#y’all better read this i literally wrote it on the verge of fainting from this fuckin migraine

[pinkchanelbag]

nia- i just pulled a reversed temperance card... i guess the universe knows connie and i have been up at 4 am arguing...

REVERSED TEMPERANCE — CONNIE + 4AM.

the wind is loud tonight. 

you notice only because everything else is so quiet. paradis has been bustling with its new renovations for so long that construction became a night and day sound that faded into the background. but tonight there is rest, because by daybreak there will be chaos. 

but the wind is a whisper compared to your voice.

“CONNIE,” and you’re after him in an instant. the way he almost ignores you’re there like he never, never, has before strikes panic into you, because it means he really won’t listen to you. he’s really going to do this.

“you’re gonna wake the squads,” is all he says. his voice is scarily unaffected, and it’s what finally has your blood bubbling. 

“i don’t care.” he’s still just ahead of you on the grass. his path is towards the supply stash shed, his slightly too-worn ODM buckles in his hand as he walks. the compound is fast asleep, or at least trying to be. as asleep as can be less than twenty-four hours before a declaration of war. “listen to me. listen to me.” your pleas hit the back of his head. you look absolutely ridiculous, hollering like a—like a mother, in your sleep clothes in the pitch black. it has you stopping in your pursuit. you force stability back into your voice before uttering another word. 

“you don’t have to do what i want just because i want it. you don’t have to care about what i have to say more than what you think, but it’s me, connie. you still have t...you’re supposed to care.”

your tone isn’t entitled. it’s practically babyish, insecure. but your voice is steady and your words are sincere and that is what finally stops him. his back is still turned, but you see the way his free hand comes up to rub his hand over his face. he sighs. he’s tired. it’s obvious. everyone is tired. tired and scared, but it’s your fear that seems to show more than his. 

“i have to go.” there’s misery in his voice. you decipher it in an instant because you know him. you know everything he needs to say before he says it but you make him say it anyway.

not miserable because he’s going—he’d never dare not to. misery because he has to do this with you and to you. misery because anyone has to go in the first place because of this daft plan only the jaegars could’ve possibly come up with. misery because the world is how it is, because he lives at the centre of the worst of it and never even knew just how bad it was until recently. misery that the concept of hope was obliterated after the crossing of the sea. misery he ever had to find out what a sea is. 

“you don’t.” a weak argument. what else can you do? maybe if you were a soldier you’d understand why he’d go, and you’d be okay with it and you’d go with him. you’d protect him. you would, if you could, but you didn’t sign up for military service all those years ago. on nights like this, it feels like the biggest mistake of your life. 

you realize painfully that you wouldn’t be able to go even if you were in the corps.

knowing your words fell on deaf ears, and with good reason. you try something else. “i don’t want to lose you.” 

his figure is stiff. all you can see are the way his shoulders rise and fall. it’s only when he turns around that you notice how hard his breaths are, and then you’re looking into eyes that have gone a little bit mad with anguish. 

“i don’t want you to lose me.” it’s almost like a laugh. part of you knows the way you’re making this so much harder for him. the burden of your desperation will weigh heavy on him because despite what you said, you know he cares and that care means how you feel and what you say will go with him anywhere. you know you’re making this more painful than it has to be, but that seems like collateral damage. because if there’s even a sliver of a chance that something you can say can keep him from going, can save his life, then you have to do this. you fingers grip the front of your—his—shirt as you re-state to yourself that it’s not selfish, not anymore. because this isn’t just for your sake. 

“you know i’d never let sasha and jean—and armin and mikasa and everyone—go and stay behind. you know i can’t.” there’s something pleading in his own voice now. he’s begging you to understand. begging you to stop this and you desperately want to but you can’t. but you don’t have anything left to try. 

no, that’s not quite right. 

you still have the truth. 

but it may be the cruelest thing of all. 

“connie...” you bring the heel of one palm to your eyes as your face crumples. it’s beyond cruel and yet you can’t keep it in any longer if you tried. silent sobs shake your shoulders for a few moments while connie takes a few steps closer, but not close enough that he really wouldn’t be able to leave when the time came. “connie,” and your voice is so torn apart that he knows there’s something more. it’s not like you to pull him from his duties, ask him to deny his bravery and the things that make him who he is. there’s something mor—

“i went to the doctor.” your words are broken and high pitched. the hand holding the front of your shirt tightens before opening flat and scrunching the fabric to your body. to your stomach. connie’s worried eyes catch the motion. his face is glued to your hand as his ears wait for you to say more, but he knows by the wrecked sob you let out that you’re done talking. and you’ve said enough. 

“no,” he breathes. the ODM buckles fall from his limp fingers. “no, no, no.” his face breaks out into pure pain. he slowly closes the meter wide gap between the two of you. his tears and yours hit the grass beneath your feet. you can sense his gaze at you, but he’s not looking at you, not focused on anything as his vision of the hand on your stomach blurs. you cry like people who are tired of rediscovering over and over again the limits of their own threshold for pain. 

at some point, your forehead hits his chest, and then his arms grasp yours for balance, but there is none for you to offer him, and soon, you’re both crouched into the grass in each others’ arms. you stay that way for some time. for awhile, it’s just the two of you and your hurt and the wind. 

when the tears are gone and in their place is morbid acceptance, you finally speak into his neck in a small, soldier’s voice. 

“stay alive.”

his grip on your sleeve tightens. 

“you have to stay alive.” 

he doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. you know he hears you.

the two of you stay there consoling one another till daybreak, grieving over all the things you’ve lost and still stand to lose. 

note: WOOOOOWWOWOWOW IM SO SORRY LMAO

NIA’S 999 EVENT (CLOSED).