[ Time doesn't matter too much to Eren on a good day, and he isn't really having a good day. For Eren, it's not that bad a day, really. He's not doing anything needlessly destructive. He had the inklings of it a few days ago, when he went and got drunk and thought about picking a fight.
He hadn't, which is a big deal for him! He might still pick a fight at some point, either to have something to hit or to have something hit him. Either way is kind of fine. But he reined it in then and now he's home not washing a mug in the sink. You know, like a normal person.
Armin disappearing is a blow that Eren isn't equipped to handle, would never be equipped to handle. It's better than death, something finite and absolute (though as far as he knows, no one who leaves here gets to come back). Armin goes home and has the life that Eren left him — will leave him — and that's how it is. It isn't the greatest thing for either of them in the end, but Eren's selfishness never accounted for the hole he would leave in everyone else's life. For Armin, that might be a hole that never gets filled.
For Eren, the same might be true in reverse now. Not dead is preferable to dead, but not here is not here. He knows Gabi and Galliard also disappeared. Reiner took that hard, and Eren takes this hard. That's just how it is.
There are no guarantees for how long anyone has. Maybe death is impermanent here, but there's no guarantee they'll stay. He wishes it didn't hurt. He wishes he knew how to numb himself down again, but he no longer can.
He gets lost in his head, in time, in whatever. He thinks of the photos they have now, him and Armin and the three of them and even just Armin. Eren doesn't need photos to remember the face of a boy he has known longer than anyone else still alive, but at least he does have them.
Armin was right, of course. Having the printed photos is different than the ones on the phone.
He thinks of the ocean and the fireflies, Armin younger than he should have been. He thinks of the ocean filled with blood, at odds with the blue sky, a conversation neither of them actually lived through seen from outside themselves. Armin's anger and his tears and I love you.
He wants to scream but he just stares at the sink, the water left running as his hands stilled.
Somewhere through the haze of all his overlapping memories, he hears Levi's voice. ]
Yes, Captain.
[ It's an automatic answer, an acknowledgment without actually listening. He's half here, which is better than all gone. Probably. ]
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He hadn't, which is a big deal for him! He might still pick a fight at some point, either to have something to hit or to have something hit him. Either way is kind of fine. But he reined it in then and now he's home not washing a mug in the sink. You know, like a normal person.
Armin disappearing is a blow that Eren isn't equipped to handle, would never be equipped to handle. It's better than death, something finite and absolute (though as far as he knows, no one who leaves here gets to come back). Armin goes home and has the life that Eren left him — will leave him — and that's how it is. It isn't the greatest thing for either of them in the end, but Eren's selfishness never accounted for the hole he would leave in everyone else's life. For Armin, that might be a hole that never gets filled.
For Eren, the same might be true in reverse now. Not dead is preferable to dead, but not here is not here. He knows Gabi and Galliard also disappeared. Reiner took that hard, and Eren takes this hard. That's just how it is.
There are no guarantees for how long anyone has. Maybe death is impermanent here, but there's no guarantee they'll stay. He wishes it didn't hurt. He wishes he knew how to numb himself down again, but he no longer can.
He gets lost in his head, in time, in whatever. He thinks of the photos they have now, him and Armin and the three of them and even just Armin. Eren doesn't need photos to remember the face of a boy he has known longer than anyone else still alive, but at least he does have them.
Armin was right, of course. Having the printed photos is different than the ones on the phone.
He thinks of the ocean and the fireflies, Armin younger than he should have been. He thinks of the ocean filled with blood, at odds with the blue sky, a conversation neither of them actually lived through seen from outside themselves. Armin's anger and his tears and I love you.
He wants to scream but he just stares at the sink, the water left running as his hands stilled.
Somewhere through the haze of all his overlapping memories, he hears Levi's voice. ]
Yes, Captain.
[ It's an automatic answer, an acknowledgment without actually listening. He's half here, which is better than all gone. Probably. ]