Paper Airplanes (Ereri - SNK)

Chained Freedom.

-Six Months Later-

"After all these years, all this suffering...I can't believe we're actually free!" Sasha squeals. She's being lifted up in Connie's arms and spun in a circle, laughing and celebrating with the entire rest of the human population.

Many people don't even believe it, and I don't blame them. I can hardly believe it myself.

Radioactive bombs, Hanji called them, spread out by steam-driven engines throughout the entire globe. These were two of the most advanced and innovative inventions since 3-dimensional maneuver gear itself. It's not something I completely understand, but it doesn't much matter. The point is we're free, and are no longer forced to live like cattle.

And I can't bring myself to be happy as anyone who knows me would think I'd be. But because I don't want anyone to notice my lack of enthusiasm, I drink.

The mess hall is full, full, full of food (more than I'd ever seen) and alcohol. The entire regiment, no matter who or what they've been through, is crowded in the room and ready to celebrate.

The party begins soon after. The room is filled with the sounds of people eating, drinking, talking and celebrating. Feet dance around each other to the beat of live music. People laugh and cheer.

"Eren!" I hear my name being called, and none other than Armin emerges from the crowd with a smile bigger than I'd seen it since we were kids spread across his face.

Since then, or even since we joined the Scout Regiment, since retaking Wall Maria and Shinganshina, or even a year ago, he's filled out quite a bit, surpassing me in height if only by a little. Any traces of the babyish face I grew up with is mostly gone; even his eyes are more grown up and haunted by the past and everything he's seen. His hair grew out along with his legs, and he now wears it up on the crown of his head.

"Come dance," he urges, taking hold of my sleeve the way he's always done.

I blink slowly at him; the effects of whatever's in the glass I hold has fogged my mind a bit, but I can't say I mind.

I down the last drops quickly and leave the empty cup on a nearby table before letting my friend lead me onto the dancefloor.

I've never been a good dancer, nor talented at keeping the beat, so I let Armin lead me through it. It feels weird. Different. And I don't like it.

So I drink more. This time it's something yellowish with a lemony scent. I take a small sip; it burns my throat, but I feel its impact almost immediately. I take more, and once I've emptied another glass, I move back to the dancefloor.

And that's how the night goes. Dancing. Drinking. Laughing like an idiot as I go back and forth, feeling the ache in my lungs and ribs from it, the stinging of my esophagus and the sloshing of everything I've downed in my stomach, unaccompanied by any sort of solid substance. But it doesn't matter. My emotions are numb. My mind is numb. It allows me to focus on nothing but my surroundings, any thoughts of the person I miss the most shoved to the back of my mind for the time being.

I'm at the edge of the dancefloor, my intoxicated eyes barely able to keep up with the people dancing, talking, eating, drinking. My head spins as Erwin takes his place standing on an empty table, his own glass of some potent substance resting in his fingers. He makes a speech I probably won't remember later, about how we've won, and even more so about how all the deaths and sacrifices of our comrades, in the end, were not in vain.

"From the soldiers who never made it into a regiment to the ones who were with us the longest, including he who was our strongest, sacrificed on the front lines in the line of duty, in the name of humanity!"