Breathless •Eremika (Love. Me. Now. Or. Never.)

XVIII: Love, Eren.

Levi opted to remain silent, his dark eyes calculating. Eren's head ached from attempting to piece together all the foreign information bombarding him. His eyes searched the other boy's face for any signs of trickery of deceive, yet superficially, there was none. "That can't be the truth though. She's pregnant."

"Levi?" Petra whimpered, "Please tell me Eren's simply mistaken."

Levi made a small 'tch' sound with his tongue, "Well, it's got nothing to do with me, so screw off. I don't know what you're talking about. You're going to make Petra doubt my love for her if you keep talking false crap."

"What?" Eren heaved, "H-How?" Blood rushed to his ears, making them ring incessantly. He was on all fours, his gaze drilled into the ground beneath him, caught in deep thought. What Levi was saying made no sense whatsoever to him. He and Mikasa had been so certain that Levi was the father.

Eren coughed. The anger in him was swelling to a point where his body could no longer cope. His trachea constricted and a sharp taste of blood filled his mouth, causing him to choke even more. His hand flew to his mouth, trying to cover up the blood before anyone could see.

"Look at yourself," Levi shook his head, "Getting all worked up over a girl that will never be yours. I don't know what's going on between you two, except for the fact that she's preggers, but do not drag me into your affairs. I did nothing with her that night."

Eren doubled over, wheezing, drawing in agonising breaths. Levi had already slipped away from the wall he had been pinned to and re-joined Petra, whose face was placid, petrified. He murmured inaudible whispers to her, trying to calm her emotions. "Besides," he added, "you've got nothing on me. Any proof, Yeager, that I slept with Mikasa?"

"I d-don't have friggin' proof if that's what you're asking for," Eren exclaimed but then reminded himself to remain as resolute as possible. He smeared the blood at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, making a dull red streak on his face.

He continued, forcing every word out in agony, "I was t-too wasted. I was too drunk to know what was going o-on. H-How the hell am I supposed to remember what happened to you guys when I c-can't even recall what I did?"

Then he paused, replaying in his mind what he had just said.

"Oh. My. God."

~

"Mrs. Yeager," Mikasa greeted Eren's mother courteously as the door of his house swung open, revealing a woman in her late forties, who slightly resembled Eren.

"Mikasa, I haven't seen you in days," Mrs. Yeager cleared her throat, motioning for Mikasa to enter, "feel free to come in. Is there anything I can help you with?"

The girl stepped in, looking a little antsy, fidgeting with the frays of her scarf, "Is Eren here? I just want to talk to him about something."

"Oh, he just drove out to get milk for us from the nearest store and take a walk on the streets to 'clear his mind'," Eren's mother gave a dismissive shrug, "You can wait for him in his room."

"Thanks," Mikasa nodded briskly in gratitude and ascended the wooden stairs of the Yeager household. She found her way to Eren's room and the door was conveniently left ajar.

    [Pause. Pretty pretty please with a potato on top~ Play: I'm Still Breathing by Katy Perry. The music video is attached above. Just have to press 'play'... Please continue reading while music plays.] 

Hesitantly, she allowed herself in. This was Eren's room. This was the place he grew up in. This was where he began to develop unhealthy and depressing thoughts. This was where he cried to sleep every night. This was where he did his first cutting.

Mikasa sat on the edge of his bed, away from the dishevelled heap of sheets. Would Eren be glad to see her? Would he forgive her for the heated argument from several nights ago?

She felt as if she was truly within his heart, being in his room. There were no posters, no worn-out toys, no figurines. There was nothing that symbolised his life, or gave him his distinct identity. The wallpapers were white, a bleak colour to begin with. There wasn't even anything that hinted to her that it was a boy's room.

She could've sworn that his room was brighter a couple of years ago, when they were nine, when she first visited his house. Did he tear them all off? Did he strip his room of all happiness and joy? What was going on with him?  

Mikasa's attention was aroused by an envelope on the table beside the window, covered by some folders and scrap wrapping paper. She craned her neck to scrutinise it from where she was, on the bed, not wanting to intrude his privacy too much. Eren was never fond of writing letters and she knew that.

'To Mikasa' was scrawled in black ink on the front of the envelope. For her? It was for her? Determined to unveil Eren's secrets, her hand shot out and took it, flipping it over. It had not been sealed yet. Her heart seized when her eyes settled on the letter tucked safely inside.

Gingerly, she slipped it out.

Mikasa,

First things first, I'd just like to say thanks to Armin for giving you this letter. I told him to give this to you once I'm gone so if you're reading this now, I'm no longer alive. Maybe the illness brought me away. Maybe I took my own life, which is more likely. But one way or the other, I'm not here anymore.

You've most likely worked this out yourself by now but I'm sick, Mikasa. Really, really, sick.

You know, Mikasa, my parents never wanted a child like me. They want someone healthier. Brighter. I'm nothing like that. I bet you abhor me for treating you so terribly for the past few months. I just don't want you to cry over me. But I screwed up. Big time. Now you hate me. Every time I try to approach you again now, you have built walls around yourself to block me out.

I don't know why I'm still here. What. Am. I. Doing.

And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad- the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.

Anyway, don't think about me anymore after today, Mikasa, I'm just off to somewhere better. To be honest, I had never felt that hollowed out before you told me that you are pregnant with Levi's child. I hate how it happened. But I will still love that child, it's half-you after all. We've been friends for so damn long, Mikasa, and I guess it's a little too late to say this but I never really got the courage to.

I think, Mikasa, I think. I think I'm in love with you.

I've died a happy guy because at least, Mikasa, at least I got to share some rare moments with you, even if they never meant anything to you. I'll remember them forever.

One. Last. Favor. Please wear the black dress I gave you the other day. I want to see how you look in it. I know you'll look pretty, as always.

Hope I don't see you soon (take care),
Eren Yeager
P.S. I'm sorry my handwriting is hardly legible, my body's killing me and the morphine doesn't seem to be able to work its magic on me anymore. Don't feel bad for me.

Mikasa searched for her voice, which she had lost in reading Eren's words. "W-Why," she dropped to her knees, her hand clamped over her mouth, her face wet from the cascading tears. "Why did you do this to m-me, Eren? W-why?"