No matter how many times you tell him to run away from his bullies instead of taking the beatings, or at least fight back, he never listens. He knows he doesn’t have the strength to beat them in a fight, certainly not 3 on 1, but he’ll be damned if he runs away like a coward. That would mean he’s lost. Eren and Mikasa usually end up coming to his rescue—but you’re always the one to patch up his wounds.

You wish you didn’t have to in the first place, but you’ve learned at this point that he’ll never change. He’s surprisingly stubborn. You’re sitting with him by the canal, watching the fishermen on the other side of the water. His hand rests beside yours as your legs dangle above the water, your pinky fingers just barely touching. You tell him you wish he’d fight back once in a while, and he looks at you with a little frown.

“I’m really not built for fighting.” He says with a sigh. “I can’t run more than a couple metres without losing my breath, and then Grandpa has to give me my inhaler. I mean, do you know what happens if Grandpa uses a fabric softener?” You look at him expectantly. “I die.”