Chapter Text
It’s fucking hot.
My entire body is sticky, drenched part in sweat, part in blood—mine and other people’s—that has been there long enough to dry. I want to scratch my skin off.
The air is rancid. Thick, stale. The dead bodies not far from us are baking under the sun. I’ll puke if I look at them too long.
Erwin is sitting in front of me, his face as composed as ever. Everyone else who’s left is clumped behind us. The redhead—Floch?—and the other new recruits are sitting down. One of them is talking, but it looks like no one’s paying attention. Hange is tending to Armin, who hasn’t moved in ten minutes. Mikasa, beside them, takes a restrained sip from a canteen and extends it to Eren. Eren is staring at me with blank eyes, and when I look back at him, he looks away.
“I have a plan,” Erwin says. His voice is resolute, but a little hoarse after having spent the past several hours screaming out orders.
Not five minutes after we managed to kill everyone shooting at us, Erwin got word that a convoy is about twenty minutes away. We won’t be able to outrun it.
“Most of us aren’t going to get out of here alive,” he says.
“Great start,” I grunt.
“If we pull this off, some of us will make it back to the base.”
As opposed to none of us.
“We’ll have two groups,” he continues. “The largest one will stay here and hold off the convoy while the second group escapes.”
“That’s it?” I say. I’ve felt mostly numb for the past hour but now I can feel myself starting to shake. I inhale slowly through my nose.
“We have to decide who stays and who goes,” Erwin says, as if it’s not completely his decision.
Eren and Mikasa go. That goes without saying. Those two are once-in-a-generation talent on the battlefield—Mikasa moreso than Eren, but they’re a package deal. If Hange says Armin’s still alive, then he’ll go too, ‘cause his insight into the enemy’s movements is unmatched. Plus, those two wouldn’t go anywhere without him. Hange goes, because they’re next in line if anything happens to Erwin.
As for everyone else…
I can’t see these kids, especially the newest recruits, rallying long enough to keep the enemy away from us. Not when Erwin tells them they’re all going to die and then walks away. I feel my stomach sinking. I have to live long enough to pick up their slack.
Eren and Mikasa are mostly uninjured, but they’re exhausted. I wouldn’t trust them to get back to base on their own. Hange seems pretty fuckin’ tired, too, so I wouldn’t trust them to get the kids there either. Erwin’s missing an arm, so what fucking good is he going to be?
My throat is burning. I swallow down the bile and clear my throat.
“Erwin. It’s got to be you.”
He looks at me with wide eyes. I haven’t ever seen him look like that.
"Those kids won’t do fuckall if you’re not there,” I say. “But if you’re fighting alongside them…”
“They’ll have a bit of hope,” Erwin says softly, nodding.
“Besides,” I say, “if Eren’s group gets attacked, what are you gonna do? You can barely shoot a gun.”
“And you’re uninjured,” he says.
I nod. That’s mostly true. My arm and leg have been nicked, but they just sting a little. My right shoulder’s fucky and my ankle might be twisted. But we both know I’m in better shape than he is.
"I wanted to finish my degree,” he mutters, looking down at the ground.
"I know,” I say.
I can’t really say anything else.
“You’ll take care of The Beast, won’t you? Not today, but soon.”
I nod.
He’s quiet for a moment, then he looks at me, his gaze steady. "Get Eren, Hange, and the rest back safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stand up and walk, as quickly as I can, to Hange as he calls the troops over to him. Hange’s dark hair is stuck to their face and neck. It fell out of its ponytail at some point.
Hange’s still hovering over Armin. The boy’s skin is…maybe less pale than it was a few minutes ago, but I still can’t look at his face without feeling sick. There’s a tourniquet around his upper left thigh.
“I started the transfusion, but he needs more blood,” Hange says.
Jesus Christ.
“Hurry up and give it to him. We’re leaving soon.”
Hange’s eyes widen for a moment.
“We’re leaving?”
“You, me, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin.”
“I see,” they say, and look past me, at Erwin, for a moment, before biting their lip.
“What I meant was…We don’t have much blood left, so if I use it now and something else happens, there won’t be any left.”
Why the fuck is everyone asking me to make all the decisions today?
“That’s Erwin’s call,” I say.
“Erwin is busy.”
“Then, it’s your call.”
They grimace at me. “I know, and I’m asking you.”
I try not to groan. Heat flashes in my skull and I put a hand on my head.
“How long can he stay alive without getting it?”
“I—I don’t know,” Hange says. “Maybe half an hour? Maybe a little less?”
Roars and screams come from behind us, and I fight the instinct to cover my ears. Erwin must’ve broken the news.
“Let’s wait 20 minutes,” I say, “and then if no one else needs it…”
Hange’s face twists slightly. “20 minutes? And we’re not leaving right now?”
What are the chances of any of us getting hurt on the way back?
“Get ready,” I say. “I’ll get the kids.”
Part of me wants to give it to Armin right now. He’s a good kid. But, out of the five of us, he’s the most injured. It’s severe. It’s going to be a long time before he can get back on the field. If we had to pick someone to leave behind, it would have to be him. So…
Christ, earlier today I saw him take out a sniper just before one of the new guys got shot. Armin couldn’t have done that a year ago. He’s grown so much.
“How is he?” Eren asks when I put a hand on his shoulder. I gesture for him and Mikasa to follow me and walk back towards Hange.
"Hange didn’t tell me anything they didn’t tell you,” I say. It’s probably true.
"Did they give him the transfusion?”
“Not yet,” I say.”
“Not yet?!” Eren repeats loudly.
“Why not?” Mikasa says.
“We’re waiting a while. To see if someone else might need it.”
Fuck, it hurts to walk.
“Who else might need it?” Eren says as we approach Hange, who’s frenetically gathering up the medical supplies.
“One of us,” I say.
“If I get hurt, I want him to have it,” Eren and Mikasa say, almost in unison.
These are good kids.
"We’re waiting,” I say.
They keep protesting, and their shouts feel like knives driving into my skull.
“Shut up,” I say, and pick up the bag Hange just packed with my left arm.
“Which one of you is carrying Armin? We’re leaving.”
“We’re leaving?” repeats Mikasa.
“Yeah,” I say. “Eren, pick him up.”
Eren pulls Armin’s motionless body over his shoulder.
“It’s just us?” he asks. I nod.
“Why don’t we give it to him now, and if something happens, just take more from one of us?” he says.
“You think we’d have time for that?”
“Maybe.”
“We wouldn’t. Shut the fuck up and walk.”
Eren glares at me and starts moving. Hange comes up beside me and speaks quietly.
“We’re leaving because…?”
“A convoy’s on the way.”
“So we have an excuse to use the new bombs? And I don’t even get to see them?”
“No.”
Hange frowns at me.
Soon, we reach our one remaining truck and climb into it. Hange drives. Everyone is quiet for a while.
“Can we take some of this off?” Eren asks, gesturing to his uniform. “It’s a fucking sauna in here.”
“I don’t think we need to see that,” Hange says, flashing him a smile.
“Do you wanna be wearing nothing when a bullet hits you?” I say.
He groans and starts fanning himself. Mikasa rummages through her backpack and hands him her canteen.
The two of them are behind me, breathing heavily. I can taste their sweat. My head is throbbing, and the ache in my shoulder is getting worse.
“Are you okay?” Hange says quietly.
“I’m fine.”
Erwin is back there, about to die, if he hasn’t already. Should I have stayed behind instead? If we were attacked right now, I don’t think I’d be much use.
Soon, he’ll be scattered in chunks on the ground. So will everyone else.
The ground starts to shake and I instinctively cover my head. The kids do the same. After about a minute, it stops. My hands are drenched in sweat.
"Who do you think that was, them or us?” Hange says.
Eren starts to say something, and the ground shakes again.
“It’s gotta be us,” he says, glancing at me with his tired eyes.
Over the next several minutes, the ground rumbles again and again. Nobody says anything. Is Erwin dead yet? What about the rest of them?
Bodies thrown around like ragdolls. Screaming, moaning people dragging themselves across the ground, their severed limbs scattered feet away, slick with blood. I’m glad the kids don’t have to see it this time. Maybe it’s not stuck in their memory yet like it is for me. It’s getting even hotter and my chest is tight. I flinch when Hange puts their hand on my shoulder.
“Keep your hands on the fuckin’ wheel,” I say. My voice comes out hoarse.
Hange sighs quietly.
“How’s Armin?” they ask.
I don’t look at him.
“He’s…pale,” Mikasa says. “Can we—”
Hange tightens their hands on the wheel and I see something approaching us outside. My gun is in my hands and I have it trained on the thing before I know what I’m looking at. When it gets a bit closer, I can shoot the guy driving. It looks like he has red hair. Floch?
What’s more likely—he’s stolen an enemy vehicle, he’s joined the enemy, there’s an enemy soldier with red hair, or I’m going fucking crazy?
I don’t know. I’ve already fired twice. I shot the front tires. The truck skids to a stop.
“Hange, slow down.”
“What?”
“Slow down.”
I see the redhead get out of the car and go to the passenger-side door. I have my gun trained on him. He’s dragging someone out, someone with short blonde hair.
“Stop!”
“Stop?” Hange repeats.
“Stop the car!”
Hange slams on the brakes and my head reels. Armin’s body tumbles out of its seat.
I make sure no one else is outside and step out. Pain shoots through my ankle, but I run on it anyways. As I get closer, I see that it’s definitely Erwin. What the fuck is he thinking, bringing Erwin’s corpse out here? Jesus Christ.
“Captain!” Floch calls out, his voice cracking.
“What the fuck—"
“Captain!” he says again.
Erwin’s skin is ashen. His lips are almost blue. The bandage Armin had wrapped around him an hour ago is soaked in blood and there are holes in his shoulder. I didn’t want to see him like this. What the fuck was this idiot thinking? I can’t breathe.
"He’s still alive,” Floch says.
No fucking way.
“He has a pulse. Feel it.”
“I don’t wanna fucking—"
He grabs my wrist and I’m too weak to pull away. He puts my hand on Erwin’s wrist.
It’s weak, but I feel it. Fuck.
“He’s lost a lot of blood, but you all took some, right? If we give it to him, maybe he can still—"
“Commander?!”
Hange’s voice startles me. They’re rushing towards us, and Eren isn’t far behind. They crouch beside me and check Erwin’s pulse.
“He’s alive,” they say.
His eyes are red. His mouth is slightly parted. If he’s breathing, I can’t hear it.
“You can save him! He’s not gonna die if we hurry, right?”
Hange speaks quietly. “I…I’m not sure. He might already be past saving.”
“Might?” repeated Floch. “If there’s a chance, we have to try. Commander Erwin is a once-in-a-lifetime leader. We have to try. We have to—"
He keeps on going. His words rattle in my aching skull. My head is spinning. Now, I hear Eren too. He’s louder.
"That’s a fucking corpse! He’s dead! But Armin’s still alive. We can still—"
My head is pounding.
“Armin? He didn’t die already?” Floch says. “He looked like a corpse. But Commander Erwin is still alive! We have to save him! He’s the Commander!”
They’re so goddamn loud.
“What?! No! He’s already—"
Mikasa stayed behind with Armin, I guess. She didn’t want to leave him alone.
“Will you two please be quiet?” Hange says, their voice a whisper.
Erwin’s alive. Barely. Hange said they weren’t sure if Erwin could survive at this point.
“He’s not dead!”
But didn’t they say the same thing about Armin? Or…did they say it was the time we could wait that they were unsure about?
“He’s about to be! You’ll just waste the transfusion if you—"
Fuck. How long has it been since I asked them that?
“What are you saying? If there’s even a chance we could save the Commander—"
From my vision’s periphery, I see Eren grab Hange’s shoulders.
“Captain. The Commander said that Armin is one of the best strategists he’s ever seen. And he’s so young. Someday soon, he could be even better than—"
We need to make a decision as fast as possible. I know that.
“I’m not even gonna let you finish that sentence! Better than the Commander?”
And Hange looks conflicted. How could they not?
“Yeah. You don’t know him like I do. What the fuck do you know about any of us?”
They’re looking at me with pleading eyes. They still want me to make the call.
“He’s the Commander. Of course we’d prioritize him over some random soldier.”
It’s so fucking hot.
“He’s not some random soldier. Commander Erwin said—"
Sweat is dripping down my face. It stings my eyes. I can taste it.
“Commander Erwin is…He’s our commander.”
I’m still touching Erwin’s wrist. It’s damp with blood and sweat. I can feel something snaking up my arm. I can almost see it. His decay, beginning to take over his body. I can feel it crawling up on me.
“You’re like a broken record. Do I have to fucking—"
“Shut the fuck up!” I shout.
My voice is so loud it hurts my ears.
Something is creeping up my entire body. It started at the right arm, but it’s spreading, spreading into my stomach, up, across my chest, onto my throat, wrapping itself around me. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Are all three of us going to die? Hange, Eren, Mikasa, too—if I can’t help them either, they’re good as dead. I can’t breathe. I’ve got to do something. It’s tightening its grip on me. I’m choking. I can’t move. I can’t fight it. It hurts. I’m going to die. I can’t—
I’m staring at a dark ceiling. My hair is stuck to my face. My sheets are drenched in sweat. I pull them off of me. My skin is tingling. I jolt up from the bed and strip my clothes off and throw them into the trashcan. They’re contaminated. I know they’re not, really, but just to be safe. I already feel cleaner with them off.
I rush to the bathroom and turn on the shower, jerking the handle all the way to the right. I step in and sigh when the scalding water hits my skin. I don’t know how long I stand there. I grab the soap and scrub my arms aggressively until it feels like it’s absorbed into my body. I stop the water and watch it drain out. It has a pinkish tint.
I step out of the shower and dry off. I feel less dirty. I don’t need to get rid of the towel. But I might anyway. I can always get more.
I get dressed and take off the bedsheets and put them in the wash, then I wash my hands until they feel clean.
I look at the clock. It’s 0330. Fuck. My eyes are heavy but I can’t get to sleep with my heart racing like this. I don’t think I’ve had 8 hours of sleep total over the past week. I’m clean enough but my skin is burning. My muscles ache. Especially my shoulder. I must’ve laid on it funny.
I have sleeping pills they gave me when I was discharged from the hospital a month and a half ago. They gave me a ton of different pills. I haven’t touched them. I don’t like taking anything. I want to be sharp.
It’s not like I have a reason to be now, though. And I’m gonna go fucking insane if I don’t get some sleep soon.
I go back into the bathroom—it’s still hot—and get the pill, then get a bottle of water from the fridge and take it. I taste something a little bitter in my mouth. Pills taste bitter, right? It better not be the water. I know it’s not the water. How could it be the water? Maybe I should throw out the rest of the case.
I sit on the couch and wait to feel tired. It’s dark, but I notice there’s a smudge on the coffee table. I get up and get a cloth and wipe the whole thing down three times. Then I feel myself starting to relax a bit and I lie down.
When I wake up, it’s bright and it takes my eyes a little while to adjust. I blink slowly. I don’t think I ever put the sheets in the dryer. God damn it. They’ve just been sitting there, wet. Growing bacteria. My skin is tingling. How long have they been in there? My eyes drift to the clock on the wall. It’s after noon. Jesus Christ, I haven’t slept this long in months. Why am I still so tired?
I startle when I hear a knock at the door. Fucking salespeople. How do they get up here without a key? There’s another knock. I’m not gonna let them in. They’ve been walking all over the building, I bet, picking up mud and dirt and tracking it around. I’m not opening the door.
“Captain!”
I feel my stomach drop. I feel my heart start beating fast. Something must’ve happened to Eren. Jesus Christ, that kid.
I’m at the door a moment later, and I open it. Armin is standing there. His body isn’t tense. His face falls for a second when he looks at me, then he smiles. Fuck, I must look awful. He raises his arms slightly, a bag in each hand. I try not to wrinkle my nose. I can smell the grease.
“I brought lunch,” he says, stepping inside. Immediately, he takes his shoes off, puts the bags on the counter, and washes his hands. Then he takes his coat off and folds it neatly and puts it at the corner of the counter.
“Thanks,” I say. My voice is a little hoarse. I don’t know if he hears me.
“I brought enough for dinner, too, since you said you didn’t have much food left.”
“I—what? When?”
I haven’t talked to him since yesterday, when he told me he was thinking about not renewing his contract. We didn’t talk about food. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything in the past two days.
His brow furrows. “Um…This morning?”
What?
I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up my recent calls. My head hurts.
“What the fuck did we talk about for an hour?”
Armin’s eyes widen and he frowns. “You don’t remember?”
“No.”
His face starts to get red. “I’m sorry. You did sound a bit out of it. I just thought you were tired.”
Jesus Christ. Am I going insane? “What are you apologizing for?”
Armin looks down and chuckles at himself. “I dunno,” he says. Then, he looks at me.
“Were you drinking?” he asks.
“You know I don’t drink,” I say. I feel my own face getting hot. “I took one of those…sleeping pills they gave me.”
“Oh,” Armin says. “Did it help you sleep?”
I groan and mumble, “Probably. I don’t remember.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“That makes sense,” he says. “I thought you were being a little, uh…nice.”
Nice?
God knows what I said. I don’t want to know.
“I’m not taking that shit again,” I say.
When I get tired enough, I’ll sleep.
Armin bites his lip. He’s wearing khakis and a blue collared shirt. I cross my arms.
“Why are you so dressed up?”
“Oh,” he says, and his eyes drift to the bags on the counter. “I had an interview.”
“For what?”
And you talked to me for an hour before the fucking sun was up?
He starts taking things out of the bags—burgers, fries, chicken. I feel nauseous.
"Tutoring at the learning center. Part-time.”
“Jesus. Good for you.”
He’s been busy today. When’s the last time I even left the fucking apartment?
“I don’t know what I want to do, but I thought it was a good place to start until I figure it out,” he says, and gets two plates from the cabinet.
“How did it go?”
“Uh…not great,” he says, placing an unwrapped burger onto each plate, sprinkling the fries across both of them. He takes the plate with slightly more food over to the side of the table where I always sit, and I go sit there.
“You did fine,” I say. My stomach turns. It smells like fat and salt.
“Thanks,” he says sheepishly as he gets his own food and sits across from me, “but you weren’t there. It was pretty bad.”
“Why?”
“I got really nervous. I totally froze up a couple times.”
"You were fine,” I say again. “But if they don’t hire you, fuck them.”
He smiles slightly.
“Do you really want to spend half your day helping kids with their homework?” I say.
He takes a bite of his burger.
“Maybe,” he says. “It’s better than…”
Somebody made this burger with their probably-unwashed hands. They kneaded it through their fingers and it picked up whatever shit was on their hands. And then it probably sat out for hours. A breeding ground for germs. Cooking it wouldn’t get rid of everything. It’s infested.
Jesus.
“Captain?”
Armin’s voice is quiet.
“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” I say. I avoid his eyes. I don’t look at the fucking food either.
He frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say.
I’m starting to feel hot. And sick. I can smell rotting meat. I pick up the food and shut my eyes and take a bite.
It’s greasy. Soft. A little slimy. It’s so fucked up we just trust the people who make this stuff. This meat could be pieces of fucking horse. Or human. I bet this is exactly what guts taste like. I see flashes of bodies with their stomachs blown open. Bloody entrails strewn on the ground beside them. I swallow what’s in my mouth and try not to gag.
Fuck.
I put the burger back on the plate. I take a handful of fries and shove them in my mouth. There’s nothing wrong with these. What the hell could be wrong with these? Besides how they were made. Somebody had to cut them up and fry them. I bet they didn’t wear gloves. I bet I’m eating somebody’s skin flakes. Jesus Christ.
I choke them down and drink most of the water in my glass. Armin is looking at me like I’m some fucking middle schooler he just watched get shoved into a locker.
I clear my throat.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, pushing the plate away from me. "But, uh, I’ll…I’ll eat this later. Thanks.”
I can’t fucking look him in the eye.
“Uh, sir—”
“You don’t have to call me that anymore.”
“Sorry,” Armin says quietly.
I sigh. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize.”
Shit. I have to change the subject before he starts talking about me.
“So,” I say, “you were serious about not reenlisting, huh?”
“I don’t want to go back,” he says with a nod. His gaze is faraway. I can look at him now.
“Sure,” I say.
I don’t say how I’d trade places with him in a second. The army doesn’t want me anymore. They think I’m fucking useless now. And they’re probably not wrong. I can’t move like I used to. I can’t shoot like I used to. My vision’s not as sharp, obviously, with a fucking eye missing.
"It all feels so useless,” Armin says quietly. "I kinda thought we were helping the civilians there…And then we just suddenly get sent home? And we’re not going back? They’re just gonna send us somewhere else?”
I never cared why we were there. Not really. I just wanted to keep the people under me safe. And I only joined in the first place because one of my teachers said it might be good for me. I met Erwin at a recruiter’s office, and that was that.
I won’t say it to Armin, but I’m glad the kids got sent home. I don’t give a fuck why. They were only there without me for a few weeks. Thank fuck nothing happened to them.
“We’ll stay there long enough for a bunch of people to be killed, and then leave before there’s a chance for anything to change,” Armin continues, his voice trembling a little.
I cross my arms. “You really think if we stayed there long enough, it would’ve made a difference? Like we hadn’t fuckin’ been there long enough?”
“Yes,” he says insistently.
I shrug.
He sighs and bites his lip. “But if Eren and Mikasa reenlist, and I don’t—”
“You’re not their fuckin’ shadow,” I say.
He sighs again. "I know,” he says, “but if anything happens to them…and I’m still here…I don’t think I could handle it.”
"That could still happen if you were deployed,” I say, “so just stay here.”
“And,” he starts, his voice wavering, “everyone sacrificed so much for me…If I don’t pay it forward, it’s a waste…”
He means Erwin and all the kids who died that day. He brings this up all the time.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” I say. “You don’t owe anyone anything. Except to not die, and that’ll be easier if you’re not getting shot at.”
He looks at me. He looks like he’s about to cry.
“Look,” I say. “Just get Eren and Mikasa to stay behind too."
“Mikasa will do whatever Eren does,” he says. “And Eren says he wants to fight more.”
That fucking kid.
“He’s gonna get discharged anyway at this rate, so maybe you don’t have to do anything,” I say.
Armin frowns. “He…He’s…That was one time.”
“You think it’ll be the only time? You and Mikasa were freaking out a few days ago when you couldn’t find him.”
Armin’s face goes red. “Yeah, and we overreacted. He was just out for a walk.”
"Who the fuck goes for a walk and disappears for seven hours? And he told me he didn’t remember any of it. He needs to go to that fuckin’ shrink and sort his shit out.”
Armin looks at me, and then looks away. He’s far too nice to say it out loud, but I know he’s thinking something like, “You’re one to fucking talk.”
“Maybe he will,” Armin said quietly. “I’ve been telling him every day he should go to the VA.”
He looks at me again, pointedly.
I cross my arms. “I already went to the VA.”
“I—I know,” he says. “Well…Are you doing what the doctor said to?”
“He told me to take my pills and call 9-1-1 if I think about killing myself.”
Armin’s eyes get wide.
“I’m not,” I say. “Obviously.”
I sigh. “I don’t know why he thought I was depressed.”
“He gave you antidepressants?” Armin asks.
I try not to frown, and nod.
"I got some too,” he says, his face lighting up a little. “Paxil?”
“They must fuckin’ give it to everybody,” I say. “Are you actually taking it?”
"Uh, yeah,” Armin says.
"Is it doing anything?”
“Uh…I don’t know. Maybe? He said it can take a month to work.”
To “work?” What the fuck isn’t working for him?
I look at him. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, not looking at me.
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay. Good,” I say.
I’m certainly not gonna make him talk to me. I’m shit at conversations like this anyway.
“You’re not taking the pills?” Armin asks.
“No.”
“Uh…Have you…thought about it?”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“No.”
He bites his lip and looks down at the burger he’s holding. My stomach turns.
“Maybe…you should?” he says.
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“N—Neither,” he says. “Just…You said on the phone you couldn’t even leave the house.”
I feel my face getting hot.
“I can fucking leave the house,” I say, too loudly.
I did. Two weeks ago (or three?) when I went to get groceries. But I fucking passed out in the middle of the store and I haven’t left the apartment since. Christ, I’m pathetic.
“Okay. I believe you,” Armin says.
He obviously doesn’t.
“But,” he continues, “then, maybe…you should ask the VA for a therapist or something?”
Talking to a shrink isn’t going to do a damn thing for me. They’ll probably just ask me about my dreams and blame whatever the fuck is wrong with me on my parents.
Eren, it would help. Eren just needs some people to tell him he’s a good kid and he’ll be fine. His brain’s not fucked up like mine is.
Still, Armin will probably keep bringing this up unless it looks like I’m doing something.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’ll make an appointment.”