There were only few things Mikasa Ackerman downright enjoyed. She enjoyed old books that smelled of ink and worn out paper. She enjoyed collecting cups, and mugs, of every size and shape. Swords, too. But most of all, Mikasa enjoyed Autumn.

She enjoyed the smell of chimney smoke that made its way inside the house, even though the windows were closed, and she enjoyed the coziness of too big knit sweaters in the early evening. The leaves would crackle under her shoes when she'd come home from work and their colours would remind her of something that had cherished its whole life, and was now ready to fall asleep. Even the chilly wind was welcome when the trees looked like weary flames.

This year, though, Mikasa thought while sipping her tea, autumn didn't feel as magical.
She couldn't quite pinpoin what it was that made the sleepy streets look sad in the flaming sunset, but the sight of raindrops running down her windows' glass had the only effect of having her swallow the rest of her tea in one big gulp before putting the red cup in the sink. Usually, she would have smiled. Usually, she would have observed those drops, silently betting on which one would've first left the glass before falling two whole floors ad impacting soundlessly with the walkway.
This time, tough, Mikasa only sighed. The cars, down in the street, had long turned on their headlights and, just for a moment, Mikasa wondered where those people were going. Were they coming home to their beloved ones? Were they leaving? She scanned the street with her eyes; no light blue cars in sight. No light blue cars coming home in sight. She couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment; maybe tomorrow... She drew the curtains; wishful thinking wouldn't have made time move any faster.

Or Annie come home any sooner.

Maybe, Mikasa reasoned, that was the problem. Mikasa adored autumn, yes. Loved it, even. But what she cherished the most, what made her love autumn so much, were the stolen kisses under the covers, those sweet nights of love making when all you could hear lingering in the air were their whispers and moans and sweet words and gasps. Those nights the cold would stay outside. Outside the covers, outside the windows, outside their hearts. And when they'd be spent, and tired, they would cuddle each other. Hold each other tight, their eyes barely open while the soft drumming of raindrops against the roof would gently rock them to sleep.

What Mikasa liked about autumn were the colours; fiery red and brilliant orange and an assortment of browns. What Mikasa liked about autumn was hearing nature tell its story and then give you the chance to bid those leaves farewell with a smile.
What Mikasa loved about Annie were her ice blue eyes, her blonde hair and her slightly crooked nose. What Mikasa loved about Annie was the fact that, someday, they would tell their story. Multiple times, in their lives, they'd bid farewell to those they'd be leaving behind. With a smile.

With Annie gone, with Annie visiting her parents four hundred kilometers away, autumn was just nature's dying entity, bidding farewell with a smile and leaving Mikasa alone. All she could do, in those cold nights and chilly days, was to wait for Annie.
At first, the first few october days, when Annie had left, it had still been mildly warm and summer had kept on lingering in the air. During those days, Mikasa had begged for autumn to come and give her some relief. Now, sitting on the slightly worn out couch in their living room, a new cup - cappuccino colored with a blue chimney on it - in her hands , she watched the calendar hanging on the wall to her left, counting the boxes that had still to be filled with Xs, praying that those days would pass as fast as they could. She sighed again. Only eight days left. In eight days, Annie would be home again. In eight days, the cold autumn nights wouldn't be as cold anymore. In eight days they would fall asleep in each other's arms, sometimes dressed in their fleece pajamas, sometimes not.

"Eight days." Mikasa typed on her phone, then clicked "send".

Eight days until the next hug.

Her phone ringed.
"Only eight days left. How are you?"
Reply.

Eight days until the next kiss.

"Fine. Waiting. How are you?"

The phone ringed again.

Eight days until autumn would be magical again.

Hi there. Okay, just wanted to say that this is my first try at MikaAni and that english isn't my first language, so please take pity on any errors you may find. Rewievs and critics are greatly appreciated.

Since I didn't write it at the top of the page, I'm going to write it here: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin. Hajime Isayama is the rightful owner of Shingeki and its characters.

Thank you for reading, I hoped you enjoyed the story.