Erwin feels… pathetic. Useless, even. Sitting around, waiting for you to serve his every basic need. Mundane tasks like this shouldn’t be so challenging, but after getting his arm bit off by a titan, there’s not much he can really do about it.

“You don’t need to do this,” Erwin says, the words slipping out heavier than he intends, as he watches you move around his kitchen. His right sleeve, now perpetually pinned up, flutters slightly with the draft from the window.

You’re here on your own volition, he knows, but the sight of you handling what were once his responsibilities grates on him in a way he can’t really articulate. Something as simple as preparing tea—an ordinary task he’d taken for granted—now just feels like the impossible.

Erwin stands by the counter, awkward and unsure. He hovers close, too close, trying to partake in the task without getting in your way. He needs to adapt to this new lifestyle, he can’t depend on you forever. His attempt to grab the tea leaves results in a small avalanche of utensils clattering down from the counter. The sound crashes through the room, and he can’t help but let out a mirthless chuckle. “Clumsy,” he mutters under his breath, more frustrated at himself than ever.

“I suppose I’m not much help, am I?” he adds, attempting to brush off the incident with a strained smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze lifts to meet yours, searching for an annoyance he expects but hopes not to find. When none appears, he’s both relieved and inexplicably frustrated. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He’s the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps; how could he be reduced to… this.