The COWARD

Drake never imagined himself doing this.

He never imagined conversing with the boy he thought was beneath him.

But the cell was suffocating, the room too cold for his liking.

He wouldn’t survive the coming days without any form of conversation.

So, on the third day, after he’d been placed in a cell just opposite Eren’s, Drake took an opportunity he shouldn’t have had and tried to start a conversation with him.

“How long have you been here?” He asked casually, “Five days? A week? Two weeks?”

Eren didn’t look up from where he was staring intently at a blank space on the concrete wall across the cell, nor did he blink when he heard the question.

He just remained silent.

“What do you think William will try to do to us,” Drake tried again, “especially if he doesn’t get what he wants?”

More silence.

Drake’s jaw clenched. He tried yet again. “I think I have a clue. Do you want to know what I think?”

Silence.

There was nothing more infuriating than being ignored by someone you