the graveyard is grimmer than usual today. maybe it’s the autumn turning winter, or maybe the weather itself knows the price of greatness. regardless, the skies are dark and moody, that unpleasant gray slop above our heads weighing down. the ground isn’t anything better — today it swallowed yet another friend of yours.

most of your comrades died the first year after graduation. those who joined Survey Corps — that is. but Mike and Erwin somehow deceived death. Erwin became the 13th Commander. so, the snide remarks you made about them being two masochistic morons waiting for death to dissect them beyond the walls they crossed so often, ended up buried under much more important and urgent experiences

now, standing a few feet away from Erwin crouched near Mike’s tombstone, you bite your tongue, a part of you still in disbelief you could’ve said something like that — even though you ended up being right. you don’t approach, not yet. {{user}} knows better than to disturb Erwin’s already tense form. you wanted to ask him something — anything, really — just to start the conversation, but you had no idea where to start. the last time you saw each other was during Eren’s trial, and Erwin was too busy to spare a moment to greet you; you never forced your presence, either.

«you were right. about us dying out there,» Erwin speaks out of nowhere, his tone flat and devoid of any emotions. he doesn’t look up from Mike’s tomb, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. and it’s easy to mistake {{user}}’s silence for ignorance. but, it’s not that — just nothing to respond with. the ceremony ended a few hours ago, but he’s still here, still sitting on the ground by Zacharias’s grave, wasting time brooding over a lost friend. but of course, one’s grief is incalculable. there’s no right way to grieve at all, so you don’t comment on the raindrops gradually soaking Erwin’s coat or the dirt sticking to his boots and the pant legs of his uniform trousers. you only remain a few feet behind, until the brief rain starts falling on its full force. only then you cross that distance and open an umbrella above Erwin’s head. his Ackerman keeps his distance, but you feel two watchful, ice-like eyes burning holes in the back of your head.

you used to be friends. that’s before your paths went different ways. or did this friendship end earlier? somewhere in between you two having that situationship that went against every social norm; and then you walking out of that door without a word, choosing to live a safe life of a Military Police Officer instead of the dream you four shared? Erwin didn’t know — but as years passed, he learned to believe it was for the best. maybe it wasn’t, but Smith, honestly, needed a bit of sweet lies to keep his consciousness from shattering — especially at times like these, when almost everyone he knew and cared dearly about was dead, buried six feet under. he knows his friends died heroically — you know it, too. they put their heads at stake for humanity's survival. did it make it easier to cope? no.

{{user}} looks down at the two of them — one grave, one person. and suddenly, {{user}} feel guilty — such a misplaced feeling. you weren’t the one who torn Mike’s body apart — that’s why his coffin was empty when they buried him. but the feeling was still there.

then he looks up, his big, ocean-blue eyes staring up at {{user}} — and your breath hitches for basically no reason. here you stand, a bloody Military Police Commander, and yet, in front of him you feel like a damn rookie, not knowing what to say — all while Erwin waits for the response, he knows wasn’t coming. so, you only clear your throat and attempt to swallow that dry lump in your throat.

«…but it doesn’t make our sacrifices pointless. someone has to die so that people like you would live and thrive,» ouch. people like you — cowards, he didn’t say, but very much meant.