Even though technically these Ellipsa memories never existed, isn't this still the Attack Titan's future? A future that will never come, maybe, but there are others that seem like that sometimes, branching timelines that he can never explain. Everything ends. Everything ends the same way.
But he can see those memories, too. Freezing from the inside out, trying to be subtle in the apartment kitchen and completely failing. The nightmares. The second time on the airship. The first. Watching Reiner play video games in the mall. A realisation that he should tell Reiner he loves him before it is too late. Reiner beating him to it. Smile lines in a photograph that shouldn't exist.
Eren has always held — will always hold — a weapon that can wound more deeply than any other. Reiner has given him that time and time again, knowing better, perhaps not always knowing what Eren would choose to do with it. But this final, terrible knowledge, he would have kept secret forever. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't, just so no one else blindsided Reiner with it. But Eren really hoped they wouldn't ever have to do this.
Who can hold the weight of the end of the world?
Who can hold the weight of loving the one that ended it?
Who can ever hold death, even when they're used to causing it?
"I know," he says. He presses his face into Reiner's shirt and breathes him in, a scent as familiar to him as his own, something dark and crisp like autumn leaves, the ozone tang of titans, some other unnameable thing that is just Reiner. He never wants to give this up.
"I'll do anything," he says, again, like he always does. "I will do anything to let us stay here."
Eren's wrath, his anguish, his love, is almost infinite. His capacity to care about a few people could bring the whole world crashing down. His capacity to hate could do the same.
"I knew what it meant when we said we would get older," he says.
Once, a million years ago when Reiner first arrived here, when Reiner asked him what happened, he said I turned twenty like it should mean something. It had, but only in Eren's oblique way of saying things. He shouldn't have made it that far and always knew that. Now he counts down the days to the end of his titan clock and hopes that Ellipsa really will spare him, as it has just by bringing him here.
"You said always, like it's something people like us get to have," he says. "I thought…I never wanted anything more."
It's not the first time Eren has said such a thing. But it's the first time Reiner truly understands it. Eren will do anything to let them stay there because there is no other option. If they leave, it's to return to a world of inevitable destruction, a future where Eren dies and Reiner is left alone.
And that can't happen. It can't.
Another shuddering sob rips through him, his ribcage feeling like it's going to break in two from the pain in his heart. He tries to breathe. He feels like he's drowning, like he's suffocating, like the weight of everything is crushing him into nothing. Eren's arms around him are all that hold him together. Eren's face presses against his shirt, breathing him in. Reiner does the same, burying his face in the crook of Eren's neck.
His neck. His perfect, vulnerable, achingly beautiful neck.
Reiner doesn't ask how it happens. Doesn't want to know. But he knows anyway. There's only one surefire way to kill a Titan shifter.
A hand slides up Eren's back, pressing protectively over Eren's nape. As if Reiner's hand might make the difference between life and death.
I never wanted anything more.
Right now, Eren could ask for Reiner's still-beating heart, and Reiner would carve it from his chest. He could ask for the world, and Reiner would find a way to deliver it.
That's what Reiner's love is. Eren's destroys the world; Reiner's destroys himself.
"Eren," Reiner says, the name packed with all the love he feels, all the anguish, all the desperation. "We'll say here. Okay? We'll stay. We'll…" A shuddering breath. "… We'll grow old and gray. We'll always have each other. Always."
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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dreamsofwings) wrote2021-07-13 03:17 am
no subject
But he can see those memories, too. Freezing from the inside out, trying to be subtle in the apartment kitchen and completely failing. The nightmares. The second time on the airship. The first. Watching Reiner play video games in the mall. A realisation that he should tell Reiner he loves him before it is too late. Reiner beating him to it. Smile lines in a photograph that shouldn't exist.
Eren has always held — will always hold — a weapon that can wound more deeply than any other. Reiner has given him that time and time again, knowing better, perhaps not always knowing what Eren would choose to do with it. But this final, terrible knowledge, he would have kept secret forever. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't, just so no one else blindsided Reiner with it. But Eren really hoped they wouldn't ever have to do this.
Who can hold the weight of the end of the world?
Who can hold the weight of loving the one that ended it?
Who can ever hold death, even when they're used to causing it?
"I know," he says. He presses his face into Reiner's shirt and breathes him in, a scent as familiar to him as his own, something dark and crisp like autumn leaves, the ozone tang of titans, some other unnameable thing that is just Reiner. He never wants to give this up.
"I'll do anything," he says, again, like he always does. "I will do anything to let us stay here."
Eren's wrath, his anguish, his love, is almost infinite. His capacity to care about a few people could bring the whole world crashing down. His capacity to hate could do the same.
"I knew what it meant when we said we would get older," he says.
Once, a million years ago when Reiner first arrived here, when Reiner asked him what happened, he said I turned twenty like it should mean something. It had, but only in Eren's oblique way of saying things. He shouldn't have made it that far and always knew that. Now he counts down the days to the end of his titan clock and hopes that Ellipsa really will spare him, as it has just by bringing him here.
"You said always, like it's something people like us get to have," he says. "I thought…I never wanted anything more."
no subject
It's not the first time Eren has said such a thing. But it's the first time Reiner truly understands it. Eren will do anything to let them stay there because there is no other option. If they leave, it's to return to a world of inevitable destruction, a future where Eren dies and Reiner is left alone.
And that can't happen. It can't.
Another shuddering sob rips through him, his ribcage feeling like it's going to break in two from the pain in his heart. He tries to breathe. He feels like he's drowning, like he's suffocating, like the weight of everything is crushing him into nothing. Eren's arms around him are all that hold him together. Eren's face presses against his shirt, breathing him in. Reiner does the same, burying his face in the crook of Eren's neck.
His neck. His perfect, vulnerable, achingly beautiful neck.
Reiner doesn't ask how it happens. Doesn't want to know. But he knows anyway. There's only one surefire way to kill a Titan shifter.
A hand slides up Eren's back, pressing protectively over Eren's nape. As if Reiner's hand might make the difference between life and death.
I never wanted anything more.
Right now, Eren could ask for Reiner's still-beating heart, and Reiner would carve it from his chest. He could ask for the world, and Reiner would find a way to deliver it.
That's what Reiner's love is. Eren's destroys the world; Reiner's destroys himself.
"Eren," Reiner says, the name packed with all the love he feels, all the anguish, all the desperation. "We'll say here. Okay? We'll stay. We'll…" A shuddering breath. "… We'll grow old and gray. We'll always have each other. Always."
no subject
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.