i was all over her - salvia palth
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VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

You arrived home safely. Injured, but in one piece.

The barracks were eerily quiet, barely a noise to be heard as you aimlessly walked to the Mess Hall in hopes of company. Silence suffocated the thick air; tension restricting your movements as you stiffly wandered through each bleak hallway and corridor.

You wondered how many lives had been lost in the Battle for Trost. You wondered if all of your friends were safe.

You pressed your palm to the oak-wood door that led to the Mess Hall, your E/C eyes swiftly searching the area in hopes of finding either of your closest friends. The double doors creaked obnoxiously loud as you flinched at the squeal: the croak rattled the air, shattering the eerie silence that surrounded you.

And then, your eyes finally landed Jean.

Hunched over; face covered by his hands; head rocking back and forth.

"Jean!" You called out his name, instinctively running over to comfort him: "Jean, what happened?"

You draped an arm across Jean's broad shoulders: your free hand nestling into his soft, fawn hair. Your fingers delicately traced patterns on his skull, delicately drawing with your nails in circular motions. You heard the subtle whimpers from under his breath. You pulled Jeans shivering body closer towards yours, his face resting against your chest. Salty tears stained your favourite shirt.

You muttered comforting words to him, unsure on why he was so distressed.

You felt as he pulled away whilst dropping his hands from his face, revealing the misty, crimson eyes that his thick tears fell from. You traced your thumb beneath his eyes, wiping the tears from his face.

Your eyes searched around the Mess Hall, making note of who was there and who was not.

And then you made a revelation.

Your face slowly began to falter, your lips cracking down into a lour. Your pupils gandered around each inch of the large hall, your arms loosening around your best friend. Your heart picked up pace, each thud seeming louder and swifter than the one before.

"Where's Marco?"

Jean didn't respond to your question. His body stiffened; his breaths became hitched.

"Where's Marco?" You repeated yourself, yet again was left with no response.

Jeans golden orbs locked onto yours with a mournful glare of sorrow, telling you more than you needed to know.

"No." You shot up, shaking your head as if denying what Jean was telling you, "No."

Jean murmured your name under his breath before his head fell back into his hands.

"No. You're wrong." Your voice was calm, steady, as you remained in denial of what Jean was attempting to tell you, "You hear me, Jean? Wrong!"

Turning your shoulder, you swiftly ran towards the double doors: shoving them open to make your way towards the dormitories. Your feet moved swiftly, the withered floorboards creaking beneath your heavy boots.

You whispered nothings to yourself: attempting to come up with some sort of excuse as to why Jean would be crying over Marco's absence.

Despite it being against the rules, you swung open the door to the Male Dormitory: your stare was piercing through all over obstacles, directly steering towards the freckled boys bunk.

It was empty.

The lining, the bedsheets, the pillow... all of it had already been stripped off. Marco's wardrobe and drawers were already all cleansed of him, leaving no trace that he was ever there.

The only thing that remained was his Cadet Jacket: it was folded neatly on top of the bare mattress. You buried your face into the soft leather, your eyes becoming dry with denial as you spelt inhaled the smoky fumes. It smelt of him. Except, it was completely destroyed. Half of the jacket had been messily torn off, with the oak-coloured linings of the leather becoming undone.

A sign of a painful death, was all you could think of as you breathed heavily into the fabric.

You groaned in agony as the realisation hit you; the realisation that Marco Bodt was dead.

Your mouth was agape, and yet nothing but timid moans of pain escaped as a thick tear left the corner of your eye. It fell into his jacket, staining the leather.

Your body was sprawled over his old mattress, becoming overwhelmed with memories as you lay there lifelessly. Your chest moved up and down in swift motions as shattered breaths escaped your deflated lungs: gasps leaving your dry lips.

How could you cope?

Could you cope?

Marco was too young to die; he hadn't yet experienced life. He was barely fifteen and his life had been so abruptly stolen. You wondered how the world could be so cruel.

You pulled the shredded jacket closer against your body, feeling weak as the world collapsed around you.

Your dry lips parted to speak, your voice barely discernible; "I'm going to kill the Colossal and Armoured titan." You vowed to yourself as another thick tear left the corner of your glossy eyes, "I'll do it with my bare hands if I have to. Even if it kills me."

༺♰༻

Two days had passed since Marco Bodt's death: but he wasn't the only one. Mina, Nac, Thomas, and countless others were missing from your class after the battle.

You stood in front of the fire, admiring the silky smoke that rose in the air. Flames illuminated the ebony night-sky, with piercing shades of ruby and golds flickering in the wild blaze. The fire crackled and thundered as a soldier carelessly threw in more fuel.

The naked flames danced, burning your face as you stood just a meter away. The pain soothed you, as if distracting you from everything that had happened. Your nostrils stung with the thick smoke that was now beginning to suffocate you. And yet you found yourself breathing in even deeper, inhaling the toxic fumes of the fire like it was your last ever breath.

You had admittedly isolated yourself from everyone else over the past days, barely leaving your own bed. This was your first time leaving the barracks.

You inhaled the fumes once more.

You felt a large hand tap your shoulder as you flinched, your defences raised. You instinctively raised your hands before easing as you realised it was only Reiner Braun.

The tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulder up: "Hey."

"What do you want?" You coldly replied.

Reiner sighed, taking a step forward so that his arm was pressed against yours. The amber flames highlighted his face; giving a natural shine to his smooth skin, and defining the crevices of his sharp cheekbones.

He sighed again slowly, cold, misty air leaving his parted lips: "I'm sorry." His tired voice spoke to break the silence between you both, "About Marco. I'm sorry."

The fire dried your eyes as you stared deeply into the flames, mesmerised by the patterns it made in the air. You didn't break eye contact with it; not once.

"Listen, Smith," Reiners hand grabbed your forearm, beginning to pull you away to the side as your curiosity grew: "We need to talk."

"Talk about what, Braun?"

"I've decided how you're going to repay me for saving your life." Reiner had dragged you far away from the fire to prevent the others from hearing you both speak, but you could still see the flames in his bronze eyes: "You're going to be my girlfriend."