Chapter Text
He’s heard somewhere that there could be answers at the bottom of a bottle.
But after seeing two that looked like nothing but smooth glass and tasted like nothing but warm bitterness and left an acrid furry feeling on his tongue, it was almost hard to remember why he’d even bothered searching in the third. But there was still more left, and Reiner hadn’t stirred from his sleep, and Pieck hadn’t said a word to stop him.
Not that she would.
Not when she understood.
Not when she felt the same sadness and despair, one she covered up by sitting quietly and worrying over everyone but her.
Porco slouched forward, letting the weight of his head drop, letting his neck hang loosely from his shoulders.
His head was full of buzzing thoughts, ones not even the bottles could silence. In the barracks it was impossible to let them out, he couldn’t bleed them off as yelling or turn them into fuel for a fight. Besides, the man he usually fought had already been beaten. Reiner had let himself be caught, let himself be insulted, let himself take the brunt of anger for them.
Reiner had saved him.
Not that he deserved to be saved.
The man lying on the bed twitched, a groan escaping him.
Porco looked over, and shook his head.
There was no end to all this pointless anger, but it was all he’d had for so long. The wheels of the world were turning and he had no idea where they were taking them all. Not even Pieck knew. But the way Reiner shifted, restless, a frown etched into his forehead. He’d known all along.
Maybe it was time to stop punishing him.
Maybe it was time to stop.
A gasp cut through the heavy silence. Reiner sat up with a start, a thin sheen of sweat shining on his brow. He looked down at himself, the surprise evident. Like he didn’t believe he was alive. Like he didn’t want to be.
“Have a nightmare or something?” Porco didn’t need to ask, but he was tired of this silence and this wine and this scene playing over and over.
He was tired of this feud. Tired of war. Tired of asking himself if he’d wake up and who of his friends wouldn’t.
He offered the rest of the bottle to Reiner. There wasn’t much left. But there was something. And maybe the answers still sat at the bottom of this one.
“If only it was all a dream.”
If only.