The Turquoise Cure (Eren X Reader)

Chapter 50: Colored Bands

    One week in Marley, that's all it took for Eren to up and run off. Coming here was just about as weird as life had gotten for any of us. Crossing an ocean overseas and learning to use air travel and meeting new people and trying new foods we'd never even imagined possible... coming to Marley in itself was as bizarre as it got. We'd planned on staying there to spy on the Marleyans and try to see if we could get any clues as to when their next attack on Paradis, our island, would be. I'd been doing okay, we all had. I was even pretty sure I had found a way to send messages to Eren through our founding titan abilities. Everything was going according to plan. That is, until Eren changed his mind without letting anyone know. 

    "I can't believe this shit," Jean said, slamming down the hat he'd been wearing during his spying trips into the main Marleyan city. "You can't?" Levi asked, sitting down as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I should've known better than to think that the brat could sit still and shut up for once." You bit your lip as you crumpled the letter up and tossed it into the trash can by Levi's foot. "Did you not notice him getting up in the middle of the night?" Sasha asked, her eyes as large and dark as ever. "He never came in last night," you said quietly, feeling responsible and guilty. "It was his turn to clean the bathhouse, and I was really tired, so I just went to bed without him." "Dammit," Levi muttered under his breath. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, blaming you for letting Eren go. 

    "I know it's my fault," you said, looking up from the ground, your fists clenched. "I guess I'm an idiot for thinking that he could handle himself on his own without a guardian at this age." Mikasa chewed on her bottom lip as she lightly tugged on the ratty scarf with her fingers. She looked more worried and gaunt than usual. "It's not your fault," Armin said, his voice soft. Over the past few years, Armin's hair had been cut shorter, his eyes darker than before, and his skin more pale. You looked in his direction before shaking your head in disagreement. "Placing blame isn't going to find him," Hange said, walking through the door to the kitchen, where you were all congregated. "Now, where do we start in finding him?" 

    You marched through the clean streets as your uniform sagged on you. You'd gotten the disguises from a woman named Yelena, a very tall, blonde woman who made your heart flutter a bit (I'm sorry but I fucking love Yelena). You readjusted the glasses on your face as they began to slip in the sweltering sun. If anything were to give your cover away, it would be these glasses. You had to wear them in order for your eyes not to stand out too much, but the glasses seemed to call attention to you in their own way. 

    Your gun clutched in your grasp, you copied the way that Yelena had told you exactly how to walk, exactly how to speak, everything. You tried to keep your surprise concealed as you walked past a child flying a remote-controlled plane. The streets here were so different from your home: they were lined and organized, with bumps not made from horse hooves and carts, but from things called automobiles that emitted black smoke and dripping oil. Speaking of, you smelled the familiar burning scent of gasoline as you marched forward. You stepped onto the sidewalk as you heard an automobile pulling up behind you. You wished so desperately that you had been assigned an easier task, but Hange had been certain that everyone else in your group would look too suspicious or recognizable to anyone you had previously encountered, like Reiner. 

    You turned to salute the incoming automobile just as Yelena had told you to. The man driving saluted you back and continued driving forward. Thinking that you were in the clear, you sighed with relief. Suddenly, the car began to squeal, its speed dying down, and the black clouds of smoke billowing out of the end and burning your nostrils. The car had a large extended rear that followed its travels as it slowed to a stop. What's in there: weapons? people? The latter appeared true as the driver pulled himself from the driver's seat and propped open the door to the rear of the truck. The sight and the stench were reminiscent.