Attack On Titan: Dreams

"Hi."

Then, a prolonged, wordless gaze that lasts for a long, long time until her eyes shift down to the region of her wound.

When there is no answer, he tries again, banging on her door, the feeling of desperation so overwhelming that he feels his eyes burn and his throat start to close, and he knows he should swallow it all down and act less crazy, but there is no one even around, so he does just the opposite and instead smashes the side of his fist into the door in heavy, punctuated, violent slams

"It's nothing."

The words come out in a rasped cough, and she licks her chapped lips, half-lidded charcoal blues locking onto distressed emerald greens.

She attempts to roll onto her side and rise, but he halts her movements, pressing gently against her shoulder to push her back into the makeshift bed of piled blankets.

"Shut up," he replies with a shake of his head.

Until his hand falls on nothing, because the door is open.

The sight that meets his eyes renders him speechless and leaves him on the verge of tears.

He can sense her annoyance the minute she steps out from behind the door. But, as soon as her eyes fall on his, Mikasa wears several faces within the span of a few seconds surprise, confusion, unease, concern, and then a cocktail of all at once.

"Eren? What's wrong?"

Just looking at her is overwhelming, as she is alive and well and unscathed a far cry from the haggard, blood-soaked Mikasa of both his most recent dream, and the unpleasant memory he had far too vividly recalled enroute to her door.

"Eren...?"

He is weak at the sound of his name on her lips, and at the curious peer of her grey blues, so clear and full of life. Strong is the desire to let his knees buckle and slink down into a squat, so he can bury his head in his hands and revel in his relief.

"Eren..." she repeats his name a third time cautiously, taking a half step forward with a raised hand at which he reflexively and evasively jerks a half step back, out of fear that even the lightest of touches might reduce him to a sobbing and blubbering idiot.

But then hurt flits across her face, there and gone in a blink, and he is instantly filled with guilt and regret, because his defensive maneuvering has been misinterpreted, and has once again brought about the Eren and Mikasa of the past week a tense mix of push and pull, unspoken mandatory physical distances, jerk reactions, and misunderstanding upon misunderstanding, with now yet another to add to the list.

Eager to vanquish the tension he had unintentionally reinstated between them, he steps back into place and clears his throat.

"Nothing," he finally croaks, voice gravelled and groggy, probably making it evident that he had just roused from a daylong slumber.

"Everything's yeah," he continues, determined to act as normal as possible, although his eyes are already darting nervously between hers and the floor as he clears his throat again. "I'm good. I just wanted to see you I mean, check up on you. Check up on how you're doing. Feeling. Yeah."

'Smooth.'

The scrutinizing crease of her brow eases only slightly at the half-truth, her gaze remaining vigilant.

"Oh... " Mikasa replies quietly, the tentative blink of her grey blues reflecting the disbelief in her voice.

As her gaze lingers, it is clear she is working hard to maintain neutrality and subdue the judgement beginning to shade her features, and he cannot help his irritation at the scrutiny.

But, by the time her eyes scan up to his chest, his initial annoyance at being sized up quickly fades into self-consciousness, leaving him fully aware of his unkempt appearance.

He then begins to think that perhaps her overly cautious behaviour was at least somewhat justified.

After all, he had avoided her the entire week.

And he had nearly broken down her door with his crazed knocking or, door-punching, really.

And she had opened it to find him clad in pyjama pants and a crumpled shirt, hair mussed, dark circles beneath his eyes, face dour with exhaustion, dumbly gawking at her in silence, then saying stammering uncharacteristically thoughtful things right after jerking away from her like a frightened animal the moment she moved just the slightest bit closer.

He groans inwardly and nearly grimaces at the string of foolish behaviour, but withholds the reaction for fear of having her misinterpret it and landing them back at square one.

"So, your wound," he begins, in an attempt to derail her train of thought from whatever conclusions she was drawing from his crazed appearance and behaviour. "How's that doing?"

"It's healing well..." Mikasa replies slowly, eyebrow arching inquisitively.

He nods in reply, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

"Oh. Good."

"Eren," she follows up instantly, giving him another quick once over, "Are you sure you're okay? You look..."

He sees the gears begin to turn as her eyes drop down to his chest and stare past it as she thinks of what to say. Not two seconds in, he is certain she is thinking of a less abrasive way to say:

"... like shit?"

His words come out nonchalant, and it is perhaps the most natural he has sounded this entire time (swearing was his forte, after all).

Apparently agreeing, Mikasa looks back up, her expression slightly relieved at his intervention, as she gives him a slight nod and shrugs a shoulder.

"Well...yes," she replies curtly, the concern never leaving her face, or her tone.

The response is perhaps the first time he is absolutely certain he is awake, as the Mikasa in his dreams was never quite as dry or blunt. He clenches his jaw to bite back a smile at the thought, and is about to assure her that he is alright despite his crazy appearance.

But he then gives pause when, out of nowhere, her eyes widen at the realization of something, her expression suddenly a mix of guilt and knowing.

"Did I give you something?" she asks worriedly. "I was still sick yesterday, I "

"No," he cuts in, shaking his head sharply. While his sorry state was indirectly her doing, they had seen each other twice the entire week and at both times, had stayed a minimum of three feet away from each other, making the passing of any sickness near impossible.

"No, no, you didn't," he continues to reassure her when the intensity of her concern and guilt does not lessen, because of course she assumed it was her fault. "It's..."

He pauses, realizing that the only honest end to the sentence is a long-winded explanation of things he still did not know how to articulate. He flicks his eyes down to the floor to escape her probing gaze, anxiety building as he flounders for an explanation.

"Uh..."

He scratches the back of his head, now studying a scratch on the tip of his shoe as he begins to sweat.

"Do you need your bandages changed?" he blurts.

'Why that? WHY THAT?' he thinks, withholding a wince at the incredibly random offer.

Eren looks back up at her to gauge her reaction, and perhaps retract the offer, or follow up it up with some sort of explanation that he does not yet have.

When he meets her eyes, pure confusion has taken place of her guilt.

"Sasha's coming after dinner to take care of it," she says, words drawn out, gaze discerning as though she is attempting to deconstruct his true motives.

"Oh," he replies with a nod, briefly glancing at his shoes before looking back up at her. "You're... not having dinner?"

'HOW is that relevant to anything?! HOW? WHY CAN'T YOU SPEAK NORMAL?!' he seethes at himself internally.

Again Mikasa arches an eyebrow at the random line of questioning, and he is left biting his tongue and inwardly cringing at his inability to partake in a normal social interaction with the woman he had grown up with, and had recently decided he wanted to grow old with.

"I ate a little earlier. I was planning on sleeping early tonight," she says, clearly still confused about what was taking place.

"Oh," he nods again, "Shit, sorry, were you just about to ?"

"Oh, no, no. Not yet."

"Oh, okay."

Silence.

A few beats into the silence, he realizes that he is still bobbing his head up and down needlessly.

"Well," he begins, halting his nod, unnerved at the silence and his own overwhelming awkwardness, and her heavy, borderline judgemental gaze, "I could just help you with all that now if you want," he offers, gesturing at her abdomen.

"So you don't have to wait for Sasha. Besides, I kind of still owe you, so "

The rest of the sentence dies in his mouth, because the confusion on her face fades into disappointment albeit subtly to one unfamiliar with the workings of Mikasa's generally inexpressive nature sending his insides into a panicked frenzy at his stupidity, because he should have known she would read such words as an obligatory peace offering.

"Uh," he shakes his head, "No, I mean "

"It's alright, I can wait for Sasha," she says firmly, impressively masking her hurt, though he knows better, because he can hear her voice waver in the slightest. "She'll be done in an hour I think, so "

"I want to," He responds sincerely.