Archive of Our Own ^beta

The world is still as slow as it was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.

If he puts his mind to it, he can recall how it was once: evening wind grazing his forehead, his sweaty bangs, the well-known habit of swatting them aside, the sun bouncing off the clouds scattered all over the sky no matter the hour. Time was faster back then, when the feeling of the unknown had his lungs in a chokehold, his eyes widening in surprise whenever something unexpected happened.

That's not going to come back anytime soon, he knows, and doesn't mean he's ever accepted it.

His hair is longer, frames his face in a weird way, he feels. He has no access to mirrors, and he doesn't need them anyway. Limping around is second nature by now, just like the coiled tension gathered around his knee, where bone and tissue beg to grow back and heal, but Eren won't allow them. He's gotten pretty good at putting aside what others want, lately. Not that it hurts any less.

There's roughly a week left before the festival, and Falco's little smile has grown wider. Not surprising. He helps him up whenever they're done talking, listens to Eren's words with bated breath, his gaze piercing, alive, dynamic, a complete opposite of his own.

Someone else has the same eyes as Eren in this place, which brings him to what he's currently doing, a constant, ever-present ringing in his ears that accompanies him through it all.

He's not doing it on purpose, but he realises only too late that he might be following Reiner around. Eren spotted him after he parted ways with Falco, knowing he'd never bump into him and make things difficult before the festival, so it came natural. Back then, in the future, it made sense.

Out of the gate, down the road, Eren follows while keeping his distance with some effort, doesn't matter if he's limping: Reiner is a slow walker, turns out, and it doesn't help that people stop him to talk left and right, their eyes full of admiration, of gratitude.

Eren had those eyes once, too. He remembers- he sighs through his nose, seeing himself much shorter, looking up at Reiner's clean-shaven face, his hair so short, and he looked so big, imposing, strong, he knew everything and could do anything he wanted.

Now he simply walks around, his beard more noticeable than the day before, bangs falling in a disorderly fashion over his forehead, no light whatsoever in his eyes. He walks, and walks, Reiner walks a lot, and Eren follows, wondering what will happen if he forces the Founder's hand.

They aren't supposed to meet before the festival starts, sure, but Eren's used to Reiner's new appearance already; still, whenever he turns his head it's like seeing him for the first time- and the last, when he's going to tell him everything, when all will be said and done.

Eren keeps walking forward, following his lead, gaining courage with every limping step. Zeke is not around now, and he can always manipulate these memories later, or before, at some point in time, whenever it is.

He only turns around when Eren recites, straight from a very near future that is already in the past, "hey, Reiner."

It's happening, but at the same time it's not: when the words leave Eren's mouth, and Reiner hears them, they're gone already. He marches on, the loud rumbling of the Colossals filling his ears, thick crossroads of blood left behind, and he's here with Reiner, the incessant chattering of carefree people serving as background, Liberio still intact, their gazes meeting with both curiosity and fear.

"Eren...?"

He could never forget him, no matter the appearance, and this goes for both of them. Eren nods, once, just barely, anticipation flooding his stomach as Reiner's eyes widen, and widen, ribcage expanding as he takes in the surprise.

"It's been four years."

It doesn't matter in the slightest, and at the same time it's the most important conversation Eren's ever had in his whole life.

"How-"

"How?" he mocks, recites, "is that really the first thing you want to ask me?"

He'll say it again, he's said it already, he's saying it now. Reiner doesn't know: he won't remember all this, not here, not until it will happen down in the basement, when Eren will have mastered his words and how to deliver them properly.

Reiner's eyes are wide, it's the first- third, Eren corrects himself, third time he's made him feel like this. He averts his eyes, glances at the tallest building in the distance, can trace by heart the pattern it follows as it crumbles under the footsteps of the Colossal Titans.

"I... I don't..."

The festival might as well have started already: laughter in his ears sounds like screaming, and screaming sounds like laughter, rubble and dust hit his face like expensive perfume worn by high-ranking Marleyans, the same who will wage war on Paradis then kiss their children goodnight in the evening, as if nothing happened.

Reiner- a fixed point in time and space, present and past and future, always taller than him no matter what, he's here, and for a few seconds Eren understands how time is supposed to flow, all over again.

"What?"

He wants to reach out, but he doesn't, because that never happened in the future he saw.

"Why did you come here...?" he murmurs, his voice somewhat deeper than what Eren's heard in the future, or will hear in the past: he almost smiles, bitterness slicing up his tongue, cutting it open like a fish. Always the same words, the same expressions, the same disbelief: not even the powers of the Founder can win against this man.

Now this is where he'd say, to do the same thing you did, but he won't, not yet. This is different, unplanned, the eyeless gaze of Ymir the Founder digging a hole in his head from side to side. Eren tries to steer away from the path, he says: "I wanted to see you again," and Reiner opens his mouth, furrows his brows, ready to answer- that is when the earth shakes beneath his lone shoe, he grasps the crutch tighter than before, blinks and he's struggling to stay awake, alive, inside the Founder Titan as he marches on, laying waste to the world.

So, he undoes it all, right as Reiner gasps, "what do you mean," Eren can see the words leave then snap back on his lips, rolling backwards down his throat, surprise deflating from inside his ribcage, the background voices chatting in reverse, so he limps back, all focus is gone from Reiner's eyes, and it's like they never met, now that there's meters of distance between them and Reiner is turned the other way.

He can try again tomorrow, but then Eren asks himself, when is tomorrow? Ymir kneels down in the middle of the road, her worn clothes stained by sand, and she starts to build something with fake purpose pulling at her arms like puppet strings.

Back to the present: Eren tries again immediately, indulging in his own impatience, leaping through time with little care since everything's happened already no matter how he puts it. He limps forward, again, people talking louder and louder, then it gets more quiet as he proceeds, closes the distance between him and Reiner, as if he were draining the life out of the city around him, like stepping on wilted flowers.

Ymir never smiles, and now he understands why.

"Reiner," he gasps this time, blinking away the image of the little girl, eyeless, staring into his soul, "Reiner," louder, because he didn't hear him the first time.

He turns, slowly, and Eren is afraid for a split second, for a whole hour, for months, that he'll see Ymir's face: it's just Reiner, of course, and he recognises Eren immediately- how could he not?

"We need to talk," spits Eren, almost- he disobeys, or at least tries to, because he sees her in the corner of his eye, small blonde girl with tattered clothes, completely still, waiting, pulling his spine back up to make him stand as he's supposed to.

Reiner should now say Eren's name, then ask him how he got here, in this specific order- that's what he did every single time.

"...is it you... for real?" grunts Reiner, his eyes wide, not unlike the other times: his fear grows slowly, it's not a cold shower as usual. Eren bites back a small soulless smile.

"No," he lies, Reiner frowning immediately, Ymir standing up, "it's not me."

None of this happens at any point in time, he can answer how he wants, because no one will remember these words, these moments, the feelings of this specific little window in time. Reiner keeps staring at him, as if he were a mathematical problem too hard to solve.

Hard to say who tries to reach out first- hands rising at the same time, while eyes devoid of light gaze into each other, though Eren knows he stops first because there's another Ymir now, standing beside Reiner and looking up at him, unmoving.

"Eren," gasps Reiner, almost out of breath, as the last minutes they lived together turn back, time flowing backwards, a mockery of everything that's true and grounded, a third Ymir appearing out of nowhere between the two of them: there's no movement of any kind involved, Eren didn't even blink, it's like waking up after dreaming of falling from a very high place and suddenly the ceiling of your room is there, blank and unresponsive, just like the Founder's eyeless gaze.

So, just like Ymir wanted, Reiner forgets all about him in the span of a few seconds, and the more he does, the more Eren feels empty, the world around him regaining its colour, as if he could somehow undo what he did in the future, what he will do in the past. As if anything made any sense.

Reiner turns his back on him, once again- please teach me how to master the ODM gear properly!, a smirk, twinkling eyes, full of light, then the wind blows, a flagpole breaks, I'm the Armored Titan and he's the Colossal Titan, screaming, so much screaming on top of those tree branches, pleading, I want to disappear, please, kill me, and then-

and then he's gone, leaving Eren one step behind, as always, no matter the direction he's turned in. No matter how tightly fate binds him to what will happen in the near future, past, whatever, Reiner will always find a way to untangle himself from it and fall down, down below where nothing makes sense and you can only get back up and move forward.

Reiner steps forward, away from him, and Eren burns, his eyes throb, nostrils flaring, spine twisted and pulled back to make him obey, ribs closing in on his beating heart, like a bird in its cage: no one will mind the one-eyed amputee gripping his crutch like his life depended on it, dirty grey armband staining his coat.

Reiner won't mind.

Why do I try to reach out for him, mouths Ymir in Eren's voice, still in his peripheral vision, and he knows that if he'd turn she'd disappear, what does it matter, then.

"You don't know," murmurs Eren to himself, not daring to blink too fast, breathing normally, trying to remember what happens next.

I feel like I'm being burned alive, are the words forming on her lips, moving with no sound, no weight, Eren standing still in the middle of the road, sunlight hitting the back of his head as if it wanted to set him on fire.

"You don't know," he repeats, as time rattles, stretches, then flows in the proper direction once again, Eren's empty gaze lingering on the shape of Reiner's shoulders, the back of his head, his hair glowing under the morning sun.