Maybe it would have been better to hide out somewhere else instead of the fucking military, Ymir let herself think that a few times during the first week of training, as she still found herself fumbling through all of the new-ness. This was not home—but Marley had never been home either, had it? It had been a cage she had let herself be trapped in, swallowing the key herself in hopes of atonement. If only she had known then how wrong it was. So perhaps yes, the barracks was as much a home as the basement chapel had been.
The only way she had found to push past the sinking feeling in her chest was to look across the crowd for the short blonde that had unknowingly dragged her here. The pair spoke multiple times a day when possible, from mindless chatter about Shadis’ piss-poor attitude, to why they joined the military. The latter conversations never lasted long, neither girl betraying the truth of the matter. That was no concern, though, for Ymir already knew—now it was just gaining Krista’s trust so the girl would feel comfortable sharing the secret Ymir had overheard. And just maybe, Ymir had hoped, it meant she could unload her burdens too. It was a selfish desire, but after all that she had sacrificed before, Ymir felt entitled to her selfishness.
Across the noise of the mess hall, Krista’s laughter rings out like bell calling for Ymir’s attention. It held a power over her that Krista could never know, and yet Ymir would always follow. Looking to where the blonde she saw across from her two of the other cadets. She remembered their names, Reiner and Bertolt, but remembered mostly that since the moment they stepped into training the pair were usually seen together, orbiting around each other in the same way Krista was Ymir’s gravity.
Despite that the blonde, Reiner right?, was practically leaning over the entire table with a grin plastered on his face, as the other sat more comfortably on the bench. If there were an award Ymir could offer to the most blatant yet laughably bad attempt at flirting, she would give it to Reiner. The way he smiled at Krista swirled something inside of Ymir, it was a smile as if he knew her.
No, none of them knew each other all that well yet, not really. But Ymir knew more about Krista than Reiner could have, knew at least some of the secret she was keeping locked away; Ymir had been offered that glimpse, nobody else. And she would cling to that fact with a vice grip until her dying breath.
Krista’s hair was soft under her touch as Ymir leaned against her, “Reiner, do you ever take a break from being a pigheaded slime ball or is this a full time job for you?”
She felt the sharp elbow in her side before she heard Krista’s scolding of, “Ymir!” Even in admonishment, her name sounded so nice in that voice.
Reiner rolled his eyes and sat back—Ymir wanted to tear that smug expression from his face. What, did he really think he could possibly embarrass Ymir in front of the other girl? No, she wouldn’t shy away from her own attitude; Krista already knew what Ymir was like and hadn’t pushed her away yet and Ymir already found herself coming to the understand that the little blonde never would.
“You’re never going to make any friends if you keep trying to fight people,” Reiner’s voice sounded calm and all-knowing and it drove a nail through Ymir’s spine as she forced a tight smile. She wouldn’t make friends, and frankly she was fine with that. She had enough of playing nice and docile for others. Besides, Krista was enough.
“Sure, but at least I’ll have less people to grieve.” It was harsh, perhaps a step too far considering all the death she herself had seen, but watching something like horror cross Reiner’s eyes, the point was made.
Reiner opened his mouth to say something, but a different voice rang through the air. It was, well Ymir didn’t bother remembering the name, but it was the kid who nearly flunked out of the first few days from shitty ODM gear, “Reiner, Bertolt—saved you some seats here if you want.”
Bertolt had dragged himself and Reiner, still wearing a pained expression, away from the table quickly. She must have really touched a nerve with her comment.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Krista yanked her sleeve down, hard, “That was uncalled for, and you know it.”
She did, but she couldn’t bring herself to care right now. Because now, she was sitting next to Krista, legs pressed against each other—why would she care about Reiner or Bertolt’s feelings now? So she responded noncommittally, “Maybe but I also know you weren’t really enjoying that little conversation now were you?”
Krista was quiet for a moment, poking at the plate of rations in front of her, “You shouldn’t be cruel.”
“You didn’t say I was wrong though,” Ymir pointed out, “But sure, be the nice girl all you want.” Left unsaid was the truth Ymir knew in her heart, I know the real Krista. She wasn’t surprised when Krista gave her the cold shoulder for the rest of dinner—honestly, Ymir was just happy that she stayed by her side. It was the evidence, really, that Ymir’s interest in her had not gone misplaced—Krista didn’t push her away no matter how mean she was, no, she still kept her close.
She was still Krista’s.
Ymir was infuriating, Historia decided that night after dinner as she stormed from the mess hall. The other girl tried to follow until Historia had spun on her with a ferocity she rarely showed and told Ymir in no uncertain terms she wanted to walk around alone.
She could still feel those hazel eyes on her. It would be creepy if it weren’t so comforting in its own way. The first day they had met each it already felt like Ymir had crawled under her skin and known her. To be understood so suddenly was unnerving but oddly reassuring.
Like this night, when Ymir had so clearly identified that Historia was only being kind to Reiner’s overt flirtations for kindness’ sake, not because she enjoyed the conversation. She had known somehow, and despite her cruelty toward Reiner, it was a far more enjoyable dinner to sit in silence with Ymir.
So yes, she was an infuriating woman but Historia couldn’t bring herself to mind all that much. Certainly not enough to push her away.
After spending a few minutes pacing around outside, mellowing her frustrations out, Historia turned to look at where Ymir had still be watching, lurking the whole time. “I’m going to sleep,” she declared and started heading back towards the women’s bunks, “Let’s go.”
As she heard the padding of feet catching up to her, sensing Ymir walking alongside her, Historia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. For whatever reason it was, Ymir was wrapped around her finger, and she wouldn’t have chosen it to be anyone else.
She wanted Ymir’s eyes to stay focused on her and her alone.