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“Besides, now I don’t have to look at your ugly mug in that basement.” Hitch grumbled while facing her with her back as she prepped their horse.
“I’ll also be freed from having to listen to you yammer about boys.” Annie retorted dryly. She was still processing everything that was happening to her. Even though she is a titan shifter, it shouldn’t be a surprise that she was still feeling her head spinning for moving so much right after being confined for four years in her crystal.
Hitch wasn’t very pleased, to say the least, when learning about Annie’s former, or rather (un)predictably continuous state of consciousness. An apology was on the tip of Annie's tongue when her former colleague blushed furiously before she fell silent when the realization struck her, as if her brain had flashed back to her most embarrassing anecdotes she thought she had confided in a statue about. However, Annie refrained from doing so– if it weren’t for Hitch's tales, Annie was certain she would’ve died from sheer boredom before the curse of Ymir claimed her.
The ride through the streets of the Stohess district was mercifully still animated with Hitch’s chatter. Seeing the ruins of the same city she had reduced to ash and blood for a hope of a peaceful future, and three hearty meals a day, revved in her a renewed sense of guilt as she realized that despite her irredeemable crimes, Marley hadn’t been remotely wrong about how the future of the world would pan out if they hadn’t stopped Eren.
Overwhelmed with feelings of regret, shame, despair all at once, she felt her guards lower down much unlike moments ago, when she was ready to slit Hitch’s throat open.
As she told Hitch about her father, a lump gradually growing in her throat and eyes burning with unshed tears, she didn’t realize when she had exactly lowered her forehead against her former comrade’s back, or when did Hitch exactly subtly start to lean back in.
A pillar of support, physically and morally. Annie had never had that.
Never support or consolation. Not from anyone, ever. Even if all her supposed enemy could offer was nothing short of condolences for the inevitable loss of her father.
And Annie hadn’t exactly tried to offer the same for anyone else. She could barely soothe herself let alone offer a shoulder to cry on for others.
Perhaps the only person Annie felt she could make an exception for, if she ever tried to be a better person, was none other than Hitch.
Her comrade.
Her roommate.
Her... friend.
The latter thought stirred something akin to distress in her that made Annie frown.
As Annie proceeded to peel off her cape and jacket in the furthest corner of the room they were staying in for the night, her brain filtered through her memories and buried feelings, trying to pinpoint the origin of the dismay she's been feeling when thinking about the nature of her bond with the taller woman.
She stared at Hitch’s back as she changed into her night clothes, stood in the opposite corner of their shared room, the wheels inside of her head turning, while she recounted each compliment disguised in a form of a complaint or a whine that made it past Hitch’s lips before she huffed and promptly turned her back, albeit not fast enough for Annie to miss the hue of pink dusting the other woman’s cheeks.
In a non-comprehensible, yet a Hitch-like attitude, her former comrade never changed or tried to act any different around her even when Annie was immobile and incapable of having a single word in a hours-long monodirectional conversation.
And through all those countless times Annie had felt like rolling her eyes at Hitch if it weren’t for her eyelids practically sewn shut, she recollected the few times where her roommate sounded so lonely and chagrined.
And with those memories came the repressed desire to comfort her then. Or rather, the memory of wanting so flooded the front of her brain.
Despite their differences; who they were and what they fought for.
Offer her a shoulder to cry on as she let that meticulously crafted facade of “I am doing fucking fine, thank you very much” crumble.
Hold her in her arms as her body quaked with choked sobs. Cup her face and thumb those tears away, look her in the eyes and–
Annie swallowed thickly as she folded her clothes neatly for a makeshift pillow to rest her head atop for what she knew would be a long night of tossing around and dwelling on everything that has happened and will ever.
She took a breath in, then a breath out. The eerie silence of the night should've haunted her yet, she found undeniable comfort in it because it allowed her to think while clear-headed.
What did she even have to lose? This might as well be her last night in this world, and that was her being an optimist.
“Hitch?” She breathed, her heartrate rising a notch the moment the other blonde woman turned to look at her, arching a thin eyebrow in question.
Without saying more, Annie fluidly crossed the distance between them before stopping dead in her tracks when she was mere inches apart from Hitch.
Her comrade.
Her roommate.
Her friend.
And the person she came to love deeply without even realizing it. She was an utter fool, truly.
“Annie?” Hitch’s voice came out raspy, and as the moonlight reflected on her face, Annie was able to make out that hue of pink on her cheeks she adored.
So, she rose on her tiptoes and pushed every voice screaming at her to back down, retract into her shell because she was safe there, then pressed her lips against Hitch’s.
Her heart dropped when the other fell rigid, so Annie broke off the kiss hastily, her face turning a mortified red. She wished the earth would split in halves and swallow her whole.
But before she could spiral into the vicious cycle of self-loath, she felt Hitch’s cold hands’ cup her steaming hot face.
Their gazes locked then, and she saw the compassion she always thought she was imagining, laid bare in Hitch’s eyes.
Annie closed her eyes the moment Hitch bent down and locked their lips in a tender kiss, feeling good for once about letting things take their natural course.