[ He knows that she knows in the way she reacts; the widening of her eyes, the soft oh that she lets out. He knows she wasn't there for it; he hopes whomever told her broke it to her gently. That she didn't have to find out second or thirdhand.
(He never spoke to Armin, while he was here, about it. Armin only confirmed that Annie had never actually been harmed, and Bertholdt still struggled to believe him until this moment).
He ignores the crown, shuffling a little closer. He doesn't want to loom over her, and abruptly drops to one knee so that they're mostly of a height, with her sitting on the bench. ]
It's me.
[ He confirms it still in that soft voice, cheeks turning a little red despite himself. He wants to reach out to take her hands in his own, to know she's real; he remembers how much she hated contact and doesn't, instead letting his fingers dig into the fabric of his pants.
;)
(He never spoke to Armin, while he was here, about it. Armin only confirmed that Annie had never actually been harmed, and Bertholdt still struggled to believe him until this moment).
He ignores the crown, shuffling a little closer. He doesn't want to loom over her, and abruptly drops to one knee so that they're mostly of a height, with her sitting on the bench. ]
It's me.
[ He confirms it still in that soft voice, cheeks turning a little red despite himself. He wants to reach out to take her hands in his own, to know she's real; he remembers how much she hated contact and doesn't, instead letting his fingers dig into the fabric of his pants.
Almost shyly, ]
... I missed you. I'm glad you're okay.