Empty.

It was all he could feel. A hollow ache in his chest that he knew would last a lifetime. He hadn't felt so lonely since his mother died. The air that filled his lungs were stale, his river of tears had run dry and all that remained was the empty shell of Eren Jaeger.

The soldier that failed to believe in himself. The soldier that no longer held red hot rage. The soldier that watched as they were cut down. The soldier with the blood on his hands. The soldier that lost hope.

When he moved, it no longer held purpose. When he cried, it no longer held meaning. When he thought, it no longer held normality.

So he stopped.

Instead he stayed still, wasting himself away though he knew it was their last wish. How disrespectful.

Rivaille. Corporal Rivaille of all people was the one to knock Eren out of his lucid state. He yelled that he was better than this, his will was stronger, there was still people worth fighting for.

Eren hated when he was right.

The shackles around his wrists fell. His skin was raw, bleeding. In some places, torn. His bones ached when he moved, dragging his bare feet across the concrete floor and all he felt was the numbness that had stuck with him since the moment he awoke in that goddamn carriage.

He ended up not refusing a hot meal, the soup burning his throat as soon as it past his lips. He felt less sick, less guilty when he was full. Eren decided he liked that.

He spent the next several hours walking. He was sure to have blisters, dragging his feet they way he was. And he did upon arriving in the most secluded part of the building.

The room he entered was dark, much to his displeasure. He could make out the faint outline of something bulky in the middle of the room and he searched for the red satin curtains that covered the single, large window.

He tore them down in a single movement and light poured into the room. Dull, teal eyes began to water and he raised an arm to shield his gaze from the sunlight. He turned to the center of the room again, to find it was in fact a piano.

Eren's heart skipped a beat as he sat down, dusty stool creaking under the sudden weight. He lifted the board covering the keys and more dust wafted into the air.

Eren coughed into his sleeve and pressed his fingers down. They were moving, oh so delicately, before he could register his next thought. The melody was beautiful, dancing about Eren's ears and he took this time to remember.

"Ach ja meine Lieben, wo sind sie geblieben? Mein Glück war das kosten. Ich kann nicht atmen ohne Ihren Herzschlag, ohne dich bin ich verloren. (Oh my dear, where have you gone? My happiness was the cost. I can't breathe without your heartbeat, without you I am lost.)"

Eren's voice was harsh as he held back oncoming tears, wetness lining his vision.

"Sie haben mich mit nichts, kannst du meine Schmerzen? I miss your Touch, ihre Stimme, das war alles, was mich. ( You have left me with nothing, can you feel my pain? I miss your touch, your voice, that was all that kept me sane.)"

His fingers slammed down on the keys and the piano screamed, but when silence washed over him again it was too quiet. It only now occurred to him that he was all alone. No one would be coming to fix him.

He was already broken beyond repair.