Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun is setting. 

It’s last rays of light colouring the sky above a mix of warm, earthy tones. Oranges lay the base, whilst paints of pink and purple sandwich above and dominate the sky above. And despite all of that, the air outside remains vigilant in its humidity, consequently keeping residents outside in shorts and indoors with the air conditioning on.

Bertholdt smiled whilst he awed the view outside. He may not enjoy the busy streets during the day time, or the horribly sticky weather, but he did appreciate just how much of an artist the sun was.

Beside him, the couch’s cushions dip rather quickly. He turns around and smiles wider yet softer at the man beside him. “Reiner.” 

Reiner smiles gently back, leaning over to plant a kiss on the taller’s cheek whilst looping his arm around his torso. He chuckles at Bertholdt’s pink face, desperately wanting to point out how his cheeks and nose matched a quarter of the sky outside. 

“Did you enjoy using all your new body washes and skincare?” The black-haired asks, leaning into him. “I’m sure you tried them all out just now.” 

“How did you know?” Reiner replies back, mildly baffled. Bertholdt scrunches his eyes and nose up in a small giggle, quite confused himself on how his partner didn’t notice the time. Or how much his fingers must’ve shrivelled up under the water.  

“Because you were in the shower for 45 minutes. Annie and I thought you had died or something.” 

The blonde scoffs in an attempt to hide his flustered face. Bertholdt hides another laugh. “Well, with just how nice some of them were, I felt like my heart was fluttering to a stop.” He cocks his head to the side after the dramatic compliment, subtly and slowly leaning it against Bertholdt’s shoulder. He’s utterly exhausted from the day that had just played out. It was long, but extremely fun. 

Bertholdt and Annie had both completely splurged on this day, so to speak. Not only did he receive such thoughtful gifts that he wasn’t allowed to know the price of, he also was treated to a wonderful lunch at his favourite restaurant, as well as coming back to be surprised by a little party of sorts, with all of his college friends and their friends. It wasn’t like the ragers he had been to before, where he’d come back unable to walk straight and wake up with the worst hangover known to man, but instead it was a chill celebration that didn’t leave their apartment looking like it had been raided. Overall, Reiner had appeared to have enjoyed it, as he had gone up to everybody at least three times to thank them for coming, and he had thanked those who organised it tenfold. Twentyfold, even, if that’s a word…

Bertholdt hums, pressing a kiss to his forehead like he was not-so-subtly asking for. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t die. Your skin is so soft right now.” He peppers more across his face, the ticklish sensation extracting a small laugh out of the blonde man.

“I couldn’t die on you guys, not after you did all this for me. Seriously, thank you.” Reiner says softly, the teasing tone in his voice fizzling out quickly. 

Bertholdt nods with a smile and a faint blush. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you two gonna eat these or not?” Annie asks as he walks in, immediately stealing the attention of the two on the couch. In her arms she held a box of donuts from a local bakery, with only three out of the twenty-four purchased left. 

“Which ones are left?” Bertholdt replies. Reiner sits himself up to get a closer look at the remaining pastries. 

Annie approaches the two and sits down beside them on the couch, showing them what’s left. “I’m having the lemon drizzle one, by the way. So you only have two to pick from.” Reiner chuckles and nods, taking the original glazed one from the box. 

“Bert, are you gonna have one?” 

Bertholdt shakes his head. “I’m not hungry right now. I might keep it for work tomorrow, unless you guys want it.” 

Annie takes her donut out as she nods and shuts the box, leaving it on the table for the time being whilst the two on either side of him begin eating. 

“What time are you at work tomorrow?” The girl asks him, shuffling closer to the two whilst Reiner turns the television on, leaving the screen on the first half decent movie that appears. ‘It’s a classic’, Reiner states, though Bertholdt and Annie cannot agree with him. 

Bertholdt takes a glance at the calendar on the wall beside him. “From ten until two. There’s not many people coming in because school and classes haven’t begun yet, so I’ve been on shorter shifts.” He tells them both. 

Reiner grins in a way that the two to the left of him recognise instantly. To Annie, and many others, it’s the stupid smile he makes when he thinks he’s said something funny. To Bertholdt, it’s a smile nonetheless. 

“Let’s hope you wake up on time. You tend to sleep like a baby after a long day like this.” He says, causing Annie to roll her eyes. 

Bertholdt wants to make a point that in reality babies sleep horribly, and Reiner should really know this as he lived with his younger cousin when she was an infant. Instead he shrugs, his eyes returning back to the view outside. He can’t get enough of how pretty it is, especially considering the sight befell on a birthday that he knows deserves it. 

He turns back to the blondes beside him and smiles, shaking his head. “I’ll wake up on time. I have an alarm, and Reiner never sleeps past nine am anyway.” 

Annie nods in agreement as she finishes her donut. “Yeah, I don’t know how he does it. Psychopath.” She focuses on the blonde man with the label, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“That’s because I go to sleep at a reasonable time.” Reiner retorts, eyeing her back in a similar vein.

“Ten-thirty bedtime for a 20 year old college student is reasonable? Seriously?” Bertholdt has to agree with Annie on this one. Although the duo don’t fit many of the college student stereotypes, one box that they do tick is the abysmal sleep times. 

“I do it even when I’m drunk.” 

“Yeah, and you’ll just pass out wherever you are in the apartment. You’re a fall risk, like an elderly person.” 

Bertholdt can’t help the small snicker that escapes him, and he swiftly covers his mouth. He reassured Reiner this morning that he wasn’t going to tease him for the whole day. Annie never agreed to such. The blonde girl breaths out a giggle too whilst she leans closer into the tall black-haired beside her. He runs a gentle rhythm up and down her back, his smile growing with her relaxing face. 

Reiner sighs in defeat and amusement. He shuffles down to lean his tired body against the other male once again, his head dropping on the shoulder. “I’m pooped. I could go to sleep right now, to be honest.” He mutters. 

“Well, don’t.” Annie replies, looking up at the clock. 19:36. “It’s way too early, you’ll be awake at like…four.” 

Bertholdt nods, pointing over to the TV. “And you like this movie. When it finishes, it’ll probably be a more acceptable time to go to bed.” He adds on as he reaches up and ruffles the blonde hair to his left. 

Reiner doesn’t say anything else, instead he simply shifts his focus to the movie and tries his best to stay awake until the end. Bertholdt stares as his expression stills into a soft, peaceful form. He appears relaxed and content, which is all he’s pleaded for him in the past year and a half. Now that his desires have come to fruition, a sense of proudness fills him from the inside out. He hopes the other man feels the same way. 

He turns as the feeling of slight pressure. His eyes direct him down, and he attempts to hide a light chuckle when he realises. Annie’s gentle fingers wrapped around his, the soft skin and cool temperature against his slightly rougher and warmer palms is comforting, calming. He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at the screen, simply letting his thumb run up and down her hand like a wave. 

Bertholdt feels warm. The summer heat outside had no effect on him, nor did his long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants, nor did the two bodies pressed up beside him. 

He simply felt warm. 

[Once the movie is over, and Reiner stands up to get ready for bed, the warmth continues. Even when Annie eventually retreated to sleep early too, the feeling persisted.]

Chapter Text

Blinking his eyes open, Bertholdt’s first thought is the streak of sunlight passing through the gap in his curtains and blinding him whilst he emerges from dreaming. 

His second thought is that he felt sick. 

The feeling wasn’t something physical — although it rooted from his stomach and led to an uncomfortable sensation in his throat too. He knows he has not caught a bug, nor did he eat something bad last night. It’s a familiar feeling, one he’s known since he was little, and continues to meet throughout his day to day life. 

The third thing he realises as he sits up is a strange pressure on his temples. He sighs whilst he rubs his eyes to quell the static in its corners. He was no stranger to tension headaches, although today it feels especially prominent and unique. 

The fourth thing Bertholdt realises is that he’s alone in their bedroom. He turns to reach for his phone, turning it on and noting that it was nearly ten in the morning. He really should get up and join the other two for breakfast, smiling lightly to himself as he imagines just how hangry they could both get, especially in the morning. 

The pressure shifts ever so slightly as he stands up, leaving a dizzy spell to befall him. Bertholdt groans, steadying himself against the side of the mattress. He swallows in apprehension, hoping this feeling dissipates soon in time for his shift in the afternoon.

Once he finally feels grounded again, he walks out of the bedroom and down towards the bathroom. His attention is focused outside the window whilst he walks — it’s a sunny day with small bundles of clouds occasionally shielding the sun’s rays from the ground below. He notes himself to not put on a sweater today, as the temperature already feels rather warm. 

Bertholdt rummages through the medicine cabinet after he enters the bathroom and he prays that simple Advil will swat away his strange headache. As he takes the medicine, he recalls the last time he felt this way. It was the day where he had to do a group presentation. Despite not saying much, the overwhelming fear in his throat and desperate desire to stay home controlled him that day. Even when the presentation was over, when they got a good grade and then got to leave, he still felt the pit within him. 

He places the medicine back and shuts the cupboard, hoping he’ll be normal again tomorrow. 

“Morning, Bertl!” He hears Reiner greet him in a rather chipper voice as he enters their kitchen. Annie is sat on the island whilst she scrolls through her phone, however her attention is stolen as he walks in. 

Bertholdt smiles, relieved to see them. “Good morning.” He takes a seat next to Annie and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead which earns him a smile back. He then looks over at the man at work opposite him, clad in that silly little apron and without a shirt. “What are you making?”

“Avocado and eggs on toast. The avocado’s expiry date is tomorrow, so I thought I should just use it up today.” The blonde man explains as he checks the eggs.

Bertholdt nods, choosing not to say anything else. Quiet mornings like this were something the trio cherished. The outside world wasn’t loud yet, the early morning sun blanketing a calm atmosphere over the area. He quickly swallows at the thought of the rest of the day, however. The sun moving upwards and around, getting closer to his shift at work. He hunches in on himself slightly, the persistent feeling in his throat getting harder to ignore.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asks rather bluntly, causing him to jolt a little. He looks back over to her, now noticing her facial expression has changed. She looks less content now, more…worried? 

Bertholdt’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t answer. He looks over at Reiner who has a similar face, and he now knows there was no point in trying to conceal his emotions. They could read him like a book at this point, being able to analyse each page in seconds. 

“Ah, I’m okay,” He starts off, to which Annie squints her eyes at him. He shouldn’t have paused. “I just feel a bit more…on edge today, I guess.” 

Their faces’ morphed into understanding quickly. Bertholdt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure what more to say with their careful glances circling on him. There was much he or they could do, really. He’s known that for a long time. 

Reiner is the first to speak as he hands over the now full plates over to the two opposite him. “Something happen recently?” He circles around the island to sit by Annie’s side, however he pauses on his way there to press a kiss against the taller’s cheek. Annie gives a nod to say thank you to Reiner as she begins to eat, however her focus doesn’t attach onto the food. 

Bertholdt shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that.” He picks up the toast and takes a small bite, testing the waters in his stomach so he’s sure this sick feeling isn’t physical. “I just think I feel a little more anxious today. It happens sometimes.”

He didn’t mean to come off as defensive, and he hopes that’s not how the pair beside him perceived it. But not only was he almost certain it was simply just that, there was something nagging him to not make them worry. The thought wasn’t unfamiliar but it was old — pushing away people, especially his two partners, to stop them from worrying was a process he hadn’t practiced in years. He knows that it’s ok for them to study, to worry. 

So…why did he say that? 

“If you’re sure.” Annie replies, tone soft. “But you’ll tell us if it’s getting worse again?” 

Bertholdt stiffens, but quickly nods. You can trust them. You can tell them. 

The two nod and give their own gentle smiles, and Bertholdt reciprocates in the best way he can before finishing off his breakfast. It helps calm him slightly; the warmth and freshness of the meal almost quelling his nervous system.

“What time’s your shift today, Bertl?” Reiner asks, the topic changing with the blink of an eye — something the other man was very grateful for, until he remembers. 

The black-haired sighed shakily, taking a sip of his drink. “Two. I finish at around eight.” The more he speaks, the more he realises he doesn’t want to. And the more time that passes him, sitting with the people and in the place he could call home, the more he feels like he shouldn’t leave it. Thus, the day only begins to feel more weird, wrong. 

“That’s a late time for a library, don’t you think?” Bertholdt shrugs at that. Countless times he can recall being in a library way past eight at night, slumped over mountains of math and science textbooks and praying for the day he would never have to do this again. 

“Well, it’s getting closer to back to school. The opening times are starting to change so students have more time to come whenever they need to.” 

Annie gets up first, offering to take all three empty plates. Bertholdt and Reiner thank her, getting up from the table soon after. Subtly, Bertholdt feels Reiner’s fingers brush against his before their pinky fingers meet, knotting with each other. He smiles at the childlike gesture, and he doesn’t let go. 

“C’mon, we may as well chill before Bert has to go to work.” Annie mutters, tugging gently at Reiner’s sleeve as she walks past them and towards the living room. Reiner agrees, following behind the girl and lovingly leading Bertholdt along too.

The two sit on the couch whilst Annie rummages through the hall closet, pulling out a small thin blanket. It wasn’t very warm in the early morning, and their thermostat was still turned low. Bertholdt was relieved, however. According to the two beside him, he has always run hotter than others. And that seems to only be exacerbated during periods of anxiety. 

Bertholdt lets the majority of the fabric cover their legs instead. 

~

He felt worse. 

Bertholdt couldn’t wrap his head around how fast yet slow the day had gone. He was already well into his shift at the library. In fact, he was closing in on his break. Meaning he had already worked for three hours. Although it had felt like days.

He zones out whilst he stocks shelves at the back. Something about a new series of books coming out? He doesn’t remember, he only recalls agreeing so he could be out of sight. He really didn't want to interact with anyone today, as was made evident to his boss with the one word responses he was giving. 

The hours here felt like days, and so did the length of time from when the movie ended. And yet, he felt like he had only woken up minutes ago. The sensations he experienced only seconds after waking up had returned like a rash that he was scared to itch.

He regrets not taking a secondary dose of painkillers before he left. The pressure on and around his head kept returning, bursts of dizzying pain ricocheting through him almost rhythmically, like some form of pattern. Subsequently, the nagging lump lodged in his throat and twisting lightness in his stomach only continued too, leaving him regretful of ever coming to work in the first place. 

But—

[“Keep an eye on yourself today. Take it easy.” Reiner says, worry laced in his tone.

“I’ll be fine. It just happens sometimes.” Bertholdt says. He hides his uncertainty. Again, he’s not sure why.

Annie walks in and gives him a gentle smile as a goodbye. “If you want I’ll book you an uber home.” She suggests. Bertholdt shakes his head nearly instantly, not wanting her to waste her money. 

“Okay, well…we’ll see you later. Dinner should be ready when you get home.” 

He nods and says goodbye. He wants to go home already.]

He couldn’t just take a day off. That would be unfair. 

His actions slow as he repeats the conclusion in his head. Taking a day off felt unfair. But, why? He felt unwell, that was a fair reason. If he got his co-workers sick too (that’s if the symptoms weren’t psychological, of course) that would be unfair to them. But that’s not what he was feeling.  

Whatever. Bertholdt shakes his head, trying to regain any amount of focus whilst he continues to stock the shelves. He reminds himself just three more hours. 

It must’ve only been a minute or two since then when a familiar face comes into Bertholdt’s view. He straightens up a little, trying to mask his previous expression, whatever that was. “Lara.”

Lara looks up, lightly smiling at him. “Take your break. It’s past five.” She says calmly, her voice warm as always. He looks past her face, noticing how she’s already began to take over for him — simply continuing in shelving the books without making a big deal out of it. 

Bertholdt hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave all the load on her, especially since she’s been here longer than him today and he’s already been a little slower than usual. He looks down at the boxes by his feet, some still being full. 

“Go. You’ll be the only one in there, it’ll be silent.” She urges. 

Bertholdt exhales in defeat and nods. He’s unsure how she knew what he wanted, but he’s not going to protest anymore. It’s not like he’s ever been good at disobeying authority anyway. 

He gives Lara a small thank you before walking off, making his way to the staff room in the back. He passes by very few people, recognising many and unsure about the rest. His consistently weak presence throughout his life is a blessing for him today, with many of those he knew keeping their heads down and not even batting an eyelid to his tired steps. It’s only when he spots a friend, Armin, that he has to wave back. He gives the best smile he can and continues walking. When the blonde is out of sight, his stomach lurches once again. 

The staff room is small. A circular table sits in the dim corner of the room, and to its side rests the mini kitchen. A tiny fake marble counter, a microwave, kettle, and a small refrigerator. A window stands, however sun cannot reach inside. 

Bertholdt shuts the door behind himself, before quickly leaning against the weak wood to catch breath he didn’t know he lost. His chest spasms when he realises, a choking sound escaping his mouth with a bitter aftertaste. 

He sighs, a tremble running through him as he looks up at the clock. 17:11. He walks over to retrieve his bag, quickly pulling out the food box he made earlier, although now he doesn’t want to— can’t eat it. He sits down, he feels bitterly sick, his head pulsating  painfully only aggravating his desire to get out, that it was only getting worse again and he should’ve stayed away today. 

He loosely holds an apple in his hands. His palm twitches and slips in sweat, his fingers shake, the light grip threatening to drop the apple. He swallows. 

Luckily, his attention was stolen from the apple. Outside the window mere feet away from him he could hear rather erratic rustling, as if an animal had gotten into the dumpsters. It would happen sometimes, even if there was never much food in there. Bertholdt would always feel bad for them — how desperate they must be for food, to survive. 

Despite believing that the sounds were simply that, Bertholdt still walked over. His food meant nothing to him anymore, his sudden hyper-focus on the typical occurrence outside concerned him but didn’t stop him. His shaking hand palms the glass separating him from the fresh air, and he looks around the small alleyway area.

He passes both trash cans, the store to their right’s dumpsters and spots nothing. A cold sweat racks through his body, and he twists his torso to turn back to the lonely table. 

His eyes look downward as he moves, and—

There’s a bird. 

Bertholdt flinches, yet he does not look away. He cannot look away. 

Its angelic body was now lifeless, with pure white feathers wilting and rotting into a numb, drained grey. Plucks had already scattered around it, the majority lay still beside the snap of its wing. It was as if some had fallen off naturally, and others were picked viciously, with an intent to watch as it doomed itself. 

[He awakes. He’s cold. Everything hurts. What’s going on? Was he going home?]

Static green eyes look straight back at him. Although they will stay unmoving, the lasting impression stares daggers into him. They pierce and clutch with frantic hopeless hope. 

His throat closes up as he tries to inhale. He cannot feel himself.

[He is alone. He is stuck.]

He can no longer look it in the eyes. Splashes of deep red and black lay shining in specks of light on its open stomach, the contrast of its colours almost appearing like a painting. 

Paintings don’t have anything to lose or gain. He chokes on craving breaths as it comes closer and closer. First it stepped forward in curiosity, in hope. Now it knows what it can take without consequence, it is impending.

[He gasps.]

Scruffed paws almost seem to pet at the flesh, dirty up the spotless parts left rare on its body and whole on his face. It then leans down, sniffing at the rotten flesh, its dry nose dirtying with red. 

Then it dives in. Hungrily chewing and licking up anything it can take to sustain itself. Its tail doesn’t raise up, it doesn’t stop to pace itself. It doesn’t care. 

[He’s snatched up, an uncontrollable hand trapping and crushing at his body. He screams.]

The pressure returns in an instant, hugging and numbing his limbs. His knees shake terribly underneath him, yet he stays upright. His eyes remain fixed. They blur, they water, they hurt, and he does not look away at all. 

The bird’s feather twitches sway; a simple reflex. He knows that. And yet, a strained sob escapes him as he replays the scene in his mind, again, and again. 

It morphs.

[“Guys, please! Help me!” He pleads, yet it falls on rightfully deaf ears. He squirms, but he evidently cannot break free. 

He gets closer. He can feel the heat. He knows it’s hopeless, that he won’t be saved. He tries so hard to believe. But—

Teeth sink onto his head, slowly pressing down. Was it taunting him?

He screams once again, calling out into the air, and nothing more. 

“Annie! Reiner!”

It hurts. It hurts so badly.]

Bertholdt winces, groans, tries not to scream in pain whilst his head pulses pressure, each beat sending him weaker. His legs withers underneath him, and he stumbles backwards, giving him the leverage to dart his eyes away, to do anything to blind the sight from mind. 

He drops to the floor and shuffles back until he shoves himself against the cold poorly plastered wall behind him. His spine aches from the force, but he ignores. 

His left hand colours white as he grips his shirt whilst desperately trying to find air in his lungs. His thumb runs across the fabric repeatedly. He feels winded, as if the air was sucked from him purposely. As if he shouldn’t be alive. 

Bertholdt begs for air to reach him once again, he’s certain he’s about to die and he doesn’t want to. Clarity is gone, acceptance was never here — fear and agitated hope took its place. He wants to call out for help, to yell for someone to help him, to save him. He chokes on the names. 

His mind races, constantly lapping around yet never reaching what he saw. He cannot understand why he knows it’s all real, how he’s lived a life of hell before this one and never stopped to appreciate the second chance he received. He worries he doesn’t deserve this luck.

He brings his knees up to his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around himself and praying the pressure does something, takes him back to earth right here, right now, and erases the sights he used to see. He pleads to himself, voice low and hushed. (There are people just out there, get yourself together, He repeats.)

And he pleads again, and again. 

Gradually, Bertholdt collects himself. He cannot calm down, nor pull himself together like he wanted. As much as he wants to — with his mind now controlled by horror once again — he can’t curl up and break here. Instead he just has to stop. 

He stumbles up, gripping the windowsill for stability. He cannot face his hand, so instead he looks up the clock. It was evening, right?, he asks himself, before he registers the time: 17:36. His break is nearly over, the time passing by without acknowledging him, the starving cat, or the helpless bird. 

His head grounds itself slightly, and he can now walk on dithering legs. He stuffs his uneaten lunch away, lamenting on how he should’ve minded his business. (But something was forcing me there, I couldn’t ignore it.) He then travels to the bathroom attached and attempts to wash away distress from his paler face. 

He drags himself to the door that separates him from everyone else — and hesitates. 

He doesn’t want to go back out. He’s tired, his head is killing him, he feels sick to his stomach, and his limbs feel too prominent yet also weak. He wants to go home and sleep, to get rid of this nightmare. 

His apprehension didn’t stop at his physical state however, when he now remembered there would still be people there. Armin would be engrossed in his laptop yet still look up to give him a smile, his co-worker would stop him to say something, and Lara would no doubt find him to assign him another task. The thought of this just appeared impossible to him. But the idea of hiding in here until 20:00 was also impossible. 

He twisted the handle with a clammy hand and turned to the left as soon as the door opened. He didn’t look over at Armin, nor his co-worker. He once again travelled to a less sparse — practically empty — part of the library and meticulously scanned the area for something to do. If it got down to it, he’d just rearrange some books. Anything to stay away, to get this day done. 

But of course, he couldn’t avoid his manager. He sees Lara in the corner of his blurred eye, approaching him with a warm smile. 

“Hey, Bertholdt. I finished the shelves over there for you, could you—“ She stops, and he knows. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” He replies quickly, yet to anyone the words are uncertain and forced. 

Lara’s face softens. She stays silent for a few seconds, seemingly mulling over her choice of words. Bertholdt has worked for her for a few months now, and Lara knows more about him than most due to her welcoming, accepting nature. He knows she wants to ask more. He hopes she doesn’t.

“Uhm…well, do you mind taking the books people have returned today and placing them back on their shelves? The box is underneath the till.” She asks him, tone soft. 

He swallows and nods before turning away and towards the till. He turns his head to look behind him, and she remains there with the same expression. His breath hitches.

~

Bertholdt groans, leaning his head against the cold wall as a wave of pain wraps around his temples once again. His grip weakens on the pen in his hand whilst the sight is pushed to the forefront of his brain repeatedly. 

And he doesn’t understand. 

He doesn’t understand why he died, why he was being destroyed in such a terrible way. Wasn’t he just doing it to see his family and friends again? Did that condemn him so much to the point of death? 

Only people that have committed heinous atrocities die in such gruesome ways, they deserve it, he thinks whilst he picks his head up from the wall and tries to shift his focus away from the spiralling questions. 

His brain jumps to an unwanted conclusion. So I must’ve done something to deserve that, right? 

His grip returns, knuckles whitening and fingers trembling. Someone is mere feet away from him, half engrossed in their textbooks in their last few hours of studying — he needs to calm down.

He looks down at the paper, carelessly ticking off something he wasn’t certain they had enough stock for. He barely even realises at first, the significance of it being practically weightless, and when he does he moves on. Anything to get closer to leaving, to go home and sleep this all off. Whatever it was. 

This time, with the pain still ringing around and his attention being used to control his breathing, Bertholdt doesn’t notice Lara approaching him yet again, nor her low call-outs of his name. Then, a smaller, delicate hand brushes over his arm slightly. His eyes immediately dart over, and his guard lowers minutely. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles, tone timid. Now, he’s certain she knows something’s wrong. If her gentle eyes and creased brows weren’t already an indicator, then his reaction was entirely enough. 

Lara ignores the apology and hovers her hand over his arm before dropping it and quickly moving past. She keeps her warm smile however, and he can tell she hopes it’ll help. He does too, but it already feels futile..

“Why don’t you head home early today?” She suggests, although Bertholdt can tell the decision was already made for him. However he still looks up at the clock behind him, noting down the time. 19:30; half an hour before the end of his shift. He wants to make a point how he should stay and help close down, but the words barely make it out and Lara shakes her head rather quickly. 

She shifts her eyes to scan the area. “There’s really no one left, and we’ve been cleaning as we go today.” She explains. Her eyes quickly meet his once again though, this time her brows furrowing and voice mixing a firmness into it. “Go home, get some rest.” 

Bertholdt swallows dryly. He doesn’t want to, he’ll feel guilty, useless to everyone else. But he can’t put up a fight, not with how he’s feeling. He nods dimly, handing her the clipboard and bed when she holds her hands out. Just as he turns around, Lara stops him once more. 

“Take it easy, and let me know if you can’t come in on the 11th.” Is all she says. Bertholdt nods once again, thanking her silently and then walking away to retrieve his things. 

His breath quickens subconsciously as he enters the staff room, with his mind catching up when he looks at the window again. It’s long gone now, he knows that — both the cat and the bird are no longer there. Still, something is pulling him to look. With any amount of wits left within him, Bertholdt turns away and quickly exits the staffroom, and that desire is soon replaced with an overwhelming desire to go home. 

He keeps his head down as he exits the library, he doesn’t notice Lara’s concerned gaze that remains even after he leaves. He didn’t realise Armin had waved at him goodbye, and was now left confused on the blank. 

The cool rush of air finally gave his body refuge as he stepped outside, now gradually removing the sticky and hot feeling underneath his clothes. He feels gross, he needs to shower and scrub himself off again and again and again, until everything is gone.

I should tell Annie and Reiner I’m going to be home early, Bertholdt reminds himself. He rummages in his bag for his phone, neglected and unused for hours. He usually sends them a message during his break, however this time his last message sent to them was from yesterday. Unnecessary guilt twists in his stomach. 

He reaches one of their contacts, his shaking thumb nearly pressing the call button instead of the keyboard. The lump in his throat becomes more prominent. He tries to type something, anything (What’s the matter with you? They need to know you’re coming back.), but all that appears is forced gibberish and a deprecating feeling. 

Sighing in shaky exasperation, he gives up and puts his phone away. It’s not like he’ll be really early home, he knows they won’t mind. He’s not even that hungry anyway, so he can wait for dinner. 

~

Bertholdt finally reaches the apartment, relief pouring over him. He reaches for his key and unlocks the door, gently pushing it open and being met with two familiar faces. He could have collapsed in that very moment, begging them to help him erase his horror. 

He doesn’t, though. He smiles quietly, giving both confused faces a welcome surprise. 

“Oh, you’re early Bertl. Weren’t you meant to be at work until 8?” Reiner asks brightly. He’s happy to see his partner, but his confusion still lingers. 

Bertholdt nods, looking over as Annie approaches him with a warm smile. She reaches up and plants a kiss on his cheek before practically forcing him to hand his bag over. When he realises he should reply, he clears his throat. “…Yeah. But, um, it was really quiet so we closed early.” 

Annie didn’t miss the slight tremble in his voice. She gave him a look as she hung his bag up, but didn’t push. Instead, she places a warm hand on his back and takes him over to the kitchen where he can get a closer look at what’s for dinner. He never asked earlier, but that wasn’t going to change his lack of appetite now. 

“He’s making some type of spaghetti, ‘cause it’s the best thing he can do.” Annie explains with a tease, sitting back down at the island and watching Bertholdt do the same. He tries to hide his persistent trembling. 

Reiner scoffs. “At least I can make food. I wouldn’t trust you with toast.” He then turns to Bertholdt, giving him a cheesy wink. “Nothing can compare to yours though.” 

Bertholdt gives a flustered smile, his atypically pale cheeks darkening. He didn’t see himself as an amazing cook, just something better than the two beside him. He shifts in his seat, the new feeling clashing with every other overwhelming emotion.

Reiner moves on. “Well, it’s basically done. I just have to get the garlic bread out of the oven. Can you guys set up the table?” He asks brightly, moving to turn off the hobs and pulling out three dishes. Annie nods and gets up soon after. Bertholdt reacts slower and misses the second look the girl gives him. 

He tries to forget it all, to focus on the now. He’s going to have a meal with the people he trusts most, in his own safe place, away from the horrifying unfamiliar that felt more like a reality — one that he couldn’t and didn’t want to grasp. 

Bertholdt rearranges the chairs on their small dining table whilst Annie cleans the surface. They don’t say anything, simply appreciating the silence after a long day. 

“Do you feel any better?” Annie asks out of the blue, causing him to jolt out of his circling thoughts. 

This time, Bertholdt notices the gaze. He falters under her furrowed brows and worried eyes. “Not really.” He manages to choke out behind the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest. But that’s all he does say. 

Any attempt to even begin to explain what happened, why his head was and still pounds rhythmically like a broken music box was pointless. The words refused to escape him. Instead they morphed into imagines of rejection, ridicule and hatred. Then quickly — guilt. You can’t tell them.

He freezes again at a secondary voice approaching, and he turns to see Reiner approaching with two bowls. “Has it gotten any worse today?” He enquires. He turns back to the kitchen and returns with the remaining food.

He clenches his fist weakly. “No.” 

He doesn’t add the fact his head still hurts.

The three sit down, beginning to eat. Bertholdt knows he cannot skip this meal. The nausea controlled him, but so did something new. He couldn’t make his partners worry. 

“Maybe you should speak to a doctor. They might be able to get you some meds, or something like that.” Reiner suggested. Annie nodded in agreement. 

Bertholdt forced a few mouthfuls down. What could a doctor possibly do about this? Could any of them know what it feels like to see something so harrowing, so upsetting happen to you, but with a belief that this was what you deserved. After all, what innocent would die so torturously? 

He swallows, failing to rid of the nauseating feeling within him. “Yeah. I’ll…I’ll see how I feel over the next week. I don’t want to waste their time because it’s probably just a bad day.” 

The two next to him agree, and eventually the topic changes to something more lighthearted. Bertholdt tries to focus solely on that, to dispel everything else, but he still finds himself picking at his food and revisioning the hungry cat’s stained mouth. 

He eventually realises the other two are practically done whilst he pleaded with himself to just make them happy and eat the food, which in turn left him with only half eaten. 

He notices how Reiner then reaches over, his thumb gently rubbing up and down his arm. “You don’t have to eat anymore, don’t force yourself.” He says softly. 

Bertholdt hesitates. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing to do with the taste or anything, I just feel nauseous.” He can tell them that much; that’s normal of him, of people. Classic guilt still remains however, even if overshadowed. “I didn’t want to let it all go to waste.” 

Reiner laughs and shakes his head in response, leaving Bertholdt slightly puzzled. Annie then leaned over the table with a bashful smile on her face as she picked up the bowl and transferred the food to hers before eating it without question. He doesn’t say anything and instead turns back to the blonde man. 

“Baby, food will never go to waste here. I’ll eat anything, and if it’s good, so will you guys. Don’t worry about it.” 

Bertholdt simply nods, even if that’s not really the problem. He leans into Reiner’s touch hesitantly, yet he instantly melts under the lullaby-esque rhythm of Reiner’s gentle hands. Bertholdt presses a kiss to his neck, however the peck is replaced by a subtle yawn attempt.

“You should get an early rest tonight.” Reiner recommends, gifting a kiss back before standing up and reaching for the two empty bowls in front of him. “Surely you’re exhausted.” 

‘Exhausted’ didn’t begin to cover it. He wanted to sleep, to comatose, to forget. He nods anyway, almost absentmindedly.

“I’ll probably go to bed in an hour, then.” His words are tired, unsure. Would sleep be a departure from this horror or just an introduction? He isn't certain. 

Reiner smiles. “Alright. We’ll watch a movie until then.” He states before looking over at the girl for confirmation. Annie gives a thumbs up, a mouthful of spaghetti in her mouth.

He nods too. 

~

Bertholdt further hugs his knee against himself as the day continues to catch up to him more and more, exhaustion controlling him. He sits beside Annie, staring abenstmindly at the screen whilst she looks with an attentive expression.

On the other side of him, Reiner is sitting with a similar look. This movie is one of his favourites, claiming that “he can never get enough of it.”. And Bertholdt simply nodded and let him put it on. The movie was fine, he’d seen it before thankfully, so he didn’t actually have to focus on it much. 

With each passing minute he felt his eyes grow heavier. The pulsating pain combined with the timely nature of seeing those sighs seemed to have dwindled in the past hour, however he’s not sure how much longer he can hide the waves of pressure that come and go. Everything about this has drained him, leaving him completely shut down and praying he’ll never see a sight like it again, that he’ll never recall something that had happened before. 

He notices the quick glances Reiner directs towards him every so often and his breath hitches. He knew masking from them would be impossible, but if he tells them, they’ll know. And he already feels useless, disgusted in himself for clearly deserving to suffer that fate. If they know, they’ll agree.

Bertholdt tries to collect any fragment of himself whilst he stands up. Annie now looks over too, raising an eyebrow as his sudden movement. 

“I’m going to get ready for bed, I want to sleep this off.” He says, voice low and words wavering. 

Reiner nods. “Alright. We’ll be quiet when we come up ourselves.” He quickly stands up, determined to give his boyfriend one last kiss on the cheek before he leaves. Annie nods too, giving him a gentle smile and a small wave. Bertholdt appreciates both, and says one more small goodnight before disappearing down the hall. 

He shuts the blinds in the bathroom and hopelessly takes another Advil, desperate for the pain to magically stop. When he enters the bedroom, he pulls the curtains and turns his back to it whilst he gets changed. 

He faces away once he gets into bed. He curls up, preserving himself. He dreads closing his eyes, fears what he will dream — what he will uncover, yet his body cannot keep itself awake forever. 

The fifth thing he realises, is it’s all real. 

Chapter Text

It was hungry. 

You were there, you were helpless. Completely ruined by every fault of your own.

And now you will die because of it, and this no one will feel sympathy for the prey. 

Prey typically don’t do anything to warrant a predator eating them. It’s the circle of life, the chain of predators, the only constant in a forever changing world.

But this felt different. No matter if the predator stared with burning hatred and pain in its eyes or not, it still wouldn’t be at fault. It was just hungry. 

But this time, you brought this upon yourself. You made it hungry, angry, hurt, and you were now the only thing it could eat.

Bertholdt blinks his eyes open again, breaths slightly scrambled. He collects himself rather quickly because he has to (they’re sleeping right next to you, don’t wake them up), and he looks over at the clock he’s met too many times tonight. He’s sick of it. 

08:21. He sighs. He’s fed up with believing he can go back to sleep peacefully, so he gives in. He sits up cautiously so as to not wake the other two beside him. Reiner is sleeping in as he does once a week, and Annie is never very happy to wake up before 9am. Like he said; don’t wake them up.

As he shifts his weight fully to his feet, sliding on his slippers to evade the cold vinyl floor, he experiences all that he did yesterday. He winces quietly as pressure wraps around his head again, and this time it’s harder to stay up when he knows why it’s happening.

The dulled pain had become so frequent over the night Bertholdt must’ve tuned it out at one point, but now he was standing up when he shouldn’t be and the sensation came back full force. 

After a few moments of squeezing his eyes shut, breathing silently through the pain, he musters the energy and will to leave the room. He walks into the bathroom first, doing everything he needs to before placing an Advil at the back of his throat and desperately shoving it down with water. 

He looks up at the cabinet mirror as it shuts, face still dripping from the futile attempt at grounding — or forgetting. He’s not sure what would be better for him. He closes his eyes, exhaustion running through him and ripping him apart just as much as the last 15 hours has done. 

[“Annie! Reiner!”]

His breath hitches, stops for a moment. Breathe.

They’re in the other room. You’re with them. Get a grip on yourself. Bertholdt tries to repeat, eventually treating it like a manifestation more than a fact, even though he knows they’re in bed. 

But they didn’t come for you.

He swallows a mouthful of bile, breaths increasingly shaking. He wills himself once again, just like he did to enter here. Concluding that they will be awake soon, leading him to the idea of making them breakfast. It’s the least he could do after last night is what he believes. 

He drags himself past their room, grateful he left a small crack in the door as he now can walk past in shame and look in with guilt, yet sigh in relief at the sight of their unconscious forms sleeping peacefully next to each other. 

He's quiet as he prepares to cook, his thoughts louder than any clanging of pots and pans. When he noiselessly rummages through the refrigerator, he tries to force himself to believe yesterday was a one off, something that preyed upon his fragile thoughts and manipulated them into believing—

No. His thoughts weren’t manipulated, they were correct. And they made him remember.

He shuts the door with a force, breaths growing heavier. 

Just make breakfast. 

~

After an unknown amount of silence, a door creak breaks through the wavering silence.

Bertholdt looks over to the entrance of the kitchen, awaiting a grumpy pair of blondes to stumble in from their much more deserving sleep. He needs them to be here, he hungers for their presence and yet is aware he should not satiate himself when the time arrives. 

He places the eggs on the plate and turns his back to pluck the toast out. He gives himself one, just so they don’t notice. When he faces the plates again, he spots the blonde emerge from the corner of his eye and a smile builds. It pushes it down slightly.

“Good morning.” 

“Mornin’.” He receives back from a rather groggy Annie. She slumps on the dining chair, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Reiner circles around the island and greets Bertholdt with a sleepy smile before he rummages through the top of the pantry. 

Bertholdt bites his lip. He knew there was something he had forgotten. “I’m sorry,” He apologises as blankly as he could. “I completely forgot about that and I made you some coffee instead.” 

The blonde man huffs expectantly and shakes his head. He gets a cup out and slides them over towards his plate, and as he walks back around he plants his lips against the taller’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to complain when you made me breakfast.” 

Bertholdt nods, his lips curving subtly. He picks his own plate up — more simple than the other two, and sits down next to them. He stares at his food for a little longer.

“You were up early today.” Annie mumbled through a mouthful of toast. It doesn’t hide the confusion shining through though. “You alright?” 

Reiner notices she’s right, as it’s usually he that’s the first to wake up even on the day he sleeps in. He nods, brows furrowing as he looks over at the man. 

Bertholdt decides he should start stomaching the food now they're looking at him, so he picks up the simple toast and takes a bite. He obviously has to wait until he’s no longer chewing to talk, and it’s not simply an excuse to think of a more plausible explanation than dreaming and seeing what you deserve in a realistic world of giants (titans.) and eventually dying not even by their hands. Technically. Oh, and the fact he deserved it. 

He swallows. “Well, I went to sleep rather early…so I guess my body just didn’t want to sleep anymore. And I was having some weird dream.” It sounded fine. Right? 

“What was it about?” Reiner asks innocently. 

“It was like…I can’t explain it. It was like I was in a different dimension. I was experiencing it but I just cannot comprehend it at all anymore. It did freak me out a little bit.” 

Bertholdt isn’t entirely lying, it did feel like that to him. It was just a life instead of a new dimension. He’s grateful that he’s good at lying. 

(A sin. Well, of course you’d seek luck in that.)

Reiner doesn’t crack a smile, but his brows don’t furrow more. He quickly but gently squeezes Bertholdt’s palm.

“Well, it sounds like a strange dream. But you get weird stuff like this often, don’t you?” Reiner states, the question at the end only reaffirming his small level of concern. 

Bertholdt nods in a fraction of relief. The guilt takes up the rest of the whole of him, and he doesn’t answer verbally. He looks back down to his meal and continues to eat. 

He doesn’t notice the strange look Annie and Reiner give each other, and it’s evident they were expecting more conversation out of him than that. Annie assumes that maybe he doesn’t want to think about the dream anymore, so she attempts to push the strange behaviour out of the way and move onto another topic.

“Pieck messaged me this morning. She’s invited me to go shopping with her.” She announces as she finishes off her meal. 

“What time?” Reiner asks.

“About 11:30am, I think. We’ll have to get the bus.” 

“I have work at 11, the mall is only a five minute walk from the restaurant. You can get in an Uber with me.” 

Bertholdt listens to the plain conversation, relieved that the words successfully drowned out everything else. He’s also glad they seemed to enjoy their food. It brings a small curve to his lips. 

And it’s distracting him from the thoughts he knows will come when he’s alone. 

He could ask to go to the mall with Annie, but if there’s a chance he sees anything else, a wing, a stray, hungry cat, anything— he can’t risk it.

Thankfully, by the time the other two get up to put their plates away, Bertholdt had managed to finish his food with pitiful swallows and a fluttering stomach. He joins them in putting his plate in the sink and notes to include dishwashing in his chores today. 

“I’m gonna take a shower to get ready.” Annie says. She reaches over, giving Bertholdt a pat on the shoulder before walking back down the corridor. He blushes.

Reiner, definitely still a little groggy from waking up at a later time, approaches Bertholdt and wraps his arms around his torso. His head rests in the crook of his neck, planting very quick, gentle kisses to his shoulder blades. 

“You don’t wanna go shopping with Annie and Pieck?” Reiner mutters, and Bertholdt knows he’s looking for a reason why. 

Bertholdt shakes his head, reciprocating the embrace and running a hand up and down the blonde’s back. “This place needs cleaning up, and the mall will be way too busy today." And I really don’t feel like it. 

“Mmm. Fair.” Reiner replies in muffled words, his cheek smushed against Bertholdt. The sight got a gentle curve upward of his lips again, and his mind strayed another little step away from everything. 

“When do you finish work?” He asks unsuspectingly.

“Five.” Reiner answers at first without a second thought, but he quickly notices that Bertholdt has his schedule for the month memorised. It’s unlike him to forget. “Why?” He adds on. 

Bertholdt realises his mistake just as quickly. He hesitates, and attempts to play it calmly. “I forgot. I got your time mixed up with Annie’s.”

Reiner doesn’t reply verbally, instead he lifts his head up, facing the other man. His calloused, gentle hands embrace against Bertholdt’s face and he leans in for an equally loving kiss. 

Bertholdt smiles and gives the kiss back — maybe a few more times than Reiner, totally not to hear the sound of his laugh, his face pink. 

~

Bertholdt sighs as he turns the vacuum off and empties the full container. Like always, he doesn’t look at all the gross things it manages to pick up. 

He looks at the clock. 12:04. He’s been alone for over (or ‘only’) an hour. He doesn’t want to feel pathetic, he’s an adult for goodness sake, but that doesn’t stop the trembling in his fingers or hollow, breathless feeling in his chest when he consistently reminds himself that he’s alone. Even though he expected it, even though he’s been alone before, for countless times in his life and for longer periods of time — he so desperately wants them to come back. 

Because what is stopping him from never seeing them again, and they will continue to live forever unaware of the last words on his lips? 

He takes a few steps to reach the kitchen, swiping the cleaning spray and cloths on his way. His eyes are tired, but he wants— no, needs to distract himself.

He rearranges the spices in the pantry, mops every inch of the floor, takes apart the stove to scrub every nook and cranny, before everything looks as perfect as desired. Almost like when they viewed it months ago. He checks the clock again.

12:46. He leans his head against the cold fake marble, feeling a headache begin to swirl. At least it doesn’t feel like teeth boring down on his temples, yet. 

He turns to fill a glass of water, but stops at the sound of a ringtone. He realises his phone has been abandoned on the couch the entire time and he quickly walks over to answer it on time. He doesn’t get to read the name of who’s calling, but he knows who it won’t be and doesn’t get his hopes up.

“Bertholdt, hey!” 

“Marco.” He realises out loud, then also notices his scratchy, tired tone. It’s not the kind of mood he wants to show when his friend is just calling him out of his own will, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sorry, hey. How are you?” Plus, he’s happy to hear him again.

“I was just calling because it feels like we’ve barely spoken or seen each other recently. I know we saw each other at Reiner’s party, but that was about him…and Connie had a few too many edibles so we had to leave earlier.” The freckled man explains, sounding guilty, until he chuckles at the memory.

He repeats the laugh. In the background of the call, Bertholdt can hear talking. He nods in agreement even though he’s not visible. “Yeah, sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. 

“That’s okay, we’ll see each other when College starts up again. How are Annie and Reiner?” 

“They’re good. They’re both out right now, so I was just cleaning up.” 

“Oh, did I disturb you? We can talk at another time if it’s easier for you–”

Desperate, Bertholdt cuts him off. “No, no, it’s okay. I was basically done anyway, I don’t mind at all.” He practically begs, and hopes it isn’t obvious on the other side. Shame pulses once through him.

“Alright, I’m glad. Sasha and Connie are screaming at each other over I think Minecraft of all games, and Jean’s at the gym, so I really didn’t wanna have to go back to deal with that.” Marco laughs warmly, innocent to the tone in Bertholdt’s voice. 

Bertholdt thanks him internally, and he sits himself down on the couch. The distraction is welcoming. His headache becomes a passing thought rather quickly. 

“So, have you got your college timetable yet? I have, and it’s a mess.” Marco asks, ready to complain the day away about his fairly horrific schedule.

“I don’t think I have yet. To be honest, I haven’t checked my emails much recently.” 

“Oh?” The freckled man replies in confusion. “Has everything been okay?” 

Bertholdt muffled his hitched breath. He clears his throat, making room for internal questions about why he couldn’t just keep his mouth shut and say everything’s been great and he just forgot to check his timetable.

Does he want someone to know and understand? But it all felt deserved to him. Was it? He doesn’t know, and the thought is becoming overwhelming. 

He shakes his head. He can’t tell Marco, not before he says anything to Reiner and Annie first. 

“Yeah, it’s been fine. Just…been busy. With work and Reiner’s birthday, I guess it slipped my mind.” He squeaked out, praying the change in octave isn’t noticeable. Marco is a good friend, though. 

“Ah, yeah, that’s fair.” Marco replies naively. “I guess the library has been getting busier now for back to school.” 

“Yeah, it was super quiet in the summer.”

“Y’know, Jean and I went about three weeks ago, he wanted to show me some new manga. I was hoping I’d see you, but I guess your shift times were not the same—“ 

Marco cuts himself off with a startled scream, phone muffled as he presumably drops it on his bed and reflexively shuffles away (at least, that’s what it sounded like.) 

Bertholdt can hear some form of desperation in the shock. The scream doesn’t last long, but he can hear it. Then, he remembers it. 

He gasps, and doesn’t let it go. 

[“Hey, it’s almost on top of us!” He screams, begging this to be over before they’re all eaten. His vision is blurred as he turns back to the sight, but he tries not to let that be seen. Reiner seems furious. His face is a blur to him. 

So is Annie’s. Her trembling hands rip away the gear and she tosses it through the window. He can hear the thud as it reaches the floor, and it constricts across his chest all the same. 

“No— Wait, please—!” Marco pleads rather quietly, as if he’s still trying to keep the peace. He sees his face clear as day. Down to the number of freckles on his cheeks. 

He can’t face him. He looks towards Reiner instead, and he’s already flying away. Annie follows, then he does too. 

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

“Just, wait…”

He looks back. 

“Why do this? Why are you in such a hurry to kill me?” He sniffles. He sounds like a kid. 

He is a kid.

“I don’t get it, how come?!”

It reaches him with one final footstep, its hands preparing to grab. He looks away as they reach a safe point. 

“Why aren’t you even willing to talk to me? Why?!” He’s wailing, he’s utterly terrified. 

They turn around with him this time, equally horrified. No one can move as it grabs him, and he flails as desperately as he can with shattered legs, he pushes as hard as he can with his arms and screams for anyone to help him. But through tears it sounds garbled.

Annie’s breathing is rapid, shallow, heartbreaking. Reiner is frozen in shock. He can’t stop trembling. 

It rips his arm away first, then his teeth sink down on his head. Blood splatters everywhere, and instinctively he takes a small step away. 

“Hey…” Reiner says shakily. “Why…”

He and Annie turn their heads at his voice. To Annie, he sounds confused. To him, he sounds broken. He tenses up when he realises, and it feels like he can no longer breathe.

“Why is Marco…being devoured?”

There’s not a second to think before Reiner is gone. He plunges forward, blades exposed as he rips through the skin of its nape. 

He follows quickly. He still can’t breathe. 

Annie appears furious. She’s confused. He was too.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She spits out, tears still falling. 

Reiner looks back at her, inversely confused and angry. “What? That thing killed Marco and you two didn’t do anything about it!” He scolds. They have different reactions.

Annie tenses herself. She looks back at him, and seems to notice his expression. She looks away again, and he can’t tell what she’s feeling. 

“Now come on, they’re gonna kill us all at this rate!” Reiner turns to hook his gear to another building and speeds away. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He was frustrated with him. 

Annie sighs in traumatic defeat and travels somewhere else, looking back at him one last time with what he could only guess was disappointment.

Breathe, goddammit.]

His vision returns and he only gets a second to relax when he realises he’s at home before the acid chokes him, and he needs to breathe.

He abandons his phone, he hears it thud to the ground, he no longer cares about the call — as crushingly ironic as that is.

He blinks and he’s knelt over the toilet, coughing up everything possible that’s left in his body. The noises, the sight, the feelings, every detail beats his body.

Again.   

As he coughs he breathes, and he’s grateful that he can still do so but unsure why it hasn’t been taken away yet. Why should he receive that privilege? Why should any of them?

He slumps against the cold wall, chest rapidly rising and falling. His eyes squeeze shut even though it repeats perfectly in his mind.

No. No. That’s not them. They didn’t do that. 

He didn’t see their faces. It wasn’t them. 

He was him, though. He watched, he did nothing as per usual. What was it that Reiner was studying last year before summer started? The Bystander Effect? He’s guilty too. 

He brings a hand up to his mouth, muffling the sob to no one but himself. He then curls himself up again, knees tight against his chest and head dipped in darkness.

Is this why he deserved to die?

No one else was at fault there either. It was hungry and desperate, and you were right there, and it had to happen to you. Who else would do something so malicious? 

Once more, he calms himself down. He stops himself from going any further, and he lifts his head. He notices the window first — it’s not as sunny today. 

He wills himself up on the same trembling legs, and he keeps standing thanks to his grip on the sink. In the mirror, he looks awful. He brushes his teeth again, using any strength he has left again to discard any sour taste in his mouth. The cold water against his face afterwards only makes him feel more aware, and the exhaustion still pulls at his eyes. He wants to go to sleep. 

Back in the living room, he hesitantly approaches his phone and picks it up. He realises the call has been disconnected, and with the two missed calls back from Marco, he assumes he was the one to end it. When he goes to text back, he sees the time. 14:00.

He doesn’t even read the concerned message the freckled man left him, simply replying with a quick Sorry, my phone died and then my building’s power went out. The lie leaves his stomach in knots again, but he can't tell him the truth. 

The next thing he spots is a message in their groupchat, from Annie. 

From: Annie ❤️

13:44: hey, I'll be omw back soon bert

13:44: i got u something

Bertholdt relaxes a little at the common nature of the message, as well as the announcement she’ll be home soon. He replies back. 

To: Annie ❤️

14:01: you didn’t have to do that, but thank you annie <3

14:02: are you on your way back now? i can make you some food. 

From: Annie ❤️

14:01. i’ll be abt 20 mins, and we just had lunch so i’ll be okay but thank you <3 

Bertholdt sends a simple text back and drops his phone back on the couch, looking around. He needs to at least start cleaning the entrance hallway before she comes back. 

He retrieves the appropriate cleaning supplies, listing them in his head. He puts some music on the speaker from the other room, he counts the amount of shoes scattered on the floor, and he thinks over what he could make for dinner. 

I’ll do anything to get it out of my head even for a minute. He pleads with no one in particular, maybe it’s everyone. 

It’s pathetic. It’s filthy, disgusting.