Chapter Text
“Sir?”
Eren grumbled as he stirred awake, his head still woozy from what had been a long slumber. Judging from the fact that all the plane’s cabin lights were on, and the windows were closed, it was now night. Upon takeoff, he’d closed his eyes to rest, and now it appeared that he’d slept the length of an entire afternoon, or perhaps it’d been even longer?
It had taken him the entire week of deliberation and hurried decision, then last minute changes of mind to his family all packed for their move. He spent at least half that time worrying about they would get by and pay for things given how short they were on cash, so he couldn’t have been more grateful that his employer had gifted him their first-class tickets to Guilin Liangjiang International: it was the least they could do when they’d asked him and his family to settle in the country within a week.
“Sir, can you wake up, please?” asked the same man, whose voice was heavily accented, muffled since he was wearing noise canceling headphones and earplugs at the same time to block out as much sound as possible. He felt his shoulder being gently patted.
Eren yawned, removing his headphones, and suddenly all his ears could perceive was shrieking. “Ymir!?” He turned to his right, where her assigned seat was, next to her mother.
Oh no. The front of Historia’s maroon Maria U hoodie had an enormous stain with half dried vomit. “I can’t,” she pleaded to the female flight attendant next to her. Her voice was hoarse, her eyes baggy with what was clearly sleep deprivation.
About a meter away, Ymir Aurora Jaeger, their adorable little dumpling, the apple of their eyes, was standing by one of the empty seats in the second to last row of the first-class cabin. She was wailing her lungs out, her eyes scrunched up and her red cheeks drenched in tears.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, I’ve been trying to get her to stay still—Honey? Please, come back—stay with Mama…”
She reached out to weakly grab at Ymir, as if she didn’t know that she was already further from an arm’s reach away.
“NOOO!” Ymir shrieked angrily as she tried to run towards the economy passenger area. “I DON’T WANNA!” The flight attendant who’d stirred Eren awake quickly moved to stand in her path, blocking her from exiting the cabin, so she darted to the right into the vacant rear seat closest to the window instead. She crawled onto it, grasping the headrest as if it were a lifeline.
Eren rolled his eyes but also let out a chuckle: there was something about the sight of her fuming and furious which he found adorable. Then again, he hadn’t been dealing with this attitude for as long as the people around him. It must’ve been exhausting for them and embarrassing for Historia, so thank goodness there was only one other passenger with them in first-class who was awake: a woman who was also plugged into the film she was watching, but also flitting her gaze back and forth, her lips pursed tightly, clearly trying to ignore what was happening around her. Everyone else, including the older Chinese gentleman sitting to Eren’s left, remained in sleep, blissfully unaware of the trouble Ymir was causing.
“What’s happened with her?”
“Airsick,” explained flight attendant who’d woken him, another younger Chinese man. “She’s throwing up a lot. We let her walk around for a while, but right now there’s turbulence, so everyone needs to remain in their seat until it calms down. Your wife has been trying to get her back, but your daughter has been very resistant, and I think your wife is getting tired.”
Tired was putting it mildly: Historia looked practically drunk. Her half-lidded, unfocused daze gave away that she barely seemed to comprehend the lady begging her to get Ymir herself, and Eren himself, once he approached her.
“Why the hell didn’t you wake me sooner?” he hissed quietly, hoping to mask his irritation, though he knew how Historia would respond before she’d even said it, and he didn’t like it.
“You were so exhausted when we finally got here” Historia grumbled, managing a weak smile. “You deserved to rest as long as you can—could…”
“And I’m very grateful,” Eren cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But Ymir needs at least one decently rested parent to manage her now, not… this.” He grinned at her uneasily, as he gestured to all of her, before turning his attention back to Ymir.
“Pumpkin? He called as he walked toward her with a smile. “You want a hug from Daddy?”
Ymir shook her head. “B-belly h-hurts.” She let out another moan as she wept.
“And that must really suck, right?” Eren slowly walked towards her, beaming as brightly as he could, trying not to look too intimidating despite how much he towered over her. “Daddy’s gonna take care of that now,” he said as he gently scooped her up into his arms.
Unfortunately, that didn’t do much to calm her down. “NO! NOOO!”
“Shhh. People are sleeping,” he whispered as he carried her back to his seat, gently patting her back. He’d already had plenty of experience in dealing with tantrums like these throughout her terrible twos. He made sure to keep a firm grasp on her, pinning her arms against him so that she couldn’t move her to punch or scratch at his neck and face. With on arm, he kept her feet secured as well so that she wouldn’t kick at him, though he made sure to not squeeze too tightly.
Sure, it was far from the best thing to have to wake up to. He’d had to adjust to things like this happening on a regular basis in the years since she was born, when she used to wake up at the most inopportune hour in the middle of the night to be fed and changed. It hadn’t been easy exchanging late nights partying and gaming with friends for dirty diapers and sleepless nights.
But after he got Ymir back with him into his seat, positioned in his lap, guided her in eating the Tums he’d packed into his bag, holding her steady as the plane occasionally shook and she vomited the remaining contents of her stomach into a paper bag, as her crying eventually subsided and she began to focus her attention on the episodes of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure had put on for her, Eren was certain that he wouldn’t trade being a parent, for anything. Even though it had been unexpected and sprung on him when he’d been too young, ever since he’d first heard her cry, the indelible joy she brought him had never waned.
When the seat beat light finally turned off ten minutes later, Eren looked down and asked, “Would you like to use the restroom now, honey?”
Ymir stared up at him with her big hazel eyes. “Okay,” she chippered nonchalantly, and they both headed down to the plane’s tiny restroom. Though if they were home, he wouldn’t have needed to accompany her while she did her business. One of the biggest joys of his life was relishing how incredibly bright and independent his daughter was for a three-year-old. It hadn’t taken much effort to potty train her at all, and as silly as it was, watching her run off to the restroom by herself never failed to bring a smile to his face.
Once they had returned, Ymir’s eyes were getting droopy, and it took only fifteen minutes of lightly bouncing her on his lap before she finally fell asleep. With her still in his arms, Eren gently stood up and walked to place her back in her seat next to her mother. Now, the other important girl in his life needed his attention. Historia sat slumped in her seat, snoring lightly. She had, much to his amusement, begun drooling from the corner of her left lip, as she usually did. He’d used to think it was cute, until they’d begun sharing a bed and he’d started waking up with some part of him covered in her saliva.
Historia shuffled, then blinked as she felt the corner of her mouth being dabbed with a tissue. Guilt roiled within her as she looked up at her husband’s loving eyes. “You must be so pissed at me,” she sighed.
“Let’s get you change out of that hoodie.”
“Mm.” With her knees screaming, Historia got up onto her feet, then lifted her arms up so that Eren could carefully pull it off of her. He folded it in half, over the stain, and tied it together with the two sleeves before throwing it in the luggage compartment. She didn’t have to ask if they could switch seats: Eren merely nodded as she planted herself into his seat. She stretched her legs, relishing the much-needed space she now had to herself.
“How long do we have until we arrive?” Eren asked her.
“About two hours.”
“Wow, that means I’d slept half a day!” You didn’t think that was enough?”
“You’ve been so busy for the past few days, getting us ready and packed up, while I was stuck studying for my stupid exam. I figured I could handle her myself, that she might’ve missed me since we hadn’t spent much time together. That… it might’ve been easier this time around.”
Historia sighed wearily as she rubbed at her throbbing skull. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to sink into her seat like quicksand and never come out.
She couldn’t be more jealous of how her husband seemed to be able to handle most of Ymir’s tantrums with enviable ease, albeit a practiced one. Parenting didn’t come as easily to her, and the more time she spent away from her daughter, no matter how certain she was that getting an education would ensure she was able to provide, the guilt that her daughter would resent her long absences, which might bite her in the ass someday. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. Her pregnancy had been difficult enough, having been diagnosed with hypertension and put on bedrest for most of her third trimester. When Ymir had arrived, beautiful, loud, healthy, and weighing as heavy as a ten-month-old, she’d thought the worst had been over. Then postpartum had hit, and the extreme discomfort of breastfeeding that she’d never been able to get over. Her own body failing her multiple times when it came to childbearing and rearing rooted many of her current insecurities regarding her ability to be a good mother.
Especially since she never had one. She had a mess of a woman who’d come home late smelling of weed and alcohol, who kept her in diapers until she was five, and the police would break down her door only a few months after her birthday when, during a heat wave, she’d been left alone in the apartment and had screamed for an hour for someone to get her out. Only then had she been sent to live with her father and his family, which, while far from ideal, at least meant that her physical needs were adequately met, allowing her to have something close enough to a normal childhood.
“You know, she likely got it from me.” Eren tried to reassure her. He took off his hoodie and laid it onto her torso like a blanket. Since he dwarfed her, it might as well have been, as it covered her entire body, draping over her knees. “The stubbornness, the spunk, the attitude. Thankfully, she’s also got your smarts and ability to pick things up quickly. I’m sure Ma would’ve killed for me to be as smart at her age, and not the walnut brained gremlin she apparently got. And that made me think: what could your mother have given you? We know it isn’t looks; we’ve both seen pictures. I know you don’t remember much of what’d happened, before you finally got out of there… but what, if anything, could you have gotten?”
“But I don’t worry about that anymore.” He leaned down to press warm lips to her left cheek. “Because what’s important is that even though you don’t feel it, what matters the most is that she still loves you. That she still feels safe with you, and you do your best to make her feel so, and already that makes you better than both your parents were at raising you.”
God, I love you. To stop herself from breaking down into a soggy mess right then and there, Historia settled for a, “I really hope so,” out of courtesy for the gentleman asleep next to her, and what little dignity she had after what had just transpired.
Her mind drifted towards other thoughts on her mind to destress. The seven years she and Eren had been together had so quickly sped by, and her life could’ve transformed so much. That she would be a mother at nineteen, and get married a few months later. That their first experience living on their own as a family would be halfway across the globe, further than any of them had ever traveled, in a country that none of them had experience in. All because she’d suggested Eren take a Mandarin course to fulfill his foundational language requirement, and had decided to stick with it, eventually graduating with a Bachelor’s in Chinese Studies.
“Think of it as a long overdue honeymoon,” he’d said to convince her, back when he’d been trying to explain the offer which his mother’s former employer, one of Guilin’s most renowned travel agencies, had given him. A city brimming with picturesque natural beauty to call home for the next six months—maybe even longer depending on how well the job went. An apartment with considerably lower rent than anywhere they’d been able to find in years, with places to shop for food and other necessities all around the block. Most importantly, they wouldn’t be alone: they had Carla’s old workmate: their landlord and guide, the friends they would hopefully make in town and at work.
Historia allowed herself to relax, the sourness brought on by Ymir's tantrum fading into a faint optimism for their upcoming life in the months ahead. Sleep once again embraced her like a warm solace.