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They say it was painless.
They say she died quickly.
They say it might not have been an accident.
She shouldn’t have been driving, she should have been at Sasha’s party with the rest of them, but no one had seen her go.
Ymir breaks down when she hears, a day after at school. Heard whispers in the hall, pinpoints someone who tells her, and starts sobbing, blindly finding her way to the bathroom.
It’s her fucking fault, oh God, it is her fault, they were fighting and Ymir upset her and didn’t stop her from leaving, no one stopped her from leaving, what could she have done, what did she not do, why did she have to push her so far God DAMMIT YMIR YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED IT UP THE ONLY PERSON YOU’VE EVER WANTED TO LOVE YOUR BEST FRIEND THE MOST AMAZING GIRL YOU’VE EVER MET HOW COULD YOU-
Ymir’s so cold. So numb.
This isn’t supposed to happen to Historia.
Not her.
Not her.
So there she sits, on the girls’ bathroom floor, panicking at the thought of a world without Historia.
Kind, gentle Historia, sweet and funny and brave and so so strong, smiling and lovely and-
Oh God, she loves her, she loves her, Historia is (Was?) such a beautiful and integral part of her life, how is she going to get through the day without that smile, real or not, how would she be able to deal with school without that gentle presence at her side-
The door opens.
She barely gives it notice, too enveloped in her round-and-round thoughts to care.
“Oh, Ymir…”
Warm arms feel nice, but distant, and she keeps crying, too numb to do anything else.
She’s not quite sure when she wakes up, but she does.
Historia’s holding her, they’re in their bedroom, the covers are everywhere, and- holy shit, Historia’s holding her!
She blinks the blurriness away, pulling back a little bit to face her, eyes wide and scared, and she’s looking at her, confused.
“Ymir?”
She can’t help it.
She cries even more, clinging to Historia like she’s the only thing that matters, that’s ever mattered, and Historia’s stroking her hair, whispering things Ymir doesn’t quite process, but the sound of her voice is so comforting and so familiar. And the way they’re lying, Ymir can hear her heart beat and feel the way her chest rises and falls, she’s breathing so easily, and the gentle rhythm slowly, so slowly, stops her tears, and she’s able to think again.
“That was definitely not the best dream I’ve ever had.”
Her voice is muffled, and cracks slightly, and Historia shakes her head, but Ymir knows she’s smiling.
“Are you gonna be okay?”
She pauses to consider the question, and the silence is enough of an answer for her.
“Never mind. Are you gonna be able to go back to sleep?”
“I think so.”
“Want anything?”
She mumbles a “just you” into her shirt, and Historia shifts onto her side, arm draped over her, kissing her head.
She goes back to sleep pretty fast, but Ymir stays awake a little longer, taking in her warmth and her soft snoring and the way her exhales make their flyaway hairs flutter.
Historia’s okay.