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Krista has a problem.
In fairness, Krista has a plethora of problems; living a fake life under a fake name, a constant, primal need to self-martyr, and an obsession with pleasing everyone bordering on pathological, to name a few.
Today, however, her most pressing trouble comes not in the form of one of her many existential burdens, but in that of a mousey redhead who will not. Stop. Giggling.
Giggling at Ymir, to be more specific.
She doesn’t have a clue what could be so ludicrously funny that the girl just has to laugh - no, giggle - at every other word Ymir says. Ymir is funny, sure. She’s hilarious, and she makes Krista laugh harder and louder than anyone ever has. But Krista can’t begin to imagine anything even she could say that would warrant such a hysterical reaction from the (if Krista was being very honest) somewhat homely cadet.
It’s rude, really. Mondays are their barrack’s turn to prepare supper, and instead of actually helping , the girl is keeping Ymir from her work and risking getting them both in trouble for slacking. It would be unfair, Krista thinks as she absentmindedly peels her umpteenth potato, if Ymir were to face consequences just because some silly girl distracted her with what Krista is certain are nothing but vapid ramblings.
The thing is, Krista has never been in a position like this before. Ymir is - well, Ymir. Loud and brash and unfriendly and generally intimidating. Scary, to most of Krista’s weaker minded comrades. Naturally, they tend to avoid her. Krista has never had to stand and watch while some embarrassingly enamored teenager blushes and simpers over Ymir’s every word.
And Ymir almost seems to be enjoying it. Krista thought for sure when the girl approached her that she’d be brushed off with a glare or sarcastic quip, but Ymir is leaning in, looking at the girl with that stupidly charming smirk that is usually reserved for teasing Krista alone. She doesn’t even flinch when the girl puts a hand on her bicep.
Krista is a good girl. Krista is a kind girl. Krista wonders, only vaguely, exactly what the diameter of the spray would be if she was to, hypothetically, slit the girl’s throat with a potato peeler the next time she smiles at Ymir with that stupid fucking giggle.
Would it splatter on Ymir? Krista doesn’t want that. Washing blood out of a uniform is a pain in the ass, and Ymir doesn’t deserve the inconvenience.
This is, of course, all hypothetical. Krista would never.
“And the way you just - just flew across the training field when that titan figure appeared out of nowhere!” Mousey - that’s what Krista had dubbed her, given her appearance - exclaims. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you think maybe you should show me some tricks? I’m so slow…”
Aha. She didn’t even know it, but Mousey had officially given Ymir her out. There’s no way Ymir would accept such a proposition, Krista is shocked she’s even still listening to the girl, there isn’t a chance she’ll actually take her up on—
“You know what? Why the hell not. I sometimes like to practice after dinner, if you feel like tagging along.”
Krista freezes.
Liar. Ymir never practices outside required hours.
She’s lying.
To spend time with a fucking mouse .
None of it adds up. Ymir hates people. Hates talking to them, spending time with them, and she sure as shit hates training with them when it isn’t absolutely mandatory. Everyone except Krista. That’s just the way things are. How they’ve always been.
Exactly what the fuck has changed?
“Um, Krista?”
What is it about this entirely uninteresting, unoriginal cadet that has Ymir so interested?
“Krista, your hand…”
Ymir has never so much as partaken in a friendly conversation with anyone but Krista. Is this girl funnier? Smarter? What makes her so goddamn engaging?
“ Krista !”
Krista jumps, turning to Sasha, who is staring at her with wide eyes and pale cheeks. She’s stopped peeling the potatoes, which is unusual. Sasha usually wants food to be ready as quickly as possible. Is everyone acting off today?
“Yes?” Krista replies, sunny as always. Sasha keeps staring.
“…You’re, uh, bleeding. A lot.”
Krista drops the potato and examines her hand. Sasha hadn’t exaggerated.
It seems that in her one-sided staring contest with Mousey, Krista’s attention had strayed too far from her task, and she had consequently peeled her hand in place of the potato. Several times.
“Oh,” was all she could manage. She stares at the grisly wound. Then at Ymir. Then, she gets an idea.
“ Oh! ” She cries, clutching her hand to her chest. “Oh, no…”
The pain isn’t terrible thanks to what she can only guess is momentary shock, but there’s no reason she can’t let everyone think it is. She cries out again, drawing the attention of those around her, including - no, this has absolutely nothing to do with her excessively audible reaction - Ymir.
“Krista!”
Ymir nearly trips over a chair in her hurry to get to Krista, leaving Mousey looking confused and, to Krista’s subtle satisfaction, more than a little frustrated. Krista winces when Ymir reaches her and grabs her hand, distress evident as she examines the wound.
“Seriously?” She snaps, “You peeled your own fucking hand?”
She feels tears burning her eyes, and is surprised to find they aren’t fake; the adrenaline is wearing off, and goddamnit, losing even a thin layer of skin really does sting.
“Uh, yeah,” she mutters. The graphic sight and impressive size of the wound, coupled with the rapidly intensifying pain are making her queasy, and she feels herself swaying. “Ow…”
“Hey, Krista,” Ymir’s tone is more urgent. Krista loves it when she talks that way, like she is Ymir’s priority, not some two-bit wannabe soldier. “Krista, look at me, okay?”
She does what she’s told, because there’s no saying no to Ymir when she speaks in that authoritative way Krista loves. She looks as she’s instructed to, and the face that had only moments ago glowed with an easy smile is now full of worry and anxiety. For Krista . Ymir rarely shows such vulnerable emotions, and when she does, they’re all hers. Krista smiles, but Ymir’s face blurs as her eyes start to droop. Her eyelids fall right before she does.
She’s numbly aware of a lovely voice shouting her (alleged) name and sturdy arms catching her before she hits the ground. She doesn’t notice much after that, only a feeling of being lifted and carried. Safe, the way she always feels when she’s in those arms.
Her hand really does hurt, though.
It still hurts when she wakes up in an infirmary bed.
She twitches her bandaged fingers and winces.
“Ow. That hurts.”
“No shit,” Ymir replies. She’s sitting in a chair next to the bed, and although it’s clear she’s far from happy, she looks relieved that Krista awoke. “How the hell did you manage to do that ?”
Krista bites her lip, unsure of exactly what the right answer is. She doesn’t like the look on Ymir’s face anymore. She looks scared. Krista never wants Ymir to feel scared, even if it’s out of concern for her.
“I got distracted, I guess,” she says, because it’s technically the truth. “I just need to pay better attention to what I’m doing.”
“I’ll say,” Ymir grumbles, “How the fuck do you plan on joining the survey corps if you faint at a little blood? You might as well quit now and sign up for the MP’s in advance.”
She has a point. Krista has seen plenty of blood in her life. Far, far more than the average person. She just hasn’t seen so much of her own , and the sight of so much of it in addition to the intense pain must have overwhelmed her. Certainly something she’ll need to work on.
“Thanks for carrying me,” she pointedly ignores Ymir’s question. “I feel better now.” A lie.
Ymir sighs, her exasperation obvious. “Yeah, well, the nurses want you to stay here for the rest of the night. Connie said he’d bring your dinner, should be here soon.”
“I see…” Krista stares at the ceiling, studying the details on the wooden beams. They look rough. If she touched them, she’d probably get a splinter. Ymir scraped her hand on a tree two weeks prior and got several splinters on her palm, so Krista had volunteered to remove them and treat the wound. She hates to see Ymir in pain, but she likes taking care of her like that. She’s the only one who ever does.
“You should go to dinner too,” she says, turning her head to Ymir. Forcing a smile is considerably more challenging than usual. “I’ll be fine while I wait for Connie.”
Ymir’s eyes roll so far back in her head, Krista imagines she must be able to see her skull.
“Fat chance. Someone’s gotta stay with you to make sure you don’t try to get up and do something stupid. Might as well be me.”
That doesn’t make any sense. There are always nurses on duty, and Ymir knows this.
Krista can’t say the thought of spending the night alone with Ymir in the peaceful solitude of the infirmary doesn’t sound appealing, but to keep Ymir from her nightly duties, to hog her all to herself, feels…
Well. Selfish.
Something Krista is not.
She suppresses a sigh of disappointment and does what she knows she must, meeting Ymir’s eyes timidly. Even when she’s scowling, Krista can’t help but take note of how much her irises look like honey in the candlelight.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, hoping she’s grasped the right balance of regretful and pitiful, “If you stay with me, you won’t be able to help your friend with her ODM training…”
Ymir’s stern expression shifts to one of confusion. It’s pretty. Very, very pretty. Not that Krista pays much attention to that kind of thing.
“Friend? What are you talking about?”
“The girl I saw you talking to in the kitchen. She seemed like she was really excited for you to show her your moves.”
“Liesel?” Ymir’s cheeks turn slightly red. Krista’s blood turns slightly icy.
“Is that her name?” Krista tries to keep her tone casual. Then, she remembers she isn’t supposed to be casual at all right now. She quickly amends her mistake and reverts back to her typical, pathetically apologetic manner.
“You seemed like you were having a really nice time talking to her, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be fine here on my own, really.” Her mistake is shooting Ymir her trademark ‘ don’t feel bad for me but also do, but don’t worry too much because I just want you to have fun without me even though there’s no way you will after this’ smile. The one that never fails to work on everyone else, but absolutely never works on Ymir. Amber eyes narrow immediately.
“Alright, out with it,” Ymir demands, crossing her arms. “Puppy dog eyes, sad baby voice, and that bullshit goddess smile. You’re hiding something. What is it?”
It’s at Ymir’s insistence she speak the truth that Krista realizes she isn’t actually sure what it is at all.
Why had it been so disconcerting to see Ymir so friendly with another cadet? It should have made her happy. She always tells Ymir she should be nicer, always wants everyone to see the kindness and goodness she sees in her best friend. So why had the mere sight of Ymir having a pleasant conversation evoked such… whatever it is she’s feeling now?
Now, Krista has two problems.
Here is where she would, under normal circumstances, either sigh and be reluctantly truthful (with Ymir, only with Ymir), or stammer in vain self-defense that would inevitably be scoffed at until Ymir decided to let the subject go. The fact that she does neither, only sits in quiet contemplation, clearly unsettles Ymir.
“Hey, is the blood loss making you delirious? What’s going on? You’re being even weirder than usual.”
“Sorry, I just…” she struggles to find her next words. Maybe the blood loss had messed with her head, because for some reason, she chooses to be absurdly truthful.
“I do want you to stay with me,” she admits, too busy gauging Ymir’s expression to be taken aback by her own honesty. “I don’t want to be alone. And I don’t like Liesel.”
Ymir stares at her for a moment, an uncharacteristic look of genuine surprise on her face.
Then, she bursts out laughing.
“I’m sorry, did Krista Lenz just admit to not liking someone?”
No, ‘ Krista’ didn’t. Someone else seems to be having a difficult time keeping her thoughts to herself.
“Maybe?” Her voice is small. She’s less concerned now with Liesel and more concerned with why she was so put off by her in the first place.
“I heard you tell her you would train with her after dinner. You’ve never done that before. Why did you lie?” She hopes she doesn’t sound as childish as she feels, but she knows it’s a long shot.
Ymir sighs and leans forward in her chair, elbows resting on knees spread improperly wide. Krista always has a hard time looking away when she sits like that.
“You want the truth?” She looks oddly shy, and it gives Krista an unusually strong urge to hug her. She refrains.
“I don’t usually get compliments, okay? Not for anything genuine. It’s not that I want them, but I guess being recognized for my skills was…” Her grimace suggests the admission is causing her just a slight amount of physical pain, and she looks down as she grumbles the next part. “...it was kinda nice.”
“I compliment you all the time!” Krista sputters indignantly. “I always tell you how good you are at exercises, and how smart you are, and how much I want to be as skilled as you.”
Ymir raises an eyebrow, a frequent indicator that her ‘Krista bullshit detector’ is going off.
“You say that shit to everyone. Compliments are your default. You literally told Armin you were impressed with how fast he was yesterday when he came in dead last in an ODM race.”
Krista frowns. She can’t argue with that. Still, she’s already been far too candid with Ymir, and she supposes there really isn’t any point in stopping now.
“It’s different with you,” she says softly, “I actually mean it with you.”
That unfamiliar look of surprise returns, and it’s almost enough to make Krista consider doing this whole ‘ honesty ’ thing more often. Still, it’s quickly masked by what Krista can clearly see is practiced indifference.
“Well. You could have fooled me.” Then, a glint in her pretty, pretty eyes. She smirks, and Krista’s heart stutters.
“Prove it,” she says, leaning back. “Since you’re being weirdly honest today. Tell me how you really feel.”
It’s Krista’s turn to blush. How she really feels? What does that even mean? Is Ymir asking about why she wanted to keep her away from Liesel? She’s already thought about it, she doesn’t even know why herself. How does she feel about Ymir? She’s her best friend, of course. Her most important person. How in the world is she supposed to answer such a question?
“What, uh,” she begins, and for once, her timidness isn’t forced, “What do you want to know?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ymir’s grin widens, and Krista’s chest feels tight. “You just admitted you don’t actually think all the nice bullshit you spew. Tell me, what were you really thinking when you told Daz his form was perfect during hand to hand yesterday?”
Oh.
That’s what she meant.
Obviously.
“ Oh, ” Krista says, out loud. “Well, he was, um. I guess he could have been a little steadier on his feet.”
Ymir looks unsatisfied, but continues.
“Alright. How about when you told Thomas his oral presentation on the history of Abnormals was the best you’d ever seen?”
“I, uh,” Krista swallowed thickly, “He did stumble over a word or two, but he was probably just nervous…”
Ymir, unimpressed as always, tsk’s in overdone disappointment.
“Maybe I will just head to dinner,” she sighs, beginning to stand. “Since you say you’ll be fine on your own.”
No, Krista thinks. I won’t be fine on my own.
She doesn’t take even a moment to consider her next move.
“Daz’s form was terrible,” she says quickly, halting Ymir before she can stand all the way. “He didn’t even look like he was fighting. It was more like - like flailing. Bad flailing. Like, he couldn’t even flail right . I complimented him because I couldn’t handle the secondhand embarrassment.”
Did she really say that out loud?
Judging by Ymir’s elated, yet perpetually cool expression, she had.
“Oh, really?” Ymir prompts, slowly reseating herself, “How about Armin during the exercise in the forest? Real speed demon, wasn't he?”
“I’ve seen snails go faster,” Krista scoffs, catching herself off guard. “I’m the shortest person in the class, and I placed ahead of him. The only reason he wasn’t left behind completely was because Reiner carried his backpack for him.”
Ymir is grinning now, and the fact that she's so clearly pleased urges Krista on. Not to mention, speaking this way about her peers, despite how bad natured it may be, feels…Liberating. Freeing, somehow. Like finally cracking a spine that’s been sore and tense for ages.
“It was painful to watch Thomas’s presentation,” She continues, growing the beginnings of a smile that matches Ymir’s. “I mean, how many months did we spend learning about Abnormals? And he couldn’t remember anything ? I know nerves can make memorization hard, but that was just sad.”
“Damn,” Ymir laughs. It’s contagious, and it makes Krista laugh too. “I didn’t even know you were capable of talking so much shit. Who are you, what the hell did you do with Krista?”
That is a question she doesn’t plan on answering for a while.
Instead, she pouts and says “It’s your fault! You brought it up.”
“And you contributed. A lot.” Her grin widens, shiny white and devilish. “If passing out made you like this, maybe you should do it more often. I can hit you on the head anytime you need to vent about our dumbass classmates, if that would help.”
Historia huffs, biting her lip to maintain her disapproving glare.
“I just…didn’t want you to leave, that’s all.” The admission is quiet, and it softens Ymir in a way Krista rarely sees.
“Yeah, well. I should stay anyway, seeing as you really are delirious. Can’t have you walking into a wall and giving yourself a concussion or some shit.”
Krista grins, and then remembers the problem that started all of this. “What…what about Liesel?” She flips back to her usual, saccharine self, but Ymir doesn’t look bothered by it for once.
“Eh,” She shrugs, “She can find someone else to help her. God knows your careless ass needs me more.”
Krista wants to look guilty, really. She wants to apologize and insist Ymir take the time for herself and not bother with her. She does, honest.
Instead, she smiles, big and wide.
“You’re right,” she agrees far more enthusiastically than she intends to, “My careless ass will always need you more.”
Ymir blushes again, and Krista takes a brief moment to search inside herself for any remorse she may feel about the fact that she not only prevented a fellow cadet from improving their techniques, but also stopped Ymir from making a new friend, something Krista always wanted for her.
And she does want it. Sort of. She wants everyone to know that Ymir isn’t scary. That she’s kind, thoughtful, intelligent and brave. Ymir deserves that.
But they don’t need to be alone with Ymir to see that. They don’t need to spend hours training one-on-one with her or getting too close for comfort to see that. They can all see how amazing she is and learn to appreciate her from a distance, while Krista stays right by her side.
Judging by the disinterested look on Ymir’s face the next time Mousey approaches her, it’s clear she feels the same.