[What does it matter how long its been? Maruki hugs Eren with such force that you think they'd gone ten thousand years without seeing each other, but that's always how it's going to feel, isn't it? Eren remembers his promise. He knows that, by being here, he hasn't broken it - there's that, at least.
[Still. Maruki and Eren, the two-headed God, were pulled apart. It's profoundly wrong. Eren feels it in every mangled bone.
[His hand finds the nape of Maruki's neck, firmly grasping. His other arm claps around the man's back, pulling him in close, tight.]
I promised you.
cw suicidal ideation? i guess?? listen they're both worryfrog
[ There's a permanent, persistent twinge at the base of his neck now. Has been ever since he blinked out and in of existence with a wealth of visions suddenly crowding his mind; an unfamiliar persona evolved out of his own magnified willpower, consuming him, absorbing him, stabbing him through his nape so he could finally let go.
Another coincidence between them. He hadn't even had a chance to tell Eren before war, before–
It feels so stupid. Two weeks is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. But he doesn't need to make Eren understand why it felt so viciously cruel; he gets it, they both get it. And he places his hand right where it needs to be to quell a new ache that he doesn't yet know.
Maruki grips him impossibly tighter, doesn't pull away. Doesn't care who stumbles across his shuttered office and sees him clinging to his newly returned friend. His voice is muffled into Eren's broad shoulder. ]
I'm sorry you had to come back. To life, I mean, not to me.
[ Eren has spent months in Somnius acting as if he's already dead. He's even told Maruki, at times, to pretend that he is. He never has. He won't now, either. But he can recognize a desire fulfilled and then ripped away again, plain as day. ]
[ It's beyond lifeless. It should be concerning to Maruki, and maybe later it will be, but for now he can only feel relief that Eren exists at all, even against his own wishes. ]
Next time you leave, it'll be because we've broken free. And then you won't come back. You'll be done.
[ It's the only comfort he can offer his friend.
It sits heavily for a long moment, and then Maruki grinds his face into his shoulder, the frames of his glasses digging into his face. He can feel the humid fog on them, hear the strain in his own voice. He doesn't care.
Eren told him once that he could cry, if he wanted to. He wasn't able at the time. Now he isn't able to stop himself, but it's still subtle, soft. ]
[It feels impossible. The last Eren was alive, he was the very definition of a monster - a massive beast of bone that crawled across the Earth, decimating everything in its path. Of course, Maruki has never seen Eren that way - Eren knows that, remembers - but it doesn't change the fact that someone very human is curled against him, softly weeping, all because he couldn't bear two weeks without him.
[Four years ago - two weeks ago - it would have made him cry too. He can almost imagine it, the two of them, crying alongside each other.
[He never has seen his friend in a state like this.
[Eren loves. He hates, but he also loves. His love is violent, all-consuming, destructive, and steadfast. It never ebbs. It exists for so few, so massive that it blocks out the sun.
[Eren loves. It never was beaten out of him. There's no reason left to hide from it. The world has already been devoured.
[Eren is taller than Maruki now. He turns his nose into the man's hair and closes his eyes. Fingers trail over shuddering shoulders.]
[ He laughs again, wants to shove Eren's head, mess up his hair, tease him for being ridiculous. ]
Well, I wasn't furious. I was just–
[ It feels so stupid. Two weeks is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. He knows this.
But he has spent every single day since the afternoon that he let Rumi go building a life that ensures he never experiences loss again. He did it once, and that was enough. It shattered his heart and set him on a course for total perfection, total solitude. He couldn't ever do it again, and in the end, it was easy to do: Isolate, create distance, let no one in.
Coming to Somnius threw a wrench into things, but his desire to leave and to allow others to return to their own realities should they so choose ought to have inured him to the pain. He lost a few friends before this. There was some sadness, at first, but it faded easily with the knowledge that they were better off no longer trapped in a false reality. He really did think that was a foolproof safeguard.
Six, seven years since Rumi, and this is the first loss he's experienced.
It's stupid. It is. He knows it. But it shredded through him slowly, and it was never in anger. Only the pure misery of grief. ]
It doesn't matter.
[ He shakes his head, thumps a weak fist against Eren's back. ]
Don't apologize, though. I know you had nothing to do with it. You wouldn't have left like that if you had any choice in the matter. It's just... this place.
[At last, Eren releases his grip, pulling back to set a hand on either one of Maruki's shoulders instead. He looks his friend in the eye. Foggy lenses block the path; Eren takes it upon himself to push them up into Maruki's hair. Who wants to cry with glass in front of their face?]
Tell me how it felt. [Eren doubts he told anyone else.]
[ Glasses gone, his eyesight even blurrier than it would be otherwise. Maruki tugs the sleeve of his sweater over the heel of his palm to swipe it beneath both eyes and looks at Eren, squinting to try to sharpen his features.
He isn't a crier like Eren is. Was. There are no loud, gasping sobs to be had here. When Maruki does allow himself to cry, it's a quiet, slow thing. His eyes well up just enough for tears to get caught on his lashes when he blinks; they don't spill. ]
I know you lost a lot of people here that you cared deeply for, but that was the first time it happened for me.
[ His eyes drift from Eren's face to the half-ruined office around them, fuzzy in his poor vision. Here, of all places, being made to try to explain how grief feels to the person who has been mired in it for so much of his young life. ]
I've never had a best friend before.
[ Rumi, maybe, when they were in high school, but it so quickly became something else that it hardly counted. Since then, nothing, no one. ]
I felt alone.
[ He wasn't. He knows that he wasn't. That doesn't change how it felt. ]
[Eren and Maruki, separated, is a uniquely lonely sort of Hell. Eren understands, of course. He barely remembers what it was like to be here before - hasn't had time to remember - but he remembers that feeling, that loss, that terrible waiting period, over and over and over again.
[He remembers having to continue living. He remembers how impossible that felt. When Mikasa disappeared, he questioned every day how he managed to make himself breathe. It was worse than Hell.
[He also remembers thinking that if Maruki ever left Visium without him, he'd burn it straight to the ground.
[Of course he felt alone. Eren squeezes his shoulders. He's hurt a lot of people, abandoned them. The grief and betrayal they felt is perhaps what's more difficult to live with than anything, but Eren doesn't fear that here. He knows he is forgiven without having to ask. Because he and Maruki were not designed for one reality alone. Despite everything, that terrible grief, Maruki must have still known that it wouldn't be the last time...
[Still. To know that this man, whom Eren adores more than almost anyone, was in so much pain - it's gut-wrenching.]
[ He isn't alone. He never was, never will be now that he knows every reality is just another opportunity to find his friend again.
I see realities through to their end. ]
I know. I know, we both do.
[ Another laugh, but this one doesn't struggle for breath like the others. Still teary, but with true mirth behind it. He hears exactly what Eren is saying, and he's so goddamn relieved.
Maruki rubs at his eyes again, doesn't bother with his glasses just yet. Just in case. Heaves a huge inhale, tries to collect himself; there will be time later, he hopes, to tell Eren more.
For now, he just wants to hear him. Start committing this new voice to memory. ]
[That question is more loaded than it's ever been. Eren knows that the nature of his memories is no mystery to Maruki - meaning that the fact they're a mystery to him is no mystery. It's worse now than it's ever been. He remembers everything, of course, but it's difficult to place what belongs where. This reflects more in the prolonged silence than it does any flicker of facial expression. Eren removes his hands from Maruki's shoulders.]
My head is a mess.
Everything I remember feels like it happened all at once.
Thinking now...even as a a child, I remembered you. But that doesn't make sense...[His tone really hasn't changed much, but Maruki wouldn't be imagining it if Eren sounded more or less resigned to this.]
[ It's hardly surprising. Maruki hadn't expected a clean, cut and dry answer. That's not how memory works, and they both know it too well. Eren more so now than ever.
Eren's hands drop away, and Maruki replaces them with his own over his friend's shoulders. When did he get so tall? Only a couple inches more than him, but still. He can't call him shrimpy anymore.
But back then– ]
That did happen here. There was a period of time where we were occasional younger, or different versions of ourselves. I spent a lot of time with you as a kid.
[ It's all plainly, gently stated. He can only imagine a fraction of what Eren is feeling now, infinite futures and realities and pasts and memories jumbled into one mind. He will be nothing but patient with the person who has always deserved his help the most. ]
I can help you sort a lot of things out. We'll take it slow. There's time.
[Maruki's hands are on his shoulders, as grounding as ever, but Eren has been left without a single other tether. His brow just barely pinches in, the ghost of a frown. He glares at the ground, more focus than fury.]
I don't think...there's much left of me anymore. [Stated as simple fact - not so loaded with emotion as it might have been had he'd said it before it was really true. He took on a burden that one mind simply can't. He wasn't meant to survive that. The goal has been reached, and what's leftover is...slurry. Once you sort it out, what else is there?]
[ Maruki hears it. He's listening. He has listened to every word Eren has said to him, nearly every single day for months. He has reams of paper dedicated to keeping everything about Eren straight. An unfathomable amount of information, shared to both counselor and friend, all painstakingly catalogued and filed against his heart.
He hears the truth in Eren's words, but he also knows they come from a different reality, with a different set of circumstances.
And now he's here, with Maruki. Change is as inevitable as they are. ]
Maybe. Maybe not. You won't know until you find out. And please don't take this as me spontaneously developing an ego, but...
[ His hands rub up and down Eren's upper arms, soothing. ]
You've got an expert in the field at your side. You haven't had someone around to help you or let you simply be, Eren.
[ His eyes are dry again, smile entirely genuine and radiantly warm. ]
If you don't trust your own mind, trust me. I never let you down before.
[ He holds a preemptive hand up between them, stops a protest before it starts. ]
I know you're different now. I know. But that doesn't change what I'm telling you.
[ And then, the hand replaced on his shoulder, firm and grounding. Maruki expects this to take a long time. Maybe the whole rest of the time that they have together in Somnius. It doesn't matter. His patience is eternal, as is his stubbornness, and his conviction is pure. Eren might as well be looking at the sun. ]
I helped you before, and I'll help you again. Just watch me.
[ Heat rises up behind his eyes again before he can stop it, and they shine as he grins, shakes his head, jostles Eren. ]
That's okay. Eren. I don't expect you to.
[ He can't make Eren understand anything at the moment. He can only be here for him as the slurry of his mind slowly sifts and settles, as much as it ever will.
It's an honor, really. He can't make Eren understand that, either. ]
You don't need to do anything. Just– come rest. [ A beat, and a slightly sheepish, watery laugh. ] When you're done seeing everyone else, I mean. I don't presume I take precedence.
[Eren hates to see him crying, of course. It's not something that Maruki does. To that end, he's grateful to see it too. He doesn't think Maruki would show almost anyone else. This is what Eren's asked him for. They can both "just be" for at least a little while.
[He thumbs Maruki's tears away with no fanfare, then knocks his glasses back onto his nose. It might seem like a playful gesture - really, it's an awkward, aimless one.]
[ Yeah, that's about what he figured. Maruki did enough managing others' emotions over the past two weeks to know that it likely wouldn't be an easy return. Nothing more needs to be said. He's all too glad to leave Eyn Sof behind – hopefully for the last time, and with the only other person who should get to say goodbye to it.
It's a long walk back to the machiya, and if Eren wants to be silent, Maruki is happy to oblige. There's something to be said for companionable silence with a dear friend; falling back into it is as natural as breathing.
And the sight of the home slowly becoming visible through the thicket of trees is like a sigh of deep, contented relief. It's Maruki's home here. It's private, safe.
He looks over to Eren as he leads him through the outdoor entry area, lush with plant life and peaceful in its quiet. ]
You barely got to see this place before you left. It's okay if you don't remember it.
[As they walk, Eren recalls flying. The sensation itself is a vivid memory, but he spent so much time dreaming about it, that it seems like only that. Recollection seeps in, however. He did fly with Maruki. Walked too, but on four legs. He's less human than ever now. If he could have been something other than a monster, instead, maybe he would have liked it.
[Probably not.
[They make it to the front entrance. Eren doesn't remember a single thing about it. What he remembers is a castle - stone walls and wretched sobbing; a garden, idle conversation.
[He wonders if he'll ever see that place again.]
I don't. It looks...odd. [Eren? Culturally insensitive? Well, boss, it's more likely than you think.]
[ Maruki rolls his eyes, nothing but fond as he holds the door open wide for Eren to enter first. ]
It's in the style of a traditional home back in my reality.
[ Maybe one day, you'll see one. After all, in another world, another time, you were one of my students, weren't you?
Trapped deftly under his tongue and swallowed back down. He can't confuse Eren any more than he already is. Memories need to be metered out slowly; they'll get there.
He gestures gently for Eren to remove his shoes with him in the sunken entryway before they continue on, and it's so surreal, suddenly. He's spent the past weeks holed up in this house while not at work, keeping the business Eren started running. His misery about Eren kept him here, and now he's here, and it's–
Not something to take for granted. Not for a moment. ]
I can make you some food, or we can just sit and talk.
[ A gesture to the airy kitchen, then to the little alcove that looks out into one of the gardens, cushions on the tatami floor to rest on and a low table for drinks. Whatever Eren wants. ]
[Information from realities Eren has never known seeps in slow, an almost insidious feeling. It brings dread with it. Maruki is not the first person from Tokyo, Japan that Eren met. When Maruki mentioned it, he knew the name. He knew because of Subaru.
[Eren's mouth feels dry, fingers curling and twitching at his side. He looks about the Machiya, but it doesn't distract. Two weeks makes no difference, really. Four years does. When you add both together, what's the result? Eren wants to ask, but fears the answer.]
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[Still. Maruki and Eren, the two-headed God, were pulled apart. It's profoundly wrong. Eren feels it in every mangled bone.
[His hand finds the nape of Maruki's neck, firmly grasping. His other arm claps around the man's back, pulling him in close, tight.]
I promised you.
cw suicidal ideation? i guess?? listen they're both worryfrog
[ There's a permanent, persistent twinge at the base of his neck now. Has been ever since he blinked out and in of existence with a wealth of visions suddenly crowding his mind; an unfamiliar persona evolved out of his own magnified willpower, consuming him, absorbing him, stabbing him through his nape so he could finally let go.
Another coincidence between them. He hadn't even had a chance to tell Eren before war, before–
It feels so stupid. Two weeks is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. But he doesn't need to make Eren understand why it felt so viciously cruel; he gets it, they both get it. And he places his hand right where it needs to be to quell a new ache that he doesn't yet know.
Maruki grips him impossibly tighter, doesn't pull away. Doesn't care who stumbles across his shuttered office and sees him clinging to his newly returned friend. His voice is muffled into Eren's broad shoulder. ]
I'm sorry you had to come back. To life, I mean, not to me.
[ Eren has spent months in Somnius acting as if he's already dead. He's even told Maruki, at times, to pretend that he is. He never has. He won't now, either. But he can recognize a desire fulfilled and then ripped away again, plain as day. ]
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We already knew. [His voice remains less than dull, even as fingers strain around flesh and fabric.] This place is Hell.
It's what I expected.
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Next time you leave, it'll be because we've broken free. And then you won't come back. You'll be done.
[ It's the only comfort he can offer his friend.
It sits heavily for a long moment, and then Maruki grinds his face into his shoulder, the frames of his glasses digging into his face. He can feel the humid fog on them, hear the strain in his own voice. He doesn't care.
Eren told him once that he could cry, if he wanted to. He wasn't able at the time. Now he isn't able to stop himself, but it's still subtle, soft. ]
I missed you so much. You have no idea.
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[Four years ago - two weeks ago - it would have made him cry too. He can almost imagine it, the two of them, crying alongside each other.
[He never has seen his friend in a state like this.
[Eren loves. He hates, but he also loves. His love is violent, all-consuming, destructive, and steadfast. It never ebbs. It exists for so few, so massive that it blocks out the sun.
[Eren loves. It never was beaten out of him. There's no reason left to hide from it. The world has already been devoured.
[Eren is taller than Maruki now. He turns his nose into the man's hair and closes his eyes. Fingers trail over shuddering shoulders.]
I'm sorry.
If you'd left first, I'd be furious.
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Well, I wasn't furious. I was just–
[ It feels so stupid. Two weeks is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. He knows this.
But he has spent every single day since the afternoon that he let Rumi go building a life that ensures he never experiences loss again. He did it once, and that was enough. It shattered his heart and set him on a course for total perfection, total solitude. He couldn't ever do it again, and in the end, it was easy to do: Isolate, create distance, let no one in.
Coming to Somnius threw a wrench into things, but his desire to leave and to allow others to return to their own realities should they so choose ought to have inured him to the pain. He lost a few friends before this. There was some sadness, at first, but it faded easily with the knowledge that they were better off no longer trapped in a false reality. He really did think that was a foolproof safeguard.
Six, seven years since Rumi, and this is the first loss he's experienced.
It's stupid. It is. He knows it. But it shredded through him slowly, and it was never in anger. Only the pure misery of grief. ]
It doesn't matter.
[ He shakes his head, thumps a weak fist against Eren's back. ]
Don't apologize, though. I know you had nothing to do with it. You wouldn't have left like that if you had any choice in the matter. It's just... this place.
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[At last, Eren releases his grip, pulling back to set a hand on either one of Maruki's shoulders instead. He looks his friend in the eye. Foggy lenses block the path; Eren takes it upon himself to push them up into Maruki's hair. Who wants to cry with glass in front of their face?]
Tell me how it felt. [Eren doubts he told anyone else.]
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He isn't a crier like Eren is. Was. There are no loud, gasping sobs to be had here. When Maruki does allow himself to cry, it's a quiet, slow thing. His eyes well up just enough for tears to get caught on his lashes when he blinks; they don't spill. ]
I know you lost a lot of people here that you cared deeply for, but that was the first time it happened for me.
[ His eyes drift from Eren's face to the half-ruined office around them, fuzzy in his poor vision. Here, of all places, being made to try to explain how grief feels to the person who has been mired in it for so much of his young life. ]
I've never had a best friend before.
[ Rumi, maybe, when they were in high school, but it so quickly became something else that it hardly counted. Since then, nothing, no one. ]
I felt alone.
[ He wasn't. He knows that he wasn't. That doesn't change how it felt. ]
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[He remembers having to continue living. He remembers how impossible that felt. When Mikasa disappeared, he questioned every day how he managed to make himself breathe. It was worse than Hell.
[He also remembers thinking that if Maruki ever left Visium without him, he'd burn it straight to the ground.
[Of course he felt alone. Eren squeezes his shoulders. He's hurt a lot of people, abandoned them. The grief and betrayal they felt is perhaps what's more difficult to live with than anything, but Eren doesn't fear that here. He knows he is forgiven without having to ask. Because he and Maruki were not designed for one reality alone. Despite everything, that terrible grief, Maruki must have still known that it wouldn't be the last time...
[Still. To know that this man, whom Eren adores more than almost anyone, was in so much pain - it's gut-wrenching.]
You aren't anymore.
[He makes promises he can't or won't keep all the time, but he knows he can make this one. He likes to keep them when he can. He really does.]
It's over now. All that's left is this Hell.
I see realities through to their end.
[I'm here. I'm sorry. I won't leave you again.]
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I see realities through to their end. ]
I know. I know, we both do.
[ Another laugh, but this one doesn't struggle for breath like the others. Still teary, but with true mirth behind it. He hears exactly what Eren is saying, and he's so goddamn relieved.
Maruki rubs at his eyes again, doesn't bother with his glasses just yet. Just in case. Heaves a huge inhale, tries to collect himself; there will be time later, he hopes, to tell Eren more.
For now, he just wants to hear him. Start committing this new voice to memory. ]
Did you remember? When you went back?
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My head is a mess.
Everything I remember feels like it happened all at once.
Thinking now...even as a a child, I remembered you. But that doesn't make sense...[His tone really hasn't changed much, but Maruki wouldn't be imagining it if Eren sounded more or less resigned to this.]
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Eren's hands drop away, and Maruki replaces them with his own over his friend's shoulders. When did he get so tall? Only a couple inches more than him, but still. He can't call him shrimpy anymore.
But back then– ]
That did happen here. There was a period of time where we were occasional younger, or different versions of ourselves. I spent a lot of time with you as a kid.
[ It's all plainly, gently stated. He can only imagine a fraction of what Eren is feeling now, infinite futures and realities and pasts and memories jumbled into one mind. He will be nothing but patient with the person who has always deserved his help the most. ]
I can help you sort a lot of things out. We'll take it slow. There's time.
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I don't think...there's much left of me anymore. [Stated as simple fact - not so loaded with emotion as it might have been had he'd said it before it was really true. He took on a burden that one mind simply can't. He wasn't meant to survive that. The goal has been reached, and what's leftover is...slurry. Once you sort it out, what else is there?]
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He hears the truth in Eren's words, but he also knows they come from a different reality, with a different set of circumstances.
And now he's here, with Maruki. Change is as inevitable as they are. ]
Maybe. Maybe not. You won't know until you find out. And please don't take this as me spontaneously developing an ego, but...
[ His hands rub up and down Eren's upper arms, soothing. ]
You've got an expert in the field at your side. You haven't had someone around to help you or let you simply be, Eren.
[ His eyes are dry again, smile entirely genuine and radiantly warm. ]
If you don't trust your own mind, trust me. I never let you down before.
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[He mutters the words between them as if trying to decipher them. He doesn't seem to understand.
[Quieter; he really doesn't.]
What good will that do?
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[ He holds a preemptive hand up between them, stops a protest before it starts. ]
I know you're different now. I know. But that doesn't change what I'm telling you.
[ And then, the hand replaced on his shoulder, firm and grounding. Maruki expects this to take a long time. Maybe the whole rest of the time that they have together in Somnius. It doesn't matter. His patience is eternal, as is his stubbornness, and his conviction is pure. Eren might as well be looking at the sun. ]
I helped you before, and I'll help you again. Just watch me.
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[When was the last time he could just be? He can't remember. He's not sure if there ever was a time at all.
[Dull eyes stare at Maruki's, which are warm enough for the both of them; the sun, yes. What Eren's searching for is unclear even to him.]
You did. I remember.
[But it is different. He's not the same. Hope is well and truly gone. There's no point in even being angry anymore. He hasn't felt it yet, really.]
I don't...know where to begin.
god the amount of cryruki you're getting
[ Heat rises up behind his eyes again before he can stop it, and they shine as he grins, shakes his head, jostles Eren. ]
That's okay. Eren. I don't expect you to.
[ He can't make Eren understand anything at the moment. He can only be here for him as the slurry of his mind slowly sifts and settles, as much as it ever will.
It's an honor, really. He can't make Eren understand that, either. ]
You don't need to do anything. Just– come rest. [ A beat, and a slightly sheepish, watery laugh. ] When you're done seeing everyone else, I mean. I don't presume I take precedence.
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[He thumbs Maruki's tears away with no fanfare, then knocks his glasses back onto his nose. It might seem like a playful gesture - really, it's an awkward, aimless one.]
I'd like to be with you for a while.
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I'd like that, too. Ah, have you gone back to the farm yet...?
[ Is it chill to go there? Or is it more machiya hours? ]
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You're staying somewhere else now, aren't you? Let's go there.
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It's a long walk back to the machiya, and if Eren wants to be silent, Maruki is happy to oblige. There's something to be said for companionable silence with a dear friend; falling back into it is as natural as breathing.
And the sight of the home slowly becoming visible through the thicket of trees is like a sigh of deep, contented relief. It's Maruki's home here. It's private, safe.
He looks over to Eren as he leads him through the outdoor entry area, lush with plant life and peaceful in its quiet. ]
You barely got to see this place before you left. It's okay if you don't remember it.
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[Probably not.
[They make it to the front entrance. Eren doesn't remember a single thing about it. What he remembers is a castle - stone walls and wretched sobbing; a garden, idle conversation.
[He wonders if he'll ever see that place again.]
I don't. It looks...odd. [Eren? Culturally insensitive? Well, boss, it's more likely than you think.]
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It's in the style of a traditional home back in my reality.
[ Maybe one day, you'll see one. After all, in another world, another time, you were one of my students, weren't you?
Trapped deftly under his tongue and swallowed back down. He can't confuse Eren any more than he already is. Memories need to be metered out slowly; they'll get there.
He gestures gently for Eren to remove his shoes with him in the sunken entryway before they continue on, and it's so surreal, suddenly. He's spent the past weeks holed up in this house while not at work, keeping the business Eren started running. His misery about Eren kept him here, and now he's here, and it's–
Not something to take for granted. Not for a moment. ]
I can make you some food, or we can just sit and talk.
[ A gesture to the airy kitchen, then to the little alcove that looks out into one of the gardens, cushions on the tatami floor to rest on and a low table for drinks. Whatever Eren wants. ]
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[Eren's mouth feels dry, fingers curling and twitching at his side. He looks about the Machiya, but it doesn't distract. Two weeks makes no difference, really. Four years does. When you add both together, what's the result? Eren wants to ask, but fears the answer.]
Maruki...
Has anyone else come back?
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I literally never get to use this icon
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lmao girl u couldn't PAY me to go back to working doordash u know the miles that put on my cart?
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cw: use of the word "pulp"
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1/3 idk how long this will take I'm cookin enjoy
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