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You could only see darkness, pitch black for miles ahead without a single sign of life.

Were you dead?

It was hard to tell, but it was what you thought.

Suddenly, you realized that you could somehow move your feet, despite the task seeming a little difficult at first, as if they were kneading through a waist-high pile of snow. Which wasn't the case, obviously. There was nothing else here besides you.

Well, that was also what you had thought, until you heard a voice call out to you, ricocheting across the area, causing an echo, and then you felt a headache begin to appear. Your hand reached to massage your temples, hoping it could have served as some sort of remedy.

"Is anyone there?" You said, hearing your voice bounce back. At the same time you were trying to make your way towards where you had assumed the voice had come from. But at the same time, you weren't sure. It confused you when it felt like the sound had come from every single direction.

"I'm here." Someone replied.

You froze, for a moment trying to contemplate who the voice belonged to. It felt so painfully familiar, and yet eerily distant.

"Who are you?" You demanded, trying not to waver.

Brief silence, and then, a response. One that was at the back of your head this time.

I'm you.

. . .

You felt like your head was going to explode, and woke up with an ear piercing scream. 

Hands began to make contact with your back, ushering you to calm down, "What's wrong?", someone said, patting your back assuringly.

You finally managed to flutter your eyes open, scanning the room you were in. You weren't sure where you were now, but you were definetely laying on a couch, and had a slim blanket wrapped around your body, already halfway down towards the floor.

"Me. . . I'm--" You tried to utter a single sentence, but your mind was too frustrated with recollecting your memories of the past events (Was that a dream? What happened? Where the heck am I, and who--)

"Hanji? Where?" Were the only words you could say once spotting the woman beside you, whom appeared to be the only person in the room, aside from yourself.

"Don't worry, everything is alright now. We're just waiting for the carriages assigned to pick us up." She said brightly. "Oh, and now that you're awake--"

She cut her sentence short for some reason, averting her eyes as if she was too ashamed to so much as look at you. "Is something wrong?" You hesitantly piped up.

"No, not at all. Someone just. . . Wanted to see you. But I don't think that would be a good idea after. . ." Her voice trailed off, and she took the time to contemplate whether or not to tell you what she meant. Finally, she tried to sound more cheerful, "Nevermind that, what's important is that the trial is over, and you're good to go back! Oh, except they've assigned some people to be checking on you every so often for the next two months. That shouldn't be that much of a problem, right (y/n)?"

". . . Yes." You tried to sound as delighted as she was, unsure for who's sake you were putting up such a facade.

"Ah, that's great then! I'll go out for a bit to see when we can go back." She got up, and left with a big smile on her face.

Once you heard the door shut behind you, you could finally drop the faked smile on your face, and let out a deep sigh. You knew exactly what Hanji was trying to prevent you from hearing. It was Levi.

Even the thought of him alone was enough to make you want to scrunch your face and hide under your blanket. Honestly, he was probably the person that you least expected to see. After what he did. . . It was just unbearable. But you certainly didn't want to cry. Levi surely had. . . his own reasons-- plausible ones too, of course. And it would've only taken you around, what? Two days at most. Just some alone time, and everything would be fine. Yeah, easy.

Easy. . .

But if that was the case, then why. . . Why did it feel so bitter that you wanted to just get up and run while you could? Why did it feel so awful, like a wound that would never heal? 

And even now, weren't you supposed to be celebrating your grand success, doing so with him whilst being wrapped in his arms like it was the last chance you got-- more than anything, beyond joyous that you had gotten a second chance. It was just that simple; the way you had imagined before setting foot before the grand judge.

So why did you feel like anything except the way that you hoped you would? 

Amongst all, why, couldn't you stop the tears that had already began pilling up on the tip of your palm?


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