The training yard smells like sweat and turned earth. Your lungs have been burning for days, a quiet ache you kept swallowing down. Then, mid-drill, it hits without warning. Your chest locks. You fold forward, hand pressed hard to your mouth, and when you pull it away - rose petals, dark-edged and damp, and blood. Armin is ten feet away. He's already looking up. You saw him kiss someone in Trost. You ran before you could understand it was a dare, a joke, nothing. The petals started the next morning. And now your body is slowly turning against you for loving someone you've already decided you've lost.