Paper Airplanes (Ereri - SNK)

Reappearance.

Above: The sky as imagined in this scene (pretty sure it's a legit screenshot from AOT, if not oh well); the song I listened to (on repeat) while writing this chapter. Enjoy!

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I wake up in Levi's room again.

When I realize where I am, I'm certain I fell asleep in my own last night, and I have no memory of going all the way upstairs and crawling into his bed and snuggling my way between the sheets. Judging by the warmth around me, it's clear I've been here a while. The window is even cracked and the curtains flutter a bit as summer night air pushes through the narrow opening. From the looks of what little of the sky I can see, it's still hours before sunrise. A silvery light shines in and splays out on the bed across my lap. A full moon, I think.

I sigh, run a hand through my messy hair to push it away from my face, and sit up. I know this can't be good for me, but I also know I didn't make the conscious decision to find my way all the way up here from my room in the basement. It only makes me wonder what kinds of things my subconscious brings forth that I don't remember upon waking...

Another soft breeze pushes through and moves something near the end of the bed near my feet. A piece of paper, it looks like. It's folded in a specific, precise way, bearing wings and a tip for functional aerodynamics.

A paper airplane.

Frowning a bit, I wonder if I'm in a dream after all and reach for it. Take a wing between my thumb and forefinger. It's relatively thick paper, just like what's in my sketchbook, and I realize it's folded exactly the way I learned all those years ago. But there isn't any way this plane can be mine; every one I've folded in the past several years had been launched off the wall and I'd watched them all float away until I could no longer find sight of it.

What the hell?

But I can't bury my blossoming curiosity. Slowly, carefully, I begin to pull at the edges and unfold it, smooth out the creases. I'm about halfway done when I angle it toward the light and see it. A feather. Not a real feather, of course, but one drawn in not too much detail on the paper in graphite. A feather next to another next to another to create an entire wing. White. Unshaded. In perfect array.

"What the hell?" I whisper aloud, my brows set together in a deep, confused frown.

I can't help but finish unfolding the little plane, and sure enough, there they are - the overlapping wings symbolizing freedom, or the longing for it. The ones I'd drawn only hours earlier, and I know it's mine because, as I'd tore the page from the sketchbook, I'd accidentally torn the corner. And there it is, that tiny little rip.

And I have to ask myself: I did...throw this...earlier this evening, didn't I?

I swear I did. I swear I remember journeying all the way out to Wall Maria as I do nearly every day with it tucked away under the inside-out cloak, and talking out loud like a crazy person before launching it off the edge. Like always.

But my head is so messed up that I can't be entirely sure it actually happened or if it happened in a dream or if my brain has simply made me believe it did when it actually didn't.

And yet, something tells me that's not the case. I'm a headcase, but I'm not that crazy. This was put here on purpose. I woke up here for a reason and found this damned little plane for something. I don't know how I know, but I do, and I haven't been so certain of something in years.

And that same strange sixth sense is telling me to go back to the source - the last place I saw the drawing at. The top of Wall Maria. The answer will be there.

Hell, I'm a fucking lunatic, I'm thinking the entire time I pull myself out of the bed, not bothering to make it or even pull the blankets back up, and heading back down the stairs to the basement where my own room is. I wrap myself in Levi's cloak and shove my feet, without socks, into a pair of shoes. I never let go of the plane, not even as I tiptoe quickly up the stairs and out the front door.

The night is cool. Only a few clouds float by in the sky, obscuring some of the stars. The moon accompanies them, illuminating whatever its light touches in a silvery-white beam, casting shadows of trees, buildings, other plants, myself. Other than being thankful for the moon to light my way, I pay it very little mind. I have a goal, and little time to be stargazing.

For some reason, the trip all the way to the other wall is a lot shorter tonight than it seems during the day, and it takes me at least an hour to get there. Something inside continues to chant that I'm insane, but I don't care, I don't care, I have to know what the reappearance of this airplane means, if anything.

Though, knowing my luck, I'll make it to the top of the wall to find absolutely nothing out of the ordinary and this will have been a wasted trip and wasted time I could've used to sleep. But with that sudden determination and absolute certainty I hold, I don't care.

The moon is directly overhead when I step into the elevator. At first I'm a little unsure; I've never operated one of these before, but I'm sure I've seen the construction workers maneuver them enough times that I think I can figure it out. I push a lever to the right upward; the contraption jerks and then I'm ascending, watching the ground grow further and further away from me until I'm all fifty meters up and the elevator stops and jerks once more.

When I take the first step from it and onto the stone surface of the wall, I'm already looking around for answers. I see none at first, but I walk. Whatever it is, it won't be this close to the elevator; I never stay so close, either. I like my privacy when I'm up here. Drawing. Talking to no one and believing someone can hear me. Having a breakdown. Whatever it is, I always walk toward the north. So that's what I do.

My heart hammers against my ribs, my breath coming in light pants. Anxious. The breeze from earlier has died down, leaving the night warm and clouds still in the sky. It's eerily quiet; the normal, distant sounds of construction I'm used to hearing absent. All I hear is my own breath and footsteps. Feel nothing but the warm, fresh air and the drawing still in my grasp. The scent of the air is normal; cut wood, grass, summer flowers. Everything appears absolutely normal, and my pace slows. I'm only a few meters past my usual place when I stop altogether, looking around. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Dammit. And I was so sure...

I walk to the outer edge of the wall, sit, and pull the drawing up, smoothing it out again. I gaze at it for a long while. Disappointed. Unsure. A little angry.

"Idiot," I mutter to myself. "What the hell did you think would be waiting for you up here, anyway?" I sigh heavily and lean my head back, gazing through hooded eyes at the vast, endless sky.

Sure as ever, the sky is alight with every star, pulsing and dancing with its own twinkling little beat. Happy, but surreal. I wonder if he's up there, among them, looking down at me and rolling his eyes at all of the stupid shit I've been doing since his heart stopped. Every breakdown, every tear, every skipped meal, every drawing. Pathetic.

I'm just about to close my eyes when a strange, shadowy movement catches my attention from the right. Quickly, I swivel my head to find an awkward...figure a ways down. It's silhouetted somehow, and I can't make out any defining features. It's about the size of a human, I think, and I can make out the outline of two legs and a head turned away from me. But what throws me is the torso. Where it should be, a strange black mass is instead, giving it the illusion of being greatly top-heavy. It seems to tremble a bit, but makes no sound or any other movement.

I've really gone nuts at this point. I'll have to go to Thomas in the morning and tell him to lock me up where I can be alone with my hallucinations and dreams and reappearing paper airplanes as not to disturb or harm anyone around me. What makes me the most insane, I think, though, is the fact that I'm not afraid of whatever that...thing is over there. Not in the slightest.

A breeze picks back up. It stays still. I remain where I am, staring at it.

And then the figure swivels its head in my direction.

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Short, I know. But I'm excited for what comes after this, meaning I'll be working on it quickly and will probably have it up soon. :3