𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟸𝟼. 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜

❥ in her active era or wtv.
____

"Are you starting to have feelings for Jean?"

Ymir, Historia, Mikasa, Sasha.

All of their eyes are pinned on you, waiting quietly for a response, while your heart tears out of your body, leaving you hallow-chested. Open and raw to the point where it feels like the beams of the gleaming moon and each flicker of starlight painted on the canvas of the night sky is enough to leave your bones with irreversible third-degree burns all the way down to their marrow.

The question that just ripped out of the barrier of Sasha's teeth echoes in the depths of your mind, and each repetition of it screams louder than the last, making the most inner parts of your body react near to the point of convulsing.

Your cells have expanded, veins tenfolding in size beneath your feverish skin. Your spine, as it twists around itself, is on the verge of cracking apart, vertebrae by vertebrae. You're out of sorts in every which way.

What the hell kind of inhumane feeling is this?

You don't know exactly. It's one of those few you've never experienced before, but you know you're about to choke on every ounce of it.

"W-what?" You stammer every part of you rearranged from the outside in and back out again. "What are you talking about? Why are you asking me something like that?"

All your words, your frantic questions, ramble out a hell of a lot more defensive than you were expecting. You feel more defensive than you were expecting, too.

Your friends remain studying you, their gazes of thinned interrogation, refusing to dismount despite your silent prayer that they will. Their pupils, all expanded by curiosity, are settled so deep within the structure of your sitting body that you have to literally fight not to squirm under the intense amount of pressure you feel draped over every part of you.

At this point, scalping yourself down past your skull would feel better than this. That's how discomforting it is.

Watching you, a harsh, sudden strike rips out of the center of Ymir's throat. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the obnoxious sound. "I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a yes," she grinds out with an arrogant smirk, her stature held tall like she knows everything there is to know about everything.

Your heart is racing unexpectedly fast, all your nerves building. "Ymir," you rush to say before anyone else can speak and say something more ridiculous than what's already been said.

The curve of her lips won't fade, latched there with sticky certainty. "What?"

"Stop it." The rate of your heart speeds up even more. It's almost diabolical the way the stupid thing is knocking your chest senseless. "I'm not starting to have feelings for Jean," you push on to deny, trying to ignore the relentless pounding inside of your head.

You don't expect such a sour taste to coat your tongue, but there it sits on the bumpy pink base, as sour as ever.

The same exact sensation you get when people lie to you.

At that inadmissible realization, your lungs explode from the left side to the right, leaving the underside of your rib cage completely empty. No longer is there a place for air to go. But it's not like you were breathing anyway.

Is that what you're doing lying? Not just to them but to yourself?

[ ⅠⅠ ▹ play: moment - vierre cloud ]

Are there feelings there? Starting to form? Buried deeply beneath your skin? Sprouting at the center and coming to life in places that you swore would remain untouched, dead for forever, and the rest of your lifetime?