I should be unaffected. Please, come over. I'll leave the door open; just let yourself in.
[Erwin leaves the line open, in case Reiner has more to say, but he starts moving around the cottage as he waits. He gets the spare room--Hange's room, once--set up for a visitor, with fresh sheets and blankets, in case Reiner decides he wants to stay for a few days. He throws together a simple, filling meal, setting it to simmer on the stovetop. He even puts out extra towels in the bathroom. The whole time, he's keeping half an eye on the door, ready to drop everything when Reiner arrives.]
[ It takes Reiner a little longer to arrive than it ought to. He's moving slower than normal, exhaustion and the weight of everything making it difficult to keep moving forward. But move forward he does, making it to Erwin's and letting himself inside.
The scent of cooking food hits him first, causing his otherwise uninterested stomach to grumble a bit. He stands in the doorway for a second, looking as drained as he feels. As if all the weight that had been lifted in the past few weeks all crashed down at once.
No, Erwin thinks as he moves forward, towards where Reiner lingers in the doorway, that’s not fair. He looks exhausted, wrung out, like the weight of the world is held up on his shoulders. Whatever happened to him—and will Erwin be calling around to find out why he wasn’t informed of this earlier? Did dream world David Bowie wear trousers that put his dick front and center?—it must have been horrible.
Erwin has sympathy. He remembers what it’s like to die too.
“Come here.” It’s something he would have never done back home. He couldn’t; he had to stay aloof and distant, had to separate himself from his soldiers so he could do what needed to be done. But he doesn’t have to be that person here. He can be better. Kinder.
He can be the kind of man the kids need.
“Come here, Reiner.” He opens his arms as he approaches, offering a hug if Reiner wants it.
Precisely what he anticipated upon arriving here, Reiner isn't sure. Coffee, maybe. A kind word and ear. Erwin has been so willing to listen to him, so willing to talk. Despite coming from the same world, there's none of the heavy baggage between them, no personal feelings of betrayal. It makes things easier. Makes it simpler to build a relationship here that is independent of their roles back home.
He doesn't expect Erwin to come toward him with his arms open.
It's more than he ever could have hoped.
Reiner's expression twists as he moves to meet Erwin, letting himself be wrapped in those arms, his own wrapping around Erwin in turn. Immediately, he's all but clinging. The weight of everything presses down and down, and…
"I remembered," he starts, speaking against Erwin's shoulder. "I remembered what I forgot. It slowed me down a second too long. And then…"
That's all it takes; one moment of distraction, a fraction of a second where your attention is diverted, and then everything changes. Erwin tightens his grip on Reiner, and makes a soft sound of understanding.
"What had you forgotten?" Erwin is aware of that, people forgetting important things, but he isn't suffering from it himself. At least, he hopes he isn't. There's been no indication that he was affected.
Either way, asking for clarification is going to hurt. But it's also important to get these things out, lest they fester under the skin.
Reiner inhales a shuddering breath. Exhales it slowly, trying to control himself. Trying not to dissolve into tears. But he can feel them pricking at his eyes anyway, the pain of what he experienced still too fresh, too raw.
"Bertolt," he answers. "I… This place made me forget what happened to him. Then it all came back. All at once."
His fingers dig into the fabric of Erwin's shirt. Holding on tighter.
"Let it out. It will hurt worse if you keep it in."
And there's no judgment here, none at all. Erwin has spent enough nights on his own, beating himself up for decisions he's made, lives lost on his behalf.
Bertolt. Reiner's other half. The boy who died at Shiganshina, the one who almost went down Erwin's throat, if Levi hadn't changed his mind at the last minute. Erwin wonders if Reiner would be here, wanting to tell him about it, if he'd been the one who killed the boy. Somehow, he thinks he wouldn't.
"This place can be very cruel sometimes. But you know that anyone who knows you, anyone who saw the two of you back then, doesn't believe for a second that you would ever forget that on your own, right?"
How could they? Bertolt is woven all through Reiner, as much as Levi is woven through Erwin. He wouldn't forget. He can't forget.
Let it out, Erwin says. And so comes the first shuddering sob, low and wounded. Reiner cries quietly, but he cries all the same, his shoulders shaking as his grip tightens on Erwin. Seeking the stability Erwin provides.
It helps, what Erwin is saying. Helps to have outside reassurance that he wouldn't have forgotten his partner. Not on his own. (Not as he made himself forget what happened to Marco.) But the fact that it could be done to him at all still claws at Reiner's mind, making him doubt his memories.
How could Bertolt's fate be carved so neatly from his life? How could Reiner's mind have filled in the gaps so thoroughly?
"I wouldn't," he promises. "I would never forget him. Not anything about him."
And yet, he did. Those memories were lifted from his mind with Reiner none the wiser.
Maybe later, once the raw hurt has been soothed a bit, Erwin will point out that Reiner didn't completely forget Bertolt. He'll look back on their previous conversations, and when they had them; he's all but certain Reiner has mentioned Bertolt to him during this time when he forgot. It doesn't seem like Reiner forgot the good things about him, but only his death.
Without letting go or loosening his grip, Erwin starts to gently steer Reiner towards the couch. They can mourn Bertolt just as easily there as here, and be more comfortable while they do it.
"Will you tell me about him?" Erwin makes the request gently, ready to be rebuffed if that feels like too much for Reiner. "I knew him so briefly. Most of my memories are of him standing slightly behind you and looking intimidated."
Which, in all fairness, is how a lot of Erwin's early memories of the 104th recruits went.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
13thcommander) wrote2027-11-09 11:35 am
no subject
Of course. Would you like to come to my cottage? Or I can meet you somewhere if that would be better.
no subject
[ He heads off, but not before typing one more thing. ]
I was in Inferna. The effects won't bleed over to you, will they?
no subject
I'm so sorry, Reiner.
I should be unaffected. Please, come over. I'll leave the door open; just let yourself in.
[Erwin leaves the line open, in case Reiner has more to say, but he starts moving around the cottage as he waits. He gets the spare room--Hange's room, once--set up for a visitor, with fresh sheets and blankets, in case Reiner decides he wants to stay for a few days. He throws together a simple, filling meal, setting it to simmer on the stovetop. He even puts out extra towels in the bathroom. The whole time, he's keeping half an eye on the door, ready to drop everything when Reiner arrives.]
no subject
The scent of cooking food hits him first, causing his otherwise uninterested stomach to grumble a bit. He stands in the doorway for a second, looking as drained as he feels. As if all the weight that had been lifted in the past few weeks all crashed down at once.
Which is exactly what happened. ]
Phone tag prose switch!
No, Erwin thinks as he moves forward, towards where Reiner lingers in the doorway, that’s not fair. He looks exhausted, wrung out, like the weight of the world is held up on his shoulders. Whatever happened to him—and will Erwin be calling around to find out why he wasn’t informed of this earlier? Did dream world David Bowie wear trousers that put his dick front and center?—it must have been horrible.
Erwin has sympathy. He remembers what it’s like to die too.
“Come here.” It’s something he would have never done back home. He couldn’t; he had to stay aloof and distant, had to separate himself from his soldiers so he could do what needed to be done. But he doesn’t have to be that person here. He can be better. Kinder.
He can be the kind of man the kids need.
“Come here, Reiner.” He opens his arms as he approaches, offering a hug if Reiner wants it.
/o/
He doesn't expect Erwin to come toward him with his arms open.
It's more than he ever could have hoped.
Reiner's expression twists as he moves to meet Erwin, letting himself be wrapped in those arms, his own wrapping around Erwin in turn. Immediately, he's all but clinging. The weight of everything presses down and down, and…
"I remembered," he starts, speaking against Erwin's shoulder. "I remembered what I forgot. It slowed me down a second too long. And then…"
no subject
"What had you forgotten?" Erwin is aware of that, people forgetting important things, but he isn't suffering from it himself. At least, he hopes he isn't. There's been no indication that he was affected.
Either way, asking for clarification is going to hurt. But it's also important to get these things out, lest they fester under the skin.
no subject
"Bertolt," he answers. "I… This place made me forget what happened to him. Then it all came back. All at once."
His fingers dig into the fabric of Erwin's shirt. Holding on tighter.
"I can't believe I forgot…"
no subject
And there's no judgment here, none at all. Erwin has spent enough nights on his own, beating himself up for decisions he's made, lives lost on his behalf.
Bertolt. Reiner's other half. The boy who died at Shiganshina, the one who almost went down Erwin's throat, if Levi hadn't changed his mind at the last minute. Erwin wonders if Reiner would be here, wanting to tell him about it, if he'd been the one who killed the boy. Somehow, he thinks he wouldn't.
"This place can be very cruel sometimes. But you know that anyone who knows you, anyone who saw the two of you back then, doesn't believe for a second that you would ever forget that on your own, right?"
How could they? Bertolt is woven all through Reiner, as much as Levi is woven through Erwin. He wouldn't forget. He can't forget.
no subject
It helps, what Erwin is saying. Helps to have outside reassurance that he wouldn't have forgotten his partner. Not on his own. (Not as he made himself forget what happened to Marco.) But the fact that it could be done to him at all still claws at Reiner's mind, making him doubt his memories.
How could Bertolt's fate be carved so neatly from his life? How could Reiner's mind have filled in the gaps so thoroughly?
"I wouldn't," he promises. "I would never forget him. Not anything about him."
And yet, he did. Those memories were lifted from his mind with Reiner none the wiser.
no subject
Without letting go or loosening his grip, Erwin starts to gently steer Reiner towards the couch. They can mourn Bertolt just as easily there as here, and be more comfortable while they do it.
"Will you tell me about him?" Erwin makes the request gently, ready to be rebuffed if that feels like too much for Reiner. "I knew him so briefly. Most of my memories are of him standing slightly behind you and looking intimidated."
Which, in all fairness, is how a lot of Erwin's early memories of the 104th recruits went.