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Eren forced his way through thick bushes, tall grass, and across the river. Every scratch and slip was worth it, beyond the mud and thorns lay flowers that only bloomed deep within the forest. Not native to Paradis, they came from distant, colder countries up north. He didn’t know their name; he only knew their pearly white petals would make the perfect gift for Mikasa’s birthday.
As he stepped into the sun-drenched clearing, the flowers were so bright they almost hurt his eyes. Dropping to his knees, he studied one closely. He plucked it gently from the earth, watching yellow-white pollen shimmer from its anther like dust. Holding it to his face, he twirled the stem between his fingers and leaned in to breathe in it’s scent.
The unexpected harsh smell made Eren recoil, turning his head as he coughed and sneezed. His vision blurred, the flower before him dissolving into blobs of light and color. A strange heaviness settled into his limbs. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the reason he’d come here was already slipping from his mind.
He leaned in again, stubborn, thinking he was prepared this time. He wasn’t.
As he inhaled, his cheeks flushed, his thoughts softened into a warm, sluggish haze. The world around him seemed to slow, like time itself was stretching. Even the sounds — birds, wind, distant water — grew louder, sharper, echoing inside his head.
He let himself fall back onto the blanket of green grass and flowers, sending a puff of pollen swirling into the air with the impact. A soft, childish giggle escaped him as he watched the glittering particles dance above. The petals brushed gently against his skin, and the sun cast a golden warmth across his face.
He hadn’t felt this light in over a decade, not even before the wall fell. Each breath brought another wave of calm, as if one wasn’t enough. He could stay like this forever , he thought.
✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻
With each passing hour, Mikasa grew more anxious. The sun was beginning to set, and Eren still hadn’t come home. For the last two hours, she’d stood at the door of their cabin, staring into the tall, dark trees, the same trees that had swallowed Eren whole.
Dinner sat untouched, long gone cold. He was never this late, not even on long fishing trips. As dusk fell, Mikasa grabbed her lantern and made the decision: she’d go find him herself.
She searched his usual spots first, calling his name into the wind, but found nothing. The deeper into the woods she went, the more unease crept into her chest. Eren was capable, he’d proven that many times over, but that didn’t stop her from fussing over him like a mother.
Eventually, she reached what looked like a dead end, an impassable wall of tangled bushes and trees. She was about to turn back when something caught her eye: a narrow gap in the thorns, like someone had forced their way through. It looked recent. The branches were still bent, the opening just wide enough for a person to slip through.
She decided to take the risk, crawling through the narrow crevice, pushing past thorns and low-hanging branches until she emerged into an endless sea of white. A field of flowers stretched out before her, shimmering under the dim light like a dream.
Instinctively, she pulled her scarf over her mouth and nose, furrowing her brow. She recognized the plant instantly. The plant was infamous for the long highs it delivered. She’d read about it in one of the old books her mother gave her as a child.
Carefully, Mikasa stepped between the blossoms, trying not to disturb the thick, floating pollen. Her eyes scanned the field, squinting against the brightness, until they landed on a figure slouched beneath a distant tree.
He sat in the flowers, arms swaying lazily through the air, stirring glittering clouds of pollen around him. A strange laugh bubbled from his throat, light and childlike.
Mikasa narrowed her eyes, she recognised his laughter from anywhere.
Without hesitation, Mikasa charged through the flowers, bulldozing her way toward Eren. Relief hit her chest like a wave when she finally reached him, but it didn’t last. Something was deeply wrong.
She dropped to her knees beside him, heart pounding. Eren stared off into nothing, eyes glassy and distant. He’d never acted like this, not even as a child.
Then her gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips and chin shimmered with golden pollen.
Had he been… eating the flowers?
A chill ran down her spine. The flower wasn’t just hallucinogenic, it was dangerous. Lethal, even.
She reached out instinctively, cupping his face between her hands.
Finally, his eyes flicked to hers. Recognition bloomed, and so did a loopy smile. His eyes curved into crescent moons as he beamed at her like a dazed child.
Eren immediately slumped into her arms, his body heavy and pliant. He rested his head on her shoulder, then clumsily wrapped an arm around her neck, tugging her down so he could fully sink into her hold. He mumbled something incoherent, followed by a giddy, breathy giggle.
Mikasa adjusted her grip, trying to steady him, her arms firm but gentle. She needed to get him out of here.
“We need to get home,” she said, urgency creeping into her voice. “Eren, what have you been doing?”
He only snickered, soft and stubborn, like a mischievous child caught red-handed. He refused to meet her eyes, glancing away with exaggerated innocence, as if she were the one overreacting.
Mikasa huffed, realizing there was no getting through to him in this state. Resigned, she let him lean into her fully, adjusting her stance as she hooked her right arm around his waist. It wasn’t graceful, but it would work.
Dragging a delirious, overgrown child through thorns, branches, and uneven forest ground proved more difficult than she’d hoped. But when they finally crossed the threshold of their cabin, the weight of the journey melted away. It was worth it.
She shut the door behind them with a firm click, locking it tight, just in case he got the idea to wander off again. The glow of the fireplace bathed the room in warm orange light, and she turned her attention to Eren, finally able to see him clearly.
“You’re covered in pollen and mud,” she sighed, exasperated, already tugging at his filthy shirt.
Eren let out a whine, shrinking away from her touch. “I don’t wanna be cold,” he muttered, voice small and sluggish.
Mikasa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. She took a moment to gather herself, thinking through the best way to handle the situation without upsetting him further.
After a breath, she spoke gently. “You can lay in bed while I get your clothes, okay? It’s warm there, you won’t get cold.”
Eren blinked slowly, but didn’t respond. She eased his filthy shirt up and over his head, moving carefully. He let out another soft whine in protest, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as if to guard the last bit of warmth.
The brunet stayed slumped forward as Mikasa gently led him to the bedroom, her fingers wrapped softly around his. He followed without protest, his steps slow and dragging. She guided him onto the bed, pulling the blankets over his upper body before turning to leave.
“I’ll be right back,” she said quietly. “I’m just grabbing clean clothes from the backyard.”
As the door creaked shut behind her, Eren sat up slowly, blinking around the dim room like he’d just woken up in a strange place. The silence pressed in.
Then—
“Mikasa?” he called, voice uncertain, cracking slightly. His head turned clumsily from side to side, eyes wide and glossy.
“Mikasa!!” he called again, louder this time, the edge of panic creeping into his tone, like a child waking from a nightmare, suddenly alone.
“Yes?” Mikasa called from outside, stepping back into the room.
She paused in the doorway, sighing softly at the sight of Eren — sitting upright, eyes glossy, lips trembling like he was on the verge of tears.
Crossing the room in a few quick strides, she sat beside him on the bed and gently slipped the clean shirt over his arms.
“God, look at you…why would you even do something like that, sweetheart?” she murmured, her voice low and laced with concern. “You know you’re not supposed to eat just any plant you see…”
Her soft scolding barely landed. Eren reached out wordlessly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. His head tucked into her shoulder like it was the only place he felt safe.
He tugged her down into the sheets with him. Mikasa sighed softly, her fingers threading through his hair in slow, calming strokes.
“Do you want me to stay here with you?” she asked gently.
He gave a small nod, barely more than a movement.
Carefully, she shifted onto the bed beside him, though it was difficult with the way he clung to her. Eventually, she managed to settle beneath the covers, letting him wrap himself around her however he needed.
He held her like a child might hold a stuffed toy. Tight, protective, and unwilling to let go. His arms encircled her fully, pressing her close to his chest, his breath warm against her skin.
They lay in silence, the bedroom dim and quiet, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight slipping through the window. Eren buried his face into her shoulder, inhaling her scent like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. As he drifted off to sleep, the only think clouding his mind was Mikasa. Her soft body, her sweet scent, her shiny hair.
Mikasa.
✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻
It was still early when Eren woke, sweat clinging to his skin and the sheets damp beneath him. He sat up with a quiet groan, eyes squinting against the soft light filtering through the window. His head pounded, it wasn’t like the dreamy haze from yesterday, but a sharp, anxious throb that made everything feel wrong.
Disoriented, he looked around, trying to piece things together. Then his gaze landed on Mikasa, still asleep beside him.
Her birthday.
The thought hit him like a punch to the chest. He cursed under his breath. Everything from the day before was a blur — fragments of flowers, giggles, sunlight — but not much else.
He rubbed his temple, eyes drifting toward the kitchen. Right. He had planned to bake her a cake.
Moving slowly, he slid out of bed, careful not to wake her. His legs felt unsteady, the floor strangely distant beneath his feet. He caught himself on the nightstand, shutting his eyes tightly to ride out the wave of dizziness. After a few seconds, the swirl of colors behind his eyelids calmed, and he took a shaky breath.
Then he stumbled his way toward the kitchen, determined to make it up to her, even if his hands were trembling and his legs were wobbly
He silently thanked his past self for at least having the foresight to prepare the ingredients in advance. Everything was laid out in one of the kitchen cabinets. Flour, sugar, eggs, even a little tin of cocoa powder.
He grabbed a crumpled piece of paper tucked between two jars, his recipe. Scrawled in handwriting that looked like it had been written mid-earthquake.
Resting a hand on his hip, he squinted down at the page, trying to make sense of the mess of loops and lines. He tilted it. Blinked. Tried holding it at arm’s length.
Nothing helped.
“Ugh, screw this,” he muttered, tossing the paper onto the counter in defeat. His brain was already too fogged up to decipher his own cryptic chicken-scratch.
He turned to the ingredients instead, eyeing them like a soldier assessing unfamiliar terrain.
How hard could it be?
The first thing to go wrong was the flour. He’d dumped in way too much, only realizing his mistake after the wet ingredients were already swimming in the bowl like confused soup. Eren sighed, staring into the thick paste, then shrugged and did what made sense in his half-delirious state: he reached in with his bare hands and started scooping it out.
Flour clung to his skin like glue. He turned, scanning the kitchen for a bowl or plate. Nothing.
With a muttered curse, he dropped the sticky clumps straight onto the counter.
He turned back and scooped out more. And more. Eventually, there was a sad little mountain of dirty flour on the counter, and almost none left in the bowl.
Groaning, he stared at the mess. Fine. Maybe he could put some back .
He reached for a handful, then froze.
A couple of ants were making their way through the flour pile like it was a buffet.
He cursed under his breath, letting one hand go to try and pick the ants out. By letting his hand go, half the flour fell onto the ground, and onto his shirt and pants.
After throwing a muted fit — careful not to wake Mikasa — Eren huffed and dumped the sad batter into the trash. Flour stuck to the edges of the counter, to his hands, even to his shirt, but he decided cleaning could come later. Right now, he had a mission.
This time, things went smoother. The batter looked… decent. Maybe even good. He wasn’t sure — it wasn’t like he was a cake expert — but it wasn’t soup anymore, and that felt like a win.
Now came the next hurdle: the oven.
It took him a full minute to remember where Mikasa kept the matches. Another to get one to actually light, the first four snapped at the tip. When he finally coaxed a flame to life, a small, victorious grin crept onto his face.
Then he paused.
He stared at the cold, empty oven, he had forgotten the wood.
The flame in his hand fizzled out just as his hope did.
He shuffled defeatedly over towards the woodpile, clumsily grabbing a few. He grabbed as many logs as he could — too many — cradling them awkwardly against his chest. Half of them slipped from his grasp immediately, clattering loudly onto the wooden floor. He hissed, trying to pick them back up as his eyes reverted to their bedroom, making sure Mikasa wasn’t awake.
The soft shuffle of bedsheets echoed down the hallway, and Eren froze, mid-reach, like a thief caught in the act. His eyes locked on the bedroom door. He held his breath. Then, in a burst of panic, he snapped into motion, scooping the wood with shaky urgency.
The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His vision blurred, and more logs slipped from his arms like rebellious children.
The door creaked open.
Mikasa stepped out, half-asleep, rubbing at one eye with the heel of her hand. Her scarf had slipped down around her shoulders, and her voice was thick with sleep.
“...What are you doing?” she mumbled, blinking slowly.
Eren, surrounded by chaos, clinging to two crooked logs and breathing hard, looked at Mikasa with wide, guilty eyes.
“...Happy birthday.” An awkward smile crept up his face as he straightened up, attempting to make something out of this.
✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻
“And—and everything’s going wrong, and I don’t even know what to do anymore! I’m such an idiot, Mikasa!” Eren sobbed into her chest, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her embrace. She gently ran her fingers through his hair while simultaneously trying to dust out the flour.
“You’re not an idiot, baby. It’s just that flower you ate,” Mikasa said softly, her hands moving to lift his dirty shirt.
But Eren pushed her away with a dramatic flare, putting some distance between them.
“No! Don’t treat me like a toddler. I’m your man—I’m supposed to be able to do it myself!” he protested, though he made no real effort to take the shirt off. He was in no state to maneuver his way out of clothing right now.
“Don’t be like that…” Mikasa sighed, trying to figure out how to get Eren to cooperate. She paused for a moment, thinking, then stood up.
“We need to clear your head,” she murmured, heading quickly to the kitchen to fetch him some water. But she stopped short at the sight before her, the kitchen was a complete disaster. She stared at the mess, momentarily unsure of how to even react.
“I was trying to make a cake…” Eren called out meekly from the bedroom, already bracing for her response.
“What? Why?” she asked in a confused tone, stepping into the chaos to assess the damage more closely.
“It’s your birthday!” He clumsily stood up, patting his way to the kitchen so he could see Mikasa. He expected her to be upset with the mess, but at the mention of her birthday, she softened.
“You shouldn’t have done all this for my birthday… especially not in this state,” she said softly, walking over to him. Gently, she cupped his cheeks and let out a quiet sigh. “I told you not to make a big deal out of it.”
“You always say that,” he huffed. “Can’t a man do something nice for his wife for once?”
Mikasa chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you,” she whispered, gazing up at him with a fond smile.
“What are you thanking me for? I ruined everything,” he muttered, frowning—genuinely confused by her warmth.
“For trying. For being here with me.”
She brushed her fingers through his hair, and he visibly softened at her touch. Without another word, he leaned in, burying his face in the crook of her neck, arms slipping around her waist.
“That’s the bare minimum, dummy…” he mumbled against her skin, his voice muffled and affectionate. She giggled, the warmth of his breath tickling her neck.
“Let’s just get you cleaned up again, alright? We can continue once you’re feeling better,” she said gently, taking his hand in hers. This time, he didn’t protest, allowing her to lead him back to the bedroom.
She brought him a clean shirt, and since it was still so early, they crawled back into bed. He pulled her close against his chest, just like he had an hour before, pressing soft kisses to her jaw and neck as he drifted in and out of sleep. Her heart swelled with warmth.
Moments like this—quiet, intimate, real—meant more than any cake ever could. Her birthday was perfect, even if she’d probably have to clean the kitchen later.
At least she’d do it with Eren, and that was all she really needed.