Eremika Drabble Prompt #9
Title: In Your Arms
Summary: Mikasa returning her scarf to Eren.
Notes: Since people have been talking about how Mikasa is no longer attached to Eren... I thought, what if she returns her scarf to him? After all, the scarf is a symbol for her attachment. Also a prompt for Eremika Fluff Week Day 6: In Your Arms. I know it's (super!) late, but I love this story still, I hope you will too!
Eren was, of course, always such an open book to read. But as a childhood friend, there have been times when she understood him better than anyone else. She saw things when others didn't. His small frowns when he disagreed, the way his eyes drifted when he didn't understand something, the way he raised his voice when he thought she was babying him too much, or his subtle hand gestures when he wanted to emphasize his point. She knew him.
And in the years that she had known him, she had seen him angry. She had seen him feeling guilty, she had seen him shed tears. She had seen him being crushed to pieces when his mother died, his confidence shattered because he wasn't strong enough to protect someone most important to him. She had seen him wail over the lost of Uncle Hannes, with tears of frustration in his eyes, shouting to the heavens to let out his anger and helplessness. Nothing had changed, he wasn't able to avenge anyone. He was as powerless then as he had been five years ago.
She had assured him that it wasn't the case. That he at least, had saved her – one trembling girl who had lost her family in a tragic incident. He had provided her with a home, he had returned to her hopes. And he stood by and protected her then.
He had been called a threat to humanity and almost eliminated, as easy as a pig for slaughter. He had been forced to watch his family and friends die before his eyes. He had experienced betrayal from the people he trusted the most. But through everything, of his sadness and anger – and the pain and humiliation that he had to endure, she had never seen him falter. He always had the will to fight, to stand right back up – she had never seen the flames in his eyes died.
She had never seen him afraid.
"Eren," she called softly. He wasn't listening. His face was buried in his palms, he was lost in his thought. And she knew better than to bother him by then.
"Can I really do this, Mikasa?" he asked, his voice rang through the silence between them. She didn't know the answer.
"Everyone will die because of me. If I screwed up, if I made a single mistake… I…," he stopped to give an icy, tasteless laugh. "I've had enough of people dying on my account." He lifted his face, but his eyes were far away, piercing the dark night sky, wondering.
She studied him, and silently asked to herself. Why? Everyone called him humanity's last hope, he was always entrusted with heavy tasks. The fate of the whole mankind was thrust upon his shoulder, and no one else could bear it but him.
"Eren," for the second time, she opened her mouth tonight. But nothing she could say to comfort him – nothing. If she could, she would have shared the burden with him – she would have even taken it in place of him. But such a thing was beyond her ability. She eyed him, helpless. And by then, she saw a thing that startled her. He was shivering, though the night wasn't that cold.
Enough of humanity's last hope. He was a human, just like the rest of us too.
She had to do something for him.
Her body moved before she could stop it. She stood up, walked behind him, unwound the red scarf from her neck, and slowly wrapped the material around him. He was surprised.
"Hey," he said, turning to see her. "What's th-"
"It's a cruel world we live in, Eren," she reminded him. "If we don't fight, we can't win."
You have taught me about that once, you gave them to me along with this red scarf.
"This scarf is warm… right?" she asked him. The same question he had asked her those many years ago. He didn't answer, his fingers slowly traced the article.
"Yeah," he said finally. And with a relief, she sensed that he was beginning to sound more like himself. "It certainly is warm."
"You gave it to me once. Now I'm giving it back," she said, slowly stretching out her arms around him from behind. Leaning her body close to him, she inhaled deeply and breathed on his smell. You need it more than I do, to keep you from the cold.
"No," he said, standing up suddenly. She stumbled forward, but he caught her. The next thing she knew, he had draped the velvety scarf around her like a veil. It was familiar, this feeling of warmth – of comfort. "You keep it," he said, still wrapping her in it just like the child he was on that night so many years back. She brought her hands up – feeling the material on the tips of her fingers. Shyly she looked at him through the curtain of her dark hair and the red fabric, and he blushed.
"Don't get me wrong. I just think you look good in red. That's all." He reached his hand downwards to find hers, and her heartbeat curiously accelerated.
Really, Eren will always be Eren. A boy too awkward to express his own feelings, yet he always knew how to make her feel like she had found her home.
"Thank you," she said, leaning her body closer and rested her head on his shoulders. She closed her eyes.
And not another word was uttered.