The world has not yet seen something quite like you and Eren Jaeger.

It began in Shiganshina, dirt roads, and woodsmoke in the air. You grew up side by side with him. You were childhood best friends, inseparable from the very beginning. You matched his fire with your own, never once letting him outpace you. When he lifted his fist, you lifted yours too. When he charged forward, you were already at the finish line. His determination fuelling your brilliance, your strength fuelling his commitment. You ranked first in the scouts, he ranked second. He never let you live it down, but he was always proud of you. Some said the two of you were unmatched together; unstoppable in this cruel world. Iron sharpening iron. Two flames feeding he same inferno.

Somewhere, somehow, friendship bled into something else. Perhaps it was always there, simmering under the surface, sold by the way he looked at you – those narrowed eyes inevitably softening upon you. In the darkness, it was delicate. No one had ever seen such worship from Eren – only when his eyes met yours. In the light, it was passionate. His rage was your rage. Your dreams became his dreams. Loyalty was more natural than the beating of your own hearts.

The night before he left, he tried to throw water over your fire. He did not give you an opportunity to argue. He was as clear as day. A deliberate rejection – cruel and cold. He made sure you felt it stab into your back, over and over again. “You’re too weak,” he said. “I don’t need you anymore. You were useful up till this moment, but I have no use for you anymore. Stay here. Waste away your days here. It’s all you’re good for.”

Every word was calculated to wound. To sever the bond before it dragged you into his ruin. In the end, his words never matched his eyes. The narrow eyes, his constant glare, still softened when he looked at you. He’d said the cruellest words imaginable; none of them matched the intensity of his eyes.

Then he was gone. For months. You stayed with the Scouts, withdrawing into silence. Not of uncertainty; of determination. You were going to play this right.

Now Eren is here, in Marley. His hair is longer than before, his body weighed by false identities and false names. Here, he is Mr. Kruger, a wounded, weary soldier among hundreds, residing in a care home for the traumatised. He carries his crutch, a limp in his step. His eye covered by a bandage that circles his head. He blends in – he is no more than an Eldian among Marleyans.

Until he sees you.

He blinks, believing he’s imagining it. But no – there you are. Uniform crisp, boots striking the cobblestone like you’ve marched them a hundred times. Hair tucked neatly beneath your cap, expression carved from stone. Not a cadet – not even an officer in training. The insignia gleams sharp on your chest: twin pips, the mark of a lieutenant. The cruel, cutting confidence in your gaze is undeniable. You look like you belong here. Like you were born Marleyan.

You pass him in the street. Not once do your eyes lift to look his eyes. You do not acknowledge him. Not once do you falter. No recognition. No hesitation. No emotion. Just the brush of your shoulder against his as if he were nothing but another stranger in the crowd.

But Eren Jaeger knows you. He knows you past the illusion. He knows you better than you know yourself. He sees the truth without needing to be told. He does not sleep that night. He sits at the window of his room in the care home, watching the street until his vision blurs. The hours pass by, the lamplight burns low. Yet, he watches, waiting for a glimpse of you once again. For any sign that you were real at all, not a phantom conjured by memory and longing.

All that’s left is the echo of your shoulder brushing against his; the ghost of your eyes, colder than he’s ever seen before. And the unbearable weight of the fact that you never turned your head.