#also me: i'm gonna publish whenever i want b/c I'm a mess

[pickalilywrites]

Can we please get some Gabi/Falco? I loved From the Top of the Mountain; it’s one of the best works with those two out there. Maybe it takes place post Rumbling? Just something with those two

thanks!!! i'm glad you liked from the top of the mountain!! it's still one of my favorites too :) I hope you like this one too! have a good day ^-^

How to Be Brave

Falbi. Canonverse.

5136 words.

Read on Ao3!

Falco doesn’t know how Gabi does it. He’s never been the type to charge headfirst into the crossfire, but Gabi will do it without hesitation. Ever since Falco can remember, Gabi has never been afraid of anything. The first day they had been selected as Warrior trainees, she had marched into the classroom without a second glance. She does things with purpose, never second-guessing her actions or faltering. Every trigger Gabi pulls, she does without wavering, holding the gun steady as she takes aim. Every attack she carries out, she does so without batting an eye. Every battle, she runs straight into the battlefield. She’s fearless and the bravest person Falco has ever met.

Falco is not brave. He’s the biggest coward he knows. Despite being a Warrior candidate for years, he’s always hesitating. He fumbles with his gun, always pulling the trigger too late and missing his target because he’s never certain of where he should be aiming. He finds himself rooted to the ground far too often when he’s taken into the warzones, never knowing what step to take lest a mine blows up in his face. Falco’s never been at the head of a charge, and he’s not sure he ever will because if he pauses for even a second his whole entire squad will be blown to bits.

“Tell me how,” he tells Gabi one day. He walks up to her desk, tugging at his earlobe and biting his bottom lip. “Tell me how you do it.”

Gabi looks up at him from her textbook. Written exams are probably her weakest subject, but that’s not saying much considering how exemplary she is in the other ones. She’s hardworking and stubborn enough to compensate for her weakness anyway. With an eyebrow quirked, Gabi says, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Falco nibbles on his lip some more, fidgeting uncomfortably and tugging at the sleeves of his school uniform. How can he admit in front of Gabi that he’s afraid? He’s a coward, he knows, but it’s different saying it out loud in front of someone like Gabi. She’s the person that he admires the most. It’s highly likely that she already knows of his cowardice, but for Falco to say it out loud would only solidify that knowledge and he’s not even sure he can do that. The inner conflict he’s having of even voicing his problem out loud just shows how pathetically indecisive he is.

“I don’t know … how to be brave like you,” Falco says bitterly. His eyes turn away from Gabi. He hates how weak he feels right now, weaker than he’s ever felt before. “I … How do you do it? You never hesitate about anything. You always know where you want to go and how you want to do things. You never second-guess things. You’re always … brave and I … I’m not.”

He hates the sting in his eyes as he finds himself on the brink of tears. It figures that a weakling like him would be brought to tears over something so stupid. He wasn’t meant to be a Warrior, not like Gabi. Half the time, he doesn’t know why he was selected to become a candidate, but the rumors of the selection committee choosing him because of his family’s long-time loyalty and his elder brother’s position as the next Beast Titan feel more and more true each day. Without those connections, Falco probably never would have been chosen. He probably wouldn’t have even been noticed.

There’s a scrape of Gabi’s chair against the hardwood floor. When Falco looks up, Gabi is standing in front of him. She doesn’t look at him pityingly, but she doesn’t look disgusted either. He’s crying now, sniffling and trying to wipe the snot from his nose and the tears from his eyes, but Gabi is kind enough to pretend he isn’t.

“It’s not something I can teach you,” Gabi tells him, and Falco can feel his shoulder slump even more. She flicks her hair out of her face with a hand and continues. “‘Being brave’ or whatever … it’s just how I am. I was just born like this. You can’t learn it.”

It makes Falco feel like a fool for even bringing it up in the first place. So he’s just going to be a coward for the rest of his life, always second-guessing himself and being unsure if he’s doing the right thing while Gabi will always be charging ahead. It’s a part of Falco that he’ll never be able to change. He’ll just be a loser for the rest of his life.

Gabi sighs and it’s enough to make Falco flinch. He wants to apologize for wasting her time over such a stupid question. Of course, she’s right. Of course, he’ll always be lacking and scared and she’ll always be better than him. Of course, he’ll never make a proper Warrior. He’s about to bow his head and apologize, but Gabi speaks first.

“Look,” she says. Her voice is gentle now, lacking the usual fortissimo that Gabi usually speaks with. “We’re different, you and I. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it makes a difference on the battlefield.”

Falco nods. He’s known that for quite a while now, but it’s still difficult to hear it come from Gabi’s lips. “I … I know,” he mumbles.

“No, look,” Gabi says, waving her hand as if to tell Falco not to get upset. She looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she thinks of the proper way to proceed. After a moment, she claps her hand and begins to explain. “It’s like you said, right? I’m really good on the field because I don’t hesitate. I know my targets, I shoot without hesitating, and I never second-guess myself.”

Falco doesn’t quite know where she’s going with this, but he nods to show that he’s listening.

“It’s because I always know what to do,” Gabi says simply. Falco gives her a funny look, but she simply shrugs like she can’t give a better explanation. “I’m always certain about what needs to be done. I know myself well — how fast I can run, how far I can throw, how strong I am when I throw a punch — so I trust myself when I’m on the battlefield. I don’t hesitate because I never need to; I know what I’m capable of.”

Falco’s eyes are downcast once more. Everything Gabi says makes perfect sense. While Gabi knows and trusts herself completely, Falco doesn’t. His cowardice stems from the fact that he’s always afraid about his lack of abilities. Whenever he’s on the field or even just training, he’s always doubting himself. Is he able to run this distance without his legs giving out? Is he able to shoot this target without missing? Does he have the strength to charge into battle without collapsing midway? And the answer is always the same: it wavers first from thinking perhaps he might be able to do it if he strains himself before Falco begins to think that he doesn’t have the strength or stamina to do any of these tasks and then he inevitably falls into despair when he convinces himself that such things are impossible for him. His thoughts lead him to falter more and more with every step he takes, to have his hand waver every time he points a gun while his finger trembles on the trigger, and cause him to fall behind every time he’s ordered to run into the crossfire.

Falco supposes that’s it then. He’ll just be a coward for the rest of his life while Gabi will always be ahead, increasing the distance between them until she disappears from his view completely. He thinks that’s what he’s the most afraid of.

A hand appears in front of Falco and it surprises Falco when he realizes that it’s Gabi offering her hand to him. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to take it. His hand reaches out, but he never puts his hand in hers. His hand just hovers above hers awkwardly, uncertain even for this simple thing. It seems to surprise even Gabi, who looks at him with her eyebrows raised.

“It’s okay if you’re afraid. I’ll never be afraid of anything,” Gabi says. She puts her hand closer to his, wiggling her fingers to show him that it’s fine. “I’ll show you how to be brave, so just take my hand. I’ll stay by your side.”

He’s not sure if he can take her hand. Falco’s not sure if he deserves to be by her side. He’s afraid that he’ll only hold Gabi back. Is this really okay? Is he really worthy?

He clenches his fist before reaching out. Even if he doubts himself, he trusts Gabi. Gabi believes in him enough to offer him her hand. She trusts him enough to allow him by her side. She has faith in him even if he doesn’t.

Gabi smiles when Falco takes her hand, and he smiles back in response. It’s not as confident as her smile. It’s a little strained, a little uncertain, but it’s fine, Falco thinks, because he’s holding her hand. He’s not sure how this will all work out or if it ever will in the end. He doesn’t know if this will make him braver on the battlefield. He doesn’t know if it’ll lead to a happy ending, but for once that doesn’t matter. Holding Gabi’s hand, he forgets all his uncertainties and thinks that maybe he can be just a little bit braver.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Gabi doesn’t know how people do it — get out of bed, eat, function. She doesn’t remember how to act like a real human being. It takes nearly all her energy to get out of bed only for her to be so exhausted that she wants to collapse back against the pillows and sheets and cry herself to sleep like she has for so many nights.

She doesn’t know when this started, her inability to sleep, to eat, to wake. It’s post-traumatic stress disorder, a doctor said, because of the war. Gabi’s not so sure. It might have started before then, before the Founding Titan rose and the Walls of Paradis came crumbling down, before she had left Marley and vowed revenge for her friends and family, before Eren Jaeger declared war on Marley and destroyed her home, but Gabi isn’t sure when exactly it had begun. In the end, it probably doesn’t even matter.

A lot of days Mikasa comes in to check on Gabi, sitting on the edge of the young girl’s bed and stroking the hair from her face before asking how she’s feeling. Sometimes Gabi will mumble something about how she’s tired or sleepy, but the most frequent response is just the sound of silence as Gabi pretends to be asleep. Mikasa will stroke her hair and hum a song, some old Eldian song that Gabi doesn’t know, before leaving. Armin will often hover in the doorway, mumbling questions and trying to get through, but Mikasa will always usher him out. Gabi always hears them whisper to each other: Armin asking if she’s getting any better, if she needs to see the doctor again, if he should talk to her, and Mikasa will tell him that she just needs time to heal. They all need time to heal, but Gabi’s not sure she ever will. It feels like Gabi is the only one that feels this way: scared and sad and hopeless. There are days where she’s convinced that she’ll never get better.

Mikasa has her bad days, too. There are nights where Gabi will wake to Mikasa shaking her, screaming until Gabi opens her eyes and then the woman will cry with relief that “Sasha” is still alive. Some days Armin won’t leave the house at all, saying that he never wants to take a step outside because dreaming of the outside world is the thing that had cursed him in the first place. That’s what it’s like on their worst days.

On their best days, Armin and Mikasa will go for a walk. Maybe Gabi will get out of bed, but she’ll never join them outside. It’s too much for her. Even sitting down at the table and staring out the window can be overwhelming for her, but she’ll do it on days she feels strong enough. They are the best days because Armin and Mikasa will walk hand-in-hand and return home with smiles on their faces as if they hadn’t cried the entire night before. It is as if they forget all the horror of the war almost a year ago, but Gabi knows they’ll remember it when the sun sets and the night comes. But at least for a brief moment they can smile.

Gabi can never get herself to smile. It’s as if she had forgotten how. She thinks even if she were able to, she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do it. It’s more than the depression or the stress or whatever psychological disorder the doctors are trying to diagnose her with to explain her melancholia. It’s like she’s scared of everything: of waking up, of leaving the house, of even the idea of being happy. She’s afraid she’ll never find a way to be happy again. She’s afraid she doesn’t deserve it.

It makes Gabi jealous when she sees Armin or Mikasa smile. She pulls her blankets over her head whenever she hears the two of them laugh together. She wants to scream when they hold hands. The truth is, though, that she wants to be able to smile, to laugh, to be held, but she doesn’t know how. She’s convinced that she will just have to be miserable for the rest of her life. It’s what she deserves anyway. She isn’t sure about anything else, but she knows that for certain.

Falco comes to visit sometimes. He comes at least once a week. He lives with Levi now that the war is over. (“It’s good that the old man has someone to take care of him,” Mikasa says once before Armin quickly chastises her for speaking about their former captain that way.) Falco never makes it past the doorway. He always comes to ask about Gabi, her condition, if she feels any better, if she’d like to go out for a walk with him because the fresh air might be good for her. Mikasa always tells him the same thing: that Gabi is still recovering, but that they’ll let him know when Gabi’s well enough to go outside. He never complains when he’s turned away.

One day he visits on a “good” day. Gabi sees him from the window walking up the path to the cabin. Even though she wonders if he sees her, she doesn’t wave. She just watches him as he follows up the path eventually leading to the front door. He knocks in the same familiar way that he always has — three quick raps of his knuckles against the hardwood — and Mikasa opens the door for him.

“Hi, Miss Mikasa. Mister Armin,” Falco’s voice says from the doorframe. He sounds good. Happy. Normal. He sounds like everything Gabi wishes she could be. She can hear him speak again, his voice a little more hesitant this time. “How … how is Gabi today? Do you think I could see her?”

Mikasa takes an uncertain glance at where Gabi sits. Gabi knows what she looks like: a mess. Her dark hair is in disarray, tangled from lying in bed all day. There are bags under her eyes because all her dreams are interrupted by nightmares. Her face is gaunt because she can hardly swallow more than three bites of food whenever she musters the energy to sit up for a meal. Gabi doesn’t blame Mikasa when the woman shakes her head and asks Falco to come back another time.

Gabi didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. She never says goodbye. She never even says hello. It’s because she’s too tired, too worn, too broken to even fathom greeting someone who seems to be doing worlds better than her. Every time Falco visits, she tells herself that she’ll feel better next time. She’ll be able to walk to the door and give him the smallest smile before inviting him in. They’ll be able to sit at the table and have tea that Armin brews for them. They’ll take a little bit about what Falco is doing and maybe he’ll invite her outside and she’ll think about it if she’s feeling better. If she ever feels better. If she can ever feel better.

The thought that Gabi might always feel this way — cold and alone and barely living as it is — seizes her. It makes her blood run cold and she grips the edge of the table with a hopeless desperation because this isn’t what she wants. She doesn’t want to be here, trapped by her own feelings of fear and grief and despair. She wants to be outside with Falco, to hold his hand, to smile. She doesn’t want to be alone anymore, but the idea that she can ever be happy is so hopelessly out of reach.

It must be in a fit of madness that she gets up from the table, her chair screeching as she pushes it back and nearly toppling over as Gabi runs to the door. The broken girl is stopped only by Mikasa, who grabs her by the elbow.

“Gabi, what is it?” Mikasa asks, eyes wide with alarm and her brow knit together in concern. Even as Gabi struggles to free herself from the woman’s grip, Mikasa holds onto the girl firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“Let go! I need to go!” Gabi says, and she’s crying now just like she always does these days. Tears stream down her face and taste like salt on her tongue. She swallows her sobs and wipes at her nose hastily with the back of her hand. “I want to see him! I want to see Falco.” It’s more than that though. She wants to see him. She has to see him. She needs to see him, but he’s already walking down the path, slowly growing smaller and threatening to disappear from view.

“Gabi, wait, just wait a minute,” Mikasa says. Her arms are wrapped around Gabi, holding the frail girl back even as Gabi struggles. Her face buried in Gabi’s shoulder, Mikasa says, “Wait a moment, Gabi, please.”

Gabi doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to fly out the door, run down the trail, and throw herself in Falco’s arms. She wants to be where he is, a place where the grass is greener, the sun is shining, and she can smile.

“Gabi,” Armin’s gentle voice calls. As Mikasa’s arms loosen around Gabi, the man drapes a soft cardigan around Gabi’s shoulders. It’s far too big for her but it smells like wood and freshly lit candles. Armin helps guide her arms through the sleeves and pulls the cardigan around her. “Gabi, don’t worry. He’ll wait for you.”

“But I have to go now,” Gabi says and she feels herself about to burst into tears once more.

“It’s fine,” Mikasa says and she reaches out to smooth a lock of hair away from Gabi’s forehead. She gives the girl a comforting smile. “Just … come back home, okay?”

Gabi pauses and then gives them a nod. Without warning, she throws arms around both her guardians and whispers a quick, “Thank you.” She feels their arms squeeze her back in reply and as soon as they let go, she dashes out the door.

It’s been so long since she last exerted herself. Gabi’s breathless after the first few seconds, panting hard and gasping for breath. She doesn’t remember the last time she had been this exhausted. Even during her grueling training periods as a Marleyan Warrior she can’t recall getting tired so quickly. Her legs are beginning to ache even though she hasn’t even run a hundred meters from the cabin. Her lungs feel as if they’re about to burst, burning with every breath she takes. Her body hurts too much. She doesn’t know how far she can go, how many more steps she can take before she collapses, but she can’t stop.

She can see Falco in the distance, his back turned to her. He doesn’t realize that she’s running after him. Why doesn’t he know? If she calls him now, will he turn back?

Gabi doesn’t think she has the strength to call his name, but she musters whatever energy she has left and screams his name as loudly as she can. “Falco!” she shouts, and even she can hear how weak her voice is. “Falco! Falco, Falco!”

It’s only after the third call that Falco turns around. Gabi is close enough to see his face. His lips are parted, shaped in a perfect “O.” For a moment, she’s afraid that he’ll turn away from her, that he’ll abandon her, but he stays rooted in place, waiting for her. She’s so relieved she can cry.

“Falco, Falco!” Gabi sobs. She calls his name the entire way. She’s so tired that she doesn’t know how she’s able to make it. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of him, falling into his arms and clinging onto him because he’s the only thing that’s keeping her standing.

“Hey, hey,” Falco says gently. It’s so comforting to hear his voice so close to her. It’s deeper than Gabi remembers, but it’s still so warm and familiar. “Gabi, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Help me, help me,” she begs, her voice shaking. She holds so tightly to him that she might tear the sleeves of his shirt. She just wants him close. She wants him closer. “Help me, please.” When she sinks to the ground, he does too, holding her in his arms to cushion her fall.

“Help you?” Falco repeats. He doesn’t ask her why and he doesn’t ask her what for. He just raises her head, his hand gentle as he lifts her chin. She sees his blue eyes wide with concern. She feels his other hand wipe away her tears as he asks her, “How?”

“Make me … help me … be happier,” she tells him, and she feels so pathetic for asking him for such a thing. There used to be days where she’d smile all the time and laughter was not far from her lips. Happiness came easily to her, but those days are long gone. She doesn’t know if she remembers how to smile anymore. It’s something a child can do, but she finds it so impossible.

How had she become so helpless and pitiful? Once, she had been a proud warrior. She could wield a gun and fire it without thinking twice. Now, she can hardly get out of bed in the morning because the thought of it terrifies her.

“I just want to be happier,” Gabi whispers. Her voice is so quiet that she’s afraid that her words go unheard, but Falco quickly clasps her hands in his.

“Then you should be. Why shouldn’t you?” Falco tells her with such sincerity that she thinks she might cry again. “Isn’t it what you deserve? You deserve to be happy, Gabi.”

She should be grateful that he thinks so, but for some reason she hates hearing it from his lips. It’s what she wants to hear the most. It comes from the person she cares about the most, but she knows that the words he says are not true.

“No.” Gabi shakes her head. Tears begin to roll down her cheeks again. There’s no point in stopping them. She begins to pull her hands away from Falco’s, but he holds tightly to her. It almost hurts for her hands to be held so tightly, but his hands are so warm around hers. “No, Falco, I … of all people, I deserve it the least. I … how can I be happy after everything that has happened?

“I killed people,” she tells him as if he doesn’t know this already, as if he hadn’t been there when she had blown the trigger, as if he hadn’t seen her paint her own hands with blood. Gabi shakes her head when Falco begins to open his mouth to interrupt. Whatever words of comfort he has for her, she doesn’t deserve them. “I killed people thinking they were monsters, but the whole time the monster had been me.”

“Gabi, please,” Falco pleads. He tugs her hands closer, pulls her in closer to him. “That wasn’t your fault. The things we were taught … the world we lived in … how were we to know right from wrong?”

Gabi shakes her head, dark hair falling into her face and obscuring her vision. “And all of our friends … our family,” Gabi says. She closes her eyes and her tears burn down her cheeks. She used to be able to conjure up the faces of her loved ones so easily with her eyes closed, but now their features are faded to her. She’s unsure of the smallest details — the right angle of their nose, the thickness of their eyelashes, the exact shade of their hair — and she’s afraid that in time they will completely fade from her memory. “I couldn’t save them and it’s all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Falco reaches out with a hand and brushes her hair from her face, tenderly tucking it behind her ears. When Gabi glances up at him, he looks at her with eyes full of sincerity like he knows his words to be true. “It wasn’t your fault, Gabi. Nothing was your fault.”

Falco leans over and hugs her tightly. He rests one hand on the back of her head, letting Gabi’s head lay on his shoulder as she continues to sob. He strokes the top of her head and continues. “They wouldn’t blame you either, Gabi. Nobody would. They wouldn’t want to see you like this. They would want you to be happy,” he tells her. “All they would want is for you to be happy, so don’t you think it’s time for you to stop punishing yourself?”

Gabi wishes she could. She wishes she could stop crying. She wishes she could live a normal life. She wishes she could be happy.

“But I’m scared,” she whispers.

She’s scared that she doesn’t deserve to be happy even if people say otherwise. She’s scared that she’ll muster the courage to get out of bed and eat and leave the house only to be reminded that she doesn’t deserve any of those things. She’s scared that she’ll try to live normally only for something to go terribly wrong — for the world to tremble underneath her feet, for the sky to fall, for the earth to shatter in front of her very eyes — because the universe knows she doesn’t deserve any bit of happiness in her life.

She even hesitates to indulge in little pleasures. She’s unsure if she should eat more than a bite of the food Armin prepares. She’s uncertain if she should reciprocate the hugs that Armin and Mikasa give her. She doesn’t know if she should even go outside and enjoy the scenery because everything is more than she deserves.

“I’m scared,” Gabi repeats. She holds onto Falco tighter, her fingernails digging into his shoulder, but he doesn’t pull away. “I’m scared and terrified of everything. I’m too afraid to ever be happy.”

Falco squeezes her tightly. “Then I’ll teach you how,” he tells her. He says it like a promise. He pulls away slightly. It’s far enough so that he can see her face but still close enough that he can hold her in his arms. He’s smiling now. It’s not broad and carefree like it used to be when they were children. It’s a little cracked at the edges, a little forced, a little bit pained. It’s a little bit hopeful. “In a world like this … it’s brave to try to be happy, but it’s hard being brave, isn’t it?” His voice isn’t mocking. It’s gentle. Sweet. Understanding.

Gabi feels exhausted. She doesn’t have the energy to answer in words. She just gives him a simple nod.

“You don’t have to be alone, Gabi,” Falco tells her. “You have me. You have Miss Mikasa and you have Mister Armin. You have all of these people who care about you. You have all these people who want you to be happy, and we’re always going to be there to help you.”

“Thank you,” Gabi whispers. She slumps against Falco, his arms the only thing holding her up. She’s crying again, but she cries tears of gratitude this time because Falco says everything she’s always needed to hear. For the first time in a long time, she feels hopeful. She says the words she’s always wanted to say out loud: “I want to be happy.”

Falco smiles a little more broadly this time. It’s not the same smile as when they were kids. Gabi’s not sure they will ever be able to smile the same way again, but she still wants to smile again. She wants to smile with him.

“I’ll help you,” he tells her. Falco stands up, but he doesn’t bother brushing the dirt from his clothing. Instead, he reaches out a hand towards Gabi. “Let’s be happy together, Gabi.”

She’s not sure if she should take his hand. She doesn’t know if she should rely this much on him, if she should be this much of a burden to him, if she deserves his help, but she wants it so badly. There’s a possibility that she won’t ever be happy even with Falco’s help. There’s a chance that she still might not be able to smile. There’s a risk that this might all just be a fool’s dream … but it’s a risk that Gabi wants to take.

Gabi puts her hand in Falco’s and lets him pull her up. She lets him fuss with her hair and clothing, lets him run his hand through her hair to get out the tangle and brush at the skirt of her nightgown so that the dirt doesn’t stick. She lets him take care of her and when he looks at her to make sure she’s okay, she gives him a smile.

It’s far from perfect. It’s hardly a smile at all. It’s just her lips with the edges curled slightly upward. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Even Gabi knows it’s a pathetic attempt and it hurts to stretch her lips this way. She can feel her smile crumbling at the edges. It’s scared and broken and uncertain … and hopeful.