They say the most inevitable things are life, death, and above all; the passage of time. Time, in its bane of existence, waits for no one. Being a force to be reckoned with, it continues to carry on despite the misery or the joy it may bring, like a stream of water crashing against rocks, or flowing harmoniously with the lilypads. But, unlike the passage of time, there are people who are willing to wait and will continue to do so, in hopes that their misery may once again lead to joy. That is what we call living, and not just existing.
At least that's what you wrote down this morning as you sat outside on your balcony, the burnt orange sun slowly rising. It was a cool morning, surprisingly quiet, with the occasional chirping of birds here and there. You decided to wake up early enough to watch this moment – you don't remember the last time you'd been able to do so. Apparently, your mother did the same thing when carrying you, saying it would help make you an early bird. Early birds had the beautiful luxury of taking in the moment that is the beginning of a new day. Unfortunately for you, that was not the case, with working hard to be valedictorian, working hard to get into Marley, and even working hard to land each job you've ever had. That was the case, until now. The realization of it made you smile.
Though, that smile slowly faded as you remember this wasn't for long. Mikasa's wedding was in three months, and eventually, you'd fly back to Marley. Your life awaited you, along with your fiance. You'd go back to find another well-paying job, with your honorable partner, living in a beautiful penthouse in the city. The perfectly structured life. What more is there to want?
You kept telling yourself that as you took a sip of tea, the cup warmed up your cold, shaky hands as they had finally let go of the pen you held for so long. It's hard to write, but it is even harder to live up to the words written. Time was continuously moving – you could see it in the air, in the nature around you, in your grief, in your joy, in your pain, in your friends, in him. You saw it in him the most, how someone who knew the deepest, most intimate parts of you, was now just someone you only could see from the surface.
Jean walks towards the tea shop, carrying his usual sketchbook as his eyes wander all over the place. His other hand held his cigarette, with the occasional puff of smoke leaving his lips and entering the crisp, morning spring air. The end of his brown leather sketchbook was slightly worn, but it was still his favorite one, containing some of his favorite works. He drops the cigarette onto the sidewalk, stomping on it before reaching the proximity of the tea shop – unfortunately for Jean, Levi had a strict no-smoking policy.
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"Good morning sunshine!" Hange exclaims, their big brown eyes full of energy, "You sure you don't want to try our new and improved English muffins?"
"Apparently, the previous ones were dry, tch," Levi comments as he sets pastries inside the warmer. He never took feedback quite well, so when he heard that Sasha choked on one the other day, he immediately went to work on a new recipe. His annoyed face made Jean chuckle, his hand moving a strand of ash-brown hair away from his face.
