Eren got the same photograph. Why he hasn't brought it up with Reiner is hard for him to pin down. Reiner was looking for wrinkles in the mirror half a year ago, for one. For two, it still seems so impossible. Even if the titan curse doesn't kill them, which he supposes they'll find out in a year if it really does not exist, then something else probably will.

Or one or both of them will disappear from this world, and then what? Then the world comes rumbling down and there is no happy ending. Then Eren's unforgivable, inevitable future will happen. Will they still love each other? Do they get to remember this? He tries not to think about it. But he has the framed picture sitting facedown on his dresser. Someday soon he'll stand it upright permanently.

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches Reiner's hand move over the rope. His face is passive but his gaze is focused, intense in a way it wasn't when they first crashed into each other in this world. He's not always totally present, and maybe never will be, but he manages more often now.

There's something distracted about Reiner's movements, his expression. Eren is about to make some dig about it when Reiner speaks.

Surprise bursts onto Eren's face. Keep what? Not the rope, literally, he's not so obtuse as to think that. Eren staring at him? This world? Some other thread of thought that Eren hasn't followed?

"…which part?" he asks, as close to careful as he ever bothers to be.