Work Text:
Christa wasn’t answering her phone. Or the door. Feeling like there was something urgent, Ymir found the spare key and opened the door with shaking hands. Rushing inside, calling her name, it was too quiet. Seeing the light on in the bathroom, Ymir tried the knob. It was locked, just like the front door. Ymir felt along the top of the doorframe, hoping there would be a key up there. It fell off, and Ymir picked it up, unlocking the door hesitantly. She opened the door, and the voice in the back of her head, the part of herself Ymir hated the most, was proven right. The bathroom was painted with red, and Ymir sank to her knees, tears starting to fall.
Christa was woken by Ymir tossing and turning beside her, making small distressed noises. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Christa sat up. She moved towards Ymir, putting her hand on her shoulder.
“Ymir, wake up.”
That was all it took for Ymir to wake up, starting to cry.
“Ymir, hon, what’s wrong?”
Ymir sat up, continuing to cry. Christa pulled Ymir into her lap, stroking her hair.
“Shh, shh, it was just a dream.”
Ymir shook her head, burying her face in Christa’s shirt, holding her tight. Ymir wanted to talk to her, but was so choked up; all she could do was get as close to Christa as possible, trying to assure herself that she was still here.
Christa shifted so that Ymir could be comfortable. Rubbing her back, she thought about what kind of dream could have made Ymir this upset. Her train of thought stopped suddenly, Christa feeling cold.
“No, no, oh God, Ymir, I haven’t thought about it in so long… I wouldn’t, not now, you forced me to go get help, and I hated you so much for it then, but now I couldn’t be more grateful.”
She nodded, but pushed closer to Christa, and Christa knew Ymir hadn’t been comforted at all. Pushing her hair back, she kissed her neck. Ymir relaxed with a strangled laugh, and Christa set her head on Ymir’s shoulder, staring at the pictures on the wall.
“Remember that time Sasha and Connie scared the shit out of you when we had a campfire? I had forgotten we had a picture of that night… Hold on, Ymir, I never hung those up. Did you..”
Ymir pulled back, and Christa let go of her, a smile growing. Ymir, eyes puffy and face tearstained, smiled back shyly.
“I was going through some boxes the other day, and I found those. You had them in a shoebox, and so I got some frames. I think there are some really old ones, too.”
Christa wiped Ymir’s face gently, and rolled off their bed, pulling Ymir with her to go look at the pictures more carefully. Ymir went reluctantly, blushing furiously.
“Oh my god, Ymir, this one is from …shit, first grade? And you won me this scary plushie in a throwing game. Do I still have it? That first one is from Hanji’s ridiculous pizza party, holy shit! And that’s from when I met my dad and you didn’t leave me alone that whole night…”
Christa ran her fingertips over the glass, smiling. She turned to kiss Ymir, and her attention was caught by two pictures near the end.
“That’s from the day we packed up and moved here, isn’t it? We laughed about how we never did run away together like I wanted… And that one… That’s ninth grade, isn’t it… Fucking hell. I look dead.”
She tore her eyes away from the last picture, looking at Ymir.
“If you put these up today, no wonder you had a nightmare about it.”
Ymir stared at the wall and nodded slightly. Christa rubbed her face, guilting herself.
“I’m so sorry, Ymir…”
Her voice cracked on “sorry”, and Ymir sighed, putting her arms around Christa and their foreheads together.
“It’s not your fault, Christa. I just… It hurts to think about you… not being here. Not wanting to be here.”
Christa looked at Ymir silently, failing to come up with words. Ymir, after a moment, picked her up. Christa squeaked in surprise, smacking her. Ymir sat down on the bed, letting her go. She sat in Ymir’s lap, head resting on hers, and they sat together for a long while.