I wasn't exactly the strongest cadet. I couldn't knock down a man one foot taller than myself with a kick of my leg, nor could I leave a man scared out of his wits with an intimidating stare.
I would simply lift my hair up out of my eyes and avert my glance downwards, shaking my head whenever one would challenge me to a "friendly" arm wrestle.
I wasn't exactly phased by the idea of combat as much as the other cadets.
Nothing particularly caught my interest so much that it deserved my attention.
Though often, I would find my eyes fixated on the one boy I seemed to bond with the most: Marco Bodt. The boy that would save me a piece of bread and try his best to do so without any other cadets noticing. The guy that broke up the (one of many) verbal (and sometimes physical) disputes between rivals Eren Jäeger and Jean Kirstein.
The boy that was always seen smiling, chucking, with a freckled hand covering his mouth.
There was something about him that I liked. He was humble, considerate, and not too eccentric like the others.
Some evenings were spent exchanging awkward glances at one another from across the boisterous dinner hall. The never ending noise would always consist of combinations of voices, bursting with contrasting personalities shouting at each other in an attempt to prove themselves loudest, cutlery smashing harshly against their soup plates, cadets bickering about who would get the last piece of food, and from time to time, laughter erupting from different tables.
All that noise seemed to disappear when I looked at him however, leaving me obliviously swirling my spoon around my soup, imagining just what was Marco Bodt thinking about.
Occasionally I would hear the freckled boy's laughter upon sitting next to his charismatic companion, Jean Kirstein. I would watch as the lighter haired male would slap him playfully on the back of his head, causing the drink in his hand to spill and stain the circumference of his mouth.
"Hey!" I heard him shout.
This only caused me to giggle, to which my cadet friends questioned me about.
Some nights long after curfew, we'd whisper in the darkness about what guy we took a liking to the most.
"That Tomas guy is pretty cute!"
"Ew, no way!"
When it was my turn to speak, I tried my hardest not to give him away. I only gave them subtle hints, earning a chorus of "Oooh!"s.
I was blushing madly just at the though of the man, but to my advantage, the absence of light in the room of course hid this.
One night, after a long and soul-destroying day of training, my feet began to hurt so much that I decided to remove my boots and walk down the path to my barracks barefoot. Mikasa and Sasha had decided to hang out elsewhere after telling them I was too tired to go anywhere else but to bed.
I assumed that the other girls in my barracks were in the mess hall, finishing off their given meals for today.
The air was calm tonight, with a cluster of stars dotted in the violet sky. It wasn't much of a rarity to see this. However, my head stayed tilted above me as one foot stood in front of the other.
BUMP.
I found myself on the ground, a mild pain throbbing at my head. Regaining my bearings, I stood up to find a tall, vigorous, man with dark parted hair and familiar chocolate brown eyes staring back at me.
"(Y/N)! I'm so sorry!" He said.
"Marco?" I laughed out of nervousness.
"S-sorry, didn't see you there. I'm so clumsy..." He stuttered, a hand rubbing behind his neck.
"Don't worry about it. Accidents happen. After all, it's dark out, so how could you have seen me?" I manage to say, brushing some dirt off my jacket that had accumulated from the fall.
"I guess you're right. So what are you doing out here all alone?" He asks me gently.
"Well, I was feeling tired after today so I was heading back to get some sleep. What about you?" I say.
