never did understand you and your love for instant noodles,” Kate murmured, a genuine, easy smile touching her lips as she pulled her keys from her pocket. The metal jingled—a bright, sharp sound against the quiet of the evening.
“ I’ll cook you some if you’re ever too lazy to make dinner” Sasha grinned, Kate looked at her with poorly concealed skepticism.
"Instant noodles hardly qualify as cooking."
Sasha placed a hand over her heart as though she'd been mortally wounded.
"It is so! I season them."
"With what?"
"...Love.
“ With love… is that so?” Kate tilted her head, her shoulders lowered as did her guard, Mikasa let out a quiet, rhythmic huff of amusement as she shifted the boxes in her arms, stepping into the space between them.
"See? Mikasa gets it! Besides, Lucky Me instant noodles are already so good you barely have to season them." Sasha pointed a finger at her, already beaming. She nudged Kate with her elbow, her expression softening into something warmer, more earnest.
"But seriously. I'll make you the gourmet version someday. I guarantee it's better than anything your chefs ever made back in Marley."
Kate felt the last vestiges of her guarded, independent shell crack. Looking at the two of them—Sasha, unbothered and ridiculous, and Mikasa, standing as a quiet, steady pillar—the weight she had been carrying all afternoon seemed to evaporate into the cooling evening air. She realized, with a sudden, startling clarity, that she didn't have to carry anything alone anymore.
"Fine," Kate conceded, a genuine laugh bubbling up from her chest as she turned toward the SUV. "But if it isn’t as good as you say, you're on dish duty for the rest of the semester."
"Deal!" Sasha chirped, already scurrying toward the car. Kate settled into the driver’s seat, the leather cool beneath her palms. The engine’s hum replaced the evening’s silence, a steady, rhythmic promise of forward motion. She looked in the rearview mirror, meeting Mikasa’s steady gaze, and for the first time in her life, the future didn't feel like a directive she had to follow—it felt like a destination they were choosing together.
"Everyone buckled?" Kate asked, her hand hovering over the gear shift.
"Ready!" Sasha shouted from the back.
Kate put the car in drive, and as they pulled out of the lot, leaving the quiet sanctuary of the field behind.