[ Eren's spectre surely hangs over the world he left them, the ruined torn up ground and half-boiled ocean finally calming to something manageable. Whether that was what he wanted or not, it's inescapable. The people still alive cannot possibly forget his name and his horrors.
Eren himself, here and unchanging, is still more than just that monster. Here with Armin, he can still just be human. ]
Yeah, but…
[ He's not sure how to say everything inside him. He's always been shit with words. Hitting things to solve problems? Sure, great, fine. Talking to people? Hard pass. He got worse at it the more he withdrew, the more lies and half-truths he told, the colder he became. It's been so long since then. (It hasn't.) ]
I don't want anyone else I love to die young.
[ It's as close as he gets and he nearly chokes on the words anyway.
The sand turns wet and thick, not the dry desert but the strange texture of the beach, white sand and blue water that goes on forever. Not the ocean between them and Marley, but the ocean they longed for. Armin's ocean.
Eren straightens up, taking Armin's shoulders and moving him back so they can look at each other again. ]
I wish I could send you back.
[ He half-means that, always heedless of what other people want. He's always been so selfish, even in his desire to protect people, even in his insane roundabout plan to save a handful of people from a world that hated them. It's always about him, too. He's not good at selflessness.
His hands finally drop away, back to his sides. ]
I didn't think you'd really come.
[ The last part is soft. It isn't that he doesn't want Armin here. Of course he does. He's longed for that promised company, the penance Armin agreed to pay for the world that Eren destroyed. It's so much better than the nonlinear solitude of his own thoughts. Besides, he missed Armin specifically, Armin who had always been there to stand by him — or against him, when truly necessary. That last goodbye, the one he erased from Armin's memory until he was dead, had been the hardest one. ]
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Eren himself, here and unchanging, is still more than just that monster. Here with Armin, he can still just be human. ]
Yeah, but…
[ He's not sure how to say everything inside him. He's always been shit with words. Hitting things to solve problems? Sure, great, fine. Talking to people? Hard pass. He got worse at it the more he withdrew, the more lies and half-truths he told, the colder he became. It's been so long since then. (It hasn't.) ]
I don't want anyone else I love to die young.
[ It's as close as he gets and he nearly chokes on the words anyway.
The sand turns wet and thick, not the dry desert but the strange texture of the beach, white sand and blue water that goes on forever. Not the ocean between them and Marley, but the ocean they longed for. Armin's ocean.
Eren straightens up, taking Armin's shoulders and moving him back so they can look at each other again. ]
I wish I could send you back.
[ He half-means that, always heedless of what other people want. He's always been so selfish, even in his desire to protect people, even in his insane roundabout plan to save a handful of people from a world that hated them. It's always about him, too. He's not good at selflessness.
His hands finally drop away, back to his sides. ]
I didn't think you'd really come.
[ The last part is soft. It isn't that he doesn't want Armin here. Of course he does. He's longed for that promised company, the penance Armin agreed to pay for the world that Eren destroyed. It's so much better than the nonlinear solitude of his own thoughts. Besides, he missed Armin specifically, Armin who had always been there to stand by him — or against him, when truly necessary. That last goodbye, the one he erased from Armin's memory until he was dead, had been the hardest one. ]