[Eren is warm. Holding him feels like being smothered by a body in a barracks; necessary, consumed, everything. It’s being so viscerally engulfed by the person keeping her alive that her soul will never recover. His head on her shoulder—his head! on her shoulder!—is the cry of a broken 9-year-old; his grip around her is a barrage of kisses, empty and wicked and cherished and beautiful; and she holds him back, firm as pressure on a wound, gentle all the same, close.]
[This—this—is what it’s like to love Eren Jaeger.]
[“I hate him.” And he does love him.]
[“I don’t want his help.” And so…]
[Eren could collapse here and now; Aubrey would go down with him, and not let go, never for a second.]
[She holds him.]
[She holds him. In that moment, she loves him more than anything, and she knows exactly why.]
no subject
[Eren is warm. Holding him feels like being smothered by a body in a barracks; necessary, consumed, everything. It’s being so viscerally engulfed by the person keeping her alive that her soul will never recover. His head on her shoulder—his head! on her shoulder!—is the cry of a broken 9-year-old; his grip around her is a barrage of kisses, empty and wicked and cherished and beautiful; and she holds him back, firm as pressure on a wound, gentle all the same, close.]
[This—this—is what it’s like to love Eren Jaeger.]
[“I hate him.” And he does love him.]
[“I don’t want his help.” And so…]
[Eren could collapse here and now; Aubrey would go down with him, and not let go, never for a second.]
[She holds him.]
[She holds him. In that moment, she loves him more than anything, and she knows exactly why.]
[She holds him.]