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“Our friends out of town have gotten themselves a mail route to us.” Zeke explained before taking a long puff of his cigarette. “We’ve already received a few.”
“Friends out of town” was what they called Paradis during their meetings, just in case someone was eavesdropping. Eren had been meeting with Zeke in secret for some time now. He always waited for the right times and areas during yard time where the nurses and attendants would be too busy or disinterested to notice Zeke speaking with him. He had been visiting other patients here a lot so that it wouldn’t look too suspicious if anyone saw them anyway.
The two brothers were smoking together behind the building while discussing their plans. “That’s good.” Eren said. “Everything’s set on your end?”
“Yep. Brass has already agreed on restarting the Paradis campaign and the Tyburs are helping by holding a big festival to declare war. Plenty of big shot politicians, diplomats, and reporters from around the world are gonna be there. That’ll rile more than enough support for war once you do your thing.”
Good, Eren thought. Things were going along smoothly. He’s already secured a mail delivery service through Falco to send the specifics of his battle plans to the military. Now that the Marleyans were doing the work for them putting together an international audience once he began the attack, everything would soon be set to make the entire world’s military descend to the island, so he can crush them all in one swoop with the Rumbling and flatten the world unimpeded.
“By the way, how come you didn’t tell me it was your birthday?”
Eren coughed up his smoke from the shock. “That was today?”
“Yeah! How’d you forget?”
Eren scratched the back of his hair. “We don’t exactly have calendars here. Days just bleed together.”
That was only half the reason. Eren hadn’t actually cared about his birthday in years. Even if it hadn’t just become a countdown for what little years he had left, his plans and everything he saw from his future memories made something like a birthday seem so… unimportant. The only reasons he still went along with his friends’ attempts at celebrating were cause it made them happy and to keep from worrying about him.
“Yeah…” Zeke took another smoke and then started snickering. “Still can’t believe you’re only nineteen. You look almost as old as me!”
Unamused, Eren stared blankly at Zeke, wondering whether he could get away with whacking him with his crutch.
“Hey… don’t gimme that. Having a mature look isn’t all that bad for men like us, ya know?” Zeke said with a sly look on his face. “Who knows, that Ackerman girl you were going on about might like i–”
“Enough already!” Eren hissed.
Zeke began to laugh heartily. “Alright, alright I’ll stop, sorry...”
Eren groaned in frustration. He couldn’t stand Zeke sometimes, constantly alternating between acting like the two of them are buddies or two lost, hurt puppies in need of saving while he projected his daddy issues onto him. He hated having to humor him like this all the time.
“So, birthday boy, want me to get you a gift?” Zeke joked.
“Pass.”
“Your loss.” Zeke dropped his cigarette and stamped it out. Eren continued his smoke, expecting Zeke to finally leave him alone.
Instead, Zeke suddenly grabbed Eren’s coat and shoved something into the breast pocket.
“Hey, what did you–” Eren felt through his pocket to find two envelopes inside.
“What’s this?”
“Consider it your birthday gift from home.” Zeke quipped before finally turning to leave. “Have a nice day.”
He waved with his back turned and walked away, leaving Eren with his two envelopes.
Must be from Paradis, Eren thought. He’d have to wait until he was in his room to look at them. Whatever was in it wouldn’t be something he wanted the hospital staff to find.
Eren’s hands were shaking badly as he held the envelopes in his hands.
He was seated at his worn, wooden desk in his pathetic excuse for a room when he finally felt safe enough to look at the letters– and the first two words he saw on them made his stomach plummet to earth.
One name for each letter.
Mikasa.
Armin.
These weren’t responses to his attack plans from the military. They were personal letters from Mikasa and Armin. The most important people in his life.
He had written plenty of letters to them, word vomits of regret and anguish on paper, all thrown in a dumpster fire out back cause he never even considered sending them. He had to set the distancing early, make it hurt that much worse when he crushed their hearts underfoot for their sake. The only ones he did send them were battle plans for what he needed them to do in Liberio: help him fight the Warhammer and lay waste to the military port.
But these…
These were going to be his first contact from them that he’d had in months.
He was hesitating to open and read them. He was afraid. Afraid of knowing how badly he had hurt them when he left without a word.
Curse him for abandoning them? Demand some sort of explanation for what he’s planning? Would they beg him to come back?
It’d be easier to read Armin’s first, he decided. He could take whatever grievances Armin had to throw at him. Reading Mikasa’s first would probably break him too much to even touch Armin’s after.
He unfolded the letter and started reading.
Eren.
I’m not holding my breath expecting a response from you. I don’t even know for sure if you’ll even read this or just toss it. I think I’m just writing this for myself honestly. Trying to wrap my head around all this.
We all thought you got captured at first. We all feared the worst, that you got spotted by authorities and were being hauled off somewhere to be eaten. Everyone was freaking out, Mikasa was inconsolable. Then you sent those letters about joining up with Zeke, and we didn’t know what to think.
I really want to know what you’re thinking. How long were you even planning on pulling this on us? Were you even thinking of us? Wondering how much this was gonna hurt us? Hurt me? Hurt Mikasa?
You aren’t stupid. I know you know what this attack you’re strong-arming us on will lead to.
I’m still trying to convince myself that something’s not right. That you have your reasons for doing this, no matter how stupid they might be. I really want to believe that you aren’t genuinely trying to help Zeke in whatever insane scheme he has going on.
Some part of me is wondering if maybe… maybe this isn’t some random change that occurred. Maybe you were giving us signs, warnings, or maybe a cry for help, and we were just too blind to notice. I’ve been replaying the past four years in my head, trying to find anything I overlooked. I still haven’t found it.
I wish you were here so I could yell all this at you and demand you answer. I wish I could slug you for being such a selfish, self important asshole. I wish you were still here.
Happy birthday. I hope you’re happy.
From, Armin.
PS: If you won’t respond to my letter, at least respond to Mikasa’s. You owe her that much.
Eren set the letter down and let out a pained sigh. Armin always knew what to say to get under his skin. He couldn’t ignore the bitter undertone in his letter. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still made him feel sick. What he said about Mikasa made Eren that much more anxious about reading her letter. Just the thought made his stomach churn.
He set Armin’s letter down and held up Mikasa’s.
He hesitated to tear it open.
Why?
He already knew he hurt her when he left, he always knew. He might as well know how much now.
He still didn’t open it.
Come on. Just do it. Rip the bandage off already. Just open it! Just open it you good for nothing waste of–
He tore the envelope open and frantically unfolded the letter.
Dear, Eren.
I’m still having trouble figuring out what to say. Please bear with me if this isn’t very concise.
This is probably the first year in a long time where we spent our birthdays apart. I don’t think I can describe in words how that makes me feel.
It’s only just started to feel real that you’re gone. I spent so long expecting to see you walk out of the corner or that you never left to begin with and I dreamt the whole thing up.
I couldn’t believe the things I read in your letters to us. This attack on Liberio, forcing us to take part in it, saying you’re going to put your faith in Zeke, saying you want to use Armin to destroy part of the city? I couldn’t believe that you were the one who wrote it. I almost tried convincing myself that someone forged your handwriting.
Recently, I’ve been having trouble remembering small details about you. The sound of your laughter, the specific hue of green your eyes are, its all started becoming less and less clear in my mind.
I feel like I’ve been mourning you. I don’t know where you are or what you’re thinking or if you’re even really okay. The only thing I know is that you’re alive and it doesn’t even feel like you are anymore. I’m terrified that I won’t even recognize you when we finally do meet again.
Please. Whatever you’re planning, whatever you think you have to do, please. Stop. You don’t have to do these horrible things. It’s not too late, you can still turn back.
Please. Come back. Come home .
Forever yours, Mikasa.
Teardrops began to fall on the words she wrote for him. Eren clutched his empty eye socket when it began to throb in pain while he futilely fought to hold back his tears from falling out his remaining eye. Her words, the pain he inflicted on her– it hurt so much worse than he’d thought.
His best friend probably hated him. He broke the love of his life’s heart. He did this to them. And he was gonna have to hurt them so much worse in the days to come.
He was such a worthless hypocrite. He abandoned them and now he's crying about it!? How much more pathetic could he possibly get?
He told himself that it was for their sake, over and over he tried to convince himself that it would all be for the best, that they'd be better off once it was all over. He was going to leave them with a free world, where nothing could ever hurt them again and they could live the long, happy lives they deserved- he swore!
But it did nothing to comfort him. He squeezed the letters in his hand and held it close to him, his body trembling and shaking as he silently wept in his old, dingy asylum room, with only the flies and rats in the walls to keep him company. He cried and cried- until he finally fell asleep, his hand still holding onto the letters of the people he loved most.