#altruistic

He initially disagreed with the idea.

He knew he had to try harder, talk louder, get stronger. Maybe this was the start to his journey. Huffing down a shaky sigh and thrashing his hands against his sleeves, his throat clears for his beginning sentence.

“...[Y/N]..?”

It’s timid and meek. Could he hear himself? Did you even hear him?

When you don’t stir from your position, he tries again.

“[Y/N]?”

And then he finally sees you. The skin around your eyes appeared red and irritated, probably a result from lack of sleep. Your blinks were lavishly slow as you peered at him, the moment of recognition crossing onto your face right before Armin’s eyes.

You greet him carefully, he notices. Throughout the whole interaction, he notices your movements. How you observed him when he made the gesture to sit beside you, when he referred to the mess hall for dinner. When you bow to your thighs in laughter, he’s mortified. Questions swirl in his brain of what went wrong, how he could fix it, why he is such a disaster-

He’s relieved when you wave him off, instead of barreling down on him like the weirdo he is. You even thank him for his terrible attempt at a compliment, and it makes him want to smile. He didn’t mess this one up..!

When you finally part ways for the night, he feels like there’s more to say, more he has to get off his chest, but he can see how exhausted you are.

Enough is enough for tonight, he decides, and he bids you goodnight. He daringly feels better on the walk to bed, somehow proud of himself for speaking to someone new. He doesn’t register his best friend’s greeting inside, instead heading straight for his bunk with a dazed smile on his face.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Your fork spins the soup in circles like drawing a picture, your fist serving as an anchor for your drowsy head. You’re not eating again, he notices. 

Skipping dinner, and now breakfast. His eyebrows worry, his own meal forgotten and lost. His tablemates eye him suspiciously, before the mess hall rings its bell, and dismisses the cadets to the training grounds. 

The first exam of the season, a 3D maneuver gear test in quadruples. Shadis, the eagle of a man, stationed up high in the trees with his clipboard, awaited the squads with an iron stance. The test commences.

A beam of sun kisses your skin. Tilting upwards with closed eyes, you grant yourself a bit of silence, basking in the ray’s heat. The birds sang a bit louder today than they did yesterday. The trees swayed more with the wind, and the oxygen encased your lungs in a deep inhale.

For a blip in time, it’s peaceful.

….

...The moment of pause turns into an hour gap between squads, and suddenly the medics swarm in with a stretcher. 

“Oh, god…”

Christa’s whisper joins the others’ gasps.

“..Lift him on three. 1, 2,”

A casualty, the very first one from the 104th division. A man named Ben Becker. 

Hannah Diament sobbed into the chest of Franz Kefka, his arms encircling her frame. He’d been in her squad. Fellow peers of his wept into their palms, unable to sustain the weight of the events behind closed doors. 

It was strange how stagnant it felt. It was chaotic yet still, blaring yet quiet. No water shed from your eyes, no tremble to be found in your knees. Just…nothing. 

You’d never spoken to Ben Becker before. All you remembered of him was that he hailed a couple years older than you. There wasn’t an inkling on where his interests lay, what regiment he planned on joining, if he wanted a family. Just a name and a face for your memory.

The instructor spectating Hannah Diament’s squad relayed the incident in a report: 

“The team members utilized great corresponding effort and teamwork, however, the most notable rule in 3D Maneuver equipment was disrespected by cadet Effie Schmidt and Ben Becker, causing Becker to crash land into an oncoming tree branch, fracturing his skull. Schmidt suffered minor injuries, although Becker was pronounced deceased upon impact.”

Tomorrow isn’t promised. Perhaps in the events of bed bunk sharing and mealtime, you’ve forgotten how easy death was. 

Sasha gulped beside you. Her usual rosiness had paled, eyes blown open and mouth quivering. Her smile stolen and lost in the trees, you wondered if it’d ever find its way back home. Glancing around, the remaining comrades matched Sasha in their shock. 

It could be anyone tomorrow, the next day, a year from now, laying on the same forest floor, blood spilling from their lifeless bodies, staring at you from milky irises that reflect in the sun. 

Lip skin pulled and stung under worried teeth that moved on their own. No, that can’t happen. You have to be better. Stronger.

“Commence testing. Next squad to be graded is Squad 19: Captain Marco Bodt, Mina Carolina, Samuel Linke-Jackson, and Thomas Wagner. You begin in five minutes. Ready positions.”

Murmurs and hushed whispers echoed throughout the stirred crowd, anxiously debating on whether or not to protest the exam. Like parting a group of sheep, it was Marco who stepped forward.

“S-Sir, with all due respect, shouldn’t the assessment be cancelled? A lot of us are still in…shock, so to speak.’

Shadis’s eyes narrowed, stern but not patronizing.

"By signing up to become soldiers, you all have agreed to the terms and conditions that this job grants, and unfortunately, death of a comrade is one of those conditions. In battle, you must not waver at the sight of a deceased team member and keep moving forward. If for one second you hesitate on the battlefield, the next one to go will be you. This is the first of many. From this moment on, you have experienced death, and learn now that you have to keep going. Keep training hard and you will succeed. You may all grieve later, but right now you have to work. I will see your squad soon, Bodt."

The stone man treaded away with a turn of his heel, soon firing his cables into the trees above. An uncomfortable aura washed over the forest floor, Ben Becker fading further away in the bushes, slowly growing smaller and smaller. As much as it was hard to admit, Shadis was right. 

Marco met your eyes for a split moment, wearing a face full of unease. He had so much to say in his expression. It makes you frown. 

 The next person to lock eyes with you was a boy with large pearly eyes, ones eager to weep but no tears marked his skin. Armin holds his gaze like an unsure animal, a deer carefully navigating the forest to avoid predators. Unlike Marco’s purposeful look, Armin appeared uncertain, but certain all the same. Reassuring, but unassuring. Curious, but wary. 

Marco rolls his shoulders back.

“Squad 19, let’s get ready.” 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Strange how entrancing sparks of ember could be. Dangerous and simultaneously warm, providing a light in the dark of night, safety to those lost in shadows. 

Ben Becker lay asleep in the burning piles of wood. His family would have no body to put to rest, no son to bury in the earth’s soil, just a memory of what once was, and who he could’ve been. At least now, he appeared peaceful, a peace no living soul could hope to achieve should they reach the end themselves. 

Weeps mixed in with the wind carrying the flames upward. Friends of Ben whispered their parting words, thoughts, and wishes of rest into the fire. You allowed your eyelids to close.

Death. What a cold yet warm concept. In the silence of death, there was comfort, compassion, words of vulnerability. But how long will it take before that fire burns out, and you’re back to the cold, hollow wound that’s forever embedded?

Would you ever allow yourself to get used to this feeling?

Just as your eyes reopened, the flames burned itself out, Ben Becker’s body forever ashes. The moon was a crescent this night, and her position in the sky indicated it was time to retire to the bunks.

 Though most would have trouble sleeping, especially the boys who now had an empty bed to stare at. 

....

A restless cadet turns to the window. His chin resting upon his forearm, he frowns when he spots a figure still perched outside the womens’ cabin, just like that night. And just like before, your body hunched in on itself, a protective shield against the night. There was no fire to keep you warm, he dutifully notes. 

He rises up in his bed with his blanket in tow. His plan of action is already set in stone, not even thinking of fixing up his sleep wear, but just as he’s about to descend down the ladder, another cadet beats him to the door. 

Armin stiffens at Marco’s back retreating outside, his blanket in his grasp, clearly harboring the same idea as him. Sure enough, as Armin settles back down, Marco has joined you on the steps now, his blanket wrapped carefully around you.