Chapter Text
Historia stared at the chandelier above her, the shadows intertwining on the ceiling seeming more interesting than anything else at that moment. Her fingers clenched the sheets, the smooth fabric folding under the pressure of her hands.
Reiner's body moved over her, determined, confident, and each thrust seemed to reverberate through her body like a distant echo. His heavy breathing mixed with the steady sound of rain tapping against the window. Yet, as close as he was, Historia felt far away, as if she were watching the scene from the outside.
Reiner's damp hair tickled her neck as he whispered something, muffled words lost in the emptiness inside her. His touch was warm, almost burning, yet it left no trace. It wasn't hate; it wasn't repulsion. It was... nothing.
Reiner gripped her thighs, pulling her towards him with a force that could have broken her. Historia let out a moan, but it was more an automatic response than a genuine reaction. Her hands rested on his chest, not out of desire but simply to find balance as her body was dragged back and forth in a rhythm that felt foreign to her.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice full of desire as he leaned down to kiss her neck. His lips were soft against her skin, but Historia found herself wishing he would stop, that the moment would end.
Her eyes shifted to the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:36. The morning light was already filtering through the curtains, a promise of a new day she didn't want to face.
Reiner quickened his pace, the bed creaking beneath them. He moved a hand to where their bodies joined, stimulating her with two fingers. Historia closed her eyes, trying to ignore the tension building in her body. It wasn't pain, but something equally oppressive—a sense of constriction, of not belonging.
He buried his face deeper into her neck and pillow as he chased his climax, and Historia shut her eyes tightly when he gripped her left breast roughly with his free hand, waiting for him to finish spilling inside her.
Reiner slowed his thrusts until he stopped entirely, staying still for a few more seconds inside her before pulling out, removing the protection, and tossing it somewhere onto the floor.
"Did you come?" he asked, his voice breathless, his body still pressed close to hers.
Historia opened her eyes, staring at the alarm clock again. "Yes..." she answered in a faint voice. A lie so natural now that it no longer cost her any effort.
Reiner sighed, collapsing next to her. The bed sank under his weight as he settled, closing his eyes. "I'm glad," he murmured, a hint of irritation in his tone.
Historia turned to her side, away from him, the sheet wrapping around her body. The room was silent again, but inside her, the noise was deafening. She didn't feel angry, nor sad. Just empty, as if a piece of her had broken off and was lost somewhere, leaving her to play a role she no longer wanted to perform.
Next to her, Reiner breathed softly, his arm thrown over his face as if the world didn't exist. He lay relaxed, content, completely unaware of the storm within her.
The weight of him still pressed down on her, even though he was lying on the other side of the bed. It was a weight she felt everywhere—on her shoulders, in her chest, deep in her stomach.
She had felt distant the entire time. Every touch, every movement, every whispered word had seemed to belong to someone else, as if her body was there, but her mind had fled to some safe, inaccessible place.
It was always like this now. Every moment with Reiner was a performance, a script she felt forced to follow. He asked if she was okay, and she said yes. He held her, and she let herself be held. But inside... inside, there was nothing.
Her hands gripped the sheet, as if seeking an anchor. It wasn't hate she felt for him. It was something more complex, more elusive—a mix of guilt, weary affection, and a sense of obligation that tightened around her heart.
She had lied to him. Again. And she wasn't even sure why she kept doing it. To avoid hurting him? To dodge questions? Perhaps because it was easier that way.
Reiner turned towards her, his eyes half-closed as he looked at her. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
Historia nodded, a weak, false smile spreading across her lips. "Yes, I'm fine."
But she wasn't.
When Reiner turned back over, sinking back into his slumber, Historia slowly got out of bed, pulling the sheet around herself. She walked to the window and looked out, the city lights faintly glowing in the morning light. It felt like the world was moving on without her, while she remained stuck in a life that didn't feel like hers.
She touched her neck, where Reiner's lips had been just minutes before. The contact left her feeling suffocated, like an invisible stain she couldn't wash away.
It wasn't his fault, she told herself. Reiner wasn't cruel or unkind. He was thoughtful, attentive in his own way. But she couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't bear his presence, his questions, his love that seemed so unconditional yet suffocating.
The problem was her. She was the one who couldn't feel anything anymore, not for him or anyone else.
Historia sank into the chair by the window, the sheet slipping softly from her shoulders. Outside, life continued. Inside, she felt broken. Dissociated. As if her body were an empty shell, incapable of holding anything real.
There was a time when she thought being with Reiner would bring her security, stability, maybe even happiness. But now those certainties had vanished, leaving only a deafening silence that echoed inside her.
She lowered her gaze to her hands, her fingers intertwined as if trying to contain the tension pulsing in her chest. She couldn't go on like this. Something had to change.
She turned to the bed, where Reiner slept, unaware. She looked at him for a long moment, but felt nothing. No anger, no love, no pain. Just a glacial void that made her wish to be anywhere but there.
She turned back to the window, tears pooling in her eyes but never falling.
"I have to leave," she whispered, barely audible, as if saying the words had given her a direction.
But the road was long, and Historia didn't yet know where to begin.
_____
The autumn rain drummed against the café windows, the soft hum of conversations inside blending with the steady rhythm of the drops outside. Historia dried her hands on her apron and rearranged the tray of pastries behind the counter for what felt like the tenth time that day. Business was slow, but that was normal for a Tuesday afternoon.
She sighed, glancing at the phone tucked under the counter.
Three missed calls from her father.
Not now, she thought, pushing it deeper into the drawer. The last thing she needed was another lecture about how she was "wasting her potential" working in a café instead of joining her family's oh-so-"charming" real estate empire.
Sasha popped out from the kitchen, a smear of flour on her cheek.
"Everything okay out here, Tori? I can cover for you if you need a break."
"I'm fine," Historia replied with a small smile. "But thanks." She nodded at the tray Sasha was holding. "Are those the new cinnamon rolls? They smell amazing."
Sasha grinned brightly. "I might've sampled one already. Quality control, you know how it is."
Sasha was her best friend. They'd graduated high school together and now worked at this little café while saving up and juggling college classes.
Historia chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Of course."
Her attention was drawn to a girl sitting alone at a table, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, with two strands framing her face as she flipped through the pages of a book that, judging by the cover, was a classic.
The girl looked up, her brown eyes meeting Historia's blue ones. Historia immediately looked away, suddenly embarrassed to have been caught staring.
"So, Mikasa and Eren are celebrating their anniversary tomorrow, so they won't be around... Armin's busy studying... Connie..."
Sasha's words became muffled background noise as Historia summoned the courage to look back at the girl, who this time was already watching her.
A strange sensation bloomed in her chest, as though time had slowed for a moment. The girl didn't look away, and Historia, for reasons she couldn't explain, felt her cheeks flush as the girl unexpectedly smiled.
Sasha immediately noticed Historia's demeanor.
"Tori?" she called, but Historia, distracted, didn't respond at once. "Tori, are you listening?"
Historia shook her head, trying to mask her distraction.
"Yeah, yeah... it's just... nothing," she murmured, but her gaze had already drifted back to the girl, who now seemed absorbed in her book again. Yet Historia couldn't tear her eyes away from her.
Sasha raised an eyebrow, picking up on the intensity of the moment.
"Are you sure that's not a customer making your heart skip a beat?" she teased, her tone playful but tinged with curiosity.
Historia felt her face grow even warmer but widened her eyes in disbelief. What a ridiculous thought—she was dating Reiner, and there was no way she'd be swooning over a girl.
"Sasha, stop it," she muttered, turning to tidy another plate, but her mind was still on that girl, and how that fleeting look seemed to cling to her heart like a strange, familiar feeling.
Sasha, with a mischievous smile, decided not to press further and returned to observing Historia, who was about to go serve the girl. As Sasha disappeared back into the kitchen, the café door opened with a gust of wind.
A man walked into the café, the bell above the door jingling softly. Historia looked up, greeting him with her usual welcoming smile. He approached the counter and sat down, casting a curious glance at the displayed pastries. Historia watched him approach but couldn't help noticing how his eyes lingered on her a little too intently.
"Can I get a coffee and maybe... a cinnamon roll?" he asked, his tone lower than necessary. "These look like they're made with love."
Historia forced a polite smile, taking his order. "A coffee and a cinnamon roll, sure. I'll be right back."
As she moved toward the coffee machine, she could still feel his gaze on her. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but this time the sensation bothered her more. She returned to the counter with her professional smile, but instead of paying and leaving, the man continued to stare.
"I don't see you around here often," he said, his voice quieter, almost insinuating. "How long have you been working here, Historia?" The man leaned forward to read her name from her apron.
Hearing her name spoken in that tone sent a shiver down her spine. She turned slightly to adjust another tray of pastries, hoping the silence would be enough to deter him.
But he wasn't ready to stop. "You know," he continued, "it's a real waste. You're so... beautiful. And a café? It's nothing. You'd be better off doing something bigger—maybe with someone who sees your worth."
Historia's chest tightened. His words were becoming more invasive, as if he were trying to pry into something personal, something intimate. Her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed the coffee cup.
She glanced around, clearly uneasy and searching for help, when a calm yet firm voice cut through, breaking the tension.
"Don't you think you're overstepping a bit?" the girl said, her tone steady but not aggressive. She had risen from her seat and now stood behind the man, looking at him with an impassive expression.
The man, startled by the interruption, turned toward the new voice, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me, but who are you?"
"Someone who knows how to behave when someone else is just trying to do their job without being bothered," she replied without hesitation. "And you seem to have forgotten your manners."
The man flushed slightly, realizing his persistence wasn't earning him any points.
He cast her a quick glance before looking back at Historia, but his demeanor had visibly shifted.
Now visibly unsettled, the man quickly paid and left the café, throwing one last look at the two women. Once the door closed behind him, the girl turned to Historia with an almost curious expression.
Historia, visibly relieved, let out a deep breath.
"Thank you," she murmured, offering the girl a grateful look.
"No problem," she replied, with a small smile. Then, in a lighter tone, she added, "Sorry for making you wait. I guess the hero of the day arrived a little late."
Historia smiled nervously, but it was genuine, and for a moment she felt like something in her heart had clicked into place.
"No problem. I didn't think you'd... handle it like that."
The girl sat across from her.
"Sometimes it just takes a little courage," she said with a sly smile, "and sometimes it's about not putting up with certain things anymore." She set the book she'd been holding on the counter. "I think we just met in the strangest way possible," she said, pausing. "My name's Ymir."
Historia looked at her, surprised by the ease with which Ymir introduced herself, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
"Historia," she replied, smiling.
Ymir tilted her head, observing Historia's expression for a moment as if trying to decipher something.
"Historia," she repeated, testing the sound of the name. "Nice name. You seem like you're a bit more than what you show here."
Historia was taken aback by the comment, but the strange sensation in her chest grew stronger.
"Maybe," she replied with an uncertain smile. "Maybe I am."
Ymir said nothing, but her enigmatic smile suggested she had noticed—or perhaps intuited—something.
"Well," Ymir said after a moment, "how about you treat me to a coffee to repay my heroic deed?"
Historia suddenly felt less tense and laughed spontaneously, shaking her head.
"That sounds like a great idea."
_____
Historia's shift had ended, and, without knowing exactly why, she found herself sipping a coffee at the counter next to Ymir, waiting for Reiner to pick her up. She wouldn't have minded walking home, but the rain showed no sign of stopping, draping the streets in a melancholic gray veil.
Deep down, she wasn't in a hurry to leave. Not that day.
She'd learned that Ymir had moved to the city about a year ago, right after graduating. Their conversation had started casually, with light remarks and comments about the weather, but soon morphed into something more natural and spontaneous. Ymir had a direct way of speaking—never unpleasant, striking a balance Historia found surprisingly enjoyable.
"And you?" Ymir asked at one point, leaning her elbow on the counter and looking at her with curiosity. "Have you lived here long?"
Historia shook her head, smiling faintly. "No, I moved here for college. It's not my home, but I've gotten to know it pretty well by now."
"Ah, I see," Ymir replied, tilting her head slightly. "And do you like it? The city, I mean."
Historia took a moment to think before responding. "Yes, I think I do. Although, at first, it was hard to settle in. I felt a bit lost, not knowing anyone. But over time, I've come to appreciate the simple things... the places I frequent, the people I meet."
Ymir nodded, her faint smile conveying an understanding that ran deeper than her words. "Yeah, moving can feel like that. When I got here, I was completely alone. It takes time to build something new."
"And how is it now?" Historia asked, genuinely curious.
"Better now," Ymir said calmly. "I'm starting to meet interesting people."
The sentence was simple, but the way Ymir said it made Historia's heart skip a beat. She lowered her gaze to her cup, feeling a slight warmth rise to her cheeks.
"And you?" Ymir resumed after a moment of silence. "Do you ever feel... stuck? Like you're just going through the motions, seeing the same faces, doing the same things?"
Historia looked up at her, caught off guard by the question. She considered it for a moment before answering honestly. "Sometimes, yes. But I try to find beauty in the little things—a smile, a good conversation... moments like this."
Ymir stared at her for a moment, her smile growing warmer and softer. "Moments like this, huh?" she repeated quietly. "Then maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else, one day."
Her voice was lower now, almost a whisper.
Historia slowly lifted her gaze, meeting Ymir's honey-colored eyes, which held a determination that unsettled her yet made her feel inexplicably safe. She wasn't used to this kind of attention, but she couldn't deny that something about Ymir deeply intrigued her.
Before she could respond, the café door opened with a decisive sound. The bell above the entrance shattered the moment, and Reiner appeared, bringing with him his usual commanding presence.
"Historia," he said in his typical assured tone, walking up to the counter. "Ready to go?"
Historia turned to him, trying to mask the turmoil inside her with a nervous smile. "Yes, just a second," she replied, glancing at Ymir as if to reassure her that their conversation wasn't forgotten.
Reiner immediately noticed the atmosphere between the two women. His eyes narrowed slightly as he cast a scrutinizing look at Ymir. "Who's your friend?" he asked, trying to keep his tone friendly, though a hint of tension was unmistakable.
"This is Ymir," Historia said, trying to downplay the situation. "She just moved here."
"Nice to meet you," Reiner said, extending his hand to Ymir with a smile that felt more like a challenge than a greeting.
Ymir regarded him calmly, shaking his hand without losing her trademark sardonic smile. "Nice to meet you, too," she replied, letting a brief, meaningful silence linger between them.
Feeling the weight of the tension, Historia quickly gathered her things. Before leaving, however, she turned to Ymir with a smile that seemed to hold more words than she could ever say out loud. "It was nice meeting you," she said sincerely. "I hope we'll see each other again soon."
Ymir nodded, her smile now softer. "I hope so too, Historia. See you soon."
As she left the café, Historia couldn't help but glance back one last time at Ymir, noticing the way she watched her leave with an expression that was difficult to decipher.
When Reiner wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her in a possessive grip, Historia felt a slight discomfort she couldn't quite explain.
_____
The rain pounded against the car windows, and the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers was the only noise filling the air. Reiner drove with his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Historia sat stiffly beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
Neither of them had spoken since getting into the car, and the air between them was thick with tension. Reiner exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
"Do you want to tell me why you did it?" he asked finally, his tone low but cutting.
Historia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "What?"
Reiner gripped the wheel tighter. "Don't play dumb. This morning, Historia. You were pretending. I could tell."
The words hit her like a whip. She turned her gaze back to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass like tears.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured, but her voice was so faint it sounded unconvincing even to her.
Reiner let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Really? You're seriously going to lie now? For God's sake, Historia, do you think I can't tell? Do you think I don't know when you're... somewhere else?"
She tightened her hands, her fingers pressing hard against the fabric of her jeans. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do!" he snapped, raising his voice. "I want to know what's wrong. I want to know why you can never really be here with me. Is it something I'm doing? Is it my fault? Because it always feels like nothing is ever enough for you!"
Historia turned to him, her eyes brimming with emotion. "It's not your fault," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't... I don't even know what's wrong with me. It's like... I just can't feel anything. And it has nothing to do with you."
Reiner slammed his palm against the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve slightly before he regained control. "Don't say it has nothing to do with me. How can you say that? This morning, I was there. I was touching you, I was loving you, and you... you were like ice. Empty."
"Because I am!" Historia shouted, startling even herself. "I'm empty, Reiner! And no matter what you do, I can't feel anything! I can't feel you, I can't feel myself, I can't feel anything!"
Her words hung in the air, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Reiner slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road. He turned off the engine but didn't look at her.
"Then why do you keep trying?" he asked finally, his tone softer, almost broken. "Why do you keep pretending? Why do you keep lying to me? This morning... it felt like you were playing a role. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Historia lowered her gaze, tears burning her eyes but refusing to fall. "I'm not trying to hurt you," she whispered. "I'm doing it because I don't know how to tell you that... I can't be who you want me to be. I can't even be who I thought I'd be."
Reiner finally turned to her, the pain evident in his expression. "I don't want you to be perfect, Historia. I just want you to be real. Even if it's messy. Even if it hurts. But this..." He shook his head. "I can't do this."
Historia didn't respond. Her hands trembled slightly as she searched for words, but nothing felt right. Nothing felt enough.
Reiner restarted the car, the engine's hum filling the silence between them. "You know what?" he said coldly. "Maybe you don't even want to try. Maybe you're okay living like this, feeling nothing. But I can't."
The car moved forward again, and Historia stared out the window, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. She didn't try to stop them. She didn't try to explain.
She knew something between them had broken, and she wasn't sure it could ever be fixed.
_____
Historia returned to her dorm room, the weight of her conversation with Reiner still pressing heavily on her shoulders. The rain continued to pour outside the window, accompanying her into the small space she called home. She closed the door behind her, letting her bag drop to the floor beside the desk. She didn't turn on the lights.
The room was wrapped in a comforting dimness, lit only by the orange glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. She let herself fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The silence seemed to magnify the thoughts she was desperately trying to avoid.
Pulling her phone from her jacket pocket, she sought a distraction. Among the notifications, a message from her father stood out:
"Historia, we need to talk. Don't forget your responsibilities. When are you available?"
She read the words over and over, the lump in her throat tightening with each pass. Her father had never been good at talking to her—never knew how to ask for something without making her feel inadequate. Even now, his words felt more like a command than a request.
With an exasperated sigh, she closed the message without replying. She didn't have the energy—not tonight.
Just as she was about to put her phone down, another notification caught her attention. It was a message from Frieda, her sister.
"Hey, little one, how are you? I saw it's raining where you are. Did you have a quiet day? Love you—let me know."
A faint smile touched her lips. Frieda was the only one who could make her feel understood, even from a distance. Her words were always kind, never overbearing, and Historia knew not responding would make Frieda worry.
Taking a deep breath, she typed a short but sincere reply:
"Hi Frieda, I'm okay. It's been a long day, but I'll write more tomorrow. Love you too."
She pressed Send and set the phone down on her bedside table. Moving sluggishly, she felt the day's exhaustion weigh on her body as she headed to the bathroom. A shower was what she needed.
The hot water cascaded over her skin, easing the tension in her muscles and momentarily washing away the emotional burden of the day. She closed her eyes, letting the sound of the water drown out her thoughts. But she couldn't ignore everything.
Reiner's words echoed in her mind, relentless and unforgiving: "Empty. Ice. Why are you pretending?"
A sob rose in her throat, and this time she didn't try to suppress it. Tears mingled with the shower's stream, hot and bitter, carrying her guilt and helplessness with them.
When she finally stepped out of the shower, she felt drained. She dried herself quickly, slipped into comfortable pajamas, and returned to bed. Collapsing under the covers, she welcomed their soft reassurance.
Closing her eyes, she tried desperately to clear her mind, but the day's images—Reiner's hurt expression, Ymir's kind smile, and the unsaid words piling up inside her—kept resurfacing.
And yet, before she could dwell too long, exhaustion won. She fell asleep quickly, the sound of rain sliding against the windows her only companion in the quiet of the night.