What Lies Beyond || AOT Boys x Reader

Chapter 2: Lark song

You mumbled a thank you, in which Lark responded with a pat on your damp head. You squeaked at his gentle touch. The only other one who patted your head like that was Thomas. The very same boy who you had been avoiding today. You sighed and wiped off a stray bead of water that dribbled down the side of your cheek.

"Lark?"

"Yes, Little Kestrel?" Lark purred, unfazed by the deathly cold rain staining his dark grey undershirt and plastering his tawny brown hair to his skin.

"You asked what I was doing here?"

The boy nodded slowly.

"Yes..I believe I did."

"Im avoiding Thomas."

His head tilted to the right and stared blankly at you.

"Whatever for, Little Kestrel?"
You shrugged and gripped the material of his cloak a bit tighter.

"I yelled at him."

"Ahh," Lark nodded. "No matter, you are friends after all, yes?"

"I suppose.." You mumbled, the word to describe you and Thomas sounding alien to your ears.

You exhaled a breath of air you had been holding and moved to return Lark's cloak, your frozen digits fumbling over the clasp.

"Keep it." He said, his crooked smile forming upon his chapped lips.

You raised an eyebrow at the boy and craned your neck to fully face him, the boy towered over you easily.

"You'll get sick, Lark." You said, rolling your eyes.

"Keep it," Lark insisted, his voice lowering in seriousness. "I don't need it anymore, (F/n)."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise upon hearing your name fall from his lips, your actual name, not the name given to you here.

"O-okay then." You whispered, a strange feeling welling up inside you at Lark's words.

"Hurry along, Little Kestrel." He then said, his usual tone sliding back into place and resuming his chore with the wood.

You shuddered and brushed past him, mumbling a goodbye and hugging his cloak tighter around your shoulders, a few twigs snagging on your pants as you walked.

After the encounter with Lark you soon made your way back to home base, a light fog settling around the clearing. You spotted Finch, a small boy around your age, sharpening a thin blade. His matted blond hair stuck out in odd angles, suggesting he had just woken up. His bored downturned blue eyes rested on you, his hands coming to a rest.

"Hey, Little Kestrel." He said, his voice low and ruff, complete opposite of Lark's melodious, airy way of speaking.

After you had weaved in and out of the multiple little tents littered across the clearing, Finch no longer in view, you hovered near your own. Thomas was sitting expectantly outside, the brown grass being ripped from their roots as he tore them from the ground in boredom, as he waited for you.

A swell of guilt burst inside you seeing the thin eyed boy patiently wait for you even after what happened the other day. The urge to turn around and avoid Thomas once again was strong, but you clenched your fists and stepped out behind the other flimsy tent near yours.

"Hey." You greeted weakly, your (e/c) orbs settling on Thomas's slightly squared face.

The boy jumped in surprise and stood up quickly, his lips forming a tight line.