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845
A ship disappears past the line of the horizon, the smell of sea carried by the wind. Back then, the sun used to shine a lot brighter.
She was wearing an old, worn coat that happened to be far too long for her frame: dark brown in colour, some of its buttons were missing, and it smelled like freshly peeled apples. Thankfully, Dad was carrying her in his arms, so she could wave goodbye to the ship.
847
The crayons spill out in a colourful, loud waterfall, scattered all over the table: Gabi lets go of the box with little care, lunges and grabs the yellow one, fingers splayed as she traps it under her palm.
“Careful,” aunt Karina chides her, gathering all the stray crayons in one place, but Gabi is not interested. Holding the paper down with her left hand, she traces a circle right in the middle of it: since the tip of the crayon is flat, she has to apply far more pressure than needed to get an even stroke.
“What are you drawing, darling?” asks aunt Karina now, looking at her own paper quizzically, red crayon in hand, its tip still sharp. “The sun?”
Gabi shakes her head, lips parted just enough to let the tip of her tongue out: the circle is a bit wobbly, but it serves its purpose. She draws several little strands on top of the circle, not too long, then she traces two small dots in the middle of it. “I need the pink one,” she announces, legs dangling under the table, and she grabs the yellow short crayon with her other hand as if someone could steal it away from her.
“Here,” her aunt stops to pick out the colour she requested, handing it to her: Gabi grabs it with enthusiasm, wasting no time in drawing a large smile right under the two bright yellow eyes. Perfect.
Now, Gabi lets go of the pink crayon and takes a look at what aunt Karina is drawing: it looks like a star, a red one, with several points that remind her of the armband they must wear outside. “What is that?”
Aunt Karina smiles to herself as she explains, “it’s a very important symbol. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”
Gabi has lost all interest in it already: yellow crayon still in hand, she grabs the paper and holds it up for her aunt to see, declaring with pride, “this is Leinel.”
“Reiner,” she chuckles, Gabi pouting at the correction: was her pronunciation wrong? “You’ve been drawing him quite a lot. Do you miss him?”
Instead of answering with words, Gabi averts her eyes, hand clenching around the yellow crayon. She nods: the drawing is not good enough if aunt Karina mistook it for the sun.
“Aunt Kalina,” she tries after a while, gaze tracing the coloured, uneven lines on paper, “when will Leinel come back?”
Gabi remembers asking it already the other day, but maybe if she does it more often then he’ll come back sooner. Aunt Karina sighs, placing the red crayon down with utmost care: she’s not interested in finishing her drawing, it seems. Gabi is not going to lend her the yellow crayon, maybe that’s why.
“Let’s draw something together, shall we? Flowers, butterflies… what do you say?”
Just like the other day, she doesn’t answer.
849
“Aunt Karina,” pipes up Gabi, perhaps rolling her r’s a bit too much, “when did Reiner join the warrior program?”
“I told you already,” she sighs through a smile, whisking eggs in a wooden bowl, “he was five years old. The same age you were when he left for his mission.”
Gabi huffs: it’s not what she asked. “I mean which month!”
“Oh,” nods her aunt, just now understanding Gabi’s crystal clear words. She’s so distracted lately, talking to her can be very annoying. “At the end of summer, late September perhaps…”
“Just like me!” chirps Gabi, hopping in place. “We’re identical!”
“You are,” confirms aunt Karina, but Gabi knew it already. Of course they’re the same! This means that she’s automatically better than all her rivals at the academy. They’re not cousins with any of the other warriors after all.
“I’ll be a hero just like him!”
Aunt Karina drops her whisk on the counter, staining it with egg yolk. She’s calm, though, even as she grabs a towel to clean the mess she’s just made: Gabi doesn’t feel like laughing, because her aunt is sniffling and she doesn’t understand why. Maybe she’s sad because she misses Reiner, too?
The last time Gabi asked her aunt how long he’s been away from home, she’d said four years. She’s not sure how much that is: maybe Reiner still has some work left to do before he can come back.
She’ll ask Mum and Dad when they get back from work. They don’t cry as often as aunt Karina does, and she likes their answers a lot more.
850
Rummaging through a box full of old toys and stacks of paper, Gabi finds the box of crayons she used when she was very little.
Mum used to say that yellow was her favourite colour: she remembers wanting primroses on her windowsill all year round, and that she believed her hair would turn blond one day: of course now Gabi knows it’s impossible, even if she didn’t want to believe her Dad’s words at first, but it did make sense at the time. If Reiner is blond and he’s her cousin, then she should be blonde, too.
Putting the box back where she found it, Gabi grabs a bunch of papers and sifts through them: it’s the same yellow smiling face in every single one of them, clumsy little letters scribbled beside it in the latest ones. It reads Reiner, and she sighs to herself with a small, embarrassed smile.
She doesn’t know what she’s looking for, exactly: knowing that Reiner will be here for dinner later today sent her into a frenzy. Mum insisted that no, she can’t wear her yellow dress for dinner, because she’s grown out of it a while back. She doesn’t understand! Gabi needs to impress Reiner so that he will remember her and never want to leave again on dangerous missions! He’s a hero already after all, and how can Gabi learn anything from him if he doesn’t stay?
Then again, she can’t show him these drawings. They’re too old, and he’s surely seen better ones around: Gabi grabs a blank paper and slams it on her desk with purpose, box of crayons in hand, picking the orange one to draw this time. Doesn’t matter if the yellow one is missing, Reiner will like it anyway.
There’s still a couple of hours before dinner, but Gabi finds herself drawing in a hurry, as if Reiner could get here any moment. It’s exciting: she hasn’t seen him yet, the only ones who did were aunt Karina and Gabi’s parents after he was finished with ‘important stuff’, like they said, and it only fuels her curiosity. Maybe one day, when she’ll be older, they’ll tell her all about the important stuff he’s had to do after coming back from the mission.
Drawing by memory, she goes with the same round face, big eyes, gentle smile. Gabi draws him a lot taller, because he is seventeen years old and that means he could be as tall as Dad. She smiles to herself, drawing his smirk a bit more pronounced than she used to, because heroes smile all the time.
Eventually, Gabi gets lost in her own drawing. She ends up making herself a lot taller, maybe too much: nothing to worry about, this can be in the future, when they’ll save the world together with the other warriors. When armbands will be useless.
Gabi draws her own hair shorter than it is, for a reason she doesn’t really understand. It’s almost time, she can feel it: cold seeps through her clothes as the sun goes down, so this means it’s almost dinnertime. She can hear Mum and Dad walk back and forth from the kitchen, setting the table, dragging the chairs to make room for everyone, and Gabi’s stomach seems to be full of knots: it’s happening soon, she’s finally going to see Reiner again after five years.
All the crayons are scattered across her desk, complete chaos just like back then, when she was little and the only world she was interested in was the one she created on paper: she’s drawn the sun, orange but still bright and high in the sky, the sea in the background, a couple of trees framing the view, a cat, sitting with his tail curled up for no reason. A ship in the distance, some seagulls flying across the sky.
Staring at the drawing without really seeing it, Gabi realises she’s drawn herself completely identical to Reiner, save for the hair. Crossing her ankles, she purses her lips, a complicated feeling washing over her. She doesn’t really remember his face, it’s been a long time after all.
Maybe Reiner doesn’t remember her, as well? It makes sense, but it hurts, and she doesn’t want that.
Mum calls for her from the kitchen, so Gabi flips the paper face down, not sparing a second glance to the mess on her desk.
Gabi knows that being shy is not allowed in the military, you either answer the questions and take initiative or you don’t: and that’s when you get kicked out, simple as that.
She looks down at her plate, still full, as she ignores her Mum’s hushed pleas- “eat, or I’ll have to heat it up again,” but she shakes her head, hair tied in a low bun that bounces with every movement. Dad is talking to Reiner, they look straight at each other all the time, whereas Gabi is too afraid to meet his gaze for whatever reason: so she looks down, and listens, waits.
Reiner’s voice is so much deeper and quieter than her Dad’s. It sounds like the voice of a grown man, but he’s just seventeen- and he’s big. So big, so tall, it’s the first time Gabi finds herself intimidated by someone. He doesn’t really look like the same boy who held her before he left for the mission, the big eyes and the wide smile she used to see in her hazy memories are nowhere to be seen, and he uses so many complicated words, Gabi can’t fully understand what he’s talking about.
Also, he hasn’t smiled once.
It’s the same feeling she battles with when someone else is sad: Gabi is not good with people. When aunt Karina cries quietly she pretends not to notice, and when Mum and Dad fight after she leaves the table in the evening she feels the same way, too: there’s always something more interesting to think about, something that doesn’t scare her, a safe and secret place where she can hide and dream as much as she wants.
In this case, though, she can’t do anything. She barely greeted him when he walked in, how could she ever muster the courage to show him one of her drawings? To tell him he’s her hero and inspiration, that she joined the warrior program because she wanted to be just like him?
Gabi doesn’t fully understand how to feel, what is the correct meaning behind the knots in her stomach, the walls of her mouth covered in cotton that pricks the flat of her tongue: it’s like getting dozens of bad grades in the same day, one after another.
“When are you supposed to leave next?” asks Dad again, in the same worried voice he’s used all evening, Gabi puffing up her cheeks. She doesn’t like how grating it feels to her ears.
“Hard to say,” answers Reiner, Gabi risking a glance in his direction- he looks sleepy. She averts her gaze immediately as he adds, “I’ll be the last one to know. It could be any day.”
“It’s not fair,” interjects Mum, putting down her fork with much more force than necessary as Gabi cringes, “sending you off like this, right after all those trials… you’re still a warrior of Marley!”
“Go make some coffee,” says Dad, annoyed, and Gabi notices Reiner glaring at him- then it’s gone, just like that. Heat brushes against her cheeks: is he mad at her Dad because he interrupted Mum?
Mum sighs, but does what she’s told. She isn’t even done eating: the only one who cleared their plate already is Dad, but it’s her who stands up and walks to the kitchen. Mum doesn’t even like coffee.
“So, Gabi,” starts Reiner then, Gabi’s ears on fire as she hears her name spoken by that new, intimidating voice, “is the warrior program tough?”
He’s looking straight at her, and Gabi doesn’t even dare to budge or avert her gaze. Reiner is smiling, even if it’s barely there, a slight curve of his lips, and it’s all for Gabi and Gabi only: he wanted to change the subject and chose to do it with her.
“N-no,” she blurts out, back straight, ignoring how hard she’s blushing, “I was… I was chosen as candidate already…”
“I know,” interrupts Reiner, his smile growing wider, “they told me your grades are improving. You’re working hard.”
“Thank you,” she replies, embarrassed beyond belief. Mum walks back in, placing the cups of coffee in front of Reiner and Dad: Gabi notices that Reiner thanks her, which is weird, because no one ever thanks Mum for what she does.
The thought never crossed her mind before. Why does Dad never thank Mum?
“Don’t worry,” sighs Mum, gathering the plates so she can take them to the kitchen: Gabi watches in silence, wondering if she should get up and help… but Mum never asked her to do it before. It’s confusing when no one tells you what to do.
Reiner’s throat bobs quickly as he drinks the coffee, Gabi catching herself staring before he puts the cup back down, Dad nowhere near done drinking his own because it’s too hot: as if he were in a hurry, Reiner stands up and gathers the glasses, the cutlery, all while Dad stares at him wide-eyed, the hand holding his cup of coffee frozen in mid-air.
“Sit back down, Reiner, it’s nothing,” he insists, using his calm voice, as if he didn’t want Reiner to help Mum, as if he didn’t understand what’s happening, just like Gabi.
“It’s the least I could do,” replies Reiner, offering another gentle smile that makes Gabi blush harder. Every single time he does that, his smile, his calming, deep voice… Mum even laughs when he insists he’ll do the dishes, but she lets him, walking out of the kitchen much happier than Gabi remembers seeing her in a long time.
He’s just like the hero of Gabi’s dreams.
She’ll be the same one day.
854, before the battle of Fort Slava
“Gabi,” wonders Zofia aloud, picking grass with purpose, “did you ever show Vice Captain Braun your drawings?”
Before she can say too much, Gabi shoves her, much to Udo and Falco’s surprise- she can’t hear Reiner’s reaction, and maybe it’s better that way.
“Shut it! It’s not important,” she blurts out, and she knows it’s plain to see that she’s hiding something, but who cares. Reiner is never going to see those drawings if it kills her- it’s too embarrassing. “They weren’t even good anyway!”
“That’s not true,” insists Udo, clearly not getting that Gabi doesn’t want to talk about it. “You’re very talented! Isn’t that right? Falco?”
Falco shrugs as he often does, looking bored and only getting on Gabi’s nerves further. “She’s good at it, yeah,” he says, emotionless, as if he were trying to hold back something, Gabi wouldn’t know. Not like she cares.
“You never even saw them,” she spits, “only Zofia did. You’re just jealous because I’m better than you.”
“I’m not? I never said that,” shoots back Falco, more irritated than he should be- good. Any reaction from him is a good reaction, as long as he stops being the human equivalent of a sack of potatoes. Reiner stifles a laugh, and Gabi notices, to the point it stops her from taking this any further.
Thankfully, a light breeze blows over them, leaves dancing above their heads as they sit down all together under their favourite tree. As soon as training was over, Reiner came to pick up Gabi so they could walk home together, but she insisted on hanging out with the others for a bit, knowing that Reiner would never say no to her. So, here they are, all together like a happy litte family.
Gabi tries not to think about what will happen in two years, as she always does.
“When are we leaving?” asks Falco at some point, Gabi rolling her eyes: it’s just like him to bring up unnecessary stuff when they’re supposed to be relaxing.
Reiner sighs, leaning back on his elbows, Gabi staring at him and tracing his profile with her curious gaze. He looks even more tired than usual. “Next week,” he murmurs, looking down at himself and smoothing his shirt down.
“I hope it’s going to be the last battle, at least for a while,” says Udo, hugging himself, chin resting on his knees. Zofia nods without saying anything, Falco joins her in picking grass just to keep his hands busy, and only now Gabi notices how he’s sitting closer to Reiner than she is. It’s irritating.
“Come on Reiner,” she announces, springing to her feet, “we’d better go home before curfew.”
As Reiner does what he’s told, getting up with a gentle smile over his lips, Gabi notices the others starting to stand up as well- especially Falco, and she tries her best not to tackle him and make him fall, hard. That’s what he gets for acting so aloof and ungrateful all the time.
“Bye! Come on,” she repeats, tugging on Reiner’s sleeve as he chides her to take it easy, waving goodbye to the others.
It’s infuriating. It’s illogical. Anyone who talks to Reiner should show some respect- he saved everyone, even if he failed his mission. He fought every single battle as if it were the last, never backing down over the last four years, always moving forward! No one appreciates him like Gabi does, and it makes her mad beyond belief.
She only wishes she could tell him all this, instead of acting like an overprotective, insufferable loudmouth.
“What was that about?” asks Reiner once they walk past the gate, Gabi frowning at her boots, still holding the sleeve of his coat. “Is everything alright?”
“Nothing,” she mumbles, releasing her grip, turning it into a gentler touch, one that Reiner accepts as he holds her hand.
“You can tell me everything, Gabi. You know that?”
His voice is too comforting: Gabi nods, blinking away traitorous tears that she hates as much as she hates Falco for being so stupid. Good for nothing sack of potatoes. Always frowning at Reiner, and always frowning at her.
The hand holding her slips away, only for Gabi to snort at the way Reiner pats her on the head. He does that so often, but it never fails to make her feel special. “I’ll buy you a present for when we get back.”
“Really?” she squeals, now grabbing Reiner’s wrist with both hands, hoping he won’t notice or point out how close to tears she is.
“Yeah, just don’t tell your parents or I’ll get in trouble for spoiling you.”
She laughs out loud at that, his smile growing wider as he lets Gabi lead the way to her house.
854, after the battle of Fort Slava
“Promise you won’t laugh!”
Reiner bites back a smile, one of his gentle, genuine ones- those he reserves for Gabi. “I won’t,” he says, lips curving as soon as the words leave his mouth.
Gabi scratches her head, looking the other way so that maybe Reiner won’t notice just how embarrassed she is. Most of their conversations are about the warrior program, her grades, the war they’re fighting, the other candidates, and sometimes Gabi indulges Reiner in showing him more of her carefree, teenage self. Lately he’s been pushing for it more often, as if he wanted to focus on his little cousin and not on the person who will most likely inherit his Titan.
No one would blame him, except he’s been acting quite nosy in regards to her drawings, the one Zofia mentioned before they left for Fort Slava. When he wants to, Reiner can be very annoying- not as much as Falco, but still, he has a pretty good memory: Gabi wonders if he ever forgets anything.
“Well,” she starts, regretting it already, “I… I don’t know! I liked all the stories aunt Karina told me when I was little, so I only drew those things!”
Reiner snorts, softly. “I think she exaggerated a bit. Made me sound like some all powerful warrior, something like that.”
“I don’t think so? You came back! So that means you were strong enough!”
This time, it’s Reiner who averts his gaze. They’re walking back home after a long day, and if Gabi is tired from her running sessions, she can only imagine how Reiner feels with all his briefings and hard training and such. “I did,” he offers eventually, quiet, almost absent.
Now or never. “Yeah, of course you did… you’re my hero.”
Gabi is not going to look at him, no matter what happens. No way on earth. It’s too embarrassing, she can literally feel her cheeks burning, scorching hot, as if noticing Reiner’s sharp inhale wasn’t enough, she doesn’t need to imagine his actual reaction. Absolutely not.
Reiner being Reiner, he clears his throat, a half chuckle hitting his sealed lips from the inside. She can hear the gentle smile in his voice as he says, lower than usual, “thank you,” and Gabi sighs, biting down on her lower lip, hard.
Anyone could tell that she idolises him. She knows it’s obvious, but at the same time she never actually said it out loud. It feels weird, as if she was never supposed to tell him, but here they are.
At some point, Reiner speaks up again. “I don’t think I’m a good example.”
“You are,” she sighs, clutching her bag strap with both hands. Embarrassment is washed away by a different, somber feeling she’s starting to recognise lately: a quick glance confirms her suspicions, Reiner looks miserable. He’s probably pitying himself again over the mission.
“I almost forgot!” chirps Gabi, tugging on Reiner’s sleeve to get him to look at her, genuinely surprised, “where’s my present? You said you’d get something for me, didn’t you?”
The full, proud smirk that blooms on Reiner’s mouth is priceless: he reaches into his pocket, Gabi hopping in place excitedly, almost throwing him off balance. “Oi, careful.”
“Sorry, sorry! Give it to me, come onnn,” she chants, tugging harder on his sleeve, acting like a spoiled child just because she knows Reiner loves it. Sometimes, she feels like a younger sister more than a cousin.
“Here,” he concedes, defeated, Gabi taking the small, colourful box from his hands and cradling it with care, her smile so wide that her cheeks kinda hurt.
“Thank you! I’ll open it as soon as I get home, can’t wait to see what’s inside!”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I asked around, mind you… not my fault if you don’t like it.”
When Reiner lets his true self slip out, the one who jokes around, acts like an older brother, so considerate and responsible… Gabi’s heart starts racing. Oddly enough, she feels like she wants to protect him and not the other way around.
“I’ll let you know if I liked it!”
Contrary to what she told Reiner, Gabi waits until everyone is in bed before opening Reiner’s belated birthday present: sitting cross-legged on her bed, she rips open the wrapping paper with genuine excitement, in a way she doesn’t remember doing for quite some time.
When it’s clear what kind of present it is, Gabi stops, gaze hesitant as she studies the colourful paper box. Removing the tape and opening it, she’s greeted with several sharpened crayon tips, all the colours of the rainbow sitting right there, waiting to be used.
A wobbly smile tugs at the corners of her lips: someone must have gotten their order mixed up, because there are two yellow crayons instead of one.