Chapter Text
Growing up, my grandfather always told me that gratitude was the key to happiness. Every night, when he tucked me into bed, he asked me to list three things that I was grateful for. Every morning, he would stand me in front of the mirror and I would state five “I am…” affirmations.
I am kind.
I am patient.
I am smart.
I am strong.
I am not dying.
Not yet.
It made sense, in theory. Mindset was everything, after all. Countless texts paint that picture for you. If you desire nothing, you are free. I could see the science behind his methods—Hell, I’d given them my best shot. Sometimes I still found myself opening my journal to write things like hardcover books, oven-baked chips, and next-day delivery on a fresh page before I got into bed; if only to prove to myself that I still cared about anything at all. But it never seemed to make me feel too much better.
I was starting to give up on the idea that I was ever going to be happy again. Maybe I was filled with too many desires to obtain such a thing. It was simply getting too exhausting to be grateful when waking up each day felt like a losing battle against my fragile body. Because how could I not want so much more than this? How could I not beg for a taste of something sweeter? I was so tired of the pain. And when there was none, I was waiting for it to return home again. Because it never failed to.
It wasn’t always like this, though. Somehow, I’d once managed to be happy and sick at the same time. I would take advantage of every good moment. I’d ride my bike, sleepover at friends’ houses, and go to school. I played piano and excelled in all of my classes while maintaining relationships with a small group of friends. I felt normal. Enough, anyway.
But time can be heavier than anything physical. I wasn’t thirteen and freshly diagnosed anymore. I was nearly twenty, and exhausted. The burden of it had worn me down, and I’d given into the temptation to give up at some point.
Every day was the same. I rarely left my room, and the only window faced directly at the brick wall of the house next door. Nothing to look at, save for a window that had kept its curtains shut tight since I’d moved in. No direct sunlight to irritate my sensitive skin. It felt like a prison cell, but I’d stopped caring about breaking out of it a long time ago.
When I was fifteen, I needed a kidney transplant. I’m not going to lie, it was a terrifying time for everyone involved. Yet, even though I had been the one to undergo the dang surgery, my parents seemed to have a harder time coping with it. They were completely beside themselves, which did nothing to ease my anxiety. That’s when they started treating me like I was going to break. Like I was a ticking time bomb that would blow this family apart at any second.
I spent a few weeks in bed to recover after that first big surgery, but soon realized I would be back there a lot more than I’d originally thought. My parents pulled me from public school when things started going wrong more frequently. I would get periods of relief, where everything felt fine for a while. However, my condition would devolve too randomly for my parent’s comfort.
Finishing high school at home was fine, but lonely. Especially when new rules were implemented “for my safety”. Strict ones that impacted my social life. I had protested wholeheartedly at first, unwilling to give up my old life. But, over time, flare-ups and recovery took more and more of my energy. I never felt like I had enough solid rest to replenish. At least, not mentally.
Sometimes I felt physically fine. No pain, no fever, no rash, no swelling. Some days my body didn’t treat itself like an enemy. But I found, over time, that my brain was rarely the same.
Eventually, with no fight left in me—and all of us moving away—I began to lose touch with my friends. A couple remained in contact, and we’d occasionally watch movies on Discord, but overall I was mostly on my own. I poured the majority of my attention into the online courses I was taking through the local college, but even that was beginning to feel like much more effort than it was worth.
What kind of job could I even possibly keep like this?
Not that I ever had to worry about that, though. My parents would take care of me until they died, and I knew they were planning on it. They already took care of my grandfather, and he always did his best to help with me while they were working. That’s just the type of people my family were. When I was feeling well, I would do my best to help out around the house. I hated feeling like a freeloader.
They weren’t actually trapping me there anymore—I was an adult. But they sure were insistent on keeping me close and safe. With my combo meal of physical and mental issues, I wasn’t in a state to refuse. Even if they were incredibly overbearing. I really hoped I wouldn’t need to rely on them one day. I really hoped I wouldn’t need to beg for more of a life one day.
But for now, I’d just sit at the seat under my bedroom window, reading books about adventures I would never go on. I’d live vicariously through brave heroes as they traversed lands far from home, fought bad guys, and fell in love with beautiful maidens. Or maybe I’d reach for a mystery, or science fiction. As long as it provided the escapism I needed to survive my plights with these four walls and a window that led nowhere.
Maybe if I just held out a bit longer, I’d have more things to write in my journal before bed.
~*~
“Did you know Doctor Jaeger had a boy?” My dad asked at the breakfast table, one morning. He wasn’t speaking directly to me, so I continued to eat while quietly observing.
“Does he?” My mother replied, turning her head to urge him on with a curious expression.
He nodded, and pointed at me with his fork. I paused for a moment as he opened his mouth again. “Same age as Armin.”
“I’ve never seen him around. Where is he?”
“He was off at a college upstate. Looks like’s back for the summer.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Doctor Jaeger’s a good man. Must be happy to have him back.”
My dad nodded, and they continued to discuss the ‘fantastic work’ he was doing in our town. I saw the man often during my regular visits to the hospital, and honestly, didn’t love him. So, I drowned them out, and turned my attention to the front-facing kitchen window.
Lo and behold. An unfamiliar blue truck, beaten and discoloured, sat proudly outside of the house next door. I could only see the tail end of it, and there was no owner in sight, but I didn’t care all that much to begin with.
“He said he’s looking into some new options for you, Armin.” The sound of my name snapped my attention back to my dad, and I blinked at him.
“That’s nice.”
My mother frowned and gave me an unamused look. “Give him a break. Doctor Jaeger’s been nothing but kind to you.”
“Yeah…”
She was technically right. Doctor Grisha Jaeger had checked all of the boxes when it came to providing a pleasant healthcare experience. He was friendly, professional, and honestly good at his job. He listened, asked the right questions, and did research when he didn’t have answers. But there was something in his eye that simply didn’t feel right to me.
Call it intuition, a gut feeling, whatever you like. I didn’t trust that he was as much of a good man as my father had said. It always felt like he was hiding something. Which wasn’t a fantastic feeling to have about a man making decisions regarding your life.
We’d only lived in Shiganshina for just under a year, but it was long enough to make up my mind about him. Which ultimately sucked, because my parents had moved us to a new town because of its amazing healthcare program. Because of his experience with autoimmune diseases. So I dealt with it, because I was in the best health I had been in a while. My parents were happy, and they had backed off a little bit.
“The new meds seem to be helping,” I offered. I threw a smile on top to sweeten the deal. I didn’t want to start anything. Sometimes I was a bit too honest for my own good.
She recognized the attempt at peace, and nodded. “Good. Then you can load the dishwasher after you’re done eating.”
I nodded and filled my mouth with eggs. She smiled, her eyes filled with an adoration reserved only for a mother.
“Are you still feeling okay about our trip?” She asked. “We can always cancel.”
“ Yes , mom. I’m feeling pretty good lately,” I promised. “Besides, Grandpa will still be here. And, I’m an adult, in case you forgot. I can take care of myself for two weeks.”
A slightly frustrated sigh escaped her lips, and her eyes narrowed sternly.
“I don’t care how old you are. You’ll always be my baby.” She reached across the table and pinched my cheek. I whined in protest. “Just say the word, and I’ll call it off. ‘Kay?”
“‘Kay.” I smiled.
They wouldn’t be leaving for another three weeks, but they’d started asking for reassurance early. It was the first time they’d decided to take a vacation since my transplant; even if it was technically a work trip. At least they’d be down South, so they could sneak away for a few days to enjoy the beach. Guilt began to creep into my stomach as I realized they probably missed being able to do that.
We used to go as a family all the time when I was younger. After years, I craved the sensations—the sound of crashing waves and the feeling of sand between my toes as we bathed in the sun for hours. The sweetness of the watermelon Mom had sliced before we packed up the van felt like a ghost on my lips as I indulged in the memory.
If only I hadn’t gotten sick in the sixth grade. Stupid Thomas. When the doctors explained that the Mono he’d given me had probably been the catalyst for my downfall, I’d had to unpack my resentment towards him in therapy.
Now, beach trips with my family were a thing of the past. The sun only made me sick now. I battled against the sadness welling in my throat, swallowing it down thickly. At least they were finally going without me.
I was tired of holding people back.
~*~
After spending the day cooking the regular crockpot of reading, playing video games, and doing schoolwork, I was happy to escape my room for a bit. Even if it was just to say goodbye to my parents as they got ready for a colleague’s dinner party.
“You okay, kid?” Dad asked as I hit the last step of the stairs from the upper level to the foyer.
If I had a nickel for every time he, or my mom, asked that… I’d be hanging out with Bill Gates. I knew they meant well, but it was too much sometimes. I wanted them to trust me—I’d ask for help if I needed it. Probably.
“Yeah, I think I just need to go outside tomorrow,” I assured him.
“Okay, kid. You know the rules, though.”
'The rules' was another one I wish I had nickels for.
“Can you remind me again? It’s only been five years.”
“You’re a smart ass today,” Mom chimed in.
“Sorry. I’m getting a little cranky up there, again.”
She patted my cheek, and then started slipping her shoes on at the bench near the door.
Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be back late. Grandpa will be home in a couple of hours, so he’s got the key to the medication cabinet. Be good.”
“I’ll take care of myself. You two just enjoy your night.” I smiled and pulled the man into a hug.
He patted my back firmly, and suddenly my mom was pressed against it—effectively creating a warm family sandwich. My smile deepened, and my heart fluttered in my chest. They were a lot sometimes, but at least I never doubted that they loved me.
As the sound of their car faded into the distance, an eerie sense of emptiness fell over the house. Grandpa was at a friend’s playing poker, as he usually was in the evenings. So that left me to my own devices. Not that it was much different from usual. I just preferred to feel the presence of other life in the building.
The thing about being so tired all the time, is that you often find yourself falling into energy-conserving routines. Coincidentally, depression acted in similar ways. I could have used the opportunity to do whatever I wanted with my freedom, but I ended up right back in bed with my laptop. The screen was paused on an episode of a modern sitcom, as I’d been mid-binge when I was called down.
As my back hit the mattress, I let out the heaviest groan I could conjure up. The familiarity of my blankets was a temporary comfort, but the moment was soon tainted by realization. I was pathetic . This was the best I’d felt in months, and I still had no motivation to do anything but rot there; wasting the miracle of life I’d been given. The worst part was that I didn’t really care. I was just bored. I was lonely. I felt cold. But maybe that was the breeze coming in from the window.
The sun was setting, and the temperature was dropping. It was getting warm, but it wasn’t quite summer. The nights in May were still cool, and sometimes downright chilly. Grumbling, I pushed myself back up to go shut the window. However, a few steps in, I stopped in my tracks.
The view from my bedroom window had always been nothing but brick, and a square filled with deep navy fabric. For the almost year that I’d occupied this space, I had never seen the inside of the room across from mine. Now, I was staring directly into a bedroom filled with cardboard boxes. Piles of clothes covered every piece of furniture in sight, and the closet and dresser drawers laid wide open to accept them. But no one was putting them away.
My eyes fixed on the figure as it appeared in my line of sight. A tall boy, wearing a black graphic tee and paint-stained sweatpants, danced his way across the room. I took him in, noting the tan skin and long brown hair he’d tied into a bun. A pair of headphones covered his ears, and his face was twisted into a passionate expression as he mouthed the lyrics—so much that I couldn’t tell what he looked like.
This must have been Doctor Jaeger’s son. Immediately, I got the impression that they were wildly different people. In fact, I couldn’t help but be amused by the way the stranger was flailing his arms around and singing into the top of his phone; all while ignoring the task at hand. Doctor Jaeger was a very organized, and efficient man. He was friendly, but not fun.
I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off of this new boy. It was a private moment, but he was so inviting. He radiated the warmth that no amount of sweaters or blankets had been able to bring back into me over the years. He looked so free that it reminded me of how stuck I felt. If I was honest with myself, I’d say I felt jealous. But, for the first time in a while, I had something to look at outside of my window. Something new had broken the routine.
With a dramatic spin, the boy next door narrowly avoided knocking over a box as his arm shot out to point toward wherever he landed—which happened to be the window. I vaguely noted that his lips were pursed, which left me pretty certain he was mouthing the word, “you”.
His eyes opened a beat later, and immediately widened. I must have been his exact mirror with how sharp of a jolt the sudden eye contact sent through me. We both stared at each other for an extended pause, his finger still pointed in my direction as we took each other in.
From where we stood, I could make out his features now that they had loosened. The gap between our houses wasn’t very large; just enough for a narrow pathway into our backyards. If we both leaned out the window, we could touch each other.
He was a good-looking guy. Thick brows, wide, cat-like eyes—I couldn’t quite make out their colour from across the room. His nose tipped upward, and his lips were decently full. A sharp jawline balanced out the softness of his features, and led into a defined neck. Through the fabric of his t-shirt, I couldn’t exactly tell. But, from what I could see, he seemed sturdy. Not large, but definitely toned. I’d given up on ever having muscle definition years ago.
So, basically, he was the opposite of me, with my short blonde hair, round face, and skinny frame. I didn’t think I was downright ugly, but I’d always found myself quite plain. I only ever looked interesting when I was ill.
This kid looked like he experienced pretty privilege. But, being a doctor’s son probably left him privileged enough. Not that I could say anything, considering my parents were both lawyers.
His hand slowly fell back down to his side, and he tilted his head as he observed me. I swallowed, suddenly extremely self conscious. I was so out of touch, I didn’t remember how to socialize anymore. So I remained frozen in place. He quickly looked down to pause the song on his phone, and his headphones soon fell around his neck.
The moment he started to maneuver on top of the bed to open the window, I was in action. I sprinted across the room, slammed my window shut, and closed the curtains. For good measure, I dropped to the floor and clutched my chest. My heart was racing.
Why did I do that?
The surprise had thrown me off so hard I must have short-circuited. I could have said, “hi, nice to meet you. I’m Armin Arlert. I guess we’re neighbours”, but no . I let my anxiety get the best of me, and blew my chance at making a friend for the first time in ages.
My face heated with embarrassment, and I buried it in my knees. I was spending yet another night alone in my room. Wasting away, wasting my youth. It was a familiar but harsh slap in the face from life, screaming, “you’re not meant to have this”. If that was how I reacted to impending social interaction, I was damned to solitary confinement forever. Maybe all I was destined for were four walls, and a window.
But it led somewhere, after all.