Work Text:
Historia rocked back and forth gently on the wooden chair. The sun was setting slowly and she could see it perfectly from her front porch. It had lost its effect though, she had spent many nights like this. She was used to it, the sunsets were no longer beautiful to her. They hadn’t been beautiful in years, nor was anything else. Days were long and cold and Historia couldn’t remember half of them. She’d bury herself in blankets at night and try to get warm but warmth never came.
So she sat outside, bringing the baby with her sometimes but not tonight. It was silent aside from the rustling of leaves every once-in-a-while. Historia could hear herself breathe, blink, and swallow, she could hear herself think. A bird fluttered by which offered some relief, but it left just as soon as it came. It looked red, a robin, perhaps?
Her hand drifted to the small table next to her chair, picking up the now cold cup of tea she had made. Historia took a sip anyway, it still had flavour. It’s not like it mattered, it’s not like it would kill her, she thought. She inhaled deeply, trying to consume as much of the scent as she could.
It was times like these, times where she could barely see the sun, when she let herself think of Ymir. A few years ago, the brunette would hardly leave her mind. Not a second would go by without Historia remembering those freckles, those eyes. Eyes ever teasing and joking, never leaving her own. Eyes so devoid of emotion, except when Ymir looked at her. Ymir told her all the time, how Historia made her feel things, how she wanted to marry her. It astounded her how honest Ymir was about her feelings and how unashamed she was. There that word is again, Historia thought. Was. Ymir was, she no longer is.
A tear fell from Historia’s eyes, and then another. Pretty soon she was a waterfall, struggling to breath and choking out Ymir’s name over and over again. She convinced herself if she said it enough she’d see her again. Historia needed to see her again or else she’d-
She let out a broken sigh. If she didn’t see Ymir again she’d forget. She’d forget those freckles and those eyes. She’d forget that joking tone and those constant proposals. Historia couldn’t forget, she just couldn’t. She thought of this problem a few months ago and thought of a solution. She had asked Jean if he could draw Ymir for her, and he did but it didn’t feel right. Jean drew how he saw Ymir, not how Historia did. It was distorted and she couldn’t look at it without collapsing into tears. The drawing was tucked away in an old cabinet, it was better that way.
The sun was almost completely covered now, only an outline of light was left. Historia wiped her tears away, readying herself to go inside, when something happened that had never happened before. She lit a lantern and took one last look at the horizon, expecting to see a fading sunlight over the gate of the fence. What she saw instead, took her a moment to process.
A figure stood in front of the dying light. Historia couldn’t make out any features or their face, so she called out. It could’ve been someone from the town down the road, but she knew it wasn’t. They wouldn’t have come this late.
“Hello?” She put her hand over her eyes to see better. “Who are you?”
The figure didn’t respond, it simply opened the gate and took a few steps towards the porch, which was still a small distance away. Historia swallowed, who the hell was that? Did they know who she was?
“Would you like me to repeat myself?” The figure only came closer. “Who are-”
Historia’s voice died in her throat as the figure began running toward her, their face now beginning to be illuminated by the lantern on the porch. Her heart surged. This was a dream. It had to be. She was sleeping and now she was going to wake up. Historia had had this dream before, it always ended too soon.
“Kris- Historia!” The figure shouted out, getting closer and closer to the steps. Historia fell to her knees, clasping a hand over her mouth.
Ymir was running towards her. She was screaming her name, her voice growing more desperate with each step. Ymir’s hair was longer, it was flowing in the wind beginning to tangle, but her eyes were the same. Her eyes and her freckles and her voice. Ymir was exactly how she remembered her.
By the time she reached the steps, Historia was sobbing and Ymir was panting. They were loud and crying but it didn’t matter because neither of them hesitated in embracing each other.
“Historia, Historia, Historia,” Ymir breathed. “I’m…”
Historia wrapped her arms around Ymir, holding her as close as possible and not caring whether it hurt. Ymir was crying now too, and Historia realized that it was the first time she’d witnessed the taller girl cry.
“Tell me it’s real,” Historia wept. “Tell me it’s not a dream, please, please.”
Ymir backed up to see Historia’s face. She swallowed, her open mouthed pants turning into a breathless grin. “I can- I can show you. I’ll show you it’s real.”
Without a second's hesitation, Ymir grabbed the sides of Historia’s face and smashed their lips together. She had felt she’d done enough waiting, now was not the time to take things slow. Their lips moved together, Historia now pulling on Ymir’s shoulders, beckoning the other girl closer.
They both pulled away for air, but went back for more.
“Ymir,” Historia cried, her face still tear-streaked.
Ymir finally took in the girl in front of her. Even though both of them were on their knees now, Ymir still towered over Historia. Ymir leaned in and pressed her forehead to Historia’s, their eyes never leaving each other.
“I’m…” Ymir pulled Historia into a deep hug. “I’m never leaving you. Nev- never again.”
“Okay.” Historia took a deep breath in, for the first time in a while.