Annie Leonhardt x Reader

Please Be... A Coward [part 1]

The casualties are insurmountable. You end the day alone, again. Blood that's grown cold soaks your clothes and chills you down to the bone, so much more visceral than anything you've ever known.

Humanity won, but was it really a victory?

207 dead or missing, and 897 injured. It was nothing compared to when Wall Maria fell but you hadn't been on the front lines back then. It was so different to drag piles of dead bodies (or pieces of them) into town squares to be burned. It was so different to have every turn you take be filled with more horror and death.

The first time you saw the blood, you witnessed the horror. But you were saved that night, and the sacrifice on your behalf gave you meaning. This time? It was just death around every corner.

The first time that night falls after the battle ends, you go back to the military barracks you were assigned to when you first arrived in Trost. There are only a couple of others in the showers, so you take your time getting clean. You stand under the water for quite a long time trying to wash the blood off. You even stay once the water runs clear.

You take your time in the showers, intending to get as much time to yourself as you can. So whenever you return to an empty room it surprises you – there were four beds in a dorm room, with a bunk against each wall.

It shouldn't be empty. Between how late you got back and how long you took showering, everyone else should be back. At least somebody.

It hits you along with a wave of nausea. One of them was on your first squad. You can't recall seeing the other two all day. You realize that you're the only one out of them who is still alive.

That morning four girls had woken up in that room. You didn't know them well, but you're sick over the fact that you didn't know it would be the last time you'd seen them.

You vomit in the trash can.

Once everything is out and you're gagging on an empty stomach, you sob to yourself as you stare at the empty beds around you. There were still belongings strewn about the room, discarded pajamas, and half-unpacked travel bags. Are you supposed to get rid of this stuff? Will someone else eventually clear it out?

Whether it's because you're lost to your crying or due to well-oiled hinges, you don't notice when the door creaks open. Only when you hear a gentle knock do you realize that you're no longer alone.

After quickly wiping away your tears, you turn to look at the entryway to see Annie, looking smaller than usual. The hood of her jacket is pulled up to cover her face, and her face is shadowed. Her eyes are hollow and red, obviously swollen.

"You're here," she sniffles, "I mean, alive."

You nod. "You too, huh?"

She looks down at her feet. "It'll take more than that to get rid of me."

"You're crying," she points out, like she doesn't know what to do with that information. Like she hasn't obviously been crying, too.

It's a struggle to shove your feelings down. You try to wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands.

"I'm okay," you try to insist, although you're painfully aware of how shaky your voice sounds, "I just feel sick. I threw up."

"Oh..." she replies, hesitating in the doorway. "I can leave you alone then. Sorry."

Annie reaches for the doorknob again, and you can't help but protest. You hadn't meant for her to leave, just to make her think you were holding yourself together better than you are. The last thing you needed now was to look weak in front of one of the only people who you want to have a high opinion of you.