Eren can feel his own clawing panic, something almost foreign to him now, working its way through him and settling under his ribcage. It's irrational. They're as safe as they can be here, in their house, in each other's arms, in another world. Will there be another after this? There was Folkmore before. Eren doesn't know, but he would never bank on that.

Even if there was, what if another world didn't stop the titan curse? Then he'd be dead in a year and they're in the same situation.

This stolen time is all they will ever have, and it means everything to Eren. So he will do anything to keep it. Like most things, this is very black and white in his head.

Reiner's hand slides over his nape, the only real weak point he has anymore. There's always something intimate about it. There's always a threat of danger (they both know the threat is just Eren).

He nods against Reiner's shoulder, trying not to choke on his words. Alive. Always. Here. Stay.

"Stay," he manages. "That's what we said. Always, Reiner. We can fight for that."

Fighting is what they're good at, after all. And part of Eren truly believes that together, nothing and no one could really stand against them. If Reiner had been on his side back home…

But that way lies madness, and Eren has enough of that already.

When he pulls his face away from Reiner's shirt to look up at him, his cheeks are wet. He hardly realises it himself. When was the last time he cried? He no longer knows. He used to cry at loss, at pain, at fury. The end of their world, though it is his doing, brings out all three of those things in him.

He is not sorry for the world.

But he might be sorry for Reiner, for the things he has taken and will take from him, his home, and Bertholdt, and himself. This is a consequence he has never considered or had to face.

He lifts a hand and uses a thumb to wipe away some of Reiner's tears. It's a fruitless effort at the moment, but it's the thought that counts.