For a second, there is no air in the room. It's a lot, even for Eren. The end of the world was always going to come. He was always going to cause it. There has never been another ending. There will never be another chance. He knows this now as surely as he has known it for years, since he was fifteen, all his life.
It's harder to face the inevitable now, when he has sidestepped it. This always might be temporary, and they both know it. That will never stop them from holding it as long as they can.
"I don't know how titans end," Eren says, slowly, zeroing in on that. "I didn't know if that would ever happen."
There's no point in lying about it. Eren may not ever be capable of telling the entire truth, but he doesn't want to lie to Reiner of all people. He has always envisioned a world without titans, but he could never see beyond the last gate. Even if he had every single insane memory restored, that would forever be closed to him. Since there is no other Attack Titan after him, he could never see beyond his own death.
"How do you think the Rumbling ends?" he asks, softly, dropping his gaze to the floor without seeing it. Instead, he sees the water meters and meters below, churning and hot and full of blood. He sees bones — the bones of the Final Titan, the bones of the dead, the blood on his hands that will never wash away. He doesn't want it to. He doesn't want to forget or claim that he is better than he is.
We can be something else, he said once. Every day they are here, he longs for that to be the truth. But he's still Eren.
For the first time, he considers that Reiner — or Hijikata, or anyone who knows only some of the future — thought they could all make it out. There was never a future for Eren, whether because of the titan curse or death at the hands of his enemies or his own machinations. That truth was one of the hardest to swallow when he first learned it. How could the world exist without him? How could he fail to see what he wrought in the end?
He couldn't live if he wanted them to. How he hates that.
"I don't remember what happens to Porco," he says, which is almost an apology. "I knew Falco had the Jaw eventually, but what happens to Porco, it's…" His eyebrows knit together. "There are things I don't know, too."
He has never told anyone other than Armin the true power of the Attack Titan. Or…if he has, if he does, it is only in those other conversations that he doesn't yet remember having. Some things, he wants to die with. Some things are just too much for anyone else to have to bear.
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It's harder to face the inevitable now, when he has sidestepped it. This always might be temporary, and they both know it. That will never stop them from holding it as long as they can.
"I don't know how titans end," Eren says, slowly, zeroing in on that. "I didn't know if that would ever happen."
There's no point in lying about it. Eren may not ever be capable of telling the entire truth, but he doesn't want to lie to Reiner of all people. He has always envisioned a world without titans, but he could never see beyond the last gate. Even if he had every single insane memory restored, that would forever be closed to him. Since there is no other Attack Titan after him, he could never see beyond his own death.
"How do you think the Rumbling ends?" he asks, softly, dropping his gaze to the floor without seeing it. Instead, he sees the water meters and meters below, churning and hot and full of blood. He sees bones — the bones of the Final Titan, the bones of the dead, the blood on his hands that will never wash away. He doesn't want it to. He doesn't want to forget or claim that he is better than he is.
We can be something else, he said once. Every day they are here, he longs for that to be the truth. But he's still Eren.
For the first time, he considers that Reiner — or Hijikata, or anyone who knows only some of the future — thought they could all make it out. There was never a future for Eren, whether because of the titan curse or death at the hands of his enemies or his own machinations. That truth was one of the hardest to swallow when he first learned it. How could the world exist without him? How could he fail to see what he wrought in the end?
He couldn't live if he wanted them to. How he hates that.
"I don't remember what happens to Porco," he says, which is almost an apology. "I knew Falco had the Jaw eventually, but what happens to Porco, it's…" His eyebrows knit together. "There are things I don't know, too."
He has never told anyone other than Armin the true power of the Attack Titan. Or…if he has, if he does, it is only in those other conversations that he doesn't yet remember having. Some things, he wants to die with. Some things are just too much for anyone else to have to bear.