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"Can you do that again? Can you kiss me every day?"
Eren always asks Mikasa for a kiss, whether on the cheek or on the forehead; he doesn't complain. After he's done with his daily duties, he crawls beside her, asking for a kiss.
and she complies, on the forehead, on the cheek.
but never in the part where he desperately wanted her to kiss.
But he's okay with that; he's more than enough content with what she gives him a day; even just a look from her is more than he could ask for.
He wants to see her; he doesn't even want to blink whenever he's with her, and he's scared, afraid that one day he'll never see that sweet smile of hers; one day when he closes his eyes, he'll never see anything, not a single curve of her frame.
That is why he asks her for a kiss.
Because even if his eyes were closed, he could still feel it. It comforts him to know that she's there with him after dark.
For four years, she did that—a kiss on the cheek, on the forehead, even on the nose.
He knew he's about to enternally succumb to darkness. He tried to ask her for a kiss, but he couldn't even lift his head up; he was too tired.
He felt her, both of her hands, on the cheek, telling him that she'd see him later, and he knew she'd keep her promise, not now but soon.
With all his strength, he opened his eyes and forced himself not to blink because he knew a single drop of his eyelid might miss his chance to feel it and savor it.
He never asked her to, but deep inside, he badly wanted it.
This time, he never asked, but he received it. A kiss on his lips.
Her figure was suddenly fading, her light was dimming, he was dying, and he knew he could never ask for another kiss tomorrow.