february • eren yeager

006 | february sixth

did you get enough love,
my little dove?

     The good die young. That's what you said.

I thought of Mom. Of Dad. Of Marco, Petra, Eld, Orou, Hannes, Moblit, Erwin.

Of Sasha. Who was to die by the hands of a child, and I would not be able to save her.

     You continued by saying they go quicker than the rest of us could ever anticipate. They don't just leave, it seems; they vanish. They show us love, its heights and depths, and the next moment, we are wondering why we are experiencing infinite joy on our own. It's no accident, you said.

     You called me 'dear' — I think my heart skipped just a bit.

     You said they have lived a complete life, and our responsibility is not to figure out how to resurrect their memories but to apply the lessons they've taught us. They passed over because they have finished equipping us with everything we need to know to live an abundant, meaningful, and impactful life. It is now our duty to pick up their torch of knowledge and lead people down the trails of truth they have so bravely blazed.

    You said, then, people will realise they have not left them; they are still here, in the form of a guardian angel.

     I wonder who must have left you for you to say such a thing.

     Your mother? Father? Sister? Brother?

    Best friend? Grandparents? Uncles? Aunts?

     You never talk about yourself, you know.

     Well, you talk about yourself, yes, but not what I want to hear. That's a lie. I want to hear everything about you. But what I want is to know you more than what others know.

     I want to see your heights and depths.

Is that weird?

I want to know everything about you. More than what you show on the surface. There's this pounding in my heart whenever I hear your voice. Sometimes I forget to listen to your words. I like the way you talk.

Sometimes the syllables leave your mouth in honeyed strings, and sometimes they leave your mouth in haphazard waltzes. Each time I hear you speak, I never want you to stop.

You said I'm very quiet.

That's not true.

I just like listening to you.

You make me feel safe.

I haven't felt this way in a long time. I was taught from a young age how to be stone-cold, self-reliant, to hold myself high and poised, with a ready smile and a subtle charm ready to save the world. But I learned a little later to hide behind closed doors and cry about the feelings churning in my mind. Dim lights, isolated. No sounds were meant to escape my lips when I howled in silent pain, nor was I meant to show any signs of breaking down. I wasn't meant to ask for help. I had to be the help: Eren Yeager, the Titan shifter. I had to save the world; the responsibilities were placed on my shoulders at fifteen. It was either that or dying.

I don't want to die.

And if no one sees you suffering, are you really suffering?

You asked me that today. You linked it to how a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it. You asked me if people could hear their screams.

I told you that trees don't scream.

You said that people just don't understand their language.

So I wonder, I've always pretended that whatever pained me never happened. I used to step out of my cell and face the world, pretending I was okay.

I don't think I've ever been okay.

Why do you arouse these feelings in me? These revelations? I don't understand you, you know? You say such deep things with a placid smile on your face, your eyes trained to the sky. You watch the birds with this halo on your head. I wonder again, are you meant to be my guardian angel?

I don't want you to vanish.

Is that strange to hear from a stranger?