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Description
It was your face that he first saw when he opened his eyes. The way your eyes softened and your lips curved into a smile as relief washed away your worried expression, had somehow alleviated the remorse he felt from the last expedition. When he noticed your distress as your gaze linger at the stump where his right arm had been while you change his bandages, he assured you that it was just a small price he had paid -

for the soldiers he had led into the titans’ mouths,
for the innocent lives that perished in his search for the truth,
for seeing your face again.

And when he felt both of your hands wrap protectively around what remained of his own -

Indeed, it was just a small price.

Until now.

You weren’t there when he opened his eyes. He doesn’t know what time it is, being inside this windowless room that confines him. All he knew is that it’s been days ever since he was put under the custody of the Military Police, and a day before it is when you left, against his wishes, to search for Levi and his new squad.

He let out a deep sigh as he push himself, his remaining arm receiving the strain of supporting his weight, as he try to sit up on the bed. He raked his hand thru his blonde strands to even out the ruffled mess and wake up his somnolent nerves. And while his sleep deprived vision adjusted to the surroundings, his eyes found the table where his food is already served.

But there is something else.

His blue orbs widened and his chest constricted as familiarity struck him. He silently cursed his instinct of thinking ahead - which right now clearly doesn’t work for his advantage - as images, mostly unpleasant scenarios, start to flash in his head. He swung his legs towards the edge of the bed, the floor felt cold against his feet as he stood up. Trying to maintain a steady breath as he approach the table, he finds himself hoping that the object of his stress meant way little than he expects it to be.

But when he picked it up, oh how he prayed to the heavens that his hopes are true.

For what rests in his hand is the cloak you were wearing when you left. It is the same hooded cloak that he bought as a present for you when you were promoted to squad leader three years ago. It would have been beautiful, being made from the finest fabric known in Wall Sina, had it not been stained with grime and blood. Dried blood covered most of it, and it had seeped so deep, even staining your intricately sewn initials inside of its hem. And judging by the damage it endured, as well as the amount of blood, assuming it is yours, he can’t help but succumb to his worst fears.

He felt the sudden need to sit down. Placing your cloak back on table, he pulled the chair and settled himself. Resting his forehead against his palm, he closed his eyes and struggled to reconsider every favourable situation you may have encountered after the incident. When he opened his eyes again, only then did he notice the folded sheet of paper left along with your cloak, recognizing the penmanship to be that of Nile Dawk.

You are never out of jeopardy, this he knew too well.
It’s an established fact for anyone who chose the path to fight the titans for the sake of humanity.

Likewise, he had never doubted your skills, much less your resolve.
Yet, what Nile had written gave him the impression that you, on the other hand, did.

For what your blades had raised against with are not titans, and are instead

humans.

Clutching the fabric, he leaned down and buried his face on your cloak. His eyes started to sting as he recognize your familiar scent, aggravating the pain that binds his heart.

It wasn’t just a small price after all.

He could have held you with both hands and kept you by his side.
He could have ordered you to stay, knowing that he can protect you well should the circumstances call for it.
He could have wrapped his arms around you and never let you go.
And by then, he could have told you that he had loved you all this time and that you are the only reason why he values what little importance he had left for his life.

And though the report had said nothing about finding any other traces of you at the scene, save the bloodstained cloak, the intended consolation did not reach his end.

Because what he needs right now is -

to see you again,
to touch your face,
to feel your warmth.

And there is no other price that can match what he is willing to pay, just to know at least, that you are

Alive.

Description
It was your face that he first saw when he opened his eyes. The way your eyes softened and your lips curved into a smile as relief washed away your worried expression, had somehow alleviated the remorse he felt from the last expedition. When he noticed your distress as your gaze linger at the stump where his right arm had been while you change his bandages, he assured you that it was just a small price he had paid -

for the soldiers he had led into the titans’ mouths,
for the innocent lives that perished in his search for the truth,
for seeing your face again.

And when he felt both of your hands wrap protectively around what remained of his own -

Indeed, it was just a small price.

Until now.

You weren’t there when he opened his eyes. He doesn’t know what time it is, being inside this windowless room that confines him. All he knew is that it’s been days ever since he was put under the custody of the Military Police, and a day before it is when you left, against his wishes, to search for Levi and his new squad.

He let out a deep sigh as he push himself, his remaining arm receiving the strain of supporting his weight, as he try to sit up on the bed. He raked his hand thru his blonde strands to even out the ruffled mess and wake up his somnolent nerves. And while his sleep deprived vision adjusted to the surroundings, his eyes found the table where his food is already served.

But there is something else.

His blue orbs widened and his chest constricted as familiarity struck him. He silently cursed his instinct of thinking ahead - which right now clearly doesn’t work for his advantage - as images, mostly unpleasant scenarios, start to flash in his head. He swung his legs towards the edge of the bed, the floor felt cold against his feet as he stood up. Trying to maintain a steady breath as he approach the table, he finds himself hoping that the object of his stress meant way little than he expects it to be.

But when he picked it up, oh how he prayed to the heavens that his hopes are true.

For what rests in his hand is the cloak you were wearing when you left. It is the same hooded cloak that he bought as a present for you when you were promoted to squad leader three years ago. It would have been beautiful, being made from the finest fabric known in Wall Sina, had it not been stained with grime and blood. Dried blood covered most of it, and it had seeped so deep, even staining your intricately sewn initials inside of its hem. And judging by the damage it endured, as well as the amount of blood, assuming it is yours, he can’t help but succumb to his worst fears.

He felt the sudden need to sit down. Placing your cloak back on table, he pulled the chair and settled himself. Resting his forehead against his palm, he closed his eyes and struggled to reconsider every favourable situation you may have encountered after the incident. When he opened his eyes again, only then did he notice the folded sheet of paper left along with your cloak, recognizing the penmanship to be that of Nile Dawk.

You are never out of jeopardy, this he knew too well.
It’s an established fact for anyone who chose the path to fight the titans for the sake of humanity.

Likewise, he had never doubted your skills, much less your resolve.
Yet, what Nile had written gave him the impression that you, on the other hand, did.

For what your blades had raised against with are not titans, and are instead

humans.

Clutching the fabric, he leaned down and buried his face on your cloak. His eyes started to sting as he recognize your familiar scent, aggravating the pain that binds his heart.

It wasn’t just a small price after all.

He could have held you with both hands and kept you by his side.
He could have ordered you to stay, knowing that he can protect you well should the circumstances call for it.
He could have wrapped his arms around you and never let you go.
And by then, he could have told you that he had loved you all this time and that you are the only reason why he values what little importance he had left for his life.

And though the report had said nothing about finding any other traces of you at the scene, save the bloodstained cloak, the intended consolation did not reach his end.

Because what he needs right now is -

to see you again,
to touch your face,
to feel your warmth.

And there is no other price that can match what he is willing to pay, just to know at least, that you are

Alive.