Hange sat on the edge of the bed in the corner of the room, a small, barely-there lamp being the only source of light at the moment.

Today had been the day both Moblit and Erwin died.

They could still hear the sound of Moblit’s last words in their ears, still feel the shock of the explosion, still see his face in their mind’s eye. He was gone. He was gone, and there was nothing they could do to bring him back. Nothing at all.

Their hands shook, fingers slick with blood and trembling too violently to even remove the bandages wrapped around their left eye. The wound still throbbed- they could feel it beneath their skin, the sharp sting where the skin had been burned, the scar that would never fade. But it was the sightlessness in that eye that burned the most.

One hand pressed against their own cheek, the other trying to work at the bandage, but their movements were sloppy, the dizziness of their exhaustion making everything harder than it needed to be.