Chapter Text
To Whom This May Concern,
Exactly a month ago, I was diagnosed with chronic Friedreich’s Ataxia, a rare genetic disease that causes progressive nervous system damage and movement problems. The doctors gave me 6 months to live. Out of this whole experience, I think the most ironic part was that I was diagnosed on my 18th birthday. So much for “the begging of my new life,” as my foster parents put it. I remember walking out of the hospital Mikasa waiting for me in the car. It was a quiet ride before she asked. “So?”
“The doctors told me I have six months,”
Needless to say, we waited in the driveway before getting into her house, trying to find a way to explain to Eren why I was having such a hard time eating and moving without him exploding. He isn’t one to get mad at us, but rather at the situation. But, as anyone who knew him could tell you, that wasn’t ideal either. In the end, the two of us decided to sit down and tell him and their parents at the same time. Carla started crying almost immediately, Grisha had this look on his face as if he already knew (later we would find out he had a hunch, but never said anything out of fear he was right), and Eren sat there quietly. Eyes tearing up like his mother’s, but body frozen like his dad’s. Mikasa held my trembling hand under the table, stroking it with her thumb to reassure me. I don’t know why I was so anxious telling them, a part of me thinks it was because they are all my family, another thinks that it’s because I fear death. There’s something about being face to face with your own mortality that really starts to change parts of you that you were sure were rock solid.
One of the reasons I was given such little time to live was because of how late I was diagnosed. My parents were killed somewhere in East Asia due to a safari incident, both of them being traveling zoologists. I was around 8 when that happened, so any symptoms I may have had were glossed over as symptoms of depression over anything else. I lived with my grandfather up until I was about 11, then he died of old age. By then I was already friends with Eren, and his adopted sister Mikasa. I lived at their house for about a month while my social worker looked for a place I could stay permanently. Eren used to throw huge fits over the fact that I couldn’t live with them, but looking back you could see how much of a struggle it was to feed the four of them. I could never be mad at either of his parents, they’ve always welcomed me with open arms whether I was living with them or not. But, because of my unstable living situation growing up, none of my foster parents ever saw anything wrong with me. In their eyes, I was just a frail child who was always grieving. I guess grief and depression can take a toll on you physically, somewhere along the line I started to believe them too. Until around two months ago, that is.
Mikasa and I were sitting on her back porch working on homework when it happened. The two of us were waiting for Eren to get back from soccer practice so we could go and get lunch with some other friends of ours. I had to go to the bathroom, but my legs wouldn’t move. By this time, I was used to having to work a little harder than normal to get my body to do the things it’s supposed to do. But it was different. When I forced myself up with my arms, I stood for about 20 seconds before falling limp on the floor, hardly able to move any part of my body. She caught me before my head hit anything, and held me until I got the strength to sit up on my own. Her calm demeanor and gentle voice helped me stay calm, even if I was incredibly frustrated with myself. When I was able to stand up on my own, roughly half an hour later, she helped me walk into her dad’s office so he could do an at-home check-up. When Eren got home, he found me sitting on the couch crying into my hands as Mikasa rubbed my back. She’s always been like an older sister to me, I wouldn’t trade either of them for the world. After Grisha explained to Eren what happened, he sat next to us quietly and once I was composed took just the two of us out to the park instead of our original plans with Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie.
Eren’s been a lot quieter since that day. Not that most could notice, then again not everyone is as close to him as Mikasa and I are. It’s in moments, he’ll be staring at a wall for a little too long, pause in deep thought after a conversation, or just sit still. It’s strange how not moving can be so quiet for such a lively person. He pretends not to notice my illness, not in an asshole way but he just never mentions it. I don’t mind though, after all, who would want to be reminded that their friend’s body is giving up on them slowly? But, it isn’t enough to point out, so instead, the three of us pretend like everything is normal. It’s a little weird at moments, mostly in conversations or situations involving me, but for the most part, everything was back to normal.
There would be days sitting on Eren’s bed, playing video games with him, or trying to get him to watch the new anime I started that week which were well spent. As the three of us became more comfortable with the fact that I was going to die rather soon, Eren would slowly start to talk about my disease, from asking how I was feeling that day all the way to now, making a bucket list for the three of us to kick before my “expiration date” as he calls it. In all honesty, I really appreciate it. Sure, most of the stuff on the list is stuff he wants to do, but I find comfort in facing my own mortality head-on with the people I consider family rather than avoid it alone. And if we are being honest, I never really gave much thought to what I wanted to do with my life, naive thinking I had plenty of time to spare. It does hurt, knowing I’ll never be able to become a marine biologist like my mom. It was really the only thing I wanted for myself, just to spend life on the coast learning about all of the mysteries of the ocean, but from the looks of it, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. At this point, the most I can ask for is to spend my last couple of months surrounded by friends. After all, I don’t really think I’m in any position to be demanding. Death isn’t exactly a pushover.