[ In the shifting sands of Maruki's memories, he has lived a reality in which he succeeded in the only dream he ever had, created a perfect world and then isolated himself from it. Not a soul remembered Maruki Takuto. As it should be; at the end of the day, he is unimportant, only a canvas for what others need him to be and he crafted an ideal reality in which no one needed him at all.
He has lived countless realities in which Rumi's eyes turned toward his, lifelike once more but entirely blank. She never remembers him. She never will remember him. There is no world that fixes such a simple fact of life, no world in which he would ever alter his greatest regret even if given the chance.
Everyone says that when you leave this reality, you forget. Maruki refuses to believe it. Has never once cottoned to the idea. Those who forget do so because their wills are weak. His is strong, strong enough to call forth a god. He will never forget, never. The same should go for others, but it isn't a given. Even Eren, even the one other person with as much power over the fabric of reality as him–
But it's what Maruki fears more than anything, and thus, what he's resigned himself to. Being forgotten, being alone.
Eren remembers him.
There's no life in his voice when he confirms it, but he remembers him. Says his name, empty, but present.
Maruki's throat tightens with a relief so total that it unnerves him. How exactly is he supposed to take it when his bone-deep fears are allayed all at once? He feels weightless, adrift. He has to inhale before he speaks, and it shudders. ]
A little more than two weeks. For me, I mean. Not for you. Clearly.
[ A beat, and he tries to smile. Can't feel his own face to feel how effective it is. It might be starting to crumble instead, for all he knows. ]
no subject
He has lived countless realities in which Rumi's eyes turned toward his, lifelike once more but entirely blank. She never remembers him. She never will remember him. There is no world that fixes such a simple fact of life, no world in which he would ever alter his greatest regret even if given the chance.
Everyone says that when you leave this reality, you forget. Maruki refuses to believe it. Has never once cottoned to the idea. Those who forget do so because their wills are weak. His is strong, strong enough to call forth a god. He will never forget, never. The same should go for others, but it isn't a given. Even Eren, even the one other person with as much power over the fabric of reality as him–
But it's what Maruki fears more than anything, and thus, what he's resigned himself to. Being forgotten, being alone.
Eren remembers him.
There's no life in his voice when he confirms it, but he remembers him. Says his name, empty, but present.
Maruki's throat tightens with a relief so total that it unnerves him. How exactly is he supposed to take it when his bone-deep fears are allayed all at once? He feels weightless, adrift. He has to inhale before he speaks, and it shudders. ]
A little more than two weeks. For me, I mean. Not for you. Clearly.
[ A beat, and he tries to smile. Can't feel his own face to feel how effective it is. It might be starting to crumble instead, for all he knows. ]
You came back. How long...?