Eren loses track of days; they blend into one another in more than one direction. It's just a thing that happens. It's been like this since he was fifteen. Only the routine of the military kept him going, and then that fell apart. Then he spent a year and change in Marley, which made it worse.
Folkmore.
Ellipsa.
He doesn't have strict structure, so…
He notices the last time Reiner texted him, though, from the date on the message. He double checks the date on his phone's home screen. It's been a few days.
Eren can't just do things by halves so he doesn't text. He just shows up at Reiner's place. He's unaware that Gabi isn't there anymore, but it no longer matters to him if they accidentally run into each other. They've seen each other in passing before. It's awkward, but whatever. It's not like he came here to get laid.
He doesn't particularly want to see Gabi right now, a stark reminder of the future Sasha doesn't know about, the future Eren had an inkling of and did nothing to stop and everything to perpetuate. He hadn't really known how it happened. It should have stopped him, but nothing could.
Nothing could. He hopes Sasha never has to know.
He shoves all that out of his mind and rings the bell.
The days pass, bleeding one into the next. Reiner is usually aware of that passage, sticking to a routine as he has since childhood. Military structure is all he knows; it helps him keep moving forward.
But not right now. Right now, with Gabi and Galliard disappearing in tandem, Reiner has finally come to a stop.
He's surprised when the doorbell rings, but doesn't hesitate to go answer. He's dressed, at least, though not in anything he'd wear outside. (Sweatpants and a soft t-shirt are far from his usual attire.) It may add to an overall air of dishevelment. Then again, it may not. It isn't as though Reiner slept in his uniform for all those years of training. Maybe he simply looks as though he just rolled out of bed.
Whatever the case, he opens the door unshaven and in sweatpants, blinking at the bright light of day like a disrupted owl.
"Eren," he greets, taking in the man on his doorstep. A note of surprise colors his voice; has Eren ever visited Reiner and Gabi's house?
—Reiner's house, now. Just his. Far too large for only one person.
Eren isn't actually aware of the other warriors disappearing. It's not like he talks to them. But something is up with Reiner, and that's enough to bring him here.
He raises an eyebrow, taking in Reiner's appearance. He almost never sees Reiner in casual clothes. On occasion, sure. But unshaven, wearing clothes he might sleep in? For Reiner it seems out of sorts when it's not first thing in the morning.
He's only been here once, when Reiner cooked that sandwich for him. That seems like a hundred years ago. Though to Eren everything is mixed up anyway, the order never quite right.
"I'm fine," he says, which is never true but today it's close enough. "You haven't texted me in awhile," he offers by way of explanation, though that raised eyebrow holds an unasked question.
"Do you...want some company?" he continues, awkward because even after all this time he's not sure how this goes.
Maybe it should come as a surprise that Eren chose to come over instead of calling or texting first. It doesn't. This is Eren. Anyway, Reiner and Eren communicate better face to face, skin to skin.
Is that what came first for them? Maybe. Certain conversations stick in Reiner's head, words said in anger, in passion, in quiet confession. But they're far more honest with touch involved, their hands finding each other as they speak, too-warm fingertips on unscarred skin.
Reiner reads the question in Eren's raised eyebrow, though he isn't sure how to answer. Admitting that he's stopped staggering forward feels … wrong. Something he shouldn't say to someone who pushes forward just as relentlessly—or even more so.
(It tastes like old failures.)
Then Eren asks another question, charming in his awkwardness. Reiner nods, stepping aside to welcome Eren in without conscious decision.
"Yeah. Thanks, Eren." And then, as Eren enters the otherwise unoccupied house, he adds, "Gabi and Galliard are gone."
Gone. Not out, not home—though he believes that's where they've gone. Just gone. An explanation of his own, answering the unspoken question.
"Shit. I'm sorry," he says, knee-jerk emotional honesty coming out of his mouth before he can stop it. "I know they mean a lot to you."
Not meant. Not past tense. They're not dead, and even if they were, it never gets to be past tense.
Eren slides past Reiner into the house. There's nothing about this meeting being clandestine, no reason he has to hurry or hide (not that he cares enough to do those things anyway).
He knows he's not good with words. So when Reiner closes the door, he reaches for him. Normally he'd reach for a hand, but he doesn't this time. Instead he offers an actual embrace. He's...a little stiff about it, maybe, because of his own uncertainty. Things with Reiner aren't all that difficult much of the time, but this sort of thing doesn't come easy to Eren anymore. Reiner is better at comfort than he is. But the fact that he tries is something, at least.
There's part of him that feels cold inside about this, though. Gabi and Galliard are gone. Home, presumably (Eren realises, in some dim far off way, that Galliard does not live to see the end of the world. That's not the point.), but it's a small comfort. Could any of them really just...be gone?
Eren isn't afraid of much. But he's afraid of losing this, this place, this reprieve from his apocalypse, this stolen time. He's afraid of losing Reiner, something he's already confessed once. Internally, his resolve increases. He will do anything to stay, to keep them here. The cost would never matter.
Maybe he's not all that much better, even when he tries, but what can he do? He wants to hold on to all of them as long as he can. He didn't care about the warriors personally, but Reiner did. They would have factored in on that alone.
"You're not going to just shut yourself up at home forever, right?"
Mean, not meant. Reiner catches the distinction, grateful for it. He doesn't know what will happen to Gabi in that far-off future he will never see. Nor does he know what will happen to Galliard, short of meeting the fate that all who possess a Titan eventually do.
Back in their world, Reiner is doomed to die at twenty-three. Of course he won't see that future.
But there's more to it than that. He confessed as much to Armin, drunk and foolish as that was. "I'm not going to become that Reiner," he'd said. And Reiner doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be a broken shell of a man kneeling in a basement, begging the person he would gladly chase forever to just kill him. He never wants to become that.
(There is a connection to be made, a correlation between 'not becoming that Reiner' and 'not seeing Gabi and Galliard's future.' But Reiner hasn't made it yet.)
Reiner inclines his head in acknowledgment, not quite trusting himself to speak. A rare occasion when he finds words difficult. Maybe that's for the best; he might start crying yet again, and he's done enough of that over the past few months.
But then Eren does something Reiner doesn't expect. Instead of reaching for Reiner's hand, Eren moves closer. Strong arms slide around him, embracing him. If it's a little stiff, Reiner doesn't notice. He returns the embrace at once, arms wrapping around Eren, holding him close. He turns his head, pressing his nose to Eren's hair. Breathing in what feels like the first full breath he's taken since he awoke to an empty house.
When was the last time he touched someone? How many days has it been…? Too late, Reiner realizes that he doesn't know. He wasn't keeping track; he never needed to before. How close was he to turning into stone?
His arms reflexively tighten their hold, squeezing Eren a little. Then he brings one hand up to the back of Eren's head, fingers brushing through long hair. Stroking it half-absently, the motion soothing.
"Not forever," he agrees. Acknowledging that, yeah, that's what he's done. "I didn't expect it, you know?"
Why would he? As far as Reiner knows, no one from their world has left before. To have two of the people from his home vanish one after the other…
Maybe Reiner would've taken it better if he weren't already wrestling with loss. Then again, maybe not. When it comes to finding himself in an empty home, there's no such thing as good timing.
Not forever, Reiner says. Eren takes that at face value. How do you process this weird sort of grief, anyway? Eren isn't sure. There's a friend he misses, back in Folkmore, whose loss in his life he has never dealt with. He's the one who left, technically, but that doesn't mean he doesn't think about Gideon. Does she miss him? Will she care that he's not there? No way to know.
"I know. How could you expect it?" he says, softly. "That happened to me a bunch of times back in Folkmore. Someone was there and then you just woke up and…they weren't there anymore. I wasn't as close to anyone there like you were with them, though."
That's true, but it doesn't mean he never wondered after any of them.
He turns his face into Reiner's neck, also breathing him in. He knows Reiner's scent well, the lingering ozone tang of what they are, that soap he likes, and just Reiner. Neither of them has to smell like blood anymore, like war and death. In Eren's mixed up memory he remembers the scent of the harsh laundry soap on their training uniforms, the leather and gas from the ODM. Reiner doesn't smell like that anymore either. Eren hasn't in years.
"You better not turn to stone on me," he says. It could be a threat, because he's Eren, though he doesn't mean it with teeth. Isn't that leaving, too? He doesn't really know what happens after you turn to stone. Is it like Annie in a crystal for years, aware enough to hear Armin's voice? Or is it like the quiet solitude of death? Is that what happens when you die? Eren still doesn't know. He can't imagine death is peaceful, when so much of it around him has been violent.
Eren is in less danger of becoming stone himself, because Armin wouldn't let him. Reiner wouldn't let him, either, if Reiner wasn't caught up in his own shit.
"You can call me," he says. "I'll come."
He doesn't quantify it. He was willing to follow Reiner into the segments even when he wasn't sure Reiner really wanted or needed his company. Eren is all in or he's radio silence. He never does anything by halves.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Folkmore.
Ellipsa.
He doesn't have strict structure, so…
He notices the last time Reiner texted him, though, from the date on the message. He double checks the date on his phone's home screen. It's been a few days.
Eren can't just do things by halves so he doesn't text. He just shows up at Reiner's place. He's unaware that Gabi isn't there anymore, but it no longer matters to him if they accidentally run into each other. They've seen each other in passing before. It's awkward, but whatever. It's not like he came here to get laid.
He doesn't particularly want to see Gabi right now, a stark reminder of the future Sasha doesn't know about, the future Eren had an inkling of and did nothing to stop and everything to perpetuate. He hadn't really known how it happened. It should have stopped him, but nothing could.
Nothing could. He hopes Sasha never has to know.
He shoves all that out of his mind and rings the bell.
no subject
But not right now. Right now, with Gabi and Galliard disappearing in tandem, Reiner has finally come to a stop.
He's surprised when the doorbell rings, but doesn't hesitate to go answer. He's dressed, at least, though not in anything he'd wear outside. (Sweatpants and a soft t-shirt are far from his usual attire.) It may add to an overall air of dishevelment. Then again, it may not. It isn't as though Reiner slept in his uniform for all those years of training. Maybe he simply looks as though he just rolled out of bed.
Whatever the case, he opens the door unshaven and in sweatpants, blinking at the bright light of day like a disrupted owl.
"Eren," he greets, taking in the man on his doorstep. A note of surprise colors his voice; has Eren ever visited Reiner and Gabi's house?
—Reiner's house, now. Just his. Far too large for only one person.
"You okay?" he asks, focusing on Eren's eyes.
no subject
He raises an eyebrow, taking in Reiner's appearance. He almost never sees Reiner in casual clothes. On occasion, sure. But unshaven, wearing clothes he might sleep in? For Reiner it seems out of sorts when it's not first thing in the morning.
He's only been here once, when Reiner cooked that sandwich for him. That seems like a hundred years ago. Though to Eren everything is mixed up anyway, the order never quite right.
"I'm fine," he says, which is never true but today it's close enough. "You haven't texted me in awhile," he offers by way of explanation, though that raised eyebrow holds an unasked question.
"Do you...want some company?" he continues, awkward because even after all this time he's not sure how this goes.
no subject
Is that what came first for them? Maybe. Certain conversations stick in Reiner's head, words said in anger, in passion, in quiet confession. But they're far more honest with touch involved, their hands finding each other as they speak, too-warm fingertips on unscarred skin.
Reiner reads the question in Eren's raised eyebrow, though he isn't sure how to answer. Admitting that he's stopped staggering forward feels … wrong. Something he shouldn't say to someone who pushes forward just as relentlessly—or even more so.
(It tastes like old failures.)
Then Eren asks another question, charming in his awkwardness. Reiner nods, stepping aside to welcome Eren in without conscious decision.
"Yeah. Thanks, Eren." And then, as Eren enters the otherwise unoccupied house, he adds, "Gabi and Galliard are gone."
Gone. Not out, not home—though he believes that's where they've gone. Just gone. An explanation of his own, answering the unspoken question.
no subject
"Shit. I'm sorry," he says, knee-jerk emotional honesty coming out of his mouth before he can stop it. "I know they mean a lot to you."
Not meant. Not past tense. They're not dead, and even if they were, it never gets to be past tense.
Eren slides past Reiner into the house. There's nothing about this meeting being clandestine, no reason he has to hurry or hide (not that he cares enough to do those things anyway).
He knows he's not good with words. So when Reiner closes the door, he reaches for him. Normally he'd reach for a hand, but he doesn't this time. Instead he offers an actual embrace. He's...a little stiff about it, maybe, because of his own uncertainty. Things with Reiner aren't all that difficult much of the time, but this sort of thing doesn't come easy to Eren anymore. Reiner is better at comfort than he is. But the fact that he tries is something, at least.
There's part of him that feels cold inside about this, though. Gabi and Galliard are gone. Home, presumably (Eren realises, in some dim far off way, that Galliard does not live to see the end of the world. That's not the point.), but it's a small comfort. Could any of them really just...be gone?
Eren isn't afraid of much. But he's afraid of losing this, this place, this reprieve from his apocalypse, this stolen time. He's afraid of losing Reiner, something he's already confessed once. Internally, his resolve increases. He will do anything to stay, to keep them here. The cost would never matter.
Maybe he's not all that much better, even when he tries, but what can he do? He wants to hold on to all of them as long as he can. He didn't care about the warriors personally, but Reiner did. They would have factored in on that alone.
"You're not going to just shut yourself up at home forever, right?"
Move forward, he means.
no subject
Back in their world, Reiner is doomed to die at twenty-three. Of course he won't see that future.
But there's more to it than that. He confessed as much to Armin, drunk and foolish as that was. "I'm not going to become that Reiner," he'd said. And Reiner doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be a broken shell of a man kneeling in a basement, begging the person he would gladly chase forever to just kill him. He never wants to become that.
(There is a connection to be made, a correlation between 'not becoming that Reiner' and 'not seeing Gabi and Galliard's future.' But Reiner hasn't made it yet.)
Reiner inclines his head in acknowledgment, not quite trusting himself to speak. A rare occasion when he finds words difficult. Maybe that's for the best; he might start crying yet again, and he's done enough of that over the past few months.
But then Eren does something Reiner doesn't expect. Instead of reaching for Reiner's hand, Eren moves closer. Strong arms slide around him, embracing him. If it's a little stiff, Reiner doesn't notice. He returns the embrace at once, arms wrapping around Eren, holding him close. He turns his head, pressing his nose to Eren's hair. Breathing in what feels like the first full breath he's taken since he awoke to an empty house.
When was the last time he touched someone? How many days has it been…? Too late, Reiner realizes that he doesn't know. He wasn't keeping track; he never needed to before. How close was he to turning into stone?
His arms reflexively tighten their hold, squeezing Eren a little. Then he brings one hand up to the back of Eren's head, fingers brushing through long hair. Stroking it half-absently, the motion soothing.
"Not forever," he agrees. Acknowledging that, yeah, that's what he's done. "I didn't expect it, you know?"
Why would he? As far as Reiner knows, no one from their world has left before. To have two of the people from his home vanish one after the other…
Maybe Reiner would've taken it better if he weren't already wrestling with loss. Then again, maybe not. When it comes to finding himself in an empty home, there's no such thing as good timing.
no subject
"I know. How could you expect it?" he says, softly. "That happened to me a bunch of times back in Folkmore. Someone was there and then you just woke up and…they weren't there anymore. I wasn't as close to anyone there like you were with them, though."
That's true, but it doesn't mean he never wondered after any of them.
He turns his face into Reiner's neck, also breathing him in. He knows Reiner's scent well, the lingering ozone tang of what they are, that soap he likes, and just Reiner. Neither of them has to smell like blood anymore, like war and death. In Eren's mixed up memory he remembers the scent of the harsh laundry soap on their training uniforms, the leather and gas from the ODM. Reiner doesn't smell like that anymore either. Eren hasn't in years.
"You better not turn to stone on me," he says. It could be a threat, because he's Eren, though he doesn't mean it with teeth. Isn't that leaving, too? He doesn't really know what happens after you turn to stone. Is it like Annie in a crystal for years, aware enough to hear Armin's voice? Or is it like the quiet solitude of death? Is that what happens when you die? Eren still doesn't know. He can't imagine death is peaceful, when so much of it around him has been violent.
Eren is in less danger of becoming stone himself, because Armin wouldn't let him. Reiner wouldn't let him, either, if Reiner wasn't caught up in his own shit.
"You can call me," he says. "I'll come."
He doesn't quantify it. He was willing to follow Reiner into the segments even when he wasn't sure Reiner really wanted or needed his company. Eren is all in or he's radio silence. He never does anything by halves.