It's strange to feel Eren's gaze on him. Not because Eren never watched him before, but because this particular sort of scrutiny is new. Back in their world, Eren looked at Reiner with hatred; before that, with admiration. But now? Reiner doesn't know what to make of the look in Eren's eyes, the weird apathy that seems to settle whenever Reiner isn't demanding a reaction.
He doesn't like it. Doesn't like being unable to read Eren's emotions like an open book, the way they used to be. Doesn't like looking across the table and not having a damn clue what's going on in Eren's head. It makes Reiner feel jumpier by the second, itching to drag something real out of Eren. Something genuine. Something passionate. Something that doesn't skim the border of indifference.
He'd prefer Eren's loathing to indifference. He'd prefer blood and lightning.
But Eren just sits there, calmly eating, only pausing to comment on how little Reiner knows about the future. Another taunt, maybe, but not one with any fire behind it. Either way, it's true enough. No one has sat down with Reiner and given him a full explanation of events, nor has Reiner asked for one. It seems unimportant at the moment. He has enough to do, what with learning how to survive here and negotiating truces with people from his past. Future. Whatever.
Maybe later, once he's adjusted to this place, Reiner can ask about his world. Maybe he can find out what went wrong, learn what he needs to fix when he returns home. For now, it's not a priority.
Then Eren asks another question, one that even Reiner isn't sure he can answer. It's not that Reiner can't think of any reasons: it's that he can think of too many. Why did he come with Eren? Easier to ask, why wouldn't he follow when presented with a chance?
His gaze drifts to the side, idly watching strangers milling around, utterly unaware of how abruptly their lives could end. I keep thinking about kissing you, Reiner could say, as if his ill-conceived lust could be summarized with such a statement. As if he's not out of his fucking mind, wanting Eren the way he does. I keep dreaming about you, he could confess, but he wouldn't know whether to describe them as fantasies or nightmares. Sometimes they're both, sometimes they're neither. Sometimes Reiner awakens convinced he's still atop Wall Maria, spending long days watching the horizon, waiting for Eren to appear. Other times, he wakes up thrashing, shouting for Bertolt to attack before Eren's Titan completely cracks his Armor.
It's a good thing his apartment is soundproof. Otherwise, he'd probably have concerned (or irritated) neighbors banging on his door in the middle of the night.
In any case, neither answer would be wholly truthful. Reiner would prefer to fuck Eren, but he expects a fight. He doesn't know how this particular meeting will end. Figures he'd be fine with either outcome. It's the uncertainty that Reiner dislikes, leaving him on shaky ground when he needs something solid, something with which to anchor himself.
Why did he come with Eren? His gaze finds Eren's again, gold eyes locked on green.
"Who knows," he says. "Maybe I spent too many years chasing you."
Chasing Eren here—that's familiar, at least, even if it's just to the food court. And for whatever reason, Reiner doesn't want to stop. Doesn't know if he even can.
Five years—five fucking years out of thirteen—Reiner spent hunting for the Coordinate. He didn't always know that Eren was his target, but he didn't stop once he started to suspect it, even if he knew victory would spell Eren's death. What else was he supposed to do? What else could he do after all that hardship? Pass the task off to someone else? Allow another kid to experience that hell?
No, it was better that it was Reiner. Better that Eren knew his enemy. Better if someone would at least try to keep Eren alive once they reached Marley.
(He would've tried, wouldn't he? Can he convince himself that he would've tried?)
He's quiet for another moment, watching Eren's hands, of all things. He still hasn't answered Eren's earlier question, but…
Fuck. He makes a face, realizing that if he wants Eren to stay, he'll probably have to concede a little more. So he wets his lips, then meets Eren's gaze again.
"I was in your hometown," he says. "You'd sealed up the outer gate a little while ago."
It doesn't reveal his most recent memory: Captain Levi's blades piercing his spine and heart, the power of the Armored ripping through his body, twisting his insides, making him convulse on the ground before lighting poured in and out of him. But it's close enough.
"Nice job, by the way," he adds, "mastering hardening so quickly. How'd you manage that?"
no subject
He doesn't like it. Doesn't like being unable to read Eren's emotions like an open book, the way they used to be. Doesn't like looking across the table and not having a damn clue what's going on in Eren's head. It makes Reiner feel jumpier by the second, itching to drag something real out of Eren. Something genuine. Something passionate. Something that doesn't skim the border of indifference.
He'd prefer Eren's loathing to indifference. He'd prefer blood and lightning.
But Eren just sits there, calmly eating, only pausing to comment on how little Reiner knows about the future. Another taunt, maybe, but not one with any fire behind it. Either way, it's true enough. No one has sat down with Reiner and given him a full explanation of events, nor has Reiner asked for one. It seems unimportant at the moment. He has enough to do, what with learning how to survive here and negotiating truces with people from his past. Future. Whatever.
Maybe later, once he's adjusted to this place, Reiner can ask about his world. Maybe he can find out what went wrong, learn what he needs to fix when he returns home. For now, it's not a priority.
Then Eren asks another question, one that even Reiner isn't sure he can answer. It's not that Reiner can't think of any reasons: it's that he can think of too many. Why did he come with Eren? Easier to ask, why wouldn't he follow when presented with a chance?
His gaze drifts to the side, idly watching strangers milling around, utterly unaware of how abruptly their lives could end. I keep thinking about kissing you, Reiner could say, as if his ill-conceived lust could be summarized with such a statement. As if he's not out of his fucking mind, wanting Eren the way he does. I keep dreaming about you, he could confess, but he wouldn't know whether to describe them as fantasies or nightmares. Sometimes they're both, sometimes they're neither. Sometimes Reiner awakens convinced he's still atop Wall Maria, spending long days watching the horizon, waiting for Eren to appear. Other times, he wakes up thrashing, shouting for Bertolt to attack before Eren's Titan completely cracks his Armor.
It's a good thing his apartment is soundproof. Otherwise, he'd probably have concerned (or irritated) neighbors banging on his door in the middle of the night.
In any case, neither answer would be wholly truthful. Reiner would prefer to fuck Eren, but he expects a fight. He doesn't know how this particular meeting will end. Figures he'd be fine with either outcome. It's the uncertainty that Reiner dislikes, leaving him on shaky ground when he needs something solid, something with which to anchor himself.
Why did he come with Eren? His gaze finds Eren's again, gold eyes locked on green.
"Who knows," he says. "Maybe I spent too many years chasing you."
Chasing Eren here—that's familiar, at least, even if it's just to the food court. And for whatever reason, Reiner doesn't want to stop. Doesn't know if he even can.
Five years—five fucking years out of thirteen—Reiner spent hunting for the Coordinate. He didn't always know that Eren was his target, but he didn't stop once he started to suspect it, even if he knew victory would spell Eren's death. What else was he supposed to do? What else could he do after all that hardship? Pass the task off to someone else? Allow another kid to experience that hell?
No, it was better that it was Reiner. Better that Eren knew his enemy. Better if someone would at least try to keep Eren alive once they reached Marley.
(He would've tried, wouldn't he? Can he convince himself that he would've tried?)
He's quiet for another moment, watching Eren's hands, of all things. He still hasn't answered Eren's earlier question, but…
Fuck. He makes a face, realizing that if he wants Eren to stay, he'll probably have to concede a little more. So he wets his lips, then meets Eren's gaze again.
"I was in your hometown," he says. "You'd sealed up the outer gate a little while ago."
It doesn't reveal his most recent memory: Captain Levi's blades piercing his spine and heart, the power of the Armored ripping through his body, twisting his insides, making him convulse on the ground before lighting poured in and out of him. But it's close enough.
"Nice job, by the way," he adds, "mastering hardening so quickly. How'd you manage that?"