Mask-An Attack on Titan Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty-Three

I hadn't intended to run into anyone else after finding En and Jean, but halfway back to the infirmary, I bumped into a pale, short someone dashing past me. I experienced a brief moment of panic where I tottered precariously on my crutches, but caught myself from falling.

"Oi!" I shouted, "Watch it!"

"I'm sorry," came a voice. I looked down to see Nori on his knees.

"You alright, mate?"

He stood up, brushing off his pants briskly. "Yes. I am unhurt."

"Sorry about that," I said.

"As am I." Nori observed me unabashedly. "I like you better as a girl."

I paused my retreat towards the infirmary. "That's...great?"

Ever since I had met Nori, he had been a complete mystery to me. He often wondered things aloud unabashedly, and never realized the impact his comments left on others.

"Really, though," Nori said, "There are so many things that make sense."

"I get that a lot nowadays," I said, suddenly very anxious to get back into the infirmary. I resumed backing away.

Nori tilted his head as he pondered some unknown thought, giving me a chance to bolt clumsily back to the infirmary.

Back to virtual imprisonment.

I spent the rest of that week out of the infirmary as often as possible. Eren and the Survey Corps eventually left, so I had one less friend to bump into in the hallways.

Jean, after his brief bout of reckless pranking with En, sank back into himself and was often seen moping in the corners. Any time I approached him, he would look up with shadowy eyes and mutter a greeting.

En could be spotted tottering around in search of his new best friend; alcohol.

On one of his worse days, he discovered me limping around the east wing on my crutches. Immediately, I was overwhelmed, firstly by his physical body and secondly with the stench of alcohol that pervaded the hallway like a plague.

"Mate," I told him between gags, pushing him off me and back into a decent standing position. "You've got a problem when I can smell the whiskey before I see you."

"Ssorry, Ilsa," he slurred, wobbling a bit on his feet.

I had to grab him to make sure that he wouldn't fall.

"It's juss' th' only way I can-" he swallowed, seemingly keeping down a retch "-cope."

"It's so hard to believe you're joining the Survey Corps," I said, "When you are behaving like a member of the Garrison. There are other ways to cope than becoming a slobbering drunk just to escape whatever pain you're in. Being a drunkard is the way cowards behave. I would know."

En tottered for a moment, then relaxed his weight against the stone wall. A sigh escaped his lips, drenching me in the putrid fumes of his most recent drink.

"You're pretty, y' know tha'?"

I recoiled at his words. "Shut up, En. You don't know what you're saying."

"But i's true," En shrugged. "Lots-s of the guys think so, too."

"It's not because they think I'm pretty. It's because I am new and uncharted territory to conquer," I replied, trying to keep my tone calm.

"I don't know what tha' means," he said groggily, "but you're prob'ly right."

"Go soak your head," I told him, giving him a shove, "And come back when you're sober so I that can slug you."