It had been nearly two days before Kenny found Levi. The rot had already set in, the smell not an unfamiliar one found among the Underground. But there was the faint smell of flowers–something called a dandelion–that Levi had sprayed in the room. He thought it would help, thought it might wake her up. It was her smell. But it didn’t settle on her skin, didn’t get absorbed into her warmth, didn’t bring that feeling of safety and comfort.
It didn’t smell like her.
Kenny came. Two days later, and the smell had already found its way into the fibers of Levi’s clothes. Kenny picked him up like a sack of meal over his shoulder. He smelled like leather and copper and tobacco and booze. Levi didn’t look back. The smell of dandelions faded from his nose, and over the years, he slowly started to forget it altogether.
But Levi had smelled real dandelions now. They weren’t anything special. He’d learned from Hange they were a type of weed, just like grass found on the fields among the walls. They were cheap, invasive things, but Hange insisted that their greens made good salads. One day, he had tried it in the mess hall but the taste was sour, bitter, rotten like meat left in the sun, and he decided on tasteless oatmeal instead.
When they brought Erwin back, he was unresponsive. Emotions revealed weakness, and Levi didn’t often show weakness. Especially not since that day in the rain.
But Levi shouted.
The jacket shrugged off of his shoulders, his legs struggling to keep pace with the doctors and nurses that rushed down the hallways of headquarters. “Is he alive!?”
“Yes, Captain, but–”
“Where the fuck is his arm?” He said, hysteria rising in his voice, like a child, as if he were watching his mother die all over again. But he was surrounded by people this time, people that could watch him crumble. He clutched at the front of his shirt and heaved once and found the last remnants of composure somewhere in the spaces between his ribs.
“Reports say he cut it off, Captain,” a trailing nurse assured him. Her pace quickened to follow the team carrying the stretcher. He grabbed her arm before she could escape him. “Sir!”
“I need to be there.”
“But–”
“I need to be there.”
Their eyes locked as they came to a stop. Her eyes were auburn, caught torch light like ambers in sunlight, under tree canopies, looking up at him, begging. She nodded once and offered her arm as a crutch.
Burning flesh wasn’t the same as burning meat. It smelled like rusty blades caught in a titan’s nape, like the oppressing waft of death from a slaughterhouse on a hot day, like blood and tobacco and ginger beer. It cracked and hissed like a match striking a flint. Skin bubbled, turned dark pink to red, and Erwin didn’t flinch.
Erwin didn’t flinch.
“I heard they had to kick you out.”
Levi leaned his arm heavily on the back of his chair, uncrossed his legs, and crossed them again in the opposite direction. He shrugged.
“Did you eat?”
Levi’s lips quirked into a frown, thin eyebrows bowing. He grunted.
“Mike…”
Levi looked up at him, blue eyes staring off into something Levi would never be able to see. His lips parted, his jaw growing slack, but he couldn’t find words.
“He didn’t make it back?”
Blue eyes looked at him, begged him for relief from the pain that tingled up through his phantom arm and into his chest. Levi’d never seen him so exposed. So raw. Levi wished he could bring a heated blade to his heart as well, cauterize the pain of lost friends and comrades along with all the physical injuries that painted his body with broad brush strokes of scars.
“You must trust in me one last time, Levi.” Erwin said. There was a hollow space to his right, the sleeve of his white cotton shirt sitting like a surrendering flag. But Erwin was not about to yield, even though his bandages had bled through and spotted the area on his sleeve with dark red constellations.
“The last time you said that, you lost your arm.” Levi turned his head toward the door, the anger catching his throat tight. His head felt heavy, fuzzy, weighted with the thoughts of royal princesses and monstrous brats and governments that knew too much.
“We know the enemy now.”
A Commander that gambled.
Levi shot a glare at him. “Who?”
Erwin crossed the room. Levi couldn’t take his eyes off the spots on his sleeve, couldn’t get the smell of rusted buckles out of his nose. He leaned back in his chair as Erwin went to the bed and sat at its edge. Erwin’s body slumped down, his elbow resting heavily on his thigh. “My entire life,” he started, but the sentence dragged on as his fingers flexed.
“What are you up to?” Levi watched him with interest, his exoskeleton crumbling after too much wear and tear.
It came out raw, slipped between his lips before he could stable it. “Sit with me, Levi.”
Levi curled his fingers along the edge of his seat and narrowed his eyes. He slowly lumbered forward out of his seat and shuffled three long strides to Erwin’s side, looked down on him with his arms folded across his chest. Erwin’s arm came up, his hand resting on Levi’s hip. Levi stood solid, not weathered by the strength that remained in his muscles, in the need he still felt for his Commander despite his anger. His rage. His dedication to him, his fear of losing him, his…
“I can’t hold you.”
Levi caught a breath in his chest, his fingers digging into his forearms under the privacy of the lapels of his jacket. He remembered to breathe when his lungs burned, when his eyes stung, when his eyes went dry. “Erwin,” he warned, because he knew if he said anything else, if he…
“I’m sorry.”
The ground, it shook, and with it, Levi’s knees. They buckled into the side of the bed, the jacket falling again from his shoulders as his arms came up to wrap around Erwin’s neck. His nose buried into the crook of Erwin’s neck, clean. Familiar. A touch of lamp oil, a sheen of sweat, the smell of worn leather that never quite left their bruised skin, rubbing their skin thin. Levi groaned softly into the skin, bringing their bodies closer, the feeling of one arm around him reminding him of open fields full of dandelions. Blood baking, steaming, cooking, evaporating into warm summer air.
“I’m so sorry.”
Levi squeezed him closer. He shook his head, dug fingers into the white shirt, wanted to discover new constellations under the fury of his love across the plains of Erwin’s back. How dare he think he could make him remember. How dare he think he could soak his clothes in the smell of him, only to threaten to take it away. To stain them with greens and reds and yellows that smudge into a million scents that make him want to scrub his skin away. The dirt, the stains, the smells, the mold, the world. The world. His world…
“Trust me one last time…”
Levi drew back. The candlelight carved away half of Erwin’s face, paled his eyes to a hollow blue, haloed and kissed with orange. And the sadness, the pain, the loss–the lost friend and comrade reflecting onto him–onto Levi. “Erwin,” he warned again, but his voice betrayed him, his fingers digging deep into the muscle of his shoulder blades.
“We’ll give what these people deserve; we’ll give them freedom.”
“What about us?”
Erwin ran his hand along Levi’s back, a smile creasing his cheek. “We will have it as well.”
Levi leaned forward, breathed in leather and sweat and blood and dirt. Felt his heart swell, felt a world he wanted to keep. To protect. To remember. His lips touched the softness of Erwin’s neck, tasted the scent on his lips that he swallowed. “You know you have me until my final breath.”
Erwin turned his head, looked down at Levi with a smile that touched his eyes. He drew his hand up, tilted his chin up and touched their lips together with a promise, a vow, that when they left this quiet solace in a couple of hours, they would return to each other–men one step closer to freedom.
top shelf tea time for @ladymacbethsspot. prompt: neglected body parts
dancer’s feet
(thank you for helping me be able to breathe again. a+ friend)
the leather straps of their gear digs so far into them it has become letterpressed on their skin. tough flesh wears purple and red from being packed so tight that it grows hard and leathery like dried meat left to hang in curing rooms. the indents never leave, like a river finding a crack in stone and wearing it down over and over and over until, eventually, it cleaves in two.
the strap that runs under the arch of their foot grows the rawest and the toughest. the cotton pad between the strap and the foot is nearly an inch in thickness, but after an expedition it is ground as thin as paper and runs as red as wine.
today’s expedition did not go well. they lost riley and nick--two soilders levi had been scouting for his squad. they fought well. they saved two entire flanks of the formation with their sacrifice. in the process, levi broke the record for solo kills. his assists were double that number.
the winds were strong. the fog rolled in. like a memory. like a pain.
his feet are as red as his boots, and he tends to the latter with such fevered and unfaltering attention that he nearly kicks erwin in the face when the other man goes to gently lift a foot into his lap. “oi,” levi says. he kicks his foot out of erwin’s hand and hunches over his boot, bare arms flexing tight like kegs. he scrape scrape scrapes, blood fluttering from leather like snow onto a piece of parchment paper he has laid out on the floor. erwin reaches for him again, and levi slams his boot to the floor. “erwin!”
“levi.” erwin looks up at him cross legged from the floor. they’re both shirtless, but their gear remains from the waist down, the upper belts hanging like vines on the sides of old buildings outside of the walls. in the dim light, erwin’s eyes change from gemstones to amber. levi studies them for as long as he can before he reaches down to pick up his other boot.
tonight, the room is failure--it fills like sticky sap that drags them down, absorbs stubbornly into their lungs, and hardens them into something that they fear they may never be able correct. so much could have gone differently. what could they have done differently. maps and plans and training--what were they all for if the goddesses had it out for them no matter how hard they tried?
erwin reaches again, and this time levi allows him. two gentle hands cradling the sides of levi’s left foot. he brings it forward and puts it in his lap. he looks up at levi, but levi doesn’t look back at him. his head tilts just a degree to the side, and erwin takes it as an invitation. with one firm hand, he holds the side of his foot and with his other hand he tucks his index finger under the leather strap across the arch. he tugs it toward him, levi grunting slightly in response, receiving enough slack to pull the strap down and along the heel. the cotton remains stuck to the skin, the segment where the strap laid being a darker red, so red that it reads purple.
the smell is strong. the leather boots don’t breathe, and the socks they wear are thick. but the blood always overpowers the smell of sweat and old cowhide. erwin runs his thumbs along the sides of the foot, feeling rough callouses that are all too familiar to him now. thick and hard--nature’s best effort to protect the best hope for humanity.
“cloth,” erwin says. he holds out a hand, and levi drops a damp warm cloth into it. with careful precision, erwin peels the cotton away from the skin, following it with the cloth to clean up the dried blood from blisters that formed and burst, formed and burst. each drag of the cloth is slow, meticulous, formed around folds in skin, scratching lightly at the small wrinkles, pressing hard into the unique prints that make up the balls of his feet. he pulls the cloth away, examines the raw pink skin that had been torn up during the day.
“bandage,” erwin commands, holding his hand out again. levi hands him bandages and tape, and for the first time, a set of relaxed shoulders. erwin unrolls a long length of the bandage and tears it with his teeth. he rests the heel of levi’s foot on the crossed part of his legs and takes to the careful task of wrapping the bandage across the mid section of his foot. when he’s finished, he secures the end into the wrapping and seals it with the tape.
if it had been a clear day. if it had been a different location. if they had just...
levi wiggles his toes in erwin’s lap, and erwin brings his hands up and clamps them around his foot. he bites his lip and closes his eyes, letting a long sigh out of his nose. after a moment, he opens them again and presses his thumbs firmly into the pads of levi’s feet causing his toes to splay like a cat’s paws. with eyes so tired of being open--of seeing the world--he studies levi with half lidded but intense interest. his foot has formed to the boots he wears, his second toe longer than the big toe, but fits around it like a puzzle piece. levi is impeccably groomed, and his toenails were no exception--cut straight and close to the skin to help prevent breaks and ingrowth. despite all the wear and tear, they were beautiful.
gods, levi is so beautiful.
“like a dancer,” erwin mumbles.
“hm? what was that?” levi’s voice bubbles as if he had drifted from a sleep.
“when this is all over,” erwin says. he wants to stop himself--his quarters are not a fit place for dreams. “i would like to dance with you.” erwin keeps massaging, starts to count the dark thick hairs that decorate his toes and feather lightly on the top of his foot and gradually blend into the hair on his legs. a smile finds a place on his lips--one that is really fit for dreams. “i’ve never seen anybody that dances as beautifully as you.”
levi’s breathing hitches for just a moment before it seeps out between thin lips. “we dance all the time.”
erwin raises an eyebrow along with his head. levi’s eyes change color in the dim light as well, but somehow they glow red like embers, and it strikes the breath from erwin’s chest. “how do you mean?”
levi leans over the edge of the bed and places his hands on either side of erwin’s face. “every time we’re out there we’re dancing.”
erwin blinks.
“you never lead me off tempo, erwin.” he swallows and looks past erwin’s gaze. “same goes for all of them.”
erwin hangs his head. “i want to dance,” erwin says weakly. more settles in the air, but the amber has hardened his self doubts, and they lost two good men today. the fog. the formation. all the damn blood.
levi takes his foot back and runs his hands once through erwin’s hair. “dance with me.” levi places his hands on his knees and looks down firmly at erwin. “now.” he upturns one hand and waits for erwin to hesitantly take it. they both rise, their bodies drawing close, damp bare skin sticking together like adhesive. levi rests his head on erwin’s chest, takes one of erwin’s hands within his own, and wraps his other arm around the small of his back.
they sway lazily like the candles flames, erwin’s cheek pressing hard against the top of levi’s head. he holds levi so close in an effort to ground them both, the slow circles of their movement mimicking the maneuvers they make in the air. he’s not so sure--he’s not so sure what he did in life to be graced with the small dancer from the underground. this man that bleeds and breaks for him, keeps his belly warm with tea and his bed scarce of nightmares.
he squeezes his arms tight and breathes out a sigh that anywhere else would sound like a sob, and dares himself to dream within this small room that the war is over, and all that’s left to do is dance.
“Erwin... I...” Levi wraps an arm around Erwin’s neck, pulls him down closer to his height. He breathes in the cologne that lingers on Erwin’s scarf, feels a pang rock through his body that he has tried so hard to suppress all year. For ten years. For twenty years. His other arm comes up to close the embrace, and his body falls into place against him, warm and fitted into the closets form of perfection he’ll ever know.
He takes his lips, hesitantly at first, just as they always seem to do with their first kisses, until he remembers them like old stories told around campfires. Top lip to bottom, kissing in winter air that’s dry and dead, but tastes like sweet oatmeal and cinnamon. He opens his mouth slowly, lets Erwin tongue at him like a thing to be savored, warm but unstoked as a pan left to simmer. They kiss like it’s the last time and the first time and all the times in between, humming softly through their noses as their lips draw closed and smack apart. They meet again, each kiss swelling like a riverbed in spring, and his fingers twine in hair that is a few days unwashed and moans as his nails trail against Erwin’s scalp.
Greed overtakes him, as it so often does in Erwin’s arms, and he’s up on the balls of his feet pushing Erwin back toward the railing on the porch before Erwin grounds himself to a floor board. His eyes swirl momentarily before resting on Levi, his lips pink and plush, and Levi reaches up to kiss them again, only to meet the scruff of Erwin’s jaw. “Levi...”
Levi pulls him down again, kisses him as Erwin pushes away, but there’s a soft smile, so Levi takes it as an invitation. They kiss again, and every vein in his body fills with a warmth that cuts through the cold, and he hates how he misses his lips already, even though he has him back. He loosens his grip on Erwin, his nose dragging down against Erwin’s cheek until his forehead rests on his chest. He’s smiling when he moves his hands down to the lapels of Erwin’s jacket, tugs at them as he breathes deeply into the concrete of his being. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
levi has a black fleece that he wears between the months of september and may. the fabric is pilled and the elbows worn a bit thin. there’s a cigarette burn melted along the hem, and a matted piece of fabric on his chest from when some super glue dripped on it from an ancient ornament repair. it’s nearly another layer of his skin, and it’s often a topic of discussion.
“are you cold, darling?” erwin asks as they take their place on the couch, glasses of dark wine half filled and perched on their thighs. erwin wraps his arm around the back of the couch across levi’s shoulders, dropping it on his shoulder and drawing him close.
levi takes a sip of wine and shrugs. “i’m fine.”
“i can turn up the heat.” the smile and chuckle roil in his chest, and he brings his glass to his lips with a single swirl of his hand before taking a drink.
“maybe later.”
the black fleece finds its home on the bedroom floor two glasses of wine later. it’s hidden below his jeans that are frayed at the heels and his black t-shirt that’s wearing holes in the armpits. the only article of clothing from erwin that accompanies the pile is his silk coral tie--bought on sale for $79.99.
levi pulls down erwin by the front of his burberry dress shirt, peeling one button free at a time as he licks a trail up the tendon of his neck. levi always says he likes it like this--naked under erwin, feeling the softness of erwin’s expensive slacks against the back of his calves. staining the belly of erwin’s shirt with the wetness from the tip of his cock.
he never stays the night, even though erwin always asks. levi is weak kneed and drowsy, a little tipsy and giddy, when he leaves through erwin’s door. they kiss with sore lips, and levi counts the steps from erwin’s apartment to the stairwell, counts to thirteen as he hits the bottom stair. he brings the cuff of his sweater to his nose, breathes in the citrus and sandalwood that coats everything in erwin’s apartment, and breathes it out like a cigarette.
it sobers him enough to make it home, but even though erwin had wrung him dry, he still finds his hand working its way into his pants, around his cock, and coming painfully in his hand as he smells erwin all over him.
he visits again the next night, bags of groceries in his hands. erwin turns the heat up to eighty, and levi still refuses to remove the sweater even as erwin’s shirt is damp in sweat. he goes home that night smelling like saffron and oranges and musk, and he touches himself so feverishly that he stains his fleece with splotches of himself.
“is this new?” erwin says two days later. he pulls at the collar of levi’s long sleeved button up, pulls him up to capture his lips with a fleeting teasing peck.
levi feels the heat in his cheeks, but he’s almost positive that erwin has kicked the heat up again. “no.”
“it’s nice.”
the shirt ends up on the headboard, levi’s hands holding white knuckled to the edge as erwin claims every naked part of his body. he cries out as he orgasms, fidgets against erwin who pulls him against his bare chest and holds him in an embrace. levi moves to get dressed, but erwin steadies his hand onto the bed. “stay.”
levi grumbles, succeeds against erwin’s strength and pulls down his shirt. instinctively, he brings it to his nose and sniffs quietly, but it doesn’t smell right. it smells like his apartment, and the comforting idea of bringing erwin home with him is shattered.
“what’s wrong, levi?”
he sniffs again, and it smells like chai and lemon, and he sighs. “nothing.”
erwin squeezes levi closer to him, kisses the nape of his neck, “please stay.”
levi closes his eyes, his heart caught somewhere in his throat by anxiety, that he can’t allow himself to get so attached to this man even though they had been dating for almost half a year. bringing him home on his clothes was one thing--he was never without erwin even when they were apart. but now he would be, and...
“ok.” he says. it barely passes his lips--an utter like a wheeze, but erwin hears it. he holds him close and presses his smile to the side of his cheek. it takes a few more minutes of letting erwin melt around him like a cooling ice cube for him to rest his eyes. it takes until erwin is softly snoring in his ear for his mind to calm enough to let him drift into a half sleep.
and when he shifts his head into his pillow and smells the lemons and sandalwood and the hint of pine, he shifts into a comfortable sleep he wishes he had fallen into sooner.
@ask-commander-eyebrows is sick, and i do not like that. here’s some tea for you, my dear.
erwin has a nasty habit of getting sick. he has an even worse habit of working through his sicknesses. he’s good at hiding it. like a performer, the show must go on, though he takes a bit too far at times. he continues to command, controlling his voice so the congestion can’t be heard in his voice. he circumvents the hoarseness in his throat and continues on with his supply checklists. the glassiness of his eyes, the vacantness of his stares at times when he has a moment alone, he blinks it all away in the presence of a subordinate.
there’s just not enough time.
there’s never enough time.
“i don’t care.” levi says. he presses the edge of the bed sheet against erwin’s chest and forces the taller man to the bed. “lay the fuck down, you dumbass tree.”
“i don’t have--” erwin interrupts himself with a railing cough, and he covers his mouth with both hands to muffle it from leaking out of the door. “shit.”
“yeah, ‘shit’ is right.” levi pushes harder and succeeds. erwin’s back hits the bed, both erwin and the bed groaning in defeat. “even just one day will help clear that up.”
“i have to get those reports out, or we’ll miss the deadline for our funding schedule.”
“i’ll do it.”
“and we need to check on the intake of the new horses. we need to see if they’re fit for our needs...”
“have the breeders ever let us down?”
“the southern barracks need some heavy repairs, and i need to figure out how we can fit it into our budget...”
“i already figured that one out.” levi takes a seat at the edge of erwin’s bed, and cool washcloth in his hand that he wrung out in the basin that sits at the bedside table. “rest, for once in your fuckin’ life.” levi places the washcloth on erwin’s forehead. “we need to break your fever, or a titan will do it for you.”
erwin sighs out, a shudder running through his body. he closes his eyes and nods once. “just for a little while...”
levi drags the washcloth across erwin’s forehead. erwin breathes in and out of his mouth, struggling to keep from coughing again, but failing. levi waits before he leans over, hovers over erwin, and places a long kiss to erwin’s temple. he retreats back and leaves the rolled up washcloth on his forehead. “just for a little while.”
levi sits at the desk in erwin’s quarters processing paperwork and reviewing tables and charts. he manages through most of it and takes a break to make tea. he returns back to his seat, glancing across all of the work that erwin chooses to define himself with. levi knows full well erwin is more than all this. he’s shown it to him so many times in the past.
erwin is a man. nothing more, nothing less.
he smiles a tad into his tea as he listens to the sound of erwin snoring behind him. he slides his eyes shut and shakes his head. “what a man...”
special delivery to my reibert secret santa: @freckledskittles! they asked for college reibert, where annie has two stupid friends that would be perfect for each other and sets them up on a blind date. and wow, if that ain’t my shit too??
this is my first time writing reibert, and in pure isayama fashion, i do nothing but talk about reiner for 2k words. please enjoy, and happy holidays, my dear. <3
mocha latte
Reiner Braun grew up in the small town of Liberio. It was a town nestled within the foothills of the Virginian Adirondacks; the kind of town that the residents lovingly called a village because there was not much there to make it anything more. Once a popular railway town, it fell into being a town of stagnant quiet that rolled along much like the early morning mists in the valleys. The town square was measured in feet and comprised of one general store, a post office that closed at noon, and a library with three rows of books, all that sat along the only road that left in and out of town.
Life was quiet, and Reiner didn’t know it could be anything more than summer nights filled with the sounds of crickets and jars of lightning bugs. He didn’t know the difference of life outside of three feet of snow and neighbors that lived almost a mile away. He didn’t know about a life that didn’t involve a community, where everybody knew everybody else, where restless mothers with sweating brows caused by heated stoves chatted for hours on phones that still had cords. Where murmurs of the boy without a dad and a mother without a crucifix around her neck was the type of boy you were best to stay away from.
Reiner had been to the city once. He was so small then that he had barely remembered much else besides how tall the buildings had been around him. Like giants, he told his mother, his hand squeezing hers. She smiled down at him and nodded. Told him stories about Greek myths and the great beasts that formed the world. They were called titans, she said. Reiner begged her for more--she had so much control over the knowledge of his world, she might as well had been a god to him at that moment. They spent the rest of the day at the art museum, reading thousand year old stories on old terracotta pots. She bought him a book on mythology that sat with a worn spine on his bookshelf.
The kids turned to teenagers, and Reiner began to fill out his shirts with muscle as his voice grew deeper. He did manual labor throughout the year--chopping wood, shoveling driveways, landscaping. He saved his money and bought books. He saved money because he wasn’t going to be like them. He was going to be different. So many of them were stuck in the foothills, their feet sinking into the soil like old trees, building families before even having a chance to grow themselves. The friends he had were in his books. They were in the mythologies.
His mother brought him to the closest town that had a Wal-Mart to pick up a nice pair of clothing for his high school graduation. She took him to the Waffle House and let him get the All-Star Special. “For my All-Star,” she said, an affectionate grin on her face as she sipped at her light coffee. Reiner was the first one in the family to go to college, and was the only one in his class of forty to leave the state for school.
She was proud.
She was so proud and she said it to him so many times as she helped him move his things into his dorm room. “Eight hours.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m only eight hours away. If you need anything at all, I’ll come get you.” She nodded as she looked into his eyes. Six inches shorter than him, and she still looked so tall--for so long she had been his entire world.
He kissed her cheek back and nodded. “I know, ma. You’re just a phone call away.”
Reiner had no idea. He had no idea how watching her pull out of the parking lot would grip something around his heart so strongly it made him ill. Eight hours felt like an ocean at times. It had only been a few days and he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything at all.
His roommate Connie threw a pack of pop-tart at his face the morning before their first class. “You need to eat something, dude.” The pack fell onto the keyboard of the laptop in his lap.
Reiner ran a hand down his face and blinked a few times. He’d been staring at the schedule of his classes for the past hour, only thinking of how in a couple of weeks, the grass would start frosting in the morning back home. “I will… I will.” He picked up the pack and tore it open, taking a mouthful of both pastries and chewing, crumbs falling from the corner of his lips and landing in the crevices of his keys.
“You play any sports?”
Reiner looked over at Connie. He shrugged. “We didn’t have any sports teams back home.”
Connie laughed. His laughter was always loud but genuine. “What the fuck kinda backwoods place do you come from?”
“Liberio.”
“Where?”
Reiner laughed in response, shoving another mouth full of pastry into his mouth. After he swallowed, he continued. “Yeah. I’ve never played anything outside of touch football.”
“Man, you’d be a beast. You got arms for days.” Connie flexed his muscles and laughed again. Reiner smiled. “There’s open try-outs next week. We should go together.”
Reiner looked back down at his schedule. He had no idea how intense his semester was going to be. He was on course to be a physical therapist eventually--but this semester was full of prerequisites like math and English. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s not like I’ll ever make it.”
A week later he was Sina University’s football team’s defensive tackle.
Being social didn’t come easy, but people tended to like him. He liked his teammates, and he found himself at parties and tasted cheap beer that never seemed to get him drunk. He kissed his first girl, a short little blonde quiet thing that attached better to the corners of rooms than to people. He followed her outside onto the green lawns that didn’t frost and tried to take her hand. “Let me walk you home,” he said.
He didn’t remember hitting the ground, but it happened and the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed the air back into as she stared down at him. In the night, her eyes looked pale like the moon, and her personality as interesting as a twig. She said her name was Annie, and they became best friends.
Reiner managed well through his first semester. He made good grades while balancing his newly acquired social life. The pain of homesickness was distant at times, but when he went back for winter break, he sat in a pile of snow that made it hard for him to breathe. When he went back inside the house, he watched the steam curl off of his mug of coffee until it ceased. His throat hurt as if he had been talking, and perhaps he had because his mother was smiling bigger than he had ever seen her smile.
“I’m so proud of you, Reiner.”
Reiner finished out his first year on the Dean’s List, and he hugged Connie good bye as they packed up his dorm room to go back home for the summer. “Hopefully we’ll be roomies again, yeah?” Connie stepped back and raised his fist for a fist bump.
Reiner accepted with a nod. “Totally.” He dragged Connie back into a hug before closing the dorm room door behind him.
Summer was lonely, and he found that he missed school like how he missed home. Annie came to visit for a week, and they went hiking and camped at the peak of a mountain in order to watch the sunrise. “This is beautiful.” She said.
“It’s home.” Reiner said softly. He looked down at Annie and he had seen so many movies that plotted like this. He was supposed to reach out and hold her hand. They were supposed to kiss. In this special moment, overlooking the most important place to him, he was supposed to react.
Annie matched his gaze, her eyebrows downcasting. The golden sun caught her pale skin and outlined her in neon. Reiner supposed she was beautiful in all her unique features, but he didn’t feel anything. “What are you looking at?” She said stiffly.
Reiner looked forward, and the sun crept up the sky so immeasurably, it seemed to be stuck in time. “Nothing.” He said.
The next semester started, and Connie was once again his roommate. He juggled through practice and games and studying and classes, and somehow having regular hang-outs with Annie. He told her about the blonde cheerleader that always looked at him. “I think she really likes me.” He said, biting into a mediocre school burger.
“Nope.”
“What?” Reiner covered his mouth with a napkin when he realized he was losing pieces of food from his gaping mouth.
“She’s gay.” Annie said, matter of factly.
“No way.” Reiner swallowed. He’d never really known anybody that was gay. “She doesn’t look like she would be.”
“What, does she have to wear a sign around her neck or something?” Annie rolled her eyes and dropped her fork next to her salad. “Listen. I know somebody you should try out.”
“I’m fine.” Reiner sighed. It’s not that he didn’t want to experiment with relationships. Despite being an outcast for so long, college turned him into somebody new. He’d become the big brother to his team, even helped tutor some of them when they needed it. He already had too many social obligations as it was. “I don’t have time for a girlfriend.”
“Just trust me. They’re a mega nerd like you and your weird… Mythology obsession.”
Reiner raised an eyebrow and nodded. With a gentle laugh, he took a gulp of his water before nodding again. “Fine.”
Annie setup the date at the school coffee shop. She had a few instructions: wear the red letterman jacket, get there at 2PM, and don’t try to be a gentleman and take the bill. “Most importantly,” she said, “Be yourself.”
And it was at that time that Reiner forgot how it was even like to be himself. Back home, he had been a recluse. He kept himself busy with carrying logs and sleeping under the stars. He had worlds inside his head with monsters that made storms with their breaths and created mountains with their bodies. At school, he found himself to be whatever people needed him to be. He sat at the metal table picking at a callous on his palm, feeling more homesick than he did when his mother first left him here--a whole ocean away.
He tapped his phone awake. 2:13. His eyes wandered across the cafe, to the entrance, then back at his phone. 2:13. He sighed and hung his head.
Eren and Jean had called him their big brother. Armin helped him drill down the difference between sins and cosines. Connie stayed up late with him watching movies from the early nineties that Reiner had never seen. His friends were part of who he was now, but is that all he was?
2:18. He paused and stared at the tall man sitting at the window--skin that matched the color of his mother’s coffee, hair deep as mocha. Reiner looked back down at his hand and picked at a scab on his index finger.
He was about legends and giants and worlds so large and vast that they couldn’t contain his size. He was going to be greater than anything that came out of that small little town.
2:25. Reiner gasped a little when the tall man matched eyes with him. His eyes were sad, his brow withered in worry, and they darted away as soon as they met. Reiner shook his head, agitated that he had been stood up by this mystery girl, and rose from his seat. The legs of his chair screeched on the concrete floor, and his shoes squeaked as he passed a few tables and stopped in front of the tall man.
“Hey.” Reiner said. He didn’t have to tilt his head too far down to look into the sitting man’s face. He turned his attention to the man’s coffee cup, and saw it to be empty, a dark pool of mocha remaining at the bottom of the mug.
The man startled so abruptly that his chair wailed under him. “H-hey.”
“Looks like my date stood me up.” Reiner said, pulling the chair opposite out and taking a seat. “You look like you could use some company.” Reiner landed his elbow on the table and extended his hand. “Name’s Reiner.”
The man looked at the hand as if it were a cobra, the soft sheen of sweat at his forehead shining under the large lamp above the table. He raised his hand and connected firmly with Reiner’s and shook it once. His palms were sweaty, and it made Reiner smile. “Bertholdt.”
Reiner took back his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here lookin’ so glum?”
Bertholdt shrugged.
Reiner hummed. He looked Bertholdt up and down, studied the size of his nose, the color of his eyes, and found himself focussing oddly on the length of his neck and how the tendon tensed every time he swallowed. The white polo collar that popped out from under the teal sweater set him apart from the jocks he had grown accustomed to hanging out with. He was one pair of glasses away from being a nerd.
“There’s an exhibit going on at the art museum about Irish folklore.”
Bertholdt searched Reiner’s face and a smile cheated across his lips. It reminded Reiner of home somehow. “That sounds nice.”
“Wanna go?” They stared at each other for a few more moments before Reiner added, “I mean, I left today open for a date, and now I’m bored so…” Reiner shook his head, slapping a hand to his forehead. “N-not that it’s a date. Jesus.”
Bertholdt relaxed into his seat and laughed. It reminded Reiner of summer nights with jars full of lightning bugs. “That sounds fun.” He lifted his hand up and fingered the curve of the coffee mug handle. “But I’ve already been to it.” He smiled, and it looked strained but eager to remain on his lips. “How about we go to the natural history museum instead?”
Reiner smiled big, his teeth showing. He thought of books with worn spines, and wondered if Bertholdt had any of his own. “Sure.” He nearly spit it out, the excitement thrumming in his chest. “That sounds great.”
Daisuke doesn’t really know how it happened, but he feels it now. Self reflection had never been his strong suit, but as he grows older and his phone settles to silence, mirrors start to pop up in the most inconvenient places. Talking to the girl at the Lawson’s; his professor in that one class he’s failing; the small group of friends he’s made in soccer. He sees himself in his mind and he dissects every interaction, questions why he did what, fabricates people’s feelings about him and swears they’re real. How could they not be?
He stops looking at his D-Terminal; he stops writing messages. Nobody has contacted him in months, even though Taichi lives one building away and three floors up. Real life has taken him. And Koushiro. And Jyou and Sora and Yamato and Mimi. University has taken the rest of them. Even Daisuke, when he didn’t think it would, but Ken had helped him. Believed in him like he always did, but in the process forced him into this box when he was shaped more like a sphere, rolling around in an ill fitting life that was surrounded by too many mirrors.
Stupid Ken.
Stupid smart Ken, too good for the rest of them. Tokyo University wasn’t ready for the type of man Ken was going to become. Daisuke wasn’t ready for the type of man Ken was going to become.
He’s the stupid one.
Things were good for awhile. Being chosen, being part of a greater whole, pointing mirrors at other mirrors and creating infinite reflections--finding a purpose and a power that felt more expansive than the universe... Because he wasn’t alone. He had friends.
He kicks rocks in the Digital World. He has picnics with V-mon. He visits Primary Village in hopes of seeing him there. Wormmon sees him sometimes, and as if he understands the importance of it, he mimics the words Ken would say anyway: “Have you completed your homework?” He laughs, because it’s an act he’s good at playing, one he’s good at rehearsing in the mirror, and says “of course.”
It’s been so long, Wormmon says. He doesn’t comprehend time like a human does, but he knows it’s been a long time. Daisuke says he’ll talk to Ken. It’s not fair.
But the D-Terminal needs to be charged, and his hands have grown so large around it, he’s not sure how he’ll ever be able to type the message in a coherent way. If Ken can’t even find the time to visit Wormmon, he fears how long it will really be before he takes the train to see him.
It’s easier to tell himself he’s annoying.
That he’s stupid.
That maybe they had never been friends at all.
That even with Chibimon stowed away in his backpack, maybe all that he remembered had actually just been a dream. Maybe if he opened his eyes, he’d be eleven again, wearing goggles that made him feel like he was anybody but himself.
He plugs in his device and busies himself with homework he has no intention of finishing. His phone has been silent for days, but his D-Terminal buzzes angrily as it comes awake with energy. He perks up and looks down at it and even Chibimon rousing from a chocolate induced slumber. He flips the top open and breathes out as he chuckles a laugh.
Sorry for the late notice. I didn’t know if I could get the day off, but I was hoping you’d like to get dinner for your birthday tomorrow? I’ll bring Wormmon. It’s been too long.
- Ken
It doesn’t feel real for a second. He blinks, only to find that he’s still twenty years old, Taichi’s goggles perched at his collar bone, and with hair on his face he doesn’t bother to shave anymore. He picks up the D-Terminal and hovers his thumbs over the keyboard. He runs through phrases and words and sentences and what they might mean if he sends any of them. Would Ken be annoyed by him? Would he call him stupid? Would he laugh at him? Would he tell him that he’s not worth his time?
He stares at it for a long time, and his reflection is too much, too dark, too muddy. He closes the lid of the D-Terminal and disregards it as if it were an unsatisfactory epilogue to an underwhelming and lonely life.
“I fucked up, Mike. And I’m here to apologize, and you’re in my way. All I want… All I want is the best for Erwin.”
Mike nods at the car that pulled up, the door opening and closing, the radio clicking on and a woman’s voice broadcasting over the electronic. She sounds like Magnolia. “Are you saying you’re what’s best for him?”
“No. What I’m saying is that I’m not what you need to protect Erwin from.”
Mike blinks, and for the first time, he shifts, looks toward the door of the house, and sighs.
“What’s going on this afternoon, gentlemen.” The cop says as he rounds the car. Levi tenses at the voice, and his anger spills over.
“No. No no no. No!” Levi swings around and he throws his arms up. “I’m fuckin’ done.”
“Mike, what is going on?” Nile says. His dark blue uniform shines with golden badges and if Levi gave a fuck to look at him, he might be able to find where it says “Sergeant” on the shield.
“Levi is not allowed on these premises. He’s a danger to Erwin.”
Levi spins around and shouts so loud that his lungs give out. “Fuck you, Mike! Shut the fuck up!”
