the hilt | eren jaeger

t h r e e - J.D.

[TW: Mentions of abuse, violence]

[Season 2 spoilers present] 

[Read at your own discretion]

YEAR 847~

After lunch, Bert led me to a quiet spot to talk. 

He could see the strain in my eyes, and the fact that I hadn't really been paying attention to anything that was really going on around me, and it concerned him.

Most of the time, I didn't open up about what was bothering me, rather I just took comfort in Bert's presence. He'd listen if I did, but he never expected anything of me. It was nice.

He didn't really ever talk about what bothered him either though. There was always this far off look in his eyes, and in the two years that I've known him, it hasn't ever gone away. He'd often stare at the sky, almost as if he was gazing upon what could've been, upon another life he longed to experience. He never struck me as the type to truly wallow in his own existence, but his ever so subtle hints did denote this.

One time, about a year before joining the 104th, I went looking for him at night. Usually, I would only see him during the daylight hours, and he'd have this joyful smile plastered upon his face. We could sit in silence all day, and I'd never once see his expression falter. I mean after all, we were just kids.

But that night, I silently climbed up to the rooftop in which we would usually sit. The view of the stars was clear, each was defined as their own speck in the sky. I could even see the faint hues of them, some glowed red, and others blue. The lack of clouds allowed for me to stare in awe━ before I was startled by a light sniffle.

I looked to the balcony of the roof, and I saw Bertholdt sitting down, hugging his legs, and his head buried in his knees. He was crying, something I didn't even know he was capable of doing.

Even in the pale moonlight, I could tell he was shaking.

His quivers only accelerated as he began to sob more, his breath coming in raspily. He was only wearing a light long sleeve and pants, without a jacket. The cold must've been creeping upon him, only making him feel worse.

I didn't know how to react. I cared about him, more than anything, more than my own life, and yet, I had not the slightest idea on how to comfort him. I was so used to him being there for me, that I was just never there for him.

The silence in the night only amplified his cries, and the pit in my stomach could only grow larger. There was nothing I could do for him, nothing at all. I felt useless, helpless, hopeless━ Fuck, even incompetent. 

Even though all these feelings would drown me in their pressure, placing their hands on my chest and throat, constraining me into submission, I still couldn't do anything. I allowed myself to be selfish, while he suffered in anguish. This was one of the few times that I ever buckled in on my morals, and abandoned the notion of a course in which I had placed myself.

But this wasn't the only time I ever stumbled upon him crying. Nearly every time I went to see him at night, I'd find him with his head buried in his hands, sobbing into the abyss. And all I could do was watch.

How do you comfort someone who doesn't want comfort? You don't━ Was my answer for the longest time, but now I realize I should've done something. I just watched him suffer, watched him go through such pain and agony.