Archive of Our Own

"Remember we talked about surviving this together? When you said we'd live to be old men, and one day we’d all go drinking together?...”

“Was it all... a lie?"

A clear night.

He offered a yearning gaze to the sleeping mountains in the far distance, the soft outline of all its imperfections becoming one with the gentle hue of the sky before it. It was the calm after a storm; a delicate breeze brushing past him, lacing its cool fingers in between the strands of his hair and seeping through the clean tear in his shirt where a blade had slashed him wide open.

He sat slouched over the tattered edge of the wall, his spine aching as though his bones were forged from glass, and his feet dangling 50 meters from certain death in the event that he happened to fall. From atop the wall, he could see everything.

The moon shone so boldly that it felt like night hadn't fallen at all-- the glistening of the quiet river below just as blinding to the naked eye. He could see every crack and crevice of all the obliterated homes where they had left their mark of destruction five years prior; debris and rock and shards of the gates burrowed in places where families had once held dinner, and trails of giant footprints trampled all over where shopkeepers had at one point held up their market.

From 50 meters above, he could see clearly, the stain that he wore over his hands like a glove.

He was far too tired to feel anything, though, and his eyes returned to that blinding stream.

It’s tempting. The sensation of chilled, sleeping water swallowing him whole, washing away the slick layer of sweat resting over his flesh and ridding him of the persistent body odour that came with it, not to mention the rough patches of grime that began to form over his skin.

He looked down to his palms where only his sins met his eyes. Foolishly, he wondered if the stain on his hands would wash away in that river, too.

It was far too tempting. So much so that he forced himself to look away, look away to the two bodies slumped still on opposite sides of the wall, so still that they resembled corpses-- at last serving themselves the luxury of relief after what had occurred earlier that day.

Ymir curled herself dangerously close to the edge in fetal position, and Reiner with his limbs sprawled out as though he had passed out the second he surrendered to the surface, his chest rising and falling in an inconsistent rhythm. Bertolt was baffled; how they were both able to catch any shut-eye at all was a mystery beyond him. It's true that he was exhausted, to the point where he felt like he might collapse at any moment (not having eaten or slept in almost two days), but it wasn’t the glowing moonlight that kept him wide awake, nor was it the adrenaline lingering in his veins.

"Was it all a lie?"

His futile attempts to keep his eyes shut were almost pathetic; those taunting words poking and prodding inside his skull, successfully prying his eyelids open each time. He’d given up after the fourth time jolted awake in less than two hours, his mind circling in loops, throwing him helplessly back to that dreaded reunion; Jean, Connie, and the others begging for an explanation for their actions. Reiner's harshly rigid hand had granted a protective barrier to separate him from them, but he didn't need to see their faces to cave in to the sounds of utter betrayal.

He shuddered at the memory, his hands trembling slightly.

Bertolt's body still throbbed from the whole ordeal, both emotionally and physically, his muscles contracting with a sharp soreness that followed any movement that he dared to make. He had been slashed in the middle of it all, by that damned commander, but that was nothing compared to losing hold of the coordinate-- the very thing they had gone through hell and back to find, let alone try to bring back home.

As frustrated as he felt, he couldn’t yet force himself to cry. It took everything in him to stop himself from breaking into tears after inquiring Ymir's reasons for rescuing him-- that very urge itching to erupt at any moment. She, who had understood their situation, who found them, who… saved his life even when he deserved to die, was the same person he was dooming to a probable grave.

I’m pathetic, he grazed his fingers against his temple in a pitiful attempt to rid himself of the pressure within, his other hand a curled fist that rested on his lap, Did... I really deserve to be saved?

Sighing, Bertolt tilted his head back, surveying the millions of pulsing stars before him. A clear night, indeed.

"Was it all a lie?"

I wish it was.
Maybe then, I wouldn't be feeling this rotten.

Shuffling in the darkness. A faint clink of glass.

"Stop finishing it, you greedy bastard!" A voice hissed, "I said just a taste!"

"I'm not finishing it!"

"You're gonna drop it, hands off!"

From the gaps of the guard rail, Bertolt’s eyes followed two familiar silhouettes fumbling about down below, their voices hushed and their postures wary. The lantern in the night sky shot just enough light through the window to make out their faces with their dim shadows cast along the floor.

That’s not exactly very sneaky...

"I knew I shouldn’t have told you." The childish banter continued. There was an irritated grumble, and noises of gargling liquid following the sound of a faint pop.

“Why not?” A burp in response.

Reiner shuffled about in the bed next to him, the sound of fabric ruffling together as he folded the blanket aside, promptly peering over the rail. Bertolt propped himself up on his elbows, awaiting what the exasperated cadet had to say.

"Hey, you two! Shut up!" Reiner spat groggily. "Go fight outside. It's late."

"Reiner, you're still up?" Connie peeped from below, either dismissing the complaint or pretending he hadn’t heard it.

Bertolt had always thought Reiner wore a permanently stern face regardless of whether he was in a good mood or not, but now, with his squinting eyes and the slight shake of his head, the boy looked especially stern. He rubbed his crusty eyes. "How could I not be after hearing you two try to be quiet?"

Once he could see clearly, he took note of Jean’s clumsy attempt to conceal a large object behind him-- one that bubbled when he made the swift movement-- and immediately, a pang of curiosity ignited within him. His previously tense shoulders fell back slightly, "...What are you fighting over anyway?"

Jean smeared a prideful smirk over his face. "I'm surprised, Reiner. You of all people should've heard the rumours." He teased before presenting the bottle he had poorly hidden behind his back. It was hard to see clearly even with the moonlight, but Bertolt recognised the shape immediately, and evidently so did Reiner, who perked his head up like a dog excited for a treat. Jean's smirk grew even wider, "Turns out meat isn't the only thing they keep in that storage room."

"Can you believe Sasha went all this time taking food without telling us about this?!" Connie’s whispers were growing increasingly loud by the word.

Conveniently, Reiner didn’t seem tired anymore. The cogs in his head visibly turned before he awarded himself with an approving nod, a glimmer of interest flashing past his eyes. Bertolt furrowed a brow.

Bringing attention to the lingering silence, the smug boy teased further, "Just say you want in, Reiner."

"Ah, what the hell." The boy made his way down the ladder of their bunk. Bertolt only watched as he strayed further away from him. “What’s one drink anyway?”

With his hand on his hip, Jean squinted to the motionless silhouette remaining up in the bunk-- he had wondered why Reiner’s shadow looked eerily three-dimensional. "Hey, Bertolt, you should come too."

Connie raised an accusing brow, "Yeah, you avoiding us or something? You never want to join us for anything lately." He twisted the lid back onto the bottle with Reiner bent down next to him, who rather than tying his laces had lazily tucked them inside the flaps of his boots. "It’s a day off and everyone's turning it in so early! Tsk."

"Well, it is after midnight." Jean picked the jagged nail at his pinky. “So, Bertolt, how about it?”

They stared him down with anticipation.

“Oh... thanks, but,” The stirring excuse in his mind fell from his lips, "I’m... okay. I was falling asleep anyway."

“Aw, lighten up, would you? What's the harm in one night?" Reiner zipped up his sweater, muttering in response to the hesitance in his voice. Bertolt shot him a look that said more than words would have. The you know why look.

"Well, if you change your mind, we're at the lookout.” Jean shrugged and raised a shushed finger up to his own lips, “Oh, and don’t mention this to anyone. We’re not supposed to be out this late."

They made their way out of the dorm, mumbling nonsensically amongst themselves. There’s an eager skip to their steps, especially Reiner’s.

"Reiner."

Bertolt called out quietly, halting his blond companion in his tracks just before he wandered far out of reach.

He watched as Reiner motioned the two others to continue without him, “I’ll catch up with you.” A whisper of reassurance falling from his lips as he turned back to their bunk, looking up at Bertolt with an attentive but impatient gaze. An immediate tension sparked between them, fixed eyes and an uncomfortable pause.

"You... remember why we're here, right?" His voice was a low, cautious murmur. Reiner frowned, noting the precarious look in the boy’s darting eyes, as though wary of who might be listening.

"...What kind of question is that?"

"Then why do you keep getting closer with them? Reiner..." The blanket was now balled into his fist. He sank in his spot, bemused with the cadet’s rationality. "This is getting too risky. Any distractions will take us further away from… you know."

“Huh?” The boy defensively crossed his arms. "Where’s this even coming from? I didn’t say anything when you had a blast with Sasha and the others over that stolen meat last week."

Bertolt ashamedly averted his gaze, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel some form of relief for Reiner’s vaguely grounded demeanor-- something growing frequently uncommon these days. "Is that why you started avoiding them out of nowhere? Anyway, nevermind that. Quit being so paranoid."

"I… I don't want you to forget about..."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Look, Bertolt, you've been stressed out lately. I can tell. You should take the opportunity for a break when it presents itself. Blending in is the best option we have right now." Bertolt blanked on all the counter-arguments he’d once rehearsed to himself in the showers in preparation of that very statement, and before he could even whisper another word, Reiner concluded, “Just hurry up and get dressed.”

Resigned, he watched impotently as the blond boy tip-toed warily to the door, a faint squeak squeezing out from the occasionally loose floorboard. He watched him disappear from his sight, his shadow following closely after him.

Now alone, he fell back in his bed, releasing the now damp fabric from his grasp. The rumbling snores of the other trainees filled the air, and he was left staring up at the ceiling with his thoughts eating away at him.

It isn’t like me to get so worked up over all this... especially this far in, he fidgeted with his hand, his thumb rubbing restlessly against the fold of his finger. The thought of it being so obvious that he was stressed somewhat unsettled him.

“Blending in is the best option we have right now.”

He agreed, of course he agreed. The whole point of them being here revolved around blending in. And yet, hearing those words fall from Reiner’s lips felt starkly different than the other previous times it had been uttered.

Bertolt felt fine being an actor, as ‘fine’ as one could feel with this double life. Playing a silent type came naturally, so it was easy enough to avoid slipping out anything rash or being the centre of attention, even though it did make him a little uneasy at the start being surrounded by all the victims of his crimes who wouldn’t hesitate to slit his throat in seconds if they ever found out who he was-- especially that Jaeger boy, whose eyes were lit with a scorching fire from the moment they met, and who made him nervous whenever they locked eyes.

Committing to that lie meant putting a stop to his empathy-- no, it was a necessity to waste away their empathy if they ever wanted to complete their mission. His refusal to blow it all away over these people was far stronger than the biting urge to care for those around him. He made sure to routinely remind himself of that fact.

The mission needs to be my only priority, Bertolt tossed around on his mattress with his eyes sealed shut, his intention to fall asleep overwhelmed by his own mental reflections, And if all goes well, we can live to see our hometown again.

That was the initial plan, and yet... Reiner had... a different idea of blending in.

He started off on the same page, of course-- the idea of staying low was something they had all mutually agreed on. They spent a week before their enlistment fabricating their lives, what could and couldn't be uttered, and designated days of the week that they could not speak to each other in order to wean off any evidence of connection. And for a little while, it went smoothly.

Sure, it was lonely at the start-- Reiner being the only person he really spoke to-- but…. it needed to be done.

However… not even a month after their introductions, he had already risen to the top with popularity, harmoniously deemed the 104th’s older brother; someone who always lent a helping hand, who was honest and courageous, a true soldier that everyone looked up to... including Bertolt himself, although he would never say it to his face.

Bertolt, by default, was dragged into the mix just by existing as his spectating shadow, and as the weeks flew by, he too slowly found himself effortlessly bonding with the others, to the point where sometimes, his newfound friends-- a word he had tried to force himself to stop using-- actively sought him out for idle chatter, friends who lit up with warm greetings whenever they crossed paths.

Frankly, it made him sick with something he couldn’t yet put a name on. A sickness that nagged at him mercilessly, driving him to the point where he would actively avoid the others, just as Connie and Reiner accused. It wasn’t in him to be cold and push away people with harsh words and an intimidating face; he’s no Annie, her blunt honesty a natural talent. He envied her for that… no, he envied Reiner too.

Reiner, who although had already broken nearly all of their spoken rules, was so readily able to put on a complete front without the notable anxiety that Bertolt suffered whenever he got a little too comfortable with any of their... friends. It scared him more than anything to watch Reiner slip in and out of his facade, reason being that at times the warrior was such an excellent actor that it became more common to find him in his soldier role.

He feared he was losing the only person in this cruel world that understood what he had done and why he had done it, apart from Annie, who didn’t acknowledge him much. Even she seemed to enjoy spending her time with the Jaeger boy and his friends-- quick glances here or there in the lunchroom, skin contact during their sparring that lingered for far too long, the genuinity in her rare smile that she hardly ever gave to either of them.

He didn’t mean to stare like some weirdo, truly, but how could he not? Reiner had started off the same way, and if she got just as dangerously attached as he did, then… then I’d be the only one left with the sins on my back.

It wouldn’t be him, Reiner, and Annie, the three cold-blooded murderers responsible for all the pain and destruction and tears and bloodshed in their comrades’ lives.

It would be just him, only him, alone, with the weight of thousands of rotting corpses on his shoulders. A burden so heavy that not even his colossal titan would be able to bear it.

The thought made his heart skip a beat, and he immediately shook it away. It was only recently a full year since they started training, and yet things were already spiralling out of his reach. He couldn’t pretend to ignore the fact that day after day, Reiner only seemed to get more cozy playing pretend-- going as far as to look visibly confused during one particular incident (out of many), where Bertolt had brought up, in private, a certain topic that only the two of them would know about.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Huh…?” The taller of the two had scrunched his face, bewildered at the warrior’s genuine puzzlement. He had scanned the area, toying with the idea that maybe Reiner was warning him of someone on their tails. “What do you mean? Is someone listening to us right now?”

“What? No. What the hell do you mean, ‘when we broke the wall’?”

“...Huh?” Bertolt bore an alarmed look on his face as Reiner slowly came to, “Did… Did you forget...?”

“Oh… R- Right… I- I shouldn’t joke about that, I…” Reiner had began shaking, all the blood draining from his face. “S- Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Bertolt sighed in defeat, sitting upright in his bed as the fleeting thoughts stirred in his mind, brewing a stew of anxiety within him. Tomorrow was one of the first days off they've had in a few months.

A single night wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like I’m going to drink or do anything physically demanding.

Shifting his legs out from the comfort of his bedsheets, he made his way down the ladder.

And, besides... This way, I can watch over Reiner. He does tend to overshare when he’s… not in the right state of mind. I’d hate for him to ‘remember’ without one of us there.

Bertolt pulled up both his socks past his ankles, glancing out the window just as three familiar trainees sneakily made their way in the direction of a trail just at the outskirts of the training base.

It might be kind of fun to tag along with him, too.

"I won't have to worry about that once I'm in the Military Police."

"Jean, you just won't shut up about that, will you?" Connie smirked. They paced leisurely alongside one another, a lantern in Reiner's grasp that dimly lit the path in front of them.

"You’re pretty sure you’re gonna get in, huh?"

"Please. Have you seen my scores lately?" Bathing in his own pride, the pungent stench of alcohol escaped from his mouth, "I'll be damned if I'm titan fodder by the end of this."

A soft breeze blew past them. Reiner scoffed lightly, "Well, you're honest at least. But I'm not too sure a statement like that’ll be popular with the girls."

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" Jean quirked up a brow, "It's better than acting like I'm tough shit going head on against titans when in reality I'd die the minute I stepped outside the walls. If anything, you'll always know what to expect from me."

The shortest of the bunch helped himself directly from the bottle, poking the irritable cadet next to him, "Hey, Jean, if you keep hinting at Eren in everything you say, people might get the wrong idea."

"Huh?!"

"Or the right one." Reiner added icing to the tease.

"You..." Jean gritted his teeth, but just before he had the chance to retort back, the snap of a twig sounded from behind.

A pitter patter of footsteps approached. The three ceased their wonky legs as they reluctantly turned to meet the figure, half-expecting a bald-headed instructor to be towering over them promising certain death.

To their relief, it’s only Bertolt with another lantern in hand and faintly huffing out of breath, the flame dancing raggedly with every step he made.

"So, you decided to show up, after all."

"Yeah, sleep wasn't going as planned."

"Heh, I guess it isn't really the same without you two together." Jean smiled warmly at the taller boy before widening his eyes, an imaginary flame dancing just the same right above his head. Switching his attention back to Reiner, he spoke quickly before he forgot the petty words in mind, "You sure it's me people’ll get the 'right' idea about, Reiner?"

"Huh?" With the slight tilt of his head, Bertolt mimicked a confused puppy.

"Oi, oi, don't drag him into this!” Connie easily resembled a prepubescent child next to the colossal cadet, amusement painted over his cherry red face.

"You and Eren aren't so different than you think, Jean. You’re both hot-headed and stubborn." Reiner shook his head, "It’s a miracle you two aren’t best friends. Maybe there’s truth to that whole ‘opposites attract’ thing.”

"Shut it! I'm not anything like that suicidal bastard."

“Yeah, you’re right. Eren clearly has better comebacks.”

Connie snickered, grinning from cheek to cheek at the recollected memory that played in his mind as a result of Reiner’s snappy comment, “Eren cracks me up sometimes. What was it he said the other day? Something about Jean having a soft skull? Or was it his big head?“

“Oh yeah, ‘your head’s too big to fit in the interior.’” Reiner choked on his wheeze, the lantern in his hand giving out a rickety squeak from the sharp movements his heaving breaths forced out of him, “Milk came out of my nose after that!”

They howled at the hilarity in unison, sharing more insults Eren had once uttered and flat out dismissing the fuming boy next to them, whose lips curled as though he were a chained mutt ready to snap its jaws. Clenching his fists, he turned to Bertolt in hopes that someone as timid as him was on his side-- but to his dismay, Bertolt’s cheeks had dimples burrowed in them and his eyes squinty with mirth, stifling his laughter with wavering lips.

“Assholes!” Jean snatched the bottle from Connie's grasp and gulped down a modest amount before kicking away a rock from his path. He stormed at a pace faster than the others, the damp mud slushing out from where his boots clamped down-- much like hot wax under a stamp. “I didn’t even start this!”

“Oi, wait up, you’re leaving dents in the ground!” Connie hollered, rewarded another dry snort from the burly blond cadet.

Reiner admittedly began to feel bad, the cold shoulder from the scowling boy needling at his heartstrings. Clearing his throat, he dulled his laughter in an attempt to settle a truce. “Come on, Jean, losing the fight so soon?”

Jean debated whether he would continue to ignore them for the rest of the night, a hotness in his chest that only grew with intensity. He looked down at the bottle before glancing over his shoulder, Reiner’s tearfully amused but apologetic face staring right back at him.

Reiner could hear the boy carrying himself down from the boiling point, inhaling deeply and steadily. Jean slowed his legs to an equal pace again, “Yeah, I guess I am.” His words were gradually more jumbled by the second, "Besides, Reiner, if I really were like that bastard, then Mikasa wouldn't leave me alone for two seconds. Tsk."

"Still eyeing Mikasa, eh?" The blond boy remarked with a grin, "You’re right, though, I doubt she'll let go of Eren any time soon."

His face was suddenly redder than it had been, albeit it was unclear whether it was from the embarrassment or the alcohol. "Huh? I'm not 'eyeing' her. It's just that seeing them together all the time makes me sick."

Reiner and Bertolt crunched their faces in disbelief. Bearing a lost face, Connie deciphered their words, gasping with delayed awe the moment he completed the puzzle. He bursted at the top of his lungs, nearly springing off the ground, "Woah, wait, you like Mikasa?!"

"Idiot! Sh- shut up!" Jean shoved the smaller boy playfully off the trail, almost missing his target completely due to his deteriorating motor control. He looked around cautiously, "I don't like anyone!"

"Right. And Eren doesn't hate titans."

"Okay, Reiner. What about Krista? I've heard the way you talk to her. Talk about obvious!" The flustered trainee attempted to prod back, only to have Reiner laugh in his face once again.

"Jean... Do you really want to do this again? And so what? At least I can talk to her instead of staring from the sidelines." Jean gritted his teeth, frustrated that Reiner always seemed far too confident to put on the spot. "I mean, look at her. Do I really have to say more?"

Is he being serious? I always thought that was his way of blending in.

Bertolt frowned, now falling behind the group.

He should know it’s irresponsible for any of us to… look at anyone here that way.

"Don't talk so big, Reiner," Connie downed another swig straight from the bottle, "From the looks of it, Ymir's already won that battle. She'd never let a beast like you get too close."

Jean let out a brash sneer and Reiner felt his eye twitch involuntarily before falling silent with resignation, switching the lantern to his other fist as his palm grew suddenly moist. "Ah, whatever." He exhaled, swiping the bottle from Connie's fist and glugging down a sizzling mouthful, "Give me that! I barely had a taste."

“Oi, I was still--!” Connie dove for the bottle to no avail. It was a losing battle-- the larger boy holding it high above his bald head before tossing it over to Jean. Grumbling, he pulled out a crumby loaf of bread from his coat pocket, “Agh. Jerk. I was getting hungry anyway.”

“What the hell? Why do you have a loaf of bread in your pocket?!” Jean interrogated, “And where’d you even get that from?”

“What are you, my mom? Who else is gonna give one to me?” The three began to stumble over their feet far more often than before. "Speaking of which... I think she’s kind of cute, too… S- Sasha, I mean. Not my mom." The smallest cadet tipsily confessed, nearly tripping over a tree root sticking from the ground that caught his foot like a bear trap. There was no response. "What? Nothing to say for me?"

"Connie, that's not exactly a surprise for anyone.” Reiner murmured. “If anything, she probably feels the same way."

"You think so?!" He squeaked like an excited child, stars in his eyes.

"Agh, don't show off." Swirling the half empty bottle, Jean turned to Bertolt, holding it out for him to take-- a pop once he flipped off the lid, "Don't you want some?"

The taller boy paused for a moment as he glanced towards Reiner, who wore a laid back smile and a flushed face, a sure absence in his eyes.

Bertolt looked back to the offering hand.

"No... maybe later."

Jean closed the bottle again, indifferent in his tone. "Suit yourself." He cleared his throat, taking note of the quiet cadet, who followed at a slower pace than the rest of them so that he was the only outlier of their close formation. "But what about you, Bertolt? You've been quiet this whole time, as usual."

"Oh… What about me?"

"I mean, has anyone caught your eye?"

“And don’t lie.” Connie budded in, his cheeks full of dough.

"Uh…! Well…" Bertolt smeared his clammy palms down the legs of his pants, "No… no, not really."

"Come on, no one? What about Mina?"

"She's…” He paused. It wasn’t often that he gave out compliments to the other trainees, especially for the reason they were inquiring. “...nice. But no."

"Really? Hm." Jean, with various names of their mutual acquaintances swimming in his head, scratched his chin. Suddenly, a name came to mind. "How about Annie?"

A bead of sweat rolled down Bertolt’s temple. Reiner shot him a less-than-subtle side-eye, the sly grin on his face making another brief appearance before he turned to the path again, awaiting the meek response he knew was coming.

Connie exclaimed abruptly. "Yeah! She's sort of cute. Except for that one time I went against her in hand-to-hand combat."

"I'm not asking you, you drunk."

"N- no, not… not her either." His face burned up, more sweat pricking at the back of his neck. It was initially chilly outside when he had caught up to them-- he recalled his shivering, wishing he’d put more layers on-- but now it felt like the midst of summer heat.

"Yeah, right. You have to at least think she's cute, right?"

"Er…!” Bertolt felt their waiting eyes on him. I don’t want to say no but… “Sh- she's... okay, I- I guess."

"I'd say she's more than 'okay' for you, Bertolt." Reiner snickered faintly, the floodgates of intoxication bursting wide open. He winked clumsily to a wide-eyed, open-mouthed Bertolt-- his drunken attempt at being inconspicuous.

“H- Huh?!” Bertolt's vocal chords faltered, cracking a lot higher than he intended. He stammered over his words, trying with clear effort to appear unfazed despite the petrified look on his face, "Wha- what's that supposed to mean, Reiner?!"

"Come on. How could I not notice? With the way you..." Reiner disappointedly murmured to himself before stopping in his tracks at the realization of what he slipped out, "Wait. I didn't mean to say--"

There was no taking it back though-- the dam already overflowing with scandalous knowledge and the two others sprinting with the conclusion. Connie gawked in astonishment, an enthused hop to his feet, “Seriously?! You like Annie, Bertolt?!"

"Shut up! Don't announce it!" Jean quickly shushed the boy before he had a chance to utter any more words. He then turned with an approving smirk, "Not a bad choice though, Bertolt."

Bertolt felt a sudden urge to sprint in any direction screaming. His face flushed bright red hand-in-hand with his ineptitude to speak, but to his fortune, it was dark enough that the others couldn't tell.

I can still get out of this, he nodded faintly to himself and opened his mouth to speak, I just have to sound… normal...

"Eehh?! N- n- no! I, um..." He scavenged hopelessly for words to find, rubbing his slimy neck with a jittery hand. "Reiner's just…! He's just…!"

“So that’s what that sleeping pose was the other day…” Connie thought aloud before raising a finger to the stuttering cadet. “I know exactly what you should say to her tomorrow!”

“This should be good…”

"B- But I- I didn't...!" Words failed him. A coherent sentence was near impossible at this point. The frog in his throat only grew more restless as all the worst-case scenarios raced through his head. He couldn't trust those two loud mouths with something like that. Annie was sure to find out eventually. What if someone was following them and overheard? What would she think if she found out?

Not that I actually like her, he told himself, Of course not...

Reiner observed the frantic look on Bertolt's face-- who stood shaking his head in denial as the two others giggled merrily at him, hyping him up with crude pick-up lines they suggested he use towards the girl in question-- and he let out a chuckle. "I'm just kidding, you guys. Too much to drink, I guess." Playfully driving his fist into Bertolt's shoulder, he gave his comrade another painfully obvious, intoxicated wink of don't worry, you're safe now.

"Too much to drink?! You had, what, two gulps?"

"They were really big gulps." He mumbled incoherently before loudly clearing his throat, dismissing Jean's comment, "It was a dumb joke, that's all."

The two turned to Bertolt with an eager gaze, deflated curiosity, and inflated skepticism. "Oh..."

"So, who do you like, then?"

"I- I told you, no one!"

A hot wave of relief rushed through his veins and he felt like he could breathe again. Jean and Connie glanced at each other briefly only to shake their heads, amused with the open book on their hands. Despite not buying the blatant lie for a second, they both non-verbally agreed to a new silent code: Don’t bring up Annie in front of Bertolt, ever.

They sat at the top of the lookout that overviewed the lake down below.

It was a clear night, the moon emitting a radiance so bright that it illuminated the entire forest around them. The stars pulsed accordingly and the cool breeze sifted through the frail leaves that lingered on the branches, whistling a light wind song. It was especially breathtaking tonight-- Bertolt had always enjoyed coming up here with Reiner or a book in hand-- however, being the only sober one left, the others were too busy drinking and laughing amongst themselves to enjoy the view with him.

"This thing's almost done." Connie tapped on the glass. "Hey, Bertolt-- huh?"

They perked up at the boy getting lost in his own thoughts as he took in the scenery. Giving out a mischievous smirk, Reiner wobbled forward, taking the bottle from the smaller boy on the way.

He wrapped his arm abruptly around an unsuspecting Bertolt, who startled as he pulled him down into a half-hearted headlock. "Come on, Bertolt." Reiner urged, his bitter breath smacking directly into his comrade’s nostrils as he softly placed the bottle into the grasp of his slender fingers. "Finish it off."

"Yeah! For Annie!" Connie cheered as he broke the silent code almost immediately. 

"Eeh!? Stop!" Bertolt whined, sheepishly sinking into himself, "R- Reiner already said that was a joke..."

"Bertolt, for all we know, this is the last time we get hands on any booze until we’re actually out of here." Jean yawned as Reiner released the boy from his hold, "Shadis looked pretty scary when he said the next person he caught would face 'dire consequences,' whatever that means."

The timid cadet glanced at the bottle in his grasp. Why did he have to drink it? He didn’t even tag along to drink in the first place.

He turned to the three, shaking his head. “No, I… I think I’ll--”

They all waited in suspense, the blond soldier especially, whose goofy smile took up his whole red face. Bertolt wanted to laugh at the ridiculous sight, but instead he permeated with further indignation, a bitterness inside him hot enough to burn his chest. Reiner’s carefree demeanor only sought to torment him, driving its fist deep into his gut.

Aren’t you even a little jealous? It taunted. He’s having fun. You’re the only murderer here.

The three soldiers continued to egg him on. He clenched his jaw.

How? How could he willingly put himself in this situation?
Doesn’t he see that it’s dangerous?
Doesn’t he know what he did?
How do you even forget something like that?

...Doesn’t he know that I’m alone right now?

“Um…” Bertolt blinked before breaking into a soft chuckle. He popped off the lid, a vague tremble in his grip as the fluid crackled within the glass, "I... guess it's fine."

They roared triumphantly, notably Reiner, as Bertolt cleared the bottle in one swift chug. Connie, with far too much excitement for his small body to contain, had unknowingly dropped his loaf of bread in the middle of it all, stomping on Jean’s toes in the process. Bertolt winced sourly at the flavour, forcing it down again as it ran back up his throat before he joined the group in their howls of nonsensical laughter.

It didn’t take very long for the pressure on his shoulders to lift in a wave of tranquility. He’d been drunk only once before, albeit just barely, with Reiner and Annie during their settlement days after they had curiously stolen a half-empty bottle off a lazing garrison soldier and hid out in a back alley. Reiner had promptly laughed at the sour face he gave after every sip, before of course Reiner himself was next, who grimaced just the same and lied through his teeth that it tasted good. And then Annie, who had called them idiots for doing something so reckless, caving in to the childhood curiosity and immediately spitting out the burning fluid once the taste hit her tongue.

It was the first time they had had a genuine laugh since the breach of the wall-- no, since Marcel was devoured. He’d forgotten what that felt like, until now. But even that day felt nowhere close to the warmth that coated his skin now.

It felt… amazing. He didn’t have a care in the world. Genuine ease. And it came in addition to an out-of-character willingness to speak his whole mind. Sure, it was heavily influenced by the copious amount of alcohol he had just consumed in one go, but it was genuine nonetheless.

They were lounging on the ground now. Too weighed down to move their limbs, Connie laid back snugly on the grass that to his surprise, felt just as comfy as his own bed. Bertolt's skull was made of stone, where even the thought of standing on his two feet was a mission in itself.

"I can't wait until we graduate." Connie stated confidently, staring up at the stars, "That'll show folks back home. 'Too short to be a soldier,' ha!"

"That's the spirit, Connie! Didn't Shadis praise you for your 3D Maneuver Gear performance last week?" Jean sounded genuinely curious, plucking out strands of grass from the bottom of his boots. “That’s really impressive.”

"Yup! That was before he screamed at Sasha and I that afternoon, though..." He recollected the day with a shiver, "Ah, well. I'll prove him wrong once I'm out of here. The next strongest soldier here I come!"

Jean responded optimistically, "That’s hopeful. Even though we still haven't seen an actual titan."

"Yeah, that's true. For all we know, we'll all get devoured in the process. It's really only a matter of time."

The group chuckled softly at the comment, but faded into an uneasy silence towards the very real possibility. Connie widened his eyes.

"O- oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Sighing, he trailed off from his failed attempt to take back his words. Instead, he made an addition, his voice croaky and faint, "But, hey... if we do all end up surviving this, do you guys think we'll still be friends?"

"Of course."

"I just mean, would we still see each other even after 20 years? Or would we..." His chest steadily rose and fell. He hesitated for a moment. "Do you think with what we could see out there... would it change us? Would we go separate ways?..."

"...Would we still have nights like this?"

Connie’s eyes fell from the night sky, an indefinite pause that followed his question. “Sorry... again.”

"...I guess anything's possible. We’ll be in the interior by then if you all decide to join the Military Police, so it’ll be easy to see each other. But..." Jean sighed, "Anyone going for the Survey Corps probably wouldn't have the highest survival rate even if you get past the first year, especially in this climate… where another attack could happen at any moment..."

"Hey... why further bring down the mood, Jean? I..." Reiner scolded the trainee but cut himself off, an ominous fog sneakily making its way to the forefront of his mind that held him from saying more-- a fog different from the drunk clouds that floated pleasantly around his head.

It was unsettling, as though he were forgetting something vastly important.

"I'm just being realistic."

"Too realistic, maybe." Connie murmured, quite somber in his tone. "I do want to join the MP, but sometimes I’m not too sure. Agh." He held his head, "I wish we had another bottle."

"Yeah. We should probably go soon anyway. We can’t sleep here on the-- shit. I forgot about the mud."

Bertolt's increasingly drunk, absent mind took complete control of him, his befuddled thoughts fluttering past his brain before he could even remember what they were. Even so, he did overhear their concerns in the midst of trying to lift himself up from the ground.

The two bore solemn faces now, rather than the loud mess they'd been five minutes earlier. He looked to Reiner, awaiting whatever brotherly advice he had in stock, but to his surprise, Reiner wore the same pondering face as Connie and Jean.

Bertolt inhaled deeply, that at ease feeling still lit like a fire inside him. He wasn't going to let a couple of pessimists take it away from him.

He cleared his throat.

"I think we’ll do fine." Slurring heavily, his head lolled back slightly as he propped himself up with great effort. They all turned to him, "We're... capable... for the most part."

A soft smile formed at Reiner’s lips that promptly blew away the menacing fog from earlier. "...Yeah. We are." Bertolt had given him the perfect segway to continue on a light-hearted path. "There's no point in settling on a fate that might not even happen."

Bertolt turned his head from the view of the lake to Connie and Jean and offered a reassuring nod that looked more like he had almost tipped over in place. Reiner finally noticed that there was something different about the way he held himself; he was honest with his words, his chest puffed out with confidence. Something he's never personally seen before.

Bertolt's head felt spotty, words carelessly flowing past his lips. "Things’ll work out, in the end... I think…?"

Connie's face lit up with relief, solace surging within him, "Yeah... you're right.”

Jean’s skepticism remained strong, however. "Heh. It'll only take 50 years. Or another hundred."

"How about this then," Although he spoke firmly, there were long pauses in between his words as though he nearly forgot his point midway, "If we all survive this... and in 50 years... when we're all old and weak..." Bertolt proposed, a light in his eyes brighter than the stars above him, "We can have another night like this."

They looked up at him with heartfelt approval. Reiner's mouth was agape, dumbstruck by the boy’s promise. Was he even looking at the same person?

Is this how Bertolt looks at me when… when I… "Ha," He shook the creeping thought out of his head, "You're drunk, Bertolt."

"It’s wishful thinking," Jean raised his brows, taken aback by his routinely meek friend's unexpected assertiveness, "But I'm on board."

"Me too!" Connie enthusiastically joined in.

Slowly, they attempted to rise from their spots to no avail, only succeeding in stumbling like drunk fools.

Bertolt gripped onto Reiner’s sleeve for support with the poorly executed intention of picking himself up, nearly taking the burly cadet back down with him in the process. The ground spun underneath him, and he swayed back and forth searching desperately for his footing, driving his heel straight into a manifest of ants bombarding Connie’s fallen loaf of bread. Reiner quickly acted as a coat hanger as the boy collapsed, hooking up his arms from under Bertolt’s armpits, and with team effort and sheer upper-body strength, he was able to get the absolute tower of a companion to finally balance still, one foot still buried deep into wriggling ants that were now making their way up his boot.

Reiner fought the urge to laugh hysterically, but steadying a lanky human being taller than himself turned out to be harder work than he anticipated, especially all while he struggled to find his own feet.

Jean on the other hand toppled over twice, spitting out pebbles from his tongue before managing to balance on his two feet, his knees painted with grass stains and his rear with clumpy dirt. He kissed his teeth, glaring at Connie, who cluelessly pulled stuck leaves from his pants. “Asshole, you’re supposed to help me up!”

"Man, 50 years though? Can't we move it down to 20? Or… 10?" Connie looked to Bertolt, "Hopefully by that time, all the titans decide to kick the bucket."

"And maybe the colossal titan will stop being 60 meters tall." Jean patted down the back of his mud smeared trousers, shooting out a cloud of dirt from the fabric with every swipe of his hand.

Connie cackled, "That'd sure make it a lot easier to kill."

Bertolt shot his eyes wide open.

Ants began to emerge from beneath his boots, a valiant few pinching their pincers through the leather and laces as the rest scattered in a frenzy, carrying their squashed, fallen comrades back to their base.

Huh…?

It truly was a beautiful day five years ago, especially from 60 meters up where he could see everything there was to see, from the flourishing green mountains in the horizon, to the fleeting birds amongst the clouds that contrasted nicely with the orange-yellow gradient of the evening sky, to each and every carefully crafted home beneath him. It was a beautiful city, he thought, notably the eye-catching stream that ran through it, where the rays of the sun tinted it a twinkling light blue.

A timeless sight flashed before his eyes; the gathering of people in the middle of that beautiful town, gawking up at him with their mouths agape and their eyes wide, too frightened to scream or run or do just about anything to stop him-- what could they have done, really?

And then, a crash almost as thunderous as his initial transformation. There was a faint shrieking that blew up with the wind. He almost hadn’t noticed.

Bodies flew like ragdolls from the sheer force of his kick, and faint clouds of ash and smoke slowly rose to the gradient sky as shards of the gate collided into the streets, mangled limbs smothered under rubble. Men, women, and children flocked in all directions like startled cattled, leaving behind a trail of lifeless souls-- bruised and broken and battered-- unfortunate enough to have been caught under the stampede of frantic feet.

He didn’t think much of it from up there. Up there, it was just a beautiful city. Up there, it was just a target. In fact, it wasn’t until he was on the ground disguised as one of them that he… understood.

Helplessness looked far, far worse up close.

His heart fell to his stomach at a lightning speed that would have pulled him to the ground if Reiner’s hands hadn’t been supporting him. Time felt frozen, leaving him paralyzed as though he were a statue, a cold sweat running down his spine that shot up the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Oi, don’t put your foot there.” Reiner directed, too distracted to pay any mind to the words being thrown about. He shook down his bug-infested pants. “There’s ants all over your legs.”

I... forgot...? How could I forget...?

"Who knows," Connie continued, "Maybe in 50 years we'll finally get rid of that thing."

"We'll still have the armoured titan."

"That one too!"

"Yeah, right. I'm just excited for that drink."

Reiner went as stiff as a board, fragments of broken glass merging together in his mind, reflecting a distorted image of himself. He forced down the lump at his throat. This wasn't the first time.

Connie rolled his eyes. He did a double take towards Reiner and Bertolt, who were both off to the side looking visibly uncomfortable-- notably Bertolt.

"Reiner? What's going on?"

Reiner swallowed hard again, "Huh? Nothing." He promptly responded, a shake in his breath, "We- we should head back."

Not quite convinced, Connie wrinkled his brows, Bertolt’s horrified expression striking a worried chord inside him. "Bertolt?"

Did I really…

Bertolt's hands began to tremble. He felt sick to his stomach, bile rising to the back of his throat.

...Did I really forget…?

Stolen meat with Sasha.

Book discussions with Armin.

Helping Connie study.

Despite all these moments shared with his... friends, he still knew why he was here. It wasn’t as if it didn’t take a toll; the paranoia, the restless sleep… but even then, he’d always made an effort to avoid outright remorse. Any moment of warmth was never truly genuine-- at least that’s what he swore to himself-- his priorities always resting in the forefront of his mind, pushing away the force directly behind it: guilt.

But this time was different.

For a moment, in his thoughtless, irresponsible state, he truly believed it-- believed that they would end up together in this cruel world.

For just a moment, he truly believed they would remain friends.

His whole body shook, an earthquake erupting inside him. The alcohol wasn't exactly much help in his efforts to suppress his emotions as everything came crashing down all at once. The anxiety, the doubts, the regrets… they weighed him down like heavy chains.

Promising false hope...
Why did I think that was a good idea?
Am I that much of a monster?
How could I do that to...

...My friends?

His breaths went shallow, the thoughts within his head racing faster than the pounding his heart gave against his chest, pleading to break free.

Maybe I was the one who got too close, who blew away the entire plan-- not Reiner.
Maybe I...

He pondered how Reiner was able to withstand this without the guilt and the nausea. Without feeling dirty in his own skin.

He didn't know anymore. He couldn't breathe.

"Bertolt?"

He buckled over onto his hands and knees and began to vomit, a searing burn in his throat as he retched to the ground. The others could only watch, taken by surprise.

“Hey…” Jean gulped, breaking into a nervous chuckle, "Maybe chugging down that entire bottle was a bad idea."

“Yeah, I didn’t expect you to actually drink the rest.” Connie joined in warmly.

Reiner stood back in concern as the tremoring boy beneath him expelled the contents of his stomach. He knelt down next to Bertolt, placing a gentle hand on his back, the humps of his spine quavering underneath his fingertips whenever he gagged.

"Bertolt... Are you alright?"

Drool rolled down his quivering lower lip as he tilted his head towards Reiner, a watery glisten in his eyes. He was pale, and he looked… afraid. It’d been a while since he had witnessed the emotionally reserved cadet in such a fragile state, and he didn’t know how to react.

He recalled a much smaller Bertolt weeping occasionally, typically regarding their shared heinous crimes, and time after time he’d rush to comfort the boy to remind him of what was important-- their mission, going back home, each other. As they got older though, his gaze only grew emptier. He still held his sensitive nature, of course, Reiner knew all too well because of how easy it was to embarrass him. But… he became much more quiet, even with him.

After they had enlisted, it was only by accident that he would sometimes stumble in on him with his breaths shaky and his eyes red, rushing desperately to hide the very sight before spouting some poor excuse as to why he was on the verge of tears. Looking out for his own was one thing Reiner excelled at, and it kept him up at night knowing that for the first time ever, he couldn’t look out for him. Their conversations only deflated of substance over time, going from late night chatter and long talks on the way to the lookout to worried glances and repetitions of the same words.

“Reiner, this is too much.”
“Reiner, you shouldn’t get close to them.”
“Reiner, why did you promise Eren that?”
“Reiner… do you remember?”

Bertolt retched again. Not much came out this time.

He recalled the same feeling months before, back when he was crowned the poster-child of a soldier. The stomach-turning feeling of recalling what his mission was as he laughed amongst his friends or had long and deep conversations about the future was something so frequent that he must have forgotten what it felt like to collapse to his knees for the first time. It was a torturous cycle; forgetting and remembering what he was there to do, then forgetting all over again in the same day. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it or why it happened, but what he was sure of was that his ‘forgetful’ side was awarded the privilege of being freed from the weight on his back otherwise.

Blending in is our best option, he told himself over and over, but even he couldn’t ignore that every time he felt the need to protect someone who wasn’t Bertolt or Annie, and every time someone trusted or confided in him... the role that he assured himself was for the sake of the mission grew eerily more comfortable to nest in.

He would never tell Bertolt this though, especially not now, especially after the countless times Bertolt had anxiously warned him not to get attached.

A hint of nausea loomed in his stomach, and for a brief moment he too felt like hurling to the mud beneath his boots.

No, that can’t happen right now. I have to do what I do best.

Reiner cleared his throat and forced a teasing smile, "I guess this is the price of fun, huh, Bertolt?" He cackled uneasily, attempting to help his friend back up on his feet but wavering too much to get him past his knees.

I have to… be there...

Connie and Jean rushed over to assist.

For him.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I’m…" Bertolt’s unintelligible efforts to articulate his words were lacklustre at best. The world relentlessly spun around him, fading in and out of his vision. “Sorry. I’m… so sorry.”

“Huh? What for?” Connie begged the question, noting the dazed look on Bertolt’s face. He shrugged, “Who is he even apologizing to?”

"Who knows. Probably to himself once he wakes up tomorrow." Jean snorted, tipping over slightly in his place before catching himself against a tree, "Come on, you drunks."

The walk back was silent and tedious, two warriors trailing slowly behind, faced with the challenging obstacles of inconveniently placed rocks and obscured tree roots.

The next morning, Bertolt woke with a severe migraine and aching ant bites over the skin of his leg.

The thighs of his pants wore freckles of wet dots where his tears had fallen, his chest heaving raggedly as the distant memory flapped its wings inside in his head. The only force concealing his hiccupping breaths and involuntary whimpers that dared to escape his lips was his hand that clasped firmly over his lips, a steady flow rolling down from his eyes and over the cracks of his fingers.

Bertolt gritted his teeth, folding his fingers into a fist as another tear melted into his dust-stained trousers. He pulled his legs away from the edge and hugged them close.

"Can't sleep either?"

A familiar voice croaked from behind. Bertolt widened his eyes, his breath escaping his lungs. As he quickly wiped away the salty traces at his cheeks, Reiner sat himself down beside him, crossing one leg underneath the other. "I was dying for sleep just a few hours ago, but... now it seems like I can't get any."

Bertolt turned his head slightly away in another poor attempt to hide the evidence that he had been crying. The red eyes had given him away though, and the fact that Reiner had been awake for the past several minutes.

"R- Reiner, you..." Bertolt’s voice trembled far too blatantly for his own comfort and he stopped himself before he could mutter another word, which resulted in an uncomfortable silence that left him squirmish on the spot. Reiner took note and folded his brows before looking straight ahead.

"...You can cry. Today was... shitty." He put it bluntly, taking the boy by surprise, "It's not like we have to play a role anymore."

Bertolt felt a wetness roll down the crease of his nose, to which he shakily wiped away. He sniffled, shifting up from his spot as if to stand, "We... we really should try to rest..."

A hand softly grasped the fold of his arm, pulling him back down. Reiner’s touch was oddly comforting, and a feeling of ease washed over him.

Reiner bore a sincerity in his eyes. "Bertolt." There was a reluctance within him, as though he were thinking of a way to word the sentence that followed.

"...Back then, at that castle-- No... way before that. Did I...?" He gulped, "Did I... really forget about our mission? About returning home? Everything?"

Bertolt blinked away, hesitant to respond. He could tell Reiner was just as defeated as he was, his armour shattered and his raspy voice alone indicating a sure emptiness. He was a husk of his former self at this point, and it had already been a long day.

Sighing, he went straight to the point, "Yeah. You did."

Reiner surveyed the scenery, his eyes following a dog-like figure in the distance, near the trees. A wolf, maybe, or a stray.

"...I see."

He tapped his thumb restlessly against his thigh, watching the dog-like animal wander aimlessly.

Looks lost. Maybe he can’t find his pack.

"So, whenever I... forgot, you were the only one left with our mission."

"Yeah."

"You..." Reiner turned his attention to the resigned warrior next to him, who refrained from looking away this time. "You must have felt… alone."

Bertolt sank, "...Yeah."

They were both silent as they shared the view below, almost as if admiring the same falling leaves from the trees, the twinkling of the river, the serenity of the sky.

"You were right, Bertolt." Reiner sounded disappointed with himself, "We should have always been on the same page, but I... got too close."

His eyes darted the landscape, but the dog-like creature he sought was nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry.”

Bertolt scanned his broken companion who now wore the same face as him-- tears welling in his eyes and dark circles painted underneath them. He swallowed.

"It... wasn't your fault. We spent three years with them. Even I... felt..." He trailed off, "I mean, we were all friends."

Reiner nodded in agreement before releasing an abrupt and half-hearted scoff. He shook his head slightly, an exhausted smile resting at his lips, "You really can't take an apology, can you?"

"E- eh? S- Sorry…! It’s just... what's done is done. We can't change what happened." Bertolt sheepishly explained himself, bewildered by the unforeseen change of expression. "Apologies are... redundant, at this point."

I don’t exactly deserve one, he wanted to say instead.

"See what I mean?" Reiner wore the same vaguely amused smile.

Bertolt was always taken aback by how quickly the warrior was able to slip into this big-brother mode even in a hopeless situation like this. Reiner was always looking out for him, even when he himself was at his lowest. It was a part of him that he especially looked up to, or rather, that he cared so much for.

He was his home away from home; the only thing left keeping him sane.

He’d already almost died several times within the past 24 hours alone, and for at least three of those instances, he would have been long gone without his partner. And with that brooding in his mind, he couldn’t help but feel like a drag-- like his presence was a burden for his companion, and he was nothing more than an extra body that Reiner had to worry about.

It was true that more than anything, he wanted to return the favour. He wanted Reiner to feel like he could rely on him for once. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that at the rate they were going with their risks and close calls, he'd be dead before he ever got the chance to return that very favour. He’d be dead before he ever got to see home again.

At this point, it was almost a certain possibility.

A grim pit of impending doom nested in his stomach. Deep down, he hoped that if he wouldn't live to see his hometown ever again, that at least Reiner would make it back home for him, in his place. That at least one of them would make it back, someone he cared about, someone who deserved to see their hometown again... only then he could be at peace.

But... they lost the coordinate-- No, he lost the coordinate all because he couldn’t contain his anger-- and Annie is... gone. Probably somewhere dark, and hellish, having unspeakable things done to her by these evil people. The possibility of either one of them making it home seemed to stray further away by the day.

Bertolt’s face fell with dread.

"Bertolt," Reiner called, snapping him out of his teenage gloom. "I won't leave you alone this time."

"...What?"

"I'm not going to forget our mission and leave you stranded again. We're all going home for sure, no matter what." There was a fierceness in his eyes, a look of determination. "We're going back together."

His breath quavered. Those were the words he needed to hear. Reiner's firm reassurance, his steady but assertive voice that sounded nothing short of absolute.

He eyed Reiner with his mouth slightly agape. "Y- Yeah. We are."

Tears sprung back into his eyes at the thought of their goal being seemingly so far away, and yet, with Reiner looking at him and from the bottom of his heart assuring that they would both be okay, and that they would both make it home in one piece… tranquility rushed through him. He wiped away the wetness with his sleeve.

We could do it. Together.

Bertolt shot back a composed nod-- there was only one scorching fire behind his eyes now.

"We're going home."