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Her body is failing her. The arms, hands, and legs that once carried the weight of the world can support her no longer, not without the help of one, sometimes two people. As nature healed and breathed life itself back into existence, her own steadily withered. The most prominent scars from her youth are now lost among the wrinkles of her skin, and the voice that once made her strength known has dwindled to near inaudibility. The closer the end of her life came, the more her room filled with blooming flowers and the faces of loved ones. She was dying, but there wasn’t anything even remotely terrifying about it. It felt like she was preparing to fall asleep, lulled by the sounds of children and the warm summer air. There had been a strange yet peaceful silence as she stared at a bundled collection of bellflowers at her bedside, the quiescence progressing and overtaking all else till her eyes gradually shut for the last time, memories of her life flickering behind her eyelids before the dimmest memory of his face faded into complete darkness.
——
It’s quiet. Yet not entirely soundless.
A soothing coolness surrounds her body, moving along her skin like silk. Mikasa is weightless here, guided only by a constant flow that acts on and around her. She can’t see. Or move. Perhaps she should be afraid. But she isn’t, not even when she begins to sink into the depths. It doesn’t hurt here.
She doesn’t know how long she descends for, or what it means when she sees a sudden beam of light that branches out into different directions, illuminating the darkness like phosphenes. When she comes to, she is floating in a body of water beneath and among blossoms that are as white as the moon, full and as lovely as ever above her. It's quiet, but not entirely soundless. The water laps gently at her face as it flows continuously, rocking her back into a dreamless sleep.
When she opens her eyes again, she is no longer floating along the water but standing in the middle of a vast grassland, with sparse trees and wildflowers growing in random patterns. The clouds begin to roll away, chased by the summer air to reveal an equally vast sky. Eyes wide with wonder, she stares as far out as she can, unable to comprehend the expanse before her. Somehow, it feels like home. The shadow that passes overhead is fleeting, but it’s large enough to catch her attention. She recognizes the source as a bird soaring ahead of its flock, flying past a little ways away until all of them start circling back towards her. They call out to one another, coming down even closer as they fly over and forward, only to circle back once more. It's such a peculiar sight that she begins walking in the direction of their flight, curious as to what they’re searching for. She’s further perplexed when they stop traveling in circles and continue their journey now that she is following them, staying just ahead of her. Feeling somewhat ridiculous, she questions if they had been calling out to her . With nowhere else to go, she continues. Upon descending a third hill, she spots something in the distance: a patch of red among the endless green. Mikasa walks a little faster without much thought, and she is pleasantly surprised to discover a bed of flowers that are very unlike the ones that naturally sprout here, identifying them as roses when she is close enough. She jogs the last few meters and nearly gasps in delight at their abundance, breathing in the flower’s distinct scent as she reaches down to touch one. Why is this all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere? Given the small clearing in the center of it all and how isolated they are, the flowers seem to grow in such a way that suggests they aren’t wild, they were intentionally planted like this. Do they belong to someone?
She looks around but doesn’t spot anyone, or anything else for that matter. Even the birds that led her here are no longer present. Mikasa looks back down at the roses, unable to help her smile. She sits within the small clearing, bending her legs and resting her cheek upon her knee. She reaches for the closest flower, mesmerized at the vibrant shade of red it takes and somewhat hesitant to disturb such a pretty display. Hoping its caretaker won’t mind, she pulls one rose free, careful not to prick her finger on the thorns as she twists the stem in a way that opens the rose up even more. On impulse, she brushes her fingers over its center, again and again, mindful of how delicate the petals are. So soft . The sensation of it is comforting enough that she finds herself leaning further onto her knees, deciding that it won’t hurt to rest for a bit here. Unintentionally, she falls asleep, maintaining a loose hold on the single flower.
——
They’re running.
He has her hand clasped in his, leading her to only he knows where. Even as kids, her hand fits perfectly in his. The way her heart is racing, she would think that they’ve been running for some time now. But even as she dons her cardigan and has his scarf looped around her neck twice over, she doesn’t break into a sweat. It’s him , she reasons easily, it’s him who’s making me feel like this .
Mikasa realizes that she has yet to see his face and begins to make the effort to keep up, to be at his side. She tries to call out to him as they start running up a rather steep hill but falls short, literally. Her hand slips out of his as she catches herself in time to prevent getting any stains on her dress, knowing the labor it takes to remove it. His hand enters her periphery as she gathers herself, and she looks at it, taking it without hesitation and allowing him to help her up. She’s smiling, steadily lifting her eyes to his face, smiling because she waited so long to see him…
——
Air fills her lungs before anything else. Each of her senses returns one by one — echoes of birdsong, lush grass and wildflowers cushioning her, their aromas mixing in the air and coaxing her eyes to open despite their slight sensitivity to the light. Her vision at first is a blur of tree bark and branches shedding the last of their blossoms, the sight above her clearing bit by bit until she is able to make out the veins in some of the leaves that hang low on the tree, made translucent under the sunlight. When did she fall asleep? The breeze rustles the vegetation all around and cools her skin where tears have trailed down the sides of her face. At this, she blinks and notices the last of her tears clinging to her lashes, fingers curling into a weak fist to reach and wipe them away. It’s then that she feels a weight resting in her right hand, gentle as to not press the back of her palm into the earth, and with a warmth she’d spent the whole of her life missing. Disoriented, and in disbelief, she turns to look, following the length of his hand up to the bunched sleeve at his forearm, the ties at his neckline, until she sees him — hair short and backlit, eyes glimmering, smile widening — and it’s wonderfully familiar. She sits up with a speed and ease she didn’t think she had, oddly feeling as if just minutes ago she couldn’t move on her own. Before Mikasa can question it, he takes her hand into his own and does the same with the other, drawing them up to the center of his chest so that she looks at him again, eager for her attention. Her heartbeat kicks up and, helpless to stop it, a sob wrenches out of her throat violently, making her body shake with the force of it. The pain of missing him hits her tenfold, yet she doubles over from the utter relief and falls into him. His fingers find their way into her hair, loosening her ponytail. The heat of his palm radiating at the small of her back gradually quiets her whimpers and gasping breaths.
“Am I dreaming?” The possibility makes the pain more potent, the clutch she has on his shirt tightening to keep him from vanishing.
But he grants her relief, resting his cheek atop her head and bringing back the achingly sweet memory of his voice when he says “No, Mikasa, you’re not dreaming.”
Mikasa hears the happiness in his tone and she pulls back, desperate to see it, and oh , how her heart leaps in her chest, wild and intent on breaking free to finally be with its other half. Thick tears run down her face one after the other, meeting and dribbling from her chin steadily. She can’t help but press her hands to the sides of his neck, finding the skin almost too hot, but intact. He sighs at her touch, holding onto her wrists loosely and swiping the pad of this thumb across her knuckles repeatedly.
“Eren,” she manages around the knot in her throat, “I-I… I…”
His face threatens to crumple at her tearful intake of breath, releasing one of her wrists to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, the motion deliberately slow. It grounds her enough to take a proper breath. How does she begin to tell him how much she wanted to see him again? It could never be quantified, nor justly compared to anything. In a time and place lost to them, his plea for her to forget about him were some of the last words he said to her. And though she nurtured the memory of who he was in her life, she couldn’t bear to tell him of her despair when she couldn’t remember the sound of his voice, the tears she secretly shed because there wasn’t a photo of him to look back on, time blurring the details with its passage. Not even in her dreams could she bring back something so precious.
“I-”
“Mikasa…” he says kindly, weakening her further, “I know.”
Gingerly, he takes her hands from his neck, bringing them close together and raising them, his lips so soft against the back of her fingers.
“Ah, I almost forgot.” Eren reaches from behind, bringing a rose into view. “You were holding this. I picked the thorns off for you.” He tilts his head at her reaction while still holding out the flower for her to take, clearly unaware of how taken she is by him. He is still taking care of her in the smallest of ways. For you , echoes in her mind. For you, for you . Unable to bear it a second longer, she throws her arms around his shoulders, knocking him backward and the rose out of his hand. His yelp makes her laugh as they nearly fall side by side onto the grass, but with an arm around her back and hand curled around her ribs, he catches her, he always does. Propped on one elbow, he steadies them with his face tucked in her neck, pulling her body up and even closer to him, half draped over his lap. She draws back only so she can rain kisses upon his skin, desperate to do so lest she bursts from holding her affections back. And he is pliant beneath her, allowing her to tilt his face as she pleases so that her kisses reach his forehead, the apples of his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose, and over his eyes, finding the skin beneath them wet. Then it’s her turn to make a noise of surprise when he flips them over suddenly, completely so that her back rests on the ground and she is looking up at him. He’s smiling , and he is so painfully handsome with tears in his eyes and a stray flower petal tangled in his hair. His thumb smooths across the seam of her lips, tracing its ever-growing curve, and he leans down to meet her lips with his.
She returns his kiss readily, having missed him so much. If Mikasa can’t tell him, she tries to show him as much, pulling him down to feel the solid weight of him against her. He breaks their kiss to ask her if this is really okay, touching the scar beneath her eye tentatively. In response, she merely cards her fingers into his hair to guide him back, tugging lightly at the strands. He hums against her mouth, the deep note reaching and felt in her bones as he deepens their kiss with an intensity that could only belong to him. She sighs. His body is so warm. It feels like resting beneath the sun late in the afternoon, the heat gentle on her skin and rays dazzling her in the best of ways. She opens her eyes in a daze when he suddenly stops and hovers over her. Eren looks sheepish, with the tops of his cheeks flushed, brows furrowed and eyes cast to the side. The orange glow of the sky makes his kiss-swollen lips look even more pink.
“Sorry…” he murmurs. “I just… I don’t want to get carried away.” For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of them catching their breath, before he follows up with, “At least, not here.”
Not here . The high of their kiss fades enough that the implication draws even more heat into her cheeks, leaving her speechless and doe-eyed. This makes his mouth twitch, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. Doesn’t she remember what happened between us during those last four years? He shakes his head, charmed by her shyness. Eren presses small kisses to her cheeks, soft and in quick succession till her embarrassment fades away. They untangle themselves carefully and sit upright, their legs touching and hands overlapping as they sit side by side. They’ve been like this before, haven’t they? This brief respite allows her to take in her surroundings, the rolling landscape endless and full of life . It feels like nature is breathing with the way the wind comes down the hills and moves the grass in waves, each plant with a dream-like glow under the setting sun. It’s unbelievably beautiful, with nothing and no one to taint it. Nothing and no one… there’s no one else here.
“Where are we? I don’t think… I was just…” Mikasa closes her eyes and holds her hand against her head when her temple throbs, images of blue flowers amongst a blur of faces flickering behind her lids. Again, he brings her focus back by taking both of her hands into his — a wonderful habit — and pulling her with him as he stands. She looks up at him, her expression falling into a small frown as she senses something off. His mouth opens, forming the beginning of a word, but promptly closes into a thin line. Eyes tinged with sadness, Eren remains silent. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her directly, doesn’t know how to even if he could.
She wills herself to think back despite the odd discomfort it brings, remembers a fading heartbeat, senses going in and out, and then nothing. Quiet, but not completely soundless. A squeeze of her hand and she blinks up at him. His expression hasn’t changed. Mikasa thinks she knows the answer to her question. She looks down, unsure what to say.
“Oh…” is all she manages.
Eren guides her closer, fixing her arms to wrap loosely around his neck so that he can place his on her waist.
“Mikasa…” he starts hesitantly, “did… did you have a good life?”
The question easily pulls a smile from here, has her stepping further into his space and joining her hands to rest them between his shoulder blades. Still riding on a rush of emotions and beginning to burn under his gaze as he watches her intently, she struggles to visually recall specific moments of her life. But… she remembers what it felt like. If she closes her eyes, it’s there, right in her chest. Happiness and struggle and love and sadness and beauty, all mixing and blending together the way colors do, creating a unique sense of contentment.
Fondly, she says, “it was good.”
Her smile brings about his own and he rests his forehead against hers, his sigh of relief a welcome warmth on her face. A flock of birds fly overhead, catching their attention. The sight of them prompts Mikasa to recall her strange dream sequence before she woke up beside him; floating among flowers in a pool of darkness, her journey to the lone bed of roses, her and Eren as children, running hand in hand as they used to. Each one brought her closer and closer to this place. It clicks to her then. It wasn’t a dream. It had truly happened. She was led here. How else would she have the rose?
I picked the thorns off… for you. For you. For you .
“It was you who helped bring me here, wasn’t it?” She looks at him expectantly, cupping the back of his neck.
Eren seems somewhat blindsided by her question, his throat working before he swiftly pulls her body back to his in an embrace. She feels his nod against her temple. At the confirmation, Mikasa skims her fingers along the back of his neck, then to its sides, utterly relieved to find it smooth and unmarred. She turns her face to the side of his throat, eyes fluttering closed as she leaves a lingering kiss beneath his jaw. It makes Eren wrap his arms much tighter around her, tight enough to lift her into his arms and spin her around. Mikasa laughs, enamored, reveling in how light she is in his arms. What she doesn’t expect is the choked noise he muffles in her scarf. She calls for him softly, somehow making it worse as he begins to shake and bury his face further into her neck. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, feeling his pain as if it were her own.
“Eren… talk to me.” He shakes his head, and this small display of stubbornness is so nostalgic that she can’t bring herself to mind. Mikasa decides to wait for him a little longer. She waited to see him again for so many years, after all. What are a few more moments compared to a lifetime? She rests her ear on his chest, pleasantly overwhelmed by the strong, steady rhythm of his heart. An old lullaby from her childhood. She misses so much from that time… him, her home, her loved ones. A thought suddenly occurs to her.
“Are there others? If I’m here because I… surely there must be…”
He pulls back enough to take her in, and even through his tears, he doesn’t think he could ever adore anything as much as he does her. When he was alive, he was envious of the way people could look at things like sunsets and full moons and never tire of the sight, in awe as if each time was the first and last they’d see of it. To him, it was a natural occurrence that happened often enough for it to lose meaning. It all looked the same. But when it came to Mikasa … the smiles she reserved for him, the delight in her eyes on the rare occasions they could get desserts, down to the way she said his name … he thinks he understands the appreciation for such simple things. His fingers barely graze the skin of her forehead to brush aside her bangs, hair softer than anything and fragrant with something so sweet and distinctly her , it makes his heart lurch. If it could, his very soul would jump out of him just to intertwine and fuse with hers. She looks up at him, curious, a little worrisome, so pretty it physically hurts , and patiently waiting for him like she always has. Eren rests his sad smile against her forehead, breathing her in.
“They’ve gone ahead already.”
“Ahead? There’s something beyond this place?”
“There’s something ,” he says, low and unsure, “but I don’t know what. I wasn’t ready to move on. Our friends… they were just passing through.”
When he died, he at the very least knew what the outcome would be, that they’d live long lives. But now, with his ties severed from the founder and, by extension, the attack titan, he has no clue what lies beyond this place. Eren watches as she contemplates this, looking at the expanse of land around them as if it could help her make sense of it. Her eyes eventually settle at the hollow of his throat, following the tendons and muscles up to his face, worried.
“Have you been here…? All this time?”
He nods once, thinking about all the ruins he wandered through and the beds of flowers he’s become familiar with, picking out and cultivating the ones he thought she’d like the most at the base of their tree.
“How…? Why…? Weren’t you unhappy? Or lonely?”
He shakes his head. In his mind, there was never an option. He made his decision from the beginning.
“I wanted to see you. I… needed to. I couldn’t bear leaving you alone again.” The very thought makes it harder for him to breathe, and he becomes restless, desperate to skirt away from the agony. Her brows furrow in concern he is undeserving of and no, no I don’t want to make her upset . So he takes her hand, mindful of the way he tugs her along and away from the tree.
Neither notices the headstones they leave behind, Mikasa’s rose left directly between them.
It’s quiet between them as they walk, but he doesn’t mind because he gets to watch her take in all the scenery, eyes lit with such innocent wonder that it's a fucking miracle he hasn’t fallen to his knees to worship the sight. Arms linked, they take their time for once. Part of him feels like they are back in the world he created just for her, where they ran away together. He could pretend she was returning from a journey that he couldn’t join her on, leaving him at home to wait for her to return. He wonders how much of that she remembers, fearful to bring it up at the risk of reminding her of what followed right after.
“So what now?” Mikasa asks quietly, and it's the sadness in her tone that has him turning towards her. “Is it our turn? To follow the others?”
Eren’s feet begin to drag, and he forces himself to look off to the side so that she doesn’t notice the way his face falls. “That’s up to you…” he replies, as evenly as he can.
Mikasa gets quiet again. There’s a pang in his chest at the thought that she might be ready to leave, that after they do he’ll lose her for another lifetime or more. It’s what he deserves, but… damn it… that doesn’t make him any less selfish. And yet, his girl, so precious and everything he could ever want, rests her cheek upon his shoulder, moving slightly closer to him. He looks at her for a moment, shocked, and then so indescribably happy at the gesture and what it must mean. He doesn’t waste another second in drawing her completely against him, bumping his chin against the top of her head.
“Can we stay here a while longer?”
If there were any angels or deities bearing witness, he thinks even they would swoon and sigh, her words honeyed and designed to tear him apart. It takes every ounce of effort to not lose his composure, to refrain from dropping just to cry into her skirt and tell her that there isn’t anything in the world that he wants more. He slows their pace until they stop completely, thoroughly relishing in the feeling of her eyes on him as he reaches down and picks a bellflower.
“We could stay here forever,” he suggests casually, fixing the flower behind her ear, “if you wanted to, just you and me.”
Her eyes sparkle at the prospect, and then at the familiarity, sending her back to the edge of the refugee camp. She said that to him once, and in turn, he took her hand and brought her to a place only they knew. If someone told her it was heaven, she’d accept it without question. But… she didn’t really say those things to him, did she? If only she’d worked up the courage to tell him back then, perhaps she could’ve saved them both an eternity's worth of heartache that claws its way up her throat, fresh tears springing to her eyes.
“Mikasa,” he gasps, “oh Mikasa, why are you crying?
Her fingers tug her sleeve up farther up and over the heel of her palm, using it to wipe at her face, making the skin of her nose rosy from the friction.
“I wish I never left you to suffer on your own. Maybe things would’ve been diff-”
“ No Mikasa, no. None of that was your fault. Don’t ever think that. This is my fault.”
“I’m sorry,” she cries, every hic and whimper reaching in and yanking at the threads of his heart, threatening to rip it to shreds. She reaches for his neck again and his eyes widen, realizing what she’s referring to when she says, “I’m so sorry , Eren-”
“You didn’t hurt me,” he blurts, effectively stopping her line of thinking to take her trembling hand and lay it flat over his chest. “I promise you didn’t. See? I’m okay.” Mikasa quiets, lips quivering, allowing herself to believe him and focus on the steady thrum beneath her fingers. “I wanted it to be you. It’s so selfish, I was so selfish, after everything I did, but I got to see and feel you one more time.” How cruel he was to ask her to be the one to kill him, and she still kissed him goodbye. He couldn’t be more in love. Eren steps closer, cradling her jaw and angling her face towards his. Eren kisses each of her eyes, her forehead, the flushed tip of her nose. “You gave me that,” he reminds her, watching her gaze flicker between his eyes and his lips. It allures and wreaks havoc within him at the same time, how she looks at him, leans further in and — forever weak against his desire for her — he gives in, kissing her.
“Mikasa,” he says after a minute, trying to get her attention. She takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth, easily distracting him, has his hands immediately sliding underneath her scarf to the back of her neck so he can pull , the force of his kiss tipping her head back even further. The noise she makes has him cursing between kisses, and in turn, she smiles. “Mikasa,” he tries once more, feeling terrible for denying her when she leans back in, uninhibited. Eren kisses her pout, apologetic. “I want to tell you something.”
He has to close his eyes and cup the back of her head to tuck her face into his neck, unable to do much of anything when she looks at him so sweetly.
“I didn’t think I would see you again. That would’ve been my worst punishment above all everything else I deserve. I spent a lot of time wishing I never left you, wishing I had spent more time with you.” She doesn’t say anything, so he hugs her a little tighter and continues. “Then you appeared here. I could never make up for the pain I put you through. But I want to try… for as long as you’ll have me.”
Her sigh is shaky, her nod subtle, but he can see how her body relaxes at his confession. How long had she been waiting to hear that from him? Why did he let his stubbornness prevent him from telling her sooner?
He laughs, nearly manic. “I can’t believe you’re really here…”
“I told you didn’t I?” she says, her voice somewhat muffled against his skin. She pulls back, speaking clearly. “That I’d see you later?”
The way she looks in front of him nearly parallels that moment when they were fifteen when she gave him a smile he could’ve spent the rest of his life chasing. Now, there is no blood tainting the field of flowers around them, no looming threat, no death . Only them and the chance to spend a few lifetimes together, just to start.
He is able to smile again, euphoric beyond belief.
“Yeah… you did say that.”
“I knew that we’d meet again someday, somehow, and here we are.”
“Here we are.”
She hums.
It becomes quiet. There is no breeze and no songbirds, as if something were holding its breath in anticipation. But not completely soundless. Under her hand, she feels the beat of his heart quicken. Then:
“I loved you Mikasa, the whole of my life. Before and after. I love you.”
Mikasa adores how he leans into her touch upon reaching up to dry his eyes. In her periphery, a butterfly dances around them, circling around them in an upward spiral before flying higher into the sky.
“I loved you my entire life too,” she finally tells him, finding it in her to release that burden her silence has caused her. “Before and after.”
The echo of his words sounds more like a promise, one they can actually keep this time.
“Come on,” he says into her palm, kissing it once before lacing their fingers together.
“Let’s go home.”