What if? 4 Years with You? (Eremika)

8. A Long Dream

Eren and Mikasa were having dinner, hungry for words, since the haircut; consequently, the trip to the village centre never came to be.

Eren had kissed Mikasa, and although she'd met his lips, the hush endured. She pulled away from the kiss and went home, leaving Eren alone, sitting outside, defeated and bewildered. Obviously, out of pride, he didn't dare to disclose that he cried like a little boy the moment Mikasa closed the main door.

And it was remarkable how grumpy Eren was at dinner, anxiety rising through his veins on his deep olive skin, as he tapped his leg nervously while she ate, her apathetic eyes never left the bowl. Meanwhile, Eren still had a full bowl of soup. If his soup were a punching bag, he would have broken the soup plate.

"Eren... Eat," Mikasa asked, without looking at him even once, an attitude that utterly repulsed Eren.

"You keep treating me like your son or like a little brother...as always." He slammed the spoon down on the table, staining the wood.

"Eh?"

"When I asked, "What am I to you?"' I thought it was obvious...or so I believed."

"Eh?"

"And even so, it's just–" Eren's situation was ineffable. It was a major milestone in his life to try to express love, compassion, anger, and sadness all in a single sentence, "it's just–." The last word sounded almost like a divine punishment, carrying a deeper tone driven by the burst of tears ready to fall from his green eyes.

"Eren..." She felt pity.

"It's just that you keep treating me only as family... I–" Eren couldn't finish his sentence. "Why did I create this 'memory '? For me to suffer? To be rejected?" He used the cloth napkin to wipe away his tears. "I want to leave, to die, to destroy everything and–"

"It's not that..." Mikasa interrupts Eren's dark thoughts. She exerted every bit of herself to give voice to her sentiments, but the words ran away. She exhaled, a soft surrender, knowing that sooner or later, they would have to have this conversation. "I didn't know what to do... Eren... I'm happy like this... With you, I don't want to ruin anything."

What a fool, what a great idiot. What a nincompoop, what a simpleton.

"Oh."

"I'm genuinely happy like this. Besides, whenever I cook, you're never satisfied." Mikasa rolls her eyes, clearly dissatisfied.

"Excuse me?"

Stupid.

"There's no point cooking anything new, you never react..." Mikasa admits, after all, Eren wasn't the only one feeling unappreciated.

"No... sorry, you're right." He tried to make amends; his voice was still trembling. "I am being insensitive... the soup is great."

"I–, I didn't say that (insensitive) either..."

Eren looked at her porcelain face. "It wasn't intentional, I get you. And you're right, I do find it hard to be surprised; I would be pretending otherwise," he paused, "I've tasted everything in my old man's memories, but I really like it when you cook for me..." his face was tinged with shame as he admitted, the tears entwined with these words.

"E-Eren." Mikasa could be grateful for Eren's emotional outbursts, often senseless and constantly judged by many. Nevertheless, Mikasa was as vulnerable as he was, yet without having the same ability to express herself. It was this balance that made them perfect for each other. The imperfections that aligned so that Mikasa and Eren understood each other like no one else.

"I'm sorry... for being selfish..." he murmured, accompanied by a thick voice under the suppressed emotions. "I love arriving at home with the fish I caught and feeling the smell of braised stew" He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the soup, before continuing in an almost involuntary outburst: "Sorry if that makes me selfish."