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If Ymir has to break her leg or fake her death to get the hell out of this last final, then those are sacrifices that she is willing to take. She only finally comes to accept her fate as she stands outside of the classroom and is rejected by a deadpan stare from Historia when she pleads with her while handing her a butter knife. Ymir walks into the class feeling more physically ill with each step closer that she takes to a seat. Historia sits up front as usual, the only reason that Ymir does not sit with her in this class. She had tried it a few times but had felt the full blast of condescension that rolls from their professor and had opted to just remain in the seats beyond the radius of her wrath. Anyway, this seat brought her more amusement because she could take note of Historia’s small embarrassing actions that she assumed no one picked up on. Ymir was particularly fond of the time she attempted to itch her nose without raising either hand nor pausing in her note taking. Ymir steels herself as the final prompts are passed out and promises herself that after this horror of a final is over, she will finally get around to asking Historia if she wants to get together and do something over the holidays.
After almost three hours, four hand cramps, and countless furtive glances at Historia as she pretended to check the remaining time, Ymir was walking out of the class. Not walking actually but rushing and peering frantically in all directions to see where Historia had gone. Ymir hadn’t noticed her departure until after she had handed in her exam and was walking out the door looking as if death had sat on her for five hours. Ymir had looked away and quickly finished her last revisions, not wanting to seem too much like she was trying to catch Historia. But by the time she had given her final to her professor while avoiding eye contact, the halls were empty. She felt a hollowness in her stomach that was more profound than missing a meal or taking a college final.
“Ah, missed her?” Ymir turned around zombielike and came face to face with Reiner, who also looked like he could do with a few years of continuous naps.
Ymir grumbled incoherently as Reiner fell into step with her. They walked out and away from the building, Reiner doing various stretches while Ymir continued to tiredly scour the campus.
After they had ordered lunch from a concerned looking cashier and were nearing the apartments, a vibration came from Ymir’s side pocket.
Hey Ymir, hope you have a good break! and I hope the final wasn’t too painful for you. all I know is that I’m about to knock out so I hope you can get some rest now too. I’ll be back in town before new years, maybe we can get together then or something?
Ymir opened and read the text with an impassive face while Reiner looked on at her quizzically. After a few moments of silence, Reiner put his hand on Ymir’s shoulder and waved his other in front of her face. Very slowly, Ymir lowered herself to the grassy ground and rolled over facedown to pound her fist on the ground twice, tossing her phone away from her. Reiner calmly stepped over Ymir and sat himself down on the damp grass, reaching over to read the text on her open phone. Reiner smiled to himself and patted Ymir on the back.
“Sounds like a date.”
“It’s not a date. Fuck. I wish it were a date. It’s a loose suggestion. Not a promise. And it’s so far away.” Ymir rolled over to look at the mildly gray sky that threatened rain as if she was threatening something back.
“Either way, she wants to spend time with you right? Come on, get the hell up, you’re not going to nap here wallowing in your sorrows, because I am not going to stay and watch over you. I am going to sleep. Up.” Ymir limply raised her arm and allowed the task of getting herself upright to fall upon Reiner.
Ymir is unsure whether she’s glad or not that the next three weeks pass in a flurry. She is that much closer to going back to school, but she is also closer to the end of the year, bring that what it may. And if she wasn’t in the mood to kid herself, what she wanted it to bring was Historia.
Christmas comes and goes. Ymir spends it with Reiner who is also avoiding home. He, like Ymir, does not want to have to sleep on the couch like a half wanted guest. Bertholdt and Annie visit in the coming days, carpooling from the same home town. It is not until the 31st approaches that Ymir feels the knot in her abdomen begin to relax.
When New Years Eve finally rolls around, their friends decide that throwing a party to ring in the New Year is a fabulous idea. Ymir soon discovers that she can not even trust her extended friends with the simple task of putting together a tiny, tiny bash without it getting out of hand and going completely to shit after a few hours. The unreliability of their friends left Ymir and Historia on their own trying to find a way back to the apartments in the middle of the night.
"I can't believe how quickly this turned out to be the worst fucking New Years imaginable." Ymir glared at the unchanging street light that taunted her, her teeth chattering as she cursed the night.
Historia kept her arm wrapped around Ymir's elbow, a point of pressure that brought pink patches to Ymir's previously frozen cheeks. "L-let's just jog home. It'll take less time. You can stay over my apartment if you want, yours is too far. Shit! Fuck, fuck this cold, fuckity." Historia begins to jog in place as they wait for the light to change and continues to curse into the night. Not that she ever exactly refrained from cursing, but Ymir found her excessive use of expletives in times of hardship endearing.
Yelling Fuck it! to the heavens, Historia gave up the pretense of being a law abiding citizen and leapt off the curb, beginning to run and dragging Ymir along with her, small hand clasping Ymir's. They jog the next eight blocks only stopping to double over laughing after Ymir half crashes into a tree, sleep deprivation beginning to show. They finally make it to Historia's apartment and Ymir jumps up and down as Historia tries to steady her shaking hands long enough to unlock the door. Ymir runs in ahead and makes a beeline for the heater to turn it up by several degrees while Historia closes the door behind her.
"Historia, we made it, we made it into the warmth of your home before we became huge blocks of diamonds that the campus would probably appropriate as mascots. Fuck. Have you got any warm drinks or anything? Maybe you should take a hot shower, you look awful." A wave of worry washed over Ymir as she looked into Historia's face, finally able to see just how pale and frozen she looked under the lights of her apartment. She walked closer to Historia and reached out her knuckles to graze her cheek. "Your face is completely frozen. Jesus, come on Historia I'll wait out here but you need to get into some warm clothes fast. I'll heat up some water, got any tea bags?" Ymir spins around to look at the kitchen but quickly returns her gaze to the figure who had just clumsily and noisily seated herself in a chair, lowering her face into her palms.
"I'm so dead tired. How did we even manage to make it back here? It's nearly four in the morning." Ymir quickly jogs over and slides on her knees to Historia. She's not entirely sure what to do so she places her hand on Historia's hair as a point of awkward comfort. "Hey, come on, let's go to your room yeah? We can steal the blankets from your roommates and make you a nice blanket fort." Ymir feels like she is trying to coax a young child and decides to give up on words. She gets to her feet and wraps her hands around Historia, slowly raising her from the chair.
"Ymir, it's okay, I'm awake." Ymir moves to lower her hands but Historia wraps her arm around Ymir's waist, leaning on her as she begins to walk to the bedroom. Ymir flicks on the light and leads her to the bed. As Historia sits down Ymir roots through her drawers, searching for impermeable sleep clothes. She finds long sleeve shirts and thick sweat pants for the both of them and turns around to find a reclining Historia, breath beginning to even out. Ymir's brows furrow and she slowly approaches Historia, bending over and whispering into her ear, "Historia? I found you some clothes." Ymir places her hand on Historia's shoulder and gently shakes her. Historia comes to and opens her glossy eyes, weakly grabbing for the bedclothes that Ymir presents. Ymir walks to the bathroom and begins to toss her damp clothes to the floor, feeling very glad that Historia owned clothes that were large enough to accomodate Ymir. Ymir gives it a few minutes to make sure Historia is completely changed before going back.
Ymir walks back into the room to a cacooned Historia hidden in her comforter. As she looks at the rise and fall of the bedsheet, she feels a deep surge of regret that she was unable to tell Historia how she feels. She wishes that she were brave enough to tell her of the pride that she feels well up in her when she sees her stand up to dumbass college boys larger than her 4'9" self, the hope she feels when Historia smiles at her, the immense gratitude and disbelief she feels because for some inexplicable reason Historia continues to be her friend, continues to laugh at her caustic jokes, and doesn't think that she's a monster, doesn't think that she's the immense fuck up that her family has convinced her she is. Ymir's heart feels like it is being wrung and pumped uncomfortably full of air. She knows how large of a space Historia has come to take in her life and has come to realize that there may be no limits to what she was willing to do for her. This thought frightens her because she has never felt like this about anyone before, there have always been limits to what she is willing to do for people. For most people she could easily deny a favor if it inconvenienced her or didn't serve to gain her in any way. She knows that even with her feelings for Historia, she is still primarily selfish. If it was best for Historia's well being that Ymir remove herself from her life, she would refuse to do it. But if Historia asked her to leave, asked her to get away from her, then Ymir would leave. She hopes that it never has to come to that.
Historia moves slightly in her covers and blearily opens her eyes again, gaze falling upon a staring Ymir. Ymir freezes in her spot and quickly roots around in her pocket.
She walks to Historia's nightstand and places down a cell phone. "Here's your phone in case you need it later. Get some rest, yeah? I'll be on the couch if you need me. Night, don't let the icicles bite." Ymir moved to ruffle Historia's hair before walking away but is stopped by Historia's hand on her wrist. Ymir looks down at Historia quizzically as Historia pulls her gently downward, throwing back the covers as she retains her grip on her wrist. Ymir lets herself be pulled down and joins Historia on the bed, laying as close to the edge as possible.
Historia keeps her hand lightly on Ymir's wrist and moves over a bit, gesturing that Ymir should move in from the edge. "Or else you're going to roll over and fall off and wake the whole building with your crash." Historia whispers this monotanously with closed eyes and as Ymir moves inward she turns sideways and drapes her arm across Ymir's stomach. Ymir tenses at the proximity but relaxes as she hears Historia's breath slow. Fuck it, she decides and turns to face Historia, placing her arm over her waist, Historia's arm still draped warmly over her body. Ymir's head is slightly above Historia's and Ymir is unsure whether she'll be able to fall asleep. Fuck the fireworks they saw today, the multiple bombs that are detonating in every single one of her organs have much more power and elicit more emotions from her than shitty cheap ass fireworks. Ymir lightly rests her cheek against Historia's head and decides that for tonight, she'll forget about her misgivings and pretend that the clock will never pass 4AM on New Year's.