[Jean? Happy? Eren sneers into his soup, lowering his head to take a bite.
[Jean has every right to hate him. Eren knows this.
[It hurts anyway. The last thing he wants is to be made a cage. He always allowed his friends their own autonomy - never altered their bodies or minds to keep them at bay. That was its own form of cruelty, but still...
[They're married. Eren loves him. He wants to be loved. Many have claimed that theirs is unconditional, but Eren's always known that isn't true.
[He's been quiet too long again, hand frozen, holding the spoon, eyes unfocused on the table.
[He used to tell Maruki almost anything. Not this, though. He wouldn't understand, Eren thinks. No one else but he or Jean could.
[A new thought comes to interrupt the static. Eren realizes something; lifts his head.]
You really aren't counseling anymore, then. Just cooking. [Two statements, but he waits for confirmation.]
[ Eren used to tell him almost anything, it's true. But not everything Maruki learned about him was through conversation. Observation and analysis have always been more important tools in his skillset than he thinks Eren has realized.
Asking if he visited the farm elicited a reaction. Mentioning Thermo and Jean elicits a reaction.
Noted.
He tears off a tiny corner of what's left of Eren's croissant to have a nibble himself. ]
I'm not counseling in any formal capacity, no. I won't start that again. I don't know how long I'll stick with cooking either, but for now it's good.
[ A beat. He doesn't look at Eren, shrugs. ]
It got me out of the house, at least. I wasn't leaving otherwise.
[ Another beat. Maruki doesn't know why he's still talking. He and Eren got to a point where he really couldn't obfuscate his emotions anymore, and certainly couldn't lie about them. They pour forth, even with this Eren who hasn't had to listen to him for four infinitely long years. ]
I felt a little like you, sometimes. Forcing myself to keep to a routine because otherwise, there was just... nothing.
[ Grief. He's describing grief.
And normally, this is where he would apologize, change the subject, get back on track. You say what you think you should say instead, Eren told him once, to get him to cut the bullshit. But he doesn't do that anymore. Not with Eren. ]
Edited (at first i thought i couldn't find the thread and then i could. turns out it's so burned into my brain that i paraphrased it perfectly anyway) 2024-10-02 10:47 (UTC)
[When Maruki reaches for a piece of Eren's croissant, Eren thoughtlessly hands over the entire thing. His friend is hungry.
[After that, it's all grief. Waking up in the morning and remembering that your comrade is dead is a unique sort of Hell, but then the Commander is calling for you to stand at attention, so you do, and you forget for a little while. That continues on until you're nineteen years old, barreling toward your own death, where grief will cease to have any weight.
[It isn't like that here. The war they fight is quiet like a slow-acting poison. When you wake up and remember that your friend is gone, all there is ahead of you is another day to live without them. The Commanders sit in their cottages and drink tea. You find ways to fill the time. You must find ways to fill the time. All the while uncertain as to whether or not ghosts are really ghosts.
[Eren never meant to cause Maruki grief. He is a creature built from grief, born grieving. It never gets easier. It never hurts less. He still sees them, hears them, feels them - all of them. Even those who probably never would have called him a friend themselves.
[Now, here, at the end of his life, so many have been left to grieve - grieve Eren, grieve the world. To love Eren is to lose him, and Maruki will a thousand times more than anyone else will.
[Why? Because they'll meet a thousand more times than anyone else will. Because they were meant to sit just like this, face to familiar, bespectacled face.
[Eren's hand starts to reach across the table - stills...
[...connects at Maruki's bicep, squeezing. Eren looks him in the eye. The words "I'm sorry" are so terribly cheap. He can't bring himself to say them. Maybe Maruki will know. He knows so many things.
[Eren lets go of Maruki's arm; withdraws his hand.]
[ Maruki knows. He feels it in that grounding, comforting touch, and he sees it in Eren's deadened gaze. It's an apology he doesn't need to give. There are ways that they will hurt one another that are inevitable; grief is one of them. It's neither of their faults. It's simply the way of the world. All things end, again and again and again.
Still, Maruki accepts it. Goes to catch Eren's hand– it's already gone.
He breaks the remaining croissant in half, hands it over to Eren without question. ]
There's plenty of time. And candidly... I'm tired too. Not like you are, but.
[ It was a familiar feeling in the worst way. No amount of sleep or even just inertia could give him any reprieve. Whether he closed his eyes or not, he was still miserable, so what was the point?
He's tired. Now that the adrenaline of finding Eren has all but entirely faded, it's been hitting him again and again. ]
Let's take a nap. I'm serious. I don't have anything else going on today, and even if I did, I don't care. And you deserve to rest, Eren. You do.
[Maruki reaches for him, but it's too late. Eren could reach back, but that feels too late too.
[Under the table, his foot lightly swings, just barely knocking into Maruki's shin.
[A simple nap. When's the last time Eren had one of those? He can't remember the last time he lay down in a bed at all. It must have been in that hospital in Liberio on a cold, iron cot.
[He and Maruki used to nap together. Eren's spent his entire life sleeping beside others; hasn't now in a long, long time...
[There are others he needs to see. He hasn't forgotten them either. But the idea of stepping outside right now feels oppressive. The machiya is quiet and comfortable, and his best friend is here, right here. Eren could have built a place where they could nap for four years straight if they really wanted to. He wanted to give them all more time, but the world needed ending.
[Eren feels himself breathe, and it seems that he can't remember the last time he did that, either.
[He's so very, very tired.
[Rather than answer, he takes a few minutes to quickly eat the rest of his meal. He doesn't rush necessarily, but eats at a steady, quick pace. He won't let it go to waste - never trusts that he'll be eating again soon - but, despite the food's taste, he wants to be finished eating. He wants to rest.
[ Food finished, dishes cleared, Maruki leads Eren through the rest of the machiya, quietly points out the sunken conversation pit and the kotatsu as they make their way to the stairs. The second floor landing is open air, overlooking the first; a simple row of rooms and nothing more.
Maruki doesn't mention Akechi as they pass his room. The smaller of the two, door barely ajar, the moon statue inside and Korokke asleep on his bed. He pushes open the door to the larger room it shares a wall with, and the term bedroom has never been more apt: It is a room with a bed in it. Nearly wall to wall, only just enough room on either side to make changing sheets possible, if incredibly annoying.
Maruki scratches at his jaw and huffs a laugh. ]
I don't know why the rooms are like this, but I've grown to like them.
[ A wide, sweeping gesture, as if to say it's all yours. ]
[They pass a bedroom that isn't Maruki's. A flicker of eyes through the cracked-open door reveals no one. Eren's fingers brush the wood as they pass.
[And, then, they're at Maruki's door, Eren staring at what looks like a particularly luxurious prison cell. His head tilts just a fraction of an inch to the side. It seems almost like you'd have to get a running start to get yourself right in the center. Eren sits on the edge, not quite sure how to manage. Eventually, he ends up lying on his back, feet still flat on the floor, his hands folded over his chest.
[The bed is more comfortable than he's ever felt, he thinks. That feels strange.
[He speaks to an unfamiliar ceiling.]
You too? [The vulnerability of the question creeps up after he's already asked.
[It's been a damn long time since he slept beside someone.]
[ Said without even looking. Maruki's busy closing the room up. It isn't entirely austere; nothing of his ever could be. Shelves on the walls are lined with books he's stolen from the library, some of the smaller potted plants he kept in Eyn Sof. Odds and ends from life in Somnius. The dagger Eren let him keep during war.
The large window above the bed pours in bright, dappled light through the tall trees that surround the building. Maruki draws curtains closed to dim it; the room is awash in pale, warm yellow light. ]
It's peaceful, right?
[ He clambers onto the bed inelegantly, flops down properly, perpendicular to where Eren has situated himself. A little bonk to the top of Eren's head, like he would during those times that his best friend spontaneously became a child. ]
[Funny that being called a "dork" should make emotion well up in Eren's chest, but people don't speak fondly of him anymore. They have no reason to. He's a bastard and a traitor and a monster and a god and a plague and ghost.
[To Maruki, just a dork worth bopping on the head. Eren's eyes fall momentarily closed, eyelids straining with some vague hint of pain.
[He breathes just fine. That's really not the problem.
[Anyway, there's not exactly an elegant way to climb into a bed like this, so eventually, he turns to get on his hands and knees and pulls himself in properly. He settles on his back again, arms fully folding over his chest now, rather than just the hands. He doesn't exactly look comfortable. Maruki might remember that Eren preferred to sleep on his side, but he hasn't done so in quite a while now. Too comforting, somehow.
[Maruki asked him a question. He turns his head barely to the side, watching his friend. There were a couple of times, before, where they lay together, but not like this. They wrapped around each other, just as he would with anyone in the 104th, or anyone here that he loves. It's what he's used to and what he wants, but it's been too long. He doesn't touch - only destroys. His hands grip his own biceps, jaw grinding just slightly.
[He's forgotten entirely how to act human.]
It is. [Peaceful, he means. Has he waited too long to respond?] It's smaller than a cell.
[ The difference is palpable, and it isn't difficult to figure why. Maruki knows what Eren's future holds, but it isn't only that.
Just a little more than two weeks ago, they sacked out together in the farmhouse during the war. Maruki can still remember exactly how he fell asleep, Eren's head pressed into his shoulder. For Eren, though – it's been four years, and infinite time on top of that. How much opportunity has he had for casual affection of any kind?
None in a while, by the looks of it.
Maruki turns onto his side to face in, head propped up on one hand. Observes his rigid position, the tension of his grip on his own arms.
It might not be the right thing to do, in the end, but that's why he's doing this. To relearn his friend. And even with all that now separates them, what remains is what ties them together irrevocably. He trusts that his instincts are more right than they aren't.
His other hand lands on Eren's arm. Wraps around his bicep, just below Eren's own grip, and tugs. Gentle but insistent, trying to loosen it away.
He doesn't call attention to it, simply keeps up the idle conversation as he tries to unpeel Eren from himself. ]
I like it, there's nothing to do in here but sleep. There's another room up here where we keep our clothes and things, and a guest room with– ah, futons, they're like floor beds? I don't think I ever told you about those.
[Maruki's tug is weak - it should do nothing. But Eren isn't pulled. Just invited.
[Maruki isn't afraid. Not of him.
[He mourns the realities he spent without his dearest friend. How different might they have been? Not at all, maybe. Maruki couldn't change his future even once they did meet.
[But Eren isn't asking for that; isn't asking for anything, but he's given it, regardless.
[He's always wanted to be close. As a child, he craved friendship and met rejection at every turn. As a teenager, his closest friends were those assigned to him. As an adult, he destroyed them; realized that they always feared him, and that they were right to.
[Is there truly anyone else who loves Eren the way Maruki does? It's unconditional.
[Eren shifts onto his side, arms still folded tight. He feels ashamed without knowing why. He can't quite look at Maruki. His cheeks are tinged red with embarrassment, but it has nothing to do with their closeness.
[He doesn't deserve him.
[Maruki just keeps talking. Eren follows the conversation for what it is. Hell if he has anything better to contribute. It's easier, more pleasant, to talk about things like:]
It didn't start that way, and one day Maruki will have to reckon with that, apologize for behavior that Eren never seemed to become aware of, even when it was pointed out to him.
He quickly learned, counseling in Somnius, that he couldn't fix anyone. Not when every reality is more horrific than the last, and not when their struggles are so far outside his comprehension. All he could do was listen, and accept, and let them be. And Eren was the first to get that treatment. The one to get it most often.
He learned how to unconditionally accept Eren long before he learned to love him. One begat the other, transmuting easily. It's never been difficult to love the closest friend he's made in any reality. Never.
Not even now, as Eren lies stiff and reticent on his side, his mind worlds away. ]
Sort of like a bedroll, but better. Whatever you're picturing, imagine it approximately a hundred times more comfortable. I'll show you one later.
[ Maruki lays his head down, watches Eren for a moment. The first time they ended up passing out together at the farm, Eren told him about sleeping close to his friends. How normal it was for him, how much he needed it.
A lot has changed, but Eren is still Eren. Still the boy who cried into his chest about Marco before he fell asleep.
He's lost so much. He hasn't lost himself, even if he believes he has. Maruki won't allow it.
Without hesitation, he reaches across to lay an arm over Eren's shoulders, palm coming to rest against his nape. A gentle touch, a gentle pressure. An unspoken invitation that will only continue to be extended, whether or not Eren takes it. ]
[Eren's forgotten what they were talking about. It takes only that split second, that gentle touch, that sacred area. Static erupts beneath the skin, crawling down his back and over his shoulders. It feels as if a chill could be warm. The inside of his throat feels thicker. Grey-green eyes sharpen - focused, alert, all the things fear has warped itself into for the sake of survival.
[It's too much. It's been too long. Jean and he only touched after it was established that Eren was hated; thereby unwelcome, or so it feels. But Maruki welcomes him.
[And Eren could argue. Eren could remind Maruki that he's a monster, that his true reality is an ocean of pulp and blood - on and on and on and on, Eren could argue, but it won't do any good. He knows it won't do any good. Maruki won't hate him. Eren doesn't want him to. Maruki won't push him away. Eren doesn't want him to. Maruki will keep him safe.
["Safe". As if Eren isn't a god himself. As if Eren isn't perfectly capable of making sure that nothing can hurt him. As if a 300-meter beast with an army of others needs to feel safe, but he does.
[He does.
[If he were still sixteen, he'd fold into Maruki, cling tight, and sob.
[If there was anyone he could cry in front of, it would be this man, but he simply doesn't. He simply can't. Can only stare at Maruki like a cornered animal, eyes dry where they would have once welled up wet. There's nothing to blink away.
[But his palm comes up to Maruki's chest. His fingers curl, pulling together knitted fabric. His brow pinches just the tiniest bit. He turns his head down and glares between them, almost angry - only at himself. Maybe you could merely call it frustration. Maybe pure rage isn't all there is left.
[He uncrosses his arms; "adjusts," but it moves him just an inch closer. He still can't seem to look at him.]
I'm not the same. [He whispers it between them.] I'll never be the same. I'm sorry.
[ Firm, grounding. The same tone he's used a hundred times before to hold Eren's attention.
Earlier, Eren held him in the rubble and let him cry, the first person in Somnius to do so. He isn't crying now, but Maruki can easily recognize the heaviness of this moment that would normally call for it. He can be that same stalwart presence. He's done it before. He'll do it as many times as Eren needs, in every reality they meet in. It's an honor, to be so trusted.
Eren scoots an inch closer; Maruki makes up the rest of the distance easily. Rolls close enough for them to curl together as they used to, if Eren eventually allows himself to do so. His voice is calm, measured, filled to the brim with nothing less than complete and total understanding. ]
You don't have to apologize for that. Not to me. I don't expect you to be the same– I don't even want you to be. I just want you to be you.
[ Maruki shifts his hand up to the base of Eren's skull and pushes down, making him bow his head. He lifts his own, comes up to press a kiss to his forehead, the stray hairs escaping their bun tickling his face. It's a quick gesture, it doesn't linger, but it isn't without a tremendous amount of affection. ]
[Why should anyone have to be special? That just isn't the way I like to look at things. And when it comes to my child, I don't care if he grows up to be great. My son doesn't have to be better than anyone. He's so cute. I think Eren is special enough already. For no other reason than that he was born into this world.]
[You don't have to apologize for that. Not to me. I don't expect you to be the same. I don't even want you to be. I just want you to be you. Just be. That's enough.]
[Strong arms encircle Maruki and clutch. Fingers dig into shoulderblades.
[Eren yanks Maruki against his chest, hold tighter than a vice grip.
[His body trembles from the effort, eyes wide on the wall behind Maruki. Their faces are pressed together, cheek to cheek, so that Maruki can't see Eren's grief, his gratitude.
[He fails to breathe; it comes out ragged.
Maruki. [A pained growl, aggressive only in its desperation.
[And that's all. The pressure doesn't ease. He won't let go. He can't.]
[ Eren's right. He's the same. This is not the same. The way he clings is vicious, bereaved. It aches, right down into Maruki's bones.
He doesn't try to get Eren to ease up. Doesn't pull away or move much at all. He stays still, steadfast, a port in a storm. Runs his hand up and down Eren's back to soothe what can't be soothed. Tucks his face against Eren's shoulder, closes his eyes, breathes. Tries as best he can to get Eren to match the deep, even rise and fall of his chest.
[Eren doesn't cry, but he does let out a cry. It's strangled through gritted teeth - a furious, mournful growl that clambers out of his throat and crawls up the walls of the miniscule bedroom. The breaths that follow come out in clipped bursts, broad chest heaving despite Maruki's modeling. He lets out another shout - low, rageful, but it peters out in an nauseous groan.
[His grip loosens. He curls his body, legs wrapping around Maruki's, head falling to the man's chest.
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no subject
[Jean has every right to hate him. Eren knows this.
[It hurts anyway. The last thing he wants is to be made a cage. He always allowed his friends their own autonomy - never altered their bodies or minds to keep them at bay. That was its own form of cruelty, but still...
[They're married. Eren loves him. He wants to be loved. Many have claimed that theirs is unconditional, but Eren's always known that isn't true.
[He's been quiet too long again, hand frozen, holding the spoon, eyes unfocused on the table.
[He used to tell Maruki almost anything. Not this, though. He wouldn't understand, Eren thinks. No one else but he or Jean could.
[A new thought comes to interrupt the static. Eren realizes something; lifts his head.]
You really aren't counseling anymore, then. Just cooking. [Two statements, but he waits for confirmation.]
no subject
Asking if he visited the farm elicited a reaction. Mentioning Thermo and Jean elicits a reaction.
Noted.
He tears off a tiny corner of what's left of Eren's croissant to have a nibble himself. ]
I'm not counseling in any formal capacity, no. I won't start that again. I don't know how long I'll stick with cooking either, but for now it's good.
[ A beat. He doesn't look at Eren, shrugs. ]
It got me out of the house, at least. I wasn't leaving otherwise.
[ Another beat. Maruki doesn't know why he's still talking. He and Eren got to a point where he really couldn't obfuscate his emotions anymore, and certainly couldn't lie about them. They pour forth, even with this Eren who hasn't had to listen to him for four infinitely long years. ]
I felt a little like you, sometimes. Forcing myself to keep to a routine because otherwise, there was just... nothing.
[ Grief. He's describing grief.
And normally, this is where he would apologize, change the subject, get back on track. You say what you think you should say instead, Eren told him once, to get him to cut the bullshit. But he doesn't do that anymore. Not with Eren. ]
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[After that, it's all grief. Waking up in the morning and remembering that your comrade is dead is a unique sort of Hell, but then the Commander is calling for you to stand at attention, so you do, and you forget for a little while. That continues on until you're nineteen years old, barreling toward your own death, where grief will cease to have any weight.
[It isn't like that here. The war they fight is quiet like a slow-acting poison. When you wake up and remember that your friend is gone, all there is ahead of you is another day to live without them. The Commanders sit in their cottages and drink tea. You find ways to fill the time. You must find ways to fill the time. All the while uncertain as to whether or not ghosts are really ghosts.
[Eren never meant to cause Maruki grief. He is a creature built from grief, born grieving. It never gets easier. It never hurts less. He still sees them, hears them, feels them - all of them. Even those who probably never would have called him a friend themselves.
[Now, here, at the end of his life, so many have been left to grieve - grieve Eren, grieve the world. To love Eren is to lose him, and Maruki will a thousand times more than anyone else will.
[Why? Because they'll meet a thousand more times than anyone else will. Because they were meant to sit just like this, face to familiar, bespectacled face.
[Eren's hand starts to reach across the table - stills...
[...connects at Maruki's bicep, squeezing. Eren looks him in the eye. The words "I'm sorry" are so terribly cheap. He can't bring himself to say them. Maybe Maruki will know. He knows so many things.
[Eren lets go of Maruki's arm; withdraws his hand.]
If there's time...[There's never time.]...we'll just rest a while.
I'm tired. [It feels odd to admit.] Dying, I thought...I wouldn't be anymore.
no subject
Still, Maruki accepts it. Goes to catch Eren's hand– it's already gone.
He breaks the remaining croissant in half, hands it over to Eren without question. ]
There's plenty of time. And candidly... I'm tired too. Not like you are, but.
[ It was a familiar feeling in the worst way. No amount of sleep or even just inertia could give him any reprieve. Whether he closed his eyes or not, he was still miserable, so what was the point?
He's tired. Now that the adrenaline of finding Eren has all but entirely faded, it's been hitting him again and again. ]
Let's take a nap. I'm serious. I don't have anything else going on today, and even if I did, I don't care. And you deserve to rest, Eren. You do.
no subject
[Under the table, his foot lightly swings, just barely knocking into Maruki's shin.
[A simple nap. When's the last time Eren had one of those? He can't remember the last time he lay down in a bed at all. It must have been in that hospital in Liberio on a cold, iron cot.
[He and Maruki used to nap together. Eren's spent his entire life sleeping beside others; hasn't now in a long, long time...
[There are others he needs to see. He hasn't forgotten them either. But the idea of stepping outside right now feels oppressive. The machiya is quiet and comfortable, and his best friend is here, right here. Eren could have built a place where they could nap for four years straight if they really wanted to. He wanted to give them all more time, but the world needed ending.
[Eren feels himself breathe, and it seems that he can't remember the last time he did that, either.
[He's so very, very tired.
[Rather than answer, he takes a few minutes to quickly eat the rest of his meal. He doesn't rush necessarily, but eats at a steady, quick pace. He won't let it go to waste - never trusts that he'll be eating again soon - but, despite the food's taste, he wants to be finished eating. He wants to rest.
[Nods as he takes in the last mouthful.]
Alright.
no subject
Maruki doesn't mention Akechi as they pass his room. The smaller of the two, door barely ajar, the moon statue inside and Korokke asleep on his bed. He pushes open the door to the larger room it shares a wall with, and the term bedroom has never been more apt: It is a room with a bed in it. Nearly wall to wall, only just enough room on either side to make changing sheets possible, if incredibly annoying.
Maruki scratches at his jaw and huffs a laugh. ]
I don't know why the rooms are like this, but I've grown to like them.
[ A wide, sweeping gesture, as if to say it's all yours. ]
no subject
[And, then, they're at Maruki's door, Eren staring at what looks like a particularly luxurious prison cell. His head tilts just a fraction of an inch to the side. It seems almost like you'd have to get a running start to get yourself right in the center. Eren sits on the edge, not quite sure how to manage. Eventually, he ends up lying on his back, feet still flat on the floor, his hands folded over his chest.
[The bed is more comfortable than he's ever felt, he thinks. That feels strange.
[He speaks to an unfamiliar ceiling.]
You too? [The vulnerability of the question creeps up after he's already asked.
[It's been a damn long time since he slept beside someone.]
no subject
[ Said without even looking. Maruki's busy closing the room up. It isn't entirely austere; nothing of his ever could be. Shelves on the walls are lined with books he's stolen from the library, some of the smaller potted plants he kept in Eyn Sof. Odds and ends from life in Somnius. The dagger Eren let him keep during war.
The large window above the bed pours in bright, dappled light through the tall trees that surround the building. Maruki draws curtains closed to dim it; the room is awash in pale, warm yellow light. ]
It's peaceful, right?
[ He clambers onto the bed inelegantly, flops down properly, perpendicular to where Eren has situated himself. A little bonk to the top of Eren's head, like he would during those times that his best friend spontaneously became a child. ]
Lay down normally. Dork.
no subject
[To Maruki, just a dork worth bopping on the head. Eren's eyes fall momentarily closed, eyelids straining with some vague hint of pain.
[He breathes just fine. That's really not the problem.
[Anyway, there's not exactly an elegant way to climb into a bed like this, so eventually, he turns to get on his hands and knees and pulls himself in properly. He settles on his back again, arms fully folding over his chest now, rather than just the hands. He doesn't exactly look comfortable. Maruki might remember that Eren preferred to sleep on his side, but he hasn't done so in quite a while now. Too comforting, somehow.
[Maruki asked him a question. He turns his head barely to the side, watching his friend. There were a couple of times, before, where they lay together, but not like this. They wrapped around each other, just as he would with anyone in the 104th, or anyone here that he loves. It's what he's used to and what he wants, but it's been too long. He doesn't touch - only destroys. His hands grip his own biceps, jaw grinding just slightly.
[He's forgotten entirely how to act human.]
It is. [Peaceful, he means. Has he waited too long to respond?] It's smaller than a cell.
Can't say that it feels like one, though.
no subject
Just a little more than two weeks ago, they sacked out together in the farmhouse during the war. Maruki can still remember exactly how he fell asleep, Eren's head pressed into his shoulder. For Eren, though – it's been four years, and infinite time on top of that. How much opportunity has he had for casual affection of any kind?
None in a while, by the looks of it.
Maruki turns onto his side to face in, head propped up on one hand. Observes his rigid position, the tension of his grip on his own arms.
It might not be the right thing to do, in the end, but that's why he's doing this. To relearn his friend. And even with all that now separates them, what remains is what ties them together irrevocably. He trusts that his instincts are more right than they aren't.
His other hand lands on Eren's arm. Wraps around his bicep, just below Eren's own grip, and tugs. Gentle but insistent, trying to loosen it away.
He doesn't call attention to it, simply keeps up the idle conversation as he tries to unpeel Eren from himself. ]
I like it, there's nothing to do in here but sleep. There's another room up here where we keep our clothes and things, and a guest room with– ah, futons, they're like floor beds? I don't think I ever told you about those.
no subject
[Don't. The blade will cut. Don't.
[Maruki's tug is weak - it should do nothing. But Eren isn't pulled. Just invited.
[Maruki isn't afraid. Not of him.
[He mourns the realities he spent without his dearest friend. How different might they have been? Not at all, maybe. Maruki couldn't change his future even once they did meet.
[But Eren isn't asking for that; isn't asking for anything, but he's given it, regardless.
[He's always wanted to be close. As a child, he craved friendship and met rejection at every turn. As a teenager, his closest friends were those assigned to him. As an adult, he destroyed them; realized that they always feared him, and that they were right to.
[Is there truly anyone else who loves Eren the way Maruki does? It's unconditional.
[He can think of two others. They aren't here. Eren wanted Maruki to meet them.
[Eren shifts onto his side, arms still folded tight. He feels ashamed without knowing why. He can't quite look at Maruki. His cheeks are tinged red with embarrassment, but it has nothing to do with their closeness.
[He doesn't deserve him.
[Maruki just keeps talking. Eren follows the conversation for what it is. Hell if he has anything better to contribute. It's easier, more pleasant, to talk about things like:]
A bedroll?
no subject
It didn't start that way, and one day Maruki will have to reckon with that, apologize for behavior that Eren never seemed to become aware of, even when it was pointed out to him.
He quickly learned, counseling in Somnius, that he couldn't fix anyone. Not when every reality is more horrific than the last, and not when their struggles are so far outside his comprehension. All he could do was listen, and accept, and let them be. And Eren was the first to get that treatment. The one to get it most often.
He learned how to unconditionally accept Eren long before he learned to love him. One begat the other, transmuting easily. It's never been difficult to love the closest friend he's made in any reality. Never.
Not even now, as Eren lies stiff and reticent on his side, his mind worlds away. ]
Sort of like a bedroll, but better. Whatever you're picturing, imagine it approximately a hundred times more comfortable. I'll show you one later.
[ Maruki lays his head down, watches Eren for a moment. The first time they ended up passing out together at the farm, Eren told him about sleeping close to his friends. How normal it was for him, how much he needed it.
A lot has changed, but Eren is still Eren. Still the boy who cried into his chest about Marco before he fell asleep.
He's lost so much. He hasn't lost himself, even if he believes he has. Maruki won't allow it.
Without hesitation, he reaches across to lay an arm over Eren's shoulders, palm coming to rest against his nape. A gentle touch, a gentle pressure. An unspoken invitation that will only continue to be extended, whether or not Eren takes it. ]
cw: use of the word "pulp"
[It's too much. It's been too long. Jean and he only touched after it was established that Eren was hated; thereby unwelcome, or so it feels. But Maruki welcomes him.
[And Eren could argue. Eren could remind Maruki that he's a monster, that his true reality is an ocean of pulp and blood - on and on and on and on, Eren could argue, but it won't do any good. He knows it won't do any good. Maruki won't hate him. Eren doesn't want him to. Maruki won't push him away. Eren doesn't want him to. Maruki will keep him safe.
["Safe". As if Eren isn't a god himself. As if Eren isn't perfectly capable of making sure that nothing can hurt him. As if a 300-meter beast with an army of others needs to feel safe, but he does.
[He does.
[If he were still sixteen, he'd fold into Maruki, cling tight, and sob.
[If there was anyone he could cry in front of, it would be this man, but he simply doesn't. He simply can't. Can only stare at Maruki like a cornered animal, eyes dry where they would have once welled up wet. There's nothing to blink away.
[But his palm comes up to Maruki's chest. His fingers curl, pulling together knitted fabric. His brow pinches just the tiniest bit. He turns his head down and glares between them, almost angry - only at himself. Maybe you could merely call it frustration. Maybe pure rage isn't all there is left.
[He uncrosses his arms; "adjusts," but it moves him just an inch closer. He still can't seem to look at him.]
I'm not the same. [He whispers it between them.] I'll never be the same. I'm sorry.
no subject
[ Firm, grounding. The same tone he's used a hundred times before to hold Eren's attention.
Earlier, Eren held him in the rubble and let him cry, the first person in Somnius to do so. He isn't crying now, but Maruki can easily recognize the heaviness of this moment that would normally call for it. He can be that same stalwart presence. He's done it before. He'll do it as many times as Eren needs, in every reality they meet in. It's an honor, to be so trusted.
Eren scoots an inch closer; Maruki makes up the rest of the distance easily. Rolls close enough for them to curl together as they used to, if Eren eventually allows himself to do so. His voice is calm, measured, filled to the brim with nothing less than complete and total understanding. ]
You don't have to apologize for that. Not to me. I don't expect you to be the same– I don't even want you to be. I just want you to be you.
[ Maruki shifts his hand up to the base of Eren's skull and pushes down, making him bow his head. He lifts his own, comes up to press a kiss to his forehead, the stray hairs escaping their bun tickling his face. It's a quick gesture, it doesn't linger, but it isn't without a tremendous amount of affection. ]
Just be. That's enough.
[ He meant it before. He'll always mean it. ]
1/3 idk how long this will take I'm cookin enjoy
That just isn't the way I like to look at things.
And when it comes to my child, I don't care if he grows up to be great.
My son doesn't have to be better than anyone. He's so cute.
I think Eren is special enough already.
For no other reason than that he was born into this world.]
2/3
Not to me.
I don't expect you to be the same.
I don't even want you to be.
I just want you to be you.
Just be.
That's enough.]
3/3
[Strong arms encircle Maruki and clutch. Fingers dig into shoulderblades.
[Eren yanks Maruki against his chest, hold tighter than a vice grip.
[His body trembles from the effort, eyes wide on the wall behind Maruki. Their faces are pressed together, cheek to cheek, so that Maruki can't see Eren's grief, his gratitude.
[He fails to breathe; it comes out ragged.
Maruki. [A pained growl, aggressive only in its desperation.
[And that's all. The pressure doesn't ease. He won't let go. He can't.]
no subject
He doesn't try to get Eren to ease up. Doesn't pull away or move much at all. He stays still, steadfast, a port in a storm. Runs his hand up and down Eren's back to soothe what can't be soothed. Tucks his face against Eren's shoulder, closes his eyes, breathes. Tries as best he can to get Eren to match the deep, even rise and fall of his chest.
His best friend is dead.
His best friend is here.
Why would he ever let go? ]
Eren. Just rest a while.
1/2
[His grip loosens. He curls his body, legs wrapping around Maruki's, head falling to the man's chest.
[He listens to him breathe.
[He listens to him breathe.
[He listens to him breathe.]
2/2