Annie probably deeply regrets teaching Eren a damn thing. It's given him a leg up he wouldn't have otherwise had, but back then even Eren didn't know that he knew he was a titan. No one knew, by Eren's own future design and probably a little chance. (This Eren, present Eren, isn't entirely sure about the missing memories thing, the way he can reach through time and seal his own memories away, the true extent of the manipulation he stages with the Founder's power. Maybe he will never know now. Maybe it's better that way.)
Eren almost expects a fight anyway, something Reiner will toss back at him in anger. They could get riled up again, though out here on this beam he'll just end up in the stupid water again. Reiner has an advantage there, too, not just strength, but training, more awareness of swimming in the ocean. Also he's not wearing pants and Eren is, which does drag him down more when he's actually in the water.
He's surprised at the touch, staring down at Reiner's hand on his for a moment before finally looking back at the other boy's face. There's more than just anger there, which makes this harder, even though Eren just said he likes it better when Reiner isn't pissed at him. He meant it, but…
Well, he would take anger too. He'd just prefer that anger was something else, not something he'd gotten from a cheap stunt he never should have pulled.
He turns his hand under Reiner's and laces their fingers together. He doesn't give a shit who sees them. Who's going to see? Levi? Hange? Who fucking cares at this point? Eren's done so many stupid questionable things that they've both already had to live through (or…not live through…), what does it matter if he's sitting here holding hands for a minute?
This is the only apology he can offer, the only promise he won't immediately break. Skin on skin, his hand a little tighter than he means it to be because he's always looking for that anchor back to the present.
"You really fought with guns like that?" he ventures to ask. Even having seen soldiers in the trench where he cut off his leg, and then all around him for awhile in the span he spent trying not to lose consciousness so his leg wouldn't just grow back, he had never absorbed that. He'd been too busy, you know, fake bleeding out and screaming from how much all of it hurt. He can sort of picture how that first move works with a rifle, having held rifles in his hands. But they taught that to children.
He still hates Marley. He really, really does. He probably always will.
tw gore, talk of self-mutilation/injury, blood, just Eren in Marley things
Eren almost expects a fight anyway, something Reiner will toss back at him in anger. They could get riled up again, though out here on this beam he'll just end up in the stupid water again. Reiner has an advantage there, too, not just strength, but training, more awareness of swimming in the ocean. Also he's not wearing pants and Eren is, which does drag him down more when he's actually in the water.
He's surprised at the touch, staring down at Reiner's hand on his for a moment before finally looking back at the other boy's face. There's more than just anger there, which makes this harder, even though Eren just said he likes it better when Reiner isn't pissed at him. He meant it, but…
Well, he would take anger too. He'd just prefer that anger was something else, not something he'd gotten from a cheap stunt he never should have pulled.
He turns his hand under Reiner's and laces their fingers together. He doesn't give a shit who sees them. Who's going to see? Levi? Hange? Who fucking cares at this point? Eren's done so many stupid questionable things that they've both already had to live through (or…not live through…), what does it matter if he's sitting here holding hands for a minute?
This is the only apology he can offer, the only promise he won't immediately break. Skin on skin, his hand a little tighter than he means it to be because he's always looking for that anchor back to the present.
"You really fought with guns like that?" he ventures to ask. Even having seen soldiers in the trench where he cut off his leg, and then all around him for awhile in the span he spent trying not to lose consciousness so his leg wouldn't just grow back, he had never absorbed that. He'd been too busy, you know, fake bleeding out and screaming from how much all of it hurt. He can sort of picture how that first move works with a rifle, having held rifles in his hands. But they taught that to children.
He still hates Marley. He really, really does. He probably always will.