Chapter 1
The first day of apartment hunting could have gone better, she supposes.
Armin had done his due diligence before he left for his and Eren’s month-long honeymoon, and the list he’d given her was filled with admittedly beautiful apartment complexes that hosted several attractive amenities.
Her job was supposed to be simple. All she had to do was systematically go through the list, attend each tour in each apartment complex, and make her own list of favorites so that she could later compare notes with the others. The original plan had included Historia, but at the last minute, there was a mishap with a substitute teacher, and she had to start work a week earlier than expected, so Mikasa thought it was best to keep to schedule and attend the tours separately.
Oh, what a fool she’d been.
While she knew Historia would’ve most likely just oo-ed and ah-ed at each apartment they visited, at least she wouldn’t have had to live through the experience alone - or maybe, if they’d rescheduled, she wouldn’t have had to gone through it at all.
What was supposed to happen was that she was going to find an apartment that spoke to her. One that was so utterly perfect that it both withstood Eren’s ability to emit a scream so loud that it transcended the city block and accommodated Historia’s fervent desire to have a balcony that had a clear view of the sunset everyday. Mikasa and Armin were significantly less picky with the requirements, so she knew she'd be looking more with their soulmates' in mind.
What actually happened could be recorded in history as one of the worst days of her life, and she didn’t have very many of those. One of the only other ones she could think of was the day her parents died. Every other day, she felt mostly indifferent towards.
But no. Indifference was not to be on this day.
Mikasa’s suffering begins at exactly 8:54 a.m, 54 minutes after she’d woken up. Everything had been normal, if a bit quiet. She’d showered, gotten dressed, and made breakfast like a well-oiled machine. The only thing she had left to complete the routine was to wrap that ever-present scarf around her neck - but therein lied the problem. That ever-present scarf was no longer ever-present, and she’d never felt closer to the brink of insanity as she scoured the apartment, shoving couches out of the way and digging through her laundry like a woman possessed.
Now, some sympathy should be afforded to her. Ironically, the worst day of her life (see above) also happened to coincide with the best day of her life.
Which is to say that, the day of her parents deaths had also been the day that Mikasa found her soulmate - or perhaps, rather, her soulmate had found her.
There she was, backed up against the corner, still sick with the feeling of her parents blood beneath her tiny 7-year old feet, when that little red string attached to her right hand gave the hardest tug it’s ever had before. She’d barely noticed it at the time, but when the door slammed against the wall and cops flooded into the room, she knew immediately that the little boy doing his best to shove his way through the door to get to her was to thank.
Apparently, his family had just moved to Shiganshina a few weeks before, and this was the first time he was able to get away from his family long enough to follow the taut string that led to her family’s house. He managed to call for help after peeking through the window and seeing the horror show inside, and as she was ushered through the door and towards the paramedics, Mikasa’s hand followed the string and latched onto Eren’s, holding so tightly that she was sure that she hurt him. But he never said anything. All he did was sit with her as she stared blankly at the ground until she began to shiver. Then, he pried his fingers away from her own and began to coil his red scarf around her neck.
“This means we’re going to be best friends forever,” he said, linking their right pinkies together where only the loop around their fingers was visible. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise.” Eren had said it with such determination, such fiery resolution that Mikasa had no choice but to believe him. She felt that same resolve manifest in her gut, and she’d nodded, a contract signed between them both.
Platonic soulmates became siblings, and then here they were, 18 years later.
Except now, Mikasa can’t find that fucking scarf, and she’s been searching for nearly 30 minutes.
Eren had given her replacements over the years, and even Armin and Historia had added to her growing collection of neckwear, but this one was special. This one was the one she wore when they were away from each other (which was less often than one might think).
Platonic soulmates were just like that. It was basically embedded into whatever soulmate gene they carried in their DNA to stay attached to the hip until your romantic soulmate was discovered, and even after then, she doesn’t think she knows of very many cases where platonic soulmates go their separate ways - hence why Mikasa and Historia were moving into the same building as the newly-weds.
15 minutes later, and 45 minutes after she was supposed to leave for Trost, she stormed out of the apartment, a scarf that wasn’t quite the right color of red wrapped haphazardly atop her shoulders, as if she could barely stand the feel of it against her skin.
Act 2 of the tragedy that was her day began at the first apartment complex on her list. She arrived 20 minutes late to her scheduled appointment, and even after staring at the man in a way that was usually able to bring people to tears, he refused to give her the tour. Apparently there was a 15 minute window afforded, and Mikasa had missed it by 5.
She tried reasoning with him, polite in her smile and apologetic in her voice. She knew that Armin had put 2 check marks next to this place, meaning it was a top contender on his list, so she really did try extra hard. She even batted her eyelashes a little in the way her high school classmates taught her before she resorted to that steely glare of hers. When he remained unaffected, uninterestedly telling her to reschedule for another day as he went back to his computer, she decided that landlords must be a different breed entirely. She wondered briefly if he could sniff out her unwillingness to accept bullshit and decided immediately that she would be too high-maintenance of a tenant to take care of, or in other words, someone not easily taken advantage of. Or maybe he just preferred punctual people.
Mikasa didn’t give a shit about any of his reasoning or her own reasonableness, though. She left the apartment complex with her jaw clenched, a migraine building, and a thorough scratch off the list in her hand, already dreading that she’d have to tell Armin that she botched the first tour and would probably never come back out of both spite and pride. She just hoped he didn’t like it too much.
The next few tours went fine, she supposes. One apartment she’d seen just after lunch had a large patio that overlooked the view of a nearby park. What was even better was that it was on the west side of the building, meaning that Historia may just get her sunsets yet.
Act 3 happens when she opens her phone to send a picture of the view to their group chat.
homiesexuals
MikASSa (9:03): Has anyone seen my scarf?
MikASSa (9:21): Anyone?
Thing 1(☆>⊇<) (10:30): no :(((((((
Thing 1(☆>⊇<) (10:30): sorry mika :((((
MikASSa (10:33): It’s okay. I’m using my backup.
MikASSa (1:40): [jpg. Attachment]
MikASSa (1:40): @Historia
Thing 1(☆>⊇<) (1:41): OMG!!!!!!!!!
Thing 1(☆>⊇<) (1:41): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thing 1(☆>⊇<) (1:42): ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆
Thing 1(☆>⊇<) (1:42): ITS BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!
Thing 2 ୧☉□☉୨ (1:44): Is that the one on 54th?
MikASSa (1:45): Yes.
Thing 2 ୧☉□☉୨ (1:46): I liked that one too!
MR. ARLERT<33333 (1:48): hey kasa!! jst got ur txts sry
MR. ARLERT<33333 (1:48): i grabbed ur scarf on accident >:(
MR. ARLERT<33333 (1:49): armin and i r gna go to the post office 2day dnt worry
MR. ARLERT<33333 (1:49): u should get it next week!!
Thing 2 ୧☉□☉୨ (1:50): Don’t worry, Mikasa! We’ll pay extra so that it gets to you safely and swiftly!
MikASSa (1:54): Thank you.
There was some comfort in knowing that the scarf was safe and on its way back to her and not somewhere flying in the wind, but with the persisting headache and the dark cloud already settled firmly above her head, she couldn’t help but catastrophize.
What if it gets lost in the mail?
What if it’s damaged?
Should I tell them not to send it?
But could I stand a month away from it?
...could I even do a week?
Mikasa firmly shook her head as that thought crossed her mind. The scarf was her most precious belonging. It symbolized a home, a family - a bond of friendship that got her through the most difficult time of her life. She was attached to it, maybe unhealthily so, but she refused to be that attached to it.
She could do a week.
She could.
Except now her nerves were fried, and they most likely would be for every day it takes for the scarf to get there.
Mikasa sighed as she stepped out of the building, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She’s always been a bit of a worrier, internalized as it may be, but she was never this neurotic.
Not for the first time that day, she wished Historia had been able to come. If the sheer radiance of her presence wasn’t enough to fix her mood however slightly, she’d sure she would at least be a suitable distraction from her own anxiety. Historia and Armin were always beacons of light in their little family unit, and she'd come to cherish their presences in her life almost as much as she did Eren's.
At first, Mikasa had been thrown off by the sunshine-y blond boy and his equally sunshine-y soulmate. She was so used to Grisha’s distance, Carla’s quiet affection, and Eren’s brash demeanor that seeing the duo for the first time left her a little skeptical. Over time, she learned to admire Armin’s optimism and Historia’s determination, and the outsiders she once regarded only with a 10-foot pole became family to her.
And with Eren and Armin off galivanting in that blissful little bubble of theirs, that left Historia and Mikasa with nothing to do but get to know one another. They roomed together in the dorms, lived side by side when the 4 of them found their first and second apartments, and now they were going to be roommates again while their soulmates lived in domestic bliss somewhere else in whatever building they were to live in. It really isn’t a wonder that the two of them became so close and that Mikasa was finding herself wanting to be comforted by her.
Mikasa sighed again and began walking the short few blocks to the last apartment. The day was only just about halfway over with and she already wanted to crawl back into bed. Maybe if she were lucky, Historia would be up for some takeout tonight from that place around the corner. Those dumplings were probably the only things she was going to miss about Shiganshina. That, and her neighbor’s cat.
“Hi, welcome to Sina Apartments! How may I assist you today?”
Mikasa’s polite smile was more a grimace than anything else, but the dead look in the apartment manager’s eyes seemed to say that she understood. It said, “look at me - look at how empty I am. This is the 4th time this year that I’ve had to replace Mrs. Jenson’s toilet handle, and at this point, I’m not sure I want to know how it keeps breaking. Nothing can hurt me anymore.” As someone who took routine calls to an overly sensitive fire alarm that went off every time Ms. Frizzle saged her house, Mikasa understood that sentiment well.
The complex, she had to admit, turned out to be very nice. The stairwells were clean, open, and easily accessible, the units had a rather open layout with a spacious enough balcony for Historia to do her yoga on, and after a quick test when the landlord wasn’t watching, Mikasa found that she could barely hear anything at all from the neighbors through the wall. With an in-facility gym and another within walking distance, she understood why Armin had underlined and placed a checkmark next to it. Suitable to say, she was impressed. This was definitely going at the top of her list.
Or rather, that’s what she thought before walking out of the building.
Herein lies the climax of Mikasa’s suffering. This is the moment that plays on repeat in her mind for weeks, haunting her every time she walks the streets of Trost.
With her mood making a slight incline with the success of her last tour, she exited the complex, typing some last minute notes on the building as she did so. She’d just reached the end of the awning when she was stopped by the sound of a window screeching as it was thrown open. The sheer urgency of it had her instincts immediately on alert, and she turned and looked upwards towards the source. What she found had her eyebrows shooting up in surprise and her feet taking a step back in pure alarm.
There, a woman stood, hands braced on the window frame as she stuck the top half of her body out, head on a swivel, going back and forth behind her to the street below. Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were wild, tearing through each person she could find with reckless abandon until they landed on Mikasa.
Now, Mikasa would describe herself as a generally brave person. She had just the right amount of nerves every time she ran into a fire, and she knew exactly what she was capable of.
But standing here, with that woman’s beady eyes piercing directly into her soul, Mikasa knew when to cut her losses - and somehow, the other woman knew it too, because in the next moment she was screeching out of the window, “HEY!! YOU!!”
In a flash, she turned around, and as if the devil himself was on her heels, she began to flee. Behind her, she continued to bellow, “HEY ASIAN LADY!!! FUCKING WAIT A SECOND!!! I’M COMING TO GET YOU!!!” And then the yelling stopped, and Mikasa knew she was making good on her promise.
For the first time in her life, she picked flight. This wasn’t some childhood bully or a handsy fratboy she could fight off. This was a deranged woman, motivated by nothing but her own whims and mania. Nothing could stop her, and Mikasa didn’t want to try. If everything was already going wrong today, she didn’t want to take her chances, so as soon as the street went quiet, she took off in a sprint down the street, turning corners in an effort to lose her pursuant. She didn’t stop or look back, and by the time she reached her car, she was heaving for breath, hands shaking as she reached to throw open the car door.
The day was still young, and with it came the gaggle of pedestrians meandering down the streets. A lot of them had stopped to stare at the sight of a 5’8 tank of a woman booking it in broad daylight, and if Mikasa had been even slightly mentally capable at the moment, she would’ve realized that it was her who looked like she was lacking her mental faculties in the city that was to be her primary residence and place of work. But she wasn't, and she didn't care.
Mikasa was sure that the only way she got home that day was on an auto-pilot fueled solely by adrenaline and self-preservation.
For a few moments after parking the car, she sat there, hands clenching the steering wheel and eyes blinking but unseeing. Her heart had long calmed in the drive between cities, but the lasting effects had her hand trembling as she reached into her pocket to grab the meticulously folded list Armin had given her. On the name that had both a check mark and an underline, she began to scratch at it with a pen. She didn’t stop until it was completely covered, and when it was, she simply got out of the car, walked up the steps to their apartment, and got into bed.
Then, she began to scream.
2 hours later, Historia finds her wrapped up in a pile of her beloved neckwear, staring emptily into the ceiling above her. It takes several minutes of prompting and a shrug before Historia is plopping down on the bed beside her and unraveling the copious scarves from her face. When she still doesn’t get an acknowledgement, she pouts.
“Are you really this upset about your scarf?” She teases lightly, showing her concern with the slight furrow of her brow.
This gets a twitch out of Mikasa who takes only a moment before shaking her head mutely. Darting her eyes to look at Historia, she swallows and opens her mouth.
“I think I had a bad day,” she says distortedly, like she’s so far removed from the concept that it feels wrong for the words to come out of her mouth.
Historia, ever the life-safer, knows exactly what to do - like she's been preparing and training for this day all along.
With a flourish, she pulls out her phone and orders the takeout place on speed dial. “Hi Mike! I need 1 order of mongolian beef, 1 order of kung pao chicken, 1 order of chowmein, 3 orders of your dumplings, aaaaaand 4 bottles of Tsingtao pretty please.”
Mikasa’s no longer looking at her, but she can practically hear the smile that’s overtaken Historia’s angelic face. Even polite, the radiance of her aura quite nearly blinds Mikasa. And yet, in just 5 minutes, she’s no longer wound as tight as a coil.
If only Historia had been there today, keeping that woman from committing psychological terrorism on her mind with just the sheer brightness of her presence. Who would yell at a pretty, tiny blonde girl? Not Mikasa, and if that woman had any ounce of sense within her, not her either.
Historia hangs up the phone and drops it to the side before turning and facing Mikasa. One of the scarves she’d gotten her as a friendaversary gift (dated on the same day as Eren and Armin’s anniversary) was laying between them, so she reaches out to play with its strings.
“Wanna talk about it, champ?” She questions, blue eyes wide and big and open to let her know that she'll listen to whatever she has to say.
But frankly, the answer is not at all. She’d rather just forget about the whole thing, actually.
Shaking her head, she turns her head to look at her once more. “Why don’t you tell me about your day instead? It was your first, after all,” and Historia, seeing the deflection for what it is, takes pity on her and agrees immediately. Turns out that she has a lot to say.
Mikasa is suitably distracted by the time the food gets there 35 minutes later. “- and apparently Rebecca and Dani used to be in differing classes, but as soon as their moms found out, they got it all sorted and put them in what's now my class. Oh, they are so adorable! They were wearing matching butterfly pins in their hair! I remember Armin and I's first friendship bracelet. We were both so proud because we made them for each other. I think I still have it somewhere in one of my -”
A knock interrupts her.
Mikasa heaves herself off the bed, scooping up the dozens of scarves that have fallen from her body and leaving them on top of her sheets to put away later. She waves off Historia’s attempt to grab her purse, opens the door, and reaches for the bags offered to her by their usual takeout guy.
“I thought Eren and Armin were on their honeymoon,” Mike asks in an attempt at polite conversation as she hands him the money, peeking over her shoulder and furrowing his eyebrows when he seems to realize that Eren’s usual background screeches are nowhere to be found.
“They are,” she replies simply, staring blankly at his face when he turns back to face her.
He blinks in return. “So it’s just you and miss Historia eating all this?”
“Yes,” she says, as if it’s obvious, and then they sit there, blinking at each other for several moments before Mike’s fidgeting becomes unbearable and he makes a hasty retreat down the hall. With a shrug, she closes the door and takes the bags to the table where Historia is already wiggling in her chair in excitement.
“Man, this smells delicious!” She cries out, eyes wide and eager, looking so very much like a puppy in that moment when Mikasa hands her her order of chicken. Eren and Armin were like that too - earnest and eager - and if this were a house filled with dogs, she’d be the lone cat, watching distantly with poorly disguised fondness as the puppies around her jump and yap at her. “I’m gonna be so sad when we leave this place behind,” she says around a bite of chowmein. “We have to eat here at least 5 more times before we leave, okay?”
Mikasa agrees immediately, glad they're of the same mind, as she steadily makes her way through her own meal. Halfway through, Historia hums thoughtfully, as if remembering something.
“I rescheduled all the apartment tours for this saturday. Armin wants to facetime on sunday so that we can make the final decision and apply for the leases. You okay with that?”
“Saturday?” she perks up, furrowing her eyebrows as she mentally scans through her calendar. “I have orientation at the new station.”
Historia cocks her head a little in confusion. “I know that, silly. I was asking about sunday."
Frowning, she shakes her head. “But who’s going to go with you on saturday?”
“You went alone today! I can go by myself, too, Mika.”
And look how well that went , she wants to reply darkly but refrains by the barest of margins. She really would rather not talk about the woman she keeps thinking she sees out of the corner of her eye, but she also really doesn’t want Historia to have to go alone. What if that woman was there that day? What if she didn’t have an ounce of sense and did decide to yell at the pretty, tiny blonde girl? Feisty as Historia may be, she’s seen the crazy shit people on drugs can do and she does not want her soulmate-in-law to go through that.
So, she tries negotiating.
“I just believe that having someone there to make reflections with on each apartment with would be the best idea,” she tries for nonchalance, poking absently at a dumpling with her chopsticks.
Historia narrows her eyes immediately. “Then why didn’t you say anything earlier! We could’ve rescheduled yesterday so you didn’t have to make the trip today if you thought that way!”
Mikasa scowls inwardly. Why didn’t she, indeed. She loved efficiency, but at what cost?
She shrugs as a response, trying to look as sheepish as Mikasa Ackerman could. “It didn’t occur to me, truthfully. Maybe you can change it for sunday, and we can host the boys when we get back?”
Throwing her hands up in the air, Historia shakes her head. “They don’t have tours on sundays! Mikasa! We have to secure a lease within the next few weeks, and you’re really throwing a wrench in the works,” she pouts towards the end, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’ll just have to make due with going separate, and maybe on your break, I can call you and let you know what I think!”
Admittedly, it’s an infallible solution. Mikasa can’t even try to refute it, even as she tries for several seconds to come up with another excuse, but she knows that she has to go for at least one last hail-mary.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go at all,” she says slowly, darting her eyes everywhere but at Historia. She’s usually not one to pussy-foot around an issue (in fact, it’s quite usually the opposite), but there’s really just something about coming face to face with her own mortality that makes her want to keep it to herself - as if, if she never spoke a word about it, it didn’t have to be real. “You liked the apartment I texted earlier, right? I believe that one was the best as well, so you shouldn’t waste a trip if you’re already interested.”
Something like complete and absolute bewilderment crosses over Historia’s face, as if she can’t truly be sure that this is Mikasa Ackerman in front of her, before a dawning of realization forms. If possible, her eyes narrow even further, and Mikasa knows that her play for innocence has been caught.
“Your bad mood happened because of something at the tours today, didn’t it?” She questions with a near dangerous tone of voice, and Mikasa has the presence of mind not to lie to her when she’s beginning to get scary so she nods. Her face scrunches up even more at the confession, and she’s already whipping out her phone before Mikasa can begin to explain properly. “Tell me which apartment building it was. Daddy’s still drowning me in guilt money, and I’m gonna make him throw it all into getting this bozo fired, I promise. Even though you’re super tough and scary, you don’t always have to be strong when jerks pull stunts like this! I swear, landlords are the worst! I’m gonna make Daddy pay for the whole stupid building, and then we’ll get to rub it in his big, stupid face.”
By the end of the rant, Mikasa has swallowed down the rest of her beer and pinched her nose with a sigh. Touching as the threat may be, she can’t allow the misunderstanding to take root.
“Thank you, Historia, but I promise you it wasn’t a landlord,” she says, firmly but quietly. She pauses to collect her thoughts, and Historia nods patiently, imploring her to continue. “There was a…” she grimaces a little, “sketchy individual who lived at the last apartment listed. The experience was unsettling, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t visit it.”
Historia pauses to ponder that. “A...sketchy individual?”
“Yes.”
“Of the...male variety?” She asks slowly, cautiously, face twisting in a type of way that said she was trying very hard not to freak out, and Mikasa has to bite back a groan. She normally hated being tugged around in conversations. She preferred making things short and succinct, but now it’s her who’s making it needlessly complicated. Truly, keeping it from her seemed to be more of a hassle than it was worth, and honesty was not something she had a problem with.
She decides to bite the bullet. “There was...a woman who screamed at me from her window, and she threatened to ‘come and get me.’ Frankly, however, I haven't felt much myself today, even before the incident, so I’m unsure if it’s me who’d lost her mind or the other woman. I think I’d just prefer it if you declined that tour, just in case she was mentally unhinged and put any of us in danger.”
There. It was out. Easy Peasy, as Eren used to say (Mikasa was never one for such colloquial, juvenile turn of phrases, but she found it endlessly endearing when the people she cared for did it). She explained herself, explained that she may be an unreliable narrator, and offered a perfectly valid reason to cancel the tour. Good job, Mikasa.
And Historia, the sunshine child that she is, softens in such sincere understanding, patting her arm while she nods. “Of course. I understand completely, and so will the boys. I’m sure we’ll find somewhere we’ll all love out of the rest of them. I really did like that view you showed me, anyhow,” she says optimistically, sending her a reassuring smile, and Mikasa’s shoulders nearly visibly shrug in relief.
“Thank you,” she replied, smiling the tiniest bit.
“No, thank you for telling me! If we ever have to see that woman again, it’ll be too soon. Hopefully Trost is big enough for all of us!”
Mikasa nods in grave agreement. Hopefully, indeed.
Bang, bang bang!
“Ymir, wake the fuck up. It’s almost 2 in the afternoon,” a low, muffled, and definitely irritated voice sounds through the door, and Ymir groans in response.
“It’s my fuckin’ day off. Leave me alone,” she grumbles out, hopefully loud enough for the other woman to hear, before rolling back over and shoving the pillow over her head. It must have worked because no sooner than the words leaving her mouth, Ymir can feel more than see Annie’s ghost-like presence disappear.
Thank God for blackout curtains, she thinks as her body instantly settles back into restfulness.
Nearly 40 minutes later, another set of bangs hit the door, and her eyes are shooting open, quicker to awareness than she had been before. Irritation rises and boils over in the blink of an eye, and she’s suddenly hurtling upwards, kicking off the sheets, and throwing the pillow at the door with all of her might. “What the fuck do you want, runt!?” She yells out in frustration.
She’d been up all night playing a game Annie herself had recommended. The protagonist ended up being the hottest piece of animation she's ever seen before in her life, and she was quickly sucked into a delirium that lasted until 6 in the morning. Apparently, her ass had more polygons than the entirety of Ocarina of Time, and she felt. every. single. one.
But this also means that she was tired. Tired and grumpy. A state that was normal for her, so Annie isn't phased at all.
“I have late lunch on the table. Get out here before you ruin your sleeping schedule,” Annie calls out, unimpressed, before walking away once more.
It’s not altogether unusual for Annie to act like a mother hen (and between the two of them, god, they needed someone to do it), but Ymir always finds it hilarious when she does. For a woman who acts like she couldn’t give less of a shit about anything, she sure was pushy sometimes. And a little bit of a sucker.
Ymir sighs just in time for her stomach to growl, and she suddenly remembers the last thing she ate - mountain dew and the hot cheeto dust at the bottom of the bag at 6 in the morning. Fuck, that was as close to living like a teenage boy as she ever wanted to get. Shuddering, she resolves herself to getting her shit together. Just because she trails after her barbell-thumping, gym freak of a soulmate 4 times a week doesn’t mean she can be that gross.
Groaning as she heaves herself from the bed, she can only hope that Annie knew exactly how disgusting Ymir could be and decided to take mercy on her intestines.
She’s squinting as she finally makes her way out of the room, the dichotomy between the darkness of her room and the brightness of the afternoon light making her eyes burn a little. She follows the familiar path to the kitchen, shuffling her feet and scratching at her tummy.
“Jesus, it’s so fucking bright,” Ymir curses as she runs into the edge of the kitchen counter, rubbing at her eyes.
Annie raises an eyebrow. “Are you hungover?” It’s said in deadpan, like normal, and Ymir can never really tell when the fuck she means it or not. Right now, she’s guessing she does.
“Nope. Those blackout curtains are just elite,” she tries to explain, but when the rubbing doesn’t actually do anything, and Ymir is continuing to squint at the sight in front of her, she begins to think that something’s actually wrong. “Dude, what the fuck. It is so fucking bright, I can barely open my eyes right now. Holy shit.”
And that grabs Annie’s attention. Ymir can feel her appear at her side, poking and prodding her until they’re facing each other before Annie is pulling her down. If she wasn’t so irritated by the sudden affliction to her fucking retinas, she’d make fun of her for it, but because Annie actually has some first aid knowledge, she’s wise enough to keep her mouth shut.
“Let me see them,” Annie instructs firmly, and Ymir really does try except -
“Gah!” She yelps, jumping back into the counter so that it digs into her hips. “It’s you!!” She screams, eyes near watering as she pries them open to stare at her soulmate. “You’re lit up like a motherfucking christmas tree, Annes! Holy fuck!”
And through the light, she can barely just see the widening of her usually hooded lids, and Ymir lets out a hysterical laugh, slamming her fist on the counter.
The light is supposed to be some time of navigation system, powered by magic or love or some stupid shit like that, but Ymir thought it was all metaphorical. She didn’t think it would actually hurt to look at her soulmate like this, but goddamn if she’s not excited.
The soulmate system in this world is admittedly pretty fucking flawed. The way it works is that you’re paired off with two people, one you know is your soulmate, and the other you don't. There's a tangible red string attached to the former's finger that ties the two of you together, and once it's been drawn together, you now have the capability of finding your romantic soulmate.
Ymir accidentally stumbled across Annie without even trying. It’d been a bad day, and she hadn’t been paying any attention at all to the tugging on her finger when she walked into Annie’s dad’s auto shop. She was grumpy about her piece of shit car, and even grumpier that she had to pay for it to be fixed, so when she strolled up to the counter, she was not fucking happy. The girl on the other side of the counter seemed to mirror it, or at least must’ve had the biggest case of RBF that Ymir had ever seen, and it kind of really made her want to punch it in. Except, Ymir couldn’t afford to punch it in, even if she knows she’d look so fucking hot in that orange jumpsuit - so she settled for a glower and a curt explanation.
“So how much is it gonna be,” she bit out, shoving her hands deep into her pockets to keep from throwing them at the other girl when she answered in a flat tone that teetered over the line of condescending, “We have to look at it first. Keys, please."
And Ymir had wrenched them out of her pocket and practically thrust them in her face. When the other girl hadn’t taken them right away, Ymir’s face contorted even more in irritation, and she turned to snap at her when she finally realized that there was something tugging on her pinky. Completely gobsmacked, she watched as Annie’s right hand raised and her pinky loosely intertwined with her own.
“What a relief. My soulmate’s as big of a bitch as me,” Annie had said in the most unenthusiastic tone she's ever heard in her life, and Ymir had let out something like a wheeze.
That was when they were 19. Mr. Leonhart offered her some formal training in the shop while Annie got her B.A in Business, and now they owned the joint. It worked out pretty well - almost too well. But hey - that’s soulmate magic for you.
The second person (or however many fuckers you're romantically tied to) is supposed to be your romantic soulmate, and even if you’ve met them before your platonic soulmate, they can’t be identified without the first person there. It’s a bit of a shitshow, if you ask Ymir. There's so much room for error there. Like what if you just happen to walk by your soulmate without your buddy there, and your soulmate walks out of your life forever? Or if you never meet your platonic soulmate, how are you gonna find your romantic one? Or what if you don’t fucking know how to decipher that stupid light that’s supposed to lead your soulmate to their other soulmate?
It’s always kind of stressed Ymir out to think about, but Annie was only slightly more optimistic than her - enough, at least, to say that it usually always works out fine. According to statistics anyways. Or maybe, fate.
And now, with her best friend’s piss poor love life in her hands, she knows she’s gotta act. There’s not a super great description of the light for people - just that the light gets bright when you’re near their soulmate and that you have the tools to interpret it so that you can lead them to each other. So Ymir opens her eyes as wide as she can go and stares hard, trying to use the special soulmate tools she’s been gifted.
At first, it just burns, and she has no idea what the fuck she’s supposed to be doing. Annie is trying her best not to shift anxiously, but Ymir can see it even through the light, and it makes her want to try even harder. Nothing changes for several moments - until, the brightness seems to dim, ever the slightest bit, as if the person is leaving, and all the lights and sirens go off inside her head. She hits the panic button hard and has to make a split decision - go for the door or the window. She doesn’t know how sensitive the light thing is supposed to be, but if they’re leaving the building, Ymir has to catch them, or at least stop them.
Quickly, she reaches for Annie’s wrist and tugs her towards the window facing the front of the building, grabbing at the bottom with trembling hands and thrusting it upwards with maybe a little too much force. She doesn’t pay it any mind, though, and neither does Annie apparently, because she doesn’t say anything when Ymir nearly dives out of the fucking apartment to get a better look at the view in front of her.
There are a few people out and about today, and Ymir goes back and forth between everyone, turning to stare at Annie and the person, as if she’ll know right away who it is - and it works! Because none too soon, Ymir’s eyes fall on a pair directly below her. There’s something about this woman...something shiny that just stood out to her more than any of the others. It’s a gut instinct, one that solidifies the more she stares intensely at her, and near hysterical excitement rises in her chest.
Except that woman is suddenly turning on her heel, eyes wide and frightened, and Ymir just has to stop her, so she screams out, “HEY!! YOU!!”
If possible, that startles the woman even more, and Ymir panics. “HEY ASIAN LADY!!! FUCKING WAIT A SECOND!!! I’M COMING TO GET YOU!!!” And she doesn’t even have time to regret her poor word choice before she’s yanking Annie along with her outside of the apartment, jumping flights of stairs and racing out the door.
She’s heaving and glancing around wildly when she reaches the outside world, shoving Annie in front of her to use her like some type of gps device. When she sees that the light has dimmed dramatically within the minute it took to get down the stairs, she lets out a string of curses, hissing out, “No, no, no! Where the hell is that crazy bitch!?” Ymir’s hands are heavy on Annie’s shoulders, shaking her like some type of magic 8 ball in the hope that whatever direction that girl went would spill out of her.
But Annie decides she finally has enough and throws a jab into her stomach, effectively stunning her from her hysteria. Ymir lets out a wheeze and doubles over, feeling all sorts of betrayed as she struggles to catch her breath. That short little bitch never pulled her punches, even if she meant well.
“Ymir,” Annie starts, and the lack of firmness startles her almost as much as the hit had. Ymir looks up. Annie’s face is twisted in a way she’s never seen before, something soft along the edges but also not quite able to keep the disappointment and anxiety at bay. All in a blink of an eye, it’s gone though, and the mental whiplash of seeing her usual indifferent best friend show that much vulnerability and then erase it just as quickly is almost enough to K.O her completely. It’s way too fucking early to be cycling through emotions like this - or rather, it might be best to say that she wasn’t fucking awake enough to deal with this.
Likewise, Ymir tries to disguise her own emotions, but she knows that she’s doing a pretty shitty job when Annie punches her in the arm and rolls her eyes. “Don’t sulk. I knew from the get go that your goblin face was going to give me trouble, so I’m not pissed, but you’re going to get us evicted if you keep acting like a rabid dog in front of management,” she drawls before shoving her hands in her pockets and turning back to the front door.
And if it weren’t for the fact that Ymir had literally seen her make that stupid, weirdly heart-breaking face a minute ago, she’d think that Annie really didn’t give a shit (per usual) that Ymir fumbled the bag and lost her soulmate - the one that they both pretended to not care about but also the one that they stayed up at night talking about, yearning quietly while they passed a bowl back and forth between them. (Figures that the only time they choose to be vulnerable is when they're high off their asses.)
One thing was certain - she was not letting this go so easily.
She storms in after Annie and heads towards the front desk where the woman remains unflinching as she stares. “Ymir, what the - ”
Ymir tries to reign in her expressions to the best of her abilities, but she thinks it loses its effect as she reflexively points at the woman’s face, asking, “Listen lady - did you happen to see an Asian woman with a red scarf walk through here a few minutes ago?”
And the woman just blinks, dead-eyed. “We have a confidentiality agreement with all of our residents and guests. I'm not at liberty to disclose any personal information, ma'am.”
She nearly growls in response. “I didn’t ask about your confidentiality agreement, lady. I wanna know if you saw that woman?”
Behind her, Annie let’s out an exasperated sigh, but she doesn’t move to intervene. One of the bitchiest things about Annie was that she lowkey loved watching when Ymir was rude as fuck to people. It was one of her very few pleasures in this life.
The manager’s eyes just deadens further, but the smile remains. “Yes, ma’am, I did.”
“Does she live here? Do you know her name? Can you give me a full description of her face? Or better yet, could you give me access to the security cameras?”
And something just tightens around the edges of her smile as she repeats, “We have a confidentiality agreement with all of our residents and guests. I'm not at liberty to disclose any personal information,” as if she’s going to snap at any moment, and Ymir’s worked enough customer service jobs to know when someone’s going to risk it all just for a moment of absolute, untamable demonstration of rage towards a customer (she should know; that’s how she got fired from all her previous jobs and also the reason why she doesn’t meet with any customers in the shop) so she reworks her approach.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she holds her hand up in acquiescence, praying to all the gods to lose her patented severity for just this moment. “I know you have all this confidentiality bullshit, but isn’t there some kind of clause in there somewhere about soulmates? Doesn’t soulmate magic override the laws of government or whatever?”
“No,” the woman shakes her head firmly, suddenly looking aghast. “No, it absolutely does not override the laws of government. We’ve had wars about this. Many, many wars.”
When Annie lets out a snort behind her, Ymir whirls on her. “You said this soulmate shit always works out! You didn't tell me there were fucking wars!” She whispers harshly, accusingly, as if she's been betrayed by this new information. But before Annie can roll her eyes at her friend's antics, she's turning back around and facing the woman once more.
“Okay lady, look - I just fucking woke up. I stayed up all night eating mountain dew and drinking hot cheeto dust, and I really fucking screwed the pooch here with my soulmate. I just need to know if that woman’s been here before and if there’s a possibility she’ll come back so I know to keep an eye on shorty over here.”
The desperation must bleed onto her face, or maybe the woman’s just tired of dealing with her, because Ymir can see the moment where all the fight leaves her. “Probably not,” the woman waves a little defeatedly, body finally sagging and thinly veiled annoyance lining her face. “I’ve never seen a woman run so fast before. I don’t think she’s coming back.”
Devastation sinks into Ymir’s gut. The little sustenance she got from her early morning binge is barely holding her body up, and she kind of just wants to sink into the floor and die for a little while.
What the fuck, Ymir? After all Annie’s done for you, this is how you repay her? You just fucked her one chance for love. What is wrong with -
“But,” the woman sighs again, interrupting Ymir’s internal self-roasting sesh. “I’ll tell you a few things that probably won’t get me in trouble.”
Just like that, Ymir perks up again, and the tug on her finger tells her that Annie must too.
“She mentioned something about getting a new job in the city and how she had to sign a lease in the next month or two, so she’ll probably still find an apartment somewhere in the city. In my experience, the light has a maximum distance of 3 miles, so if you just spend time driving around, you’ll probably run into her again,” the manager informs her dutifully, once again slipping into her customer service voice before she stops and eyes Ymir for a moment. “But I would recommend not shouting at her. She may have run this time, but I feel like you wouldn’t be so lucky next time.”
“Why’s that?” Annie asks, throwing off her façade of disinterest.
The woman ponders for a moment. “Her presence was quite intense. Quiet, but very strong and very scary. I believe she could throw me through the wall if she was so inclined.”
Ymir can’t stop the predatory smile that unfurls across her face as she claps Annie on the back. “Looks like you scored yourself a winner there, babe. I’d like to see someone finally put you in your place.”
“Not if she throws you through the wall first for harassing her,” Annie retorts with a scowl, throwing an elbow out in retaliation.
And Ymir has the sense to stop prodding her because fuck, she’s probably right. That woman looked freaked the fuck out. The next time they saw each other, she wouldn’t even blame her if her first instinct was to hit first and ask questions later. She lets out a groan. What a shitshow.
“Now, if that’s all - I have an appointment scheduled in the next few minutes.”
Throwing out her last ace, she puts on the most charming she can muster, leaning against the counter and hooding her eyes. “Hold up now - let’s not get too hasty here. How about a name at least? Her initials? Maybe you can blink in Morse code?”
The moment the woman’s eyes sharpen, Annie’s grabbing her by the back of her shirt and tugging her away from the manager. “Sorry about her, and thanks for the info. Please don’t increase our rent,” she calls out behind her.
Ymir squawks indignantly at the rough-handling, especially when they pass a couple on the way to the elevators. There’s just something so wrong about being man-handled by a woman nearly a foot smaller than you, but she is in the doghouse, so she doesn’t immediately try to pounce on the top of her head to noogie the shit out of her hair like she knows she hates.
By the time they make it up the elevator and back to their apartment, they’re both more than a little messed up. Annie’s hair looks more like the rats nest she gets every time she wakes up, and Ymir….well, Ymir is still wheezing by the time she gets to the door, hunched over and massaging her stomach from Annie’s latest retaliation. She should really know better by now, but it really was so fun to irritate her soulmate, especially when it brought attention away from the fact that her romantic soulmate, the one day owner of her heart, her true love had been in the same building as her and Ymir had failed her job to get them together. Like, literally, this was her main job. The main job. And she messed it up - all because of that beautiful animated ass that kept her up all night. This is why she can never have nice things.
When the door closes behind them, Ymir’s head is sunken deep into her shoulders with her hands shoved into her pockets, looking impossibly grumpy. She’s avoided eye contact with Annie for the last several minutes because - what if she’s pissed? What if she finally gets mad enough to scream at her? Or worse - what if she’s sad ?
Oh gods, the thought makes her nearly nauseous.
This was all her fault. If they never found that woman again - if she ruined her best and only friend’s chance at finding her soulmate? She would never, ever forgive herself. She would exile herself from the rest of humanity. She would take a vow of silence. She’d spend the rest of her existence reflecting on how much of a pisspoor human being she was. That was how worried she was.
Annie was her best friend, her ride or die, her boo thang for life. She picked her up like she was a stray, decided that she liked that Ymir was near rabid (or at least related to it), and kept her. To let her down like this was -
“Stop it. Don’t be an idiot. I already told you I wasn’t mad,” Annie cuts through her downward spiral of self-pity, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Ymir looks up at her voice and tries to decipher the look on her face. As usual, she gives nothing away, though she does look slightly pensive.
At this, Ymir asks, “sad?” gruffly, head tilted up but one eye peeked open to keep her sight on Annie’s every microexpression.
Annie rolls her eyes. “Not sad. A little disappointed - but, ” she stresses when she sees Ymir’s lips curl deeper into a frown, “it’s fine. She’s going to move to the city, so there’s a high chance of catching her out somewhere. It’ll work out.”
And Ymir really envies how fucking easy she rolls with the punches because she’s still sweating balls just panicking over this. “What if it doesn’t?” She bites out, letting some of her inner thoughts crawl out of her mouth before she can stop it. They’re not the emotional type of soulmates, but she can’t help the anxiety that leaks into her voice.
Annie shrugs. “I’m too lazy to think about it. It’ll work out.”
“But what if - ”
“ Ymir,” Annie interrupts, voice soft but firm. Ymir turns to face her fully now, wringing the side of her pajama pants restlessly. “I told you - it’s fine. I trust this and I trust you. Don’t overexert that tiny brain of yours,” she reassures her, knocking gently on her head before raising an eyebrow. “Besides, if we don’t find her in the next few months, I figure we’ll just bully the manager into telling us her name. If she ends up kicking us out, well - you’re moving all our shit.”
Ymir lets out a snort, shoulders slowly releasing their tension. “Yeah, yeah, you lazy sack of shit - it wouldn’t be the first time you make me do all the work. I don’t know who the fuck runs this show, but you’d think pairing two underachievers together would be pretty fucking stupid.”
“Believe me - I know,” Annie agrees very seriously, before considering something and moving towards the kitchen. “But we’ve done pretty good together so far. It’s nice to know that someone’s just as shitty of a human being as I am.”
Ymir pauses from where she’s following her into the room, narrowing her eyes. “Are we having a moment right now?”
Annie’s look is flat. “I figure your ego needs some reassurance right now. Don’t question it and eat. I heard your comment about drinking hot cheeto dust. I don’t care how hot 2B is - you’re a grown ass woman. If the spirit of the prepubescent boy currently inhabiting your body wants to eat, he should make top ramen like the rest of us and try not to completely decimate your intestines.”
And that’s the moment that Ymir’s stomach lets it be known that it really fucking agrees.
Ah , it seems like Annie’s okay for right now. Worrying and coming up with a plan of action can wait until she has a full stomach.