Chapter Text
Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.
`(Anne Sexton, Again and Again and Again)
It had been the summer when everything went to hell.
In Haling, the summers were always long and drawn out, the heat oppressive, seeming to cling to you like an overzealous lover. During the day, the streets were bereft of life as all the town residents stayed indoors, the sun too unbearable to manage for more than a few minutes at a time. Eventually, the strung-out days would seep into uneasy darkness; closer to the coast, the sea breeze would mitigate the heat, but inland, the sky remained dust-choked and polluted.
Reiner’s mother’s spells also grew worse in the summer. He blamed it on the hot nights—especially recently, when the AC had broken, and they hadn’t had enough money to get it replaced. It made the nights impossible to tolerate, and Reiner would often hear Karina get up and pace around the house in the middle of the night. More often than not, maddened by insomnia, she’d put the television on and light a cigarette, her eyes taking on a glazed-over quality, as if she were somewhere else completely. One of the few doctors they’d seen about it had told Reiner it was all part of her mental illness. That it wasn’t her fault.
Regardless, her ennui had pushed Reiner out of the house, for the most part. When he’d been younger, he’d doted over her when she was in these states, convinced if he could just love her enough, she’d get better. But his presence would only seem to aggravate her.
For this reason, Reiner had spent a great deal of time up on the hill, with Annie, helping her father with menial work, cloaked in tall pine trees and thick shrubbery.
Him and Eren had met through Armin, technically. Armin Arlert—honours student, certified goody-two-shoes, et cetera—quite frankly, the last person on earth Reiner would expect to have Annie Leonhart fall for him. But during that summer, they’d become inseparable, seeming to spend damn well all their time together. Their bond wasn’t something Reiner could pretend to understand, but he supposed it was nice to see Annie smiling occasionally.
It had been the four of them, that afternoon: Reiner, Annie, Bertolt and Armin, passing around a bottle of extra dry vermouth. Eighteen years old, freshly graduated; Armin and Annie would be off to college in a couple months. Years later, Reiner would pick those few hours apart with the vigour of a monomaniac, debating to himself whether or not he would have changed the series of events that preceded his introduction to Eren Yeager.
Eren was Armin’s friend, after all; they’d first encountered one another in the orphanage wherein they spent the majority of their formative years. When they’d both turned sixteen, Armin had begun working and moved in with another friend, on top of staying in school, whereas Eren had dropped out, disinterested in academia, and started working at the diner around the block. Reiner remembered him vaguely when he’d still gone to school, although they’d never spoken.
It was the first glimpse Reiner had of Eren, at least, that he remembered properly. Even then, his face had been twinged with familiarity, but perhaps that was simply because Reiner found it so difficult to imagine a world in which Eren’s face didn’t spark a kaleidoscope of anger, adoration and resentment. Occasionally, when looking into the past, Reiner had the impression of time flowing backwards, forwards, bending backwards to influence itself—everything happening all at once.
“Mikasa is looking for you.” Those had been the first words that came from his mouth, not directed at Reiner, but at Armin. He’d shouted it up the hill, where Reiner and his friends sat on the slope. Reiner had brushed his fingers through amber strands of dead grass, plucking them from the ground and letting them slip through his fingers.
Armin sat up; cheeks flushed. Reiner could tell he wasn’t used to drinking, at least not to the extent that the rest of them were. The three of them had used to skip out on school back in freshman year to go sit next to the train tracks and drink generic-brand vodka. Those afternoons had been when they’d truly gotten to know one another, over swigs of rancid liquor secrets had spilled out in a disinhibited stream, never to be repeated.
Eren stood below them with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d grown much taller since dropping out of high school, his shoulders broadening, and in the sunlight, Reiner had noticed the curves of the muscles in his back, the deep hue of his complexion, the flash of his eyes.
“I’m busy,” Armin said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“You don’t look busy.” Eren said, deadpan.
“We’re trying to help Annie’s dad tear down the shed.”
Eren reached into his pocket and plucked out a pocket of Marlboros. He placed one between his teeth, his eyes flitting towards Reiner. He leered.
“What does she want, anyway?” Armin asked.
“Fuck knows. All I know is that I don’t want to be the person to tell her no.” Eren’s eyes moved to Reiner once again. In Reiner’s memory, it lingered for longer than normal, but perhaps that had been the same veneer that coloured all of his memories of Eren. Eren lit the cigarette, tearing his gaze away.
“Whatever.” He muttered, then he’d left, his impression staining Reiner’s mind for the rest of the day. Reiner had watched him retreat, unsure of what exactly prevented him from looking away. Like a car crash.
That was how it started.
When Reiner returned to his home, his mother was half-asleep in front of the television, a few empty cans of beer at her feet, Fox News bleating away.
“Is that you, honey?” Her voice had become naturally hoarse—a combination of chain smoking and a lot of shouting.
“Yeah, mom. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I just fell asleep.” She sat up, pulling her blanket with her. Her blonde hair was pulled off her scalp in a tight ponytail. “How were your friends?”
“They’re good. We helped Mr. Leonhart pull down his shed.”
“That’s nice of you.” Karina said with a smile, eyes bleary. “You can get a beer from the fridge, if you’d like. Get me one while you’re at it.”
Reiner obeyed, returning with two cans of ice-cold Stella. His mother’s lifelong favourite. He pushed one into her hand, and she patted his arm.
“I bet Mr. Leonhart was happy to have you there. You’re getting so big nowadays, I can barely believe you used to be my little boy.” Karina cracked open her beer, reaching to the coffee table for her pack of Newports. “I bet Annie was happy you were there, too.”
Reiner groaned. “Trust me, mom, it’s not like that.”
“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t, with how handsome you are.” She pinched his cheek. Reiner swatted her hand away.
“Annie has a boyfriend, anyway.” He grumbled.
“She does? What’s he like?”
“He’s nice. Nerdier than I’d expect for Annie, but he’s nice.” Reiner scratched the back of his head, thinking of something else to fill the silence. “He’s really smart.”
“You’re really smart.”
“I’m really not. I barely passed high school.”
“If you’re stupid, honey, I don’t know where the hell that puts me. I remember even when you were small, I’d read through your work and see words I didn’t even know…” She lit her cigarette, a billow of smoke appearing above her head, then dissolving into the half-darkness. “Those grades don’t mean anything.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“I mean it. I’ll bet you’re smarter than most the kids that get shipped off to Harvard.”
Reiner took another sip of his beer and got to his feet. “I’m going to get to bed.”
“Alright, baby. Sleep well. You got work tomorrow?”
“Nah. Tomorrow’s my day off. How about you?”
Karina didn’t look at him, eyes flitting back to the television screen. She sniffed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She said, drawing her legs up to her chest, like a child. “They let me go earlier.”
Reiner stopped in his tracks. He was disappointed, but ultimately unsurprised.
“Oh, mom, I’m sorry…” He cleared his throat. “…What happened?”
“I had a… disagreement with the manager. But it’s alright, honey. I’ll find something else. And this time, it’ll be something that will last.” She said it like she believed it.
“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” Reiner paused. “Besides, you didn’t really like it, did you?”
“No. Next time I look for one, I’ll make sure I get one with healthcare insurance. They were a bunch of assholes at the old place…”
“Yeah. I’m sure the next one will work out better.” Reiner didn’t mention the string of service industry jobs Karina had held before this one, none lasting longer than four months. “Goodnight, mom.”
“Goodnight, honey.”
Reiner walked to his room in silence, still with the can of beer in his hand. Once he reached his room, he closed the door behind him, locking the door while he was at it. As he lay back in his bed, Reiner found his thoughts drifting to the strip of brown skin he’d seen when Eren had stretched out his arms.
The second time Reiner met Eren, he’d been dropping into the diner on the corner for a coffee, a week after Eren had appeared on the hill. It was an impulsive decision, since Reiner had craved something to keep him going after getting back from the gym. When he first walked in, Eren was leaning against the counter, staring at his phone.
“Aren’t you supposed to pretend like you want to be here?” Reiner said, approaching him. Eren looked up, expression flat. He tucked his phone into the back of his jeans.
“It’s fine, as long as Levi doesn’t see me.” He said, sounding bored.
“And if he does?”
Eren shrugged. “He probably wouldn’t fire me.”
“Probably?”
“Probably.” Eren’s face was still impassive. Back when he’d seen him in high school, he didn’t remember him seeming this standoffish. “Can I get you something?”
“Just an americano, please. Black.”
Eren did as he was told, turning around and pouring Reiner a cup of dark, fragrant coffee. He pushed the mug across the counter, eyeing Reiner’s gym bag.
“Tired?”
“A little.”
Eren nodded, turning around and wiping the counter. Behind him were rows and rows of jars, filled with dark coffee beans, various shades of sugar, and a rainbow of different teabags. Reiner found himself wanting to carry on the conversation, despite Eren’s apparent disinterest.
“How long have you worked here?” He asked.
“Two years, since I dropped out. Mikasa’s cousin owns the place, so I guess I have her to thank.”
“What’s it like?”
Eren considered for a moment, pouring a stream of black coffee into a white teacup. “It’s not so bad.” He said, after a second. “I mean, the pay is terrible, ‘cos Levi’s a cheap fuck, and we have barely any customers, so the tips aren’t great either, but I got insurance. And dental. So, I guess it’s not so bad.” Eren checked his watch. “I think it’s time for me to go for a cigarette break.”
Reiner slurped down the remainder of his coffee. “I’ll come with you.”
“Do you smoke?” Eren asked, head cocked. He was wiping his hands on a loose tea towel.
“Occasionally.” That was true enough. Reiner would steal the occasional cigarette from the packs his mother left lying around, or share a smoke with Annie if he’d had a few drinks, although the habit never quite stuck.
They walked outside, to the alley adjacent to the diner, caked with yellow dust and webs of graffiti. Eren leaned against the wall, tilting his head backwards and sighing.
It was the most emotive Reiner had seen him. At least recently. His few memories of Eren from high school painted a far more animated picture than the apathetic eighteen-year-old in front of him. The two of them stared back at the road, lined with tarmac that had long since cracked from neglect.
“You were on the football team, weren’t you?” Eren said, offering Reiner the carton of cigarettes.
Reiner took one gingerly. “Yeah, I was.” He wasn’t particularly proud of the person he’d been in high school.
“I noticed you then.” Eren said. “I remember.”
“I wasn’t that good. I was alright, but there were better players than me.”
“I still noticed you.” Eren’s eyes locked onto his—a strange colour—a paler green than Reiner had seen before. He felt his cheeks heat up.
“You did?” Reiner laughed nervously. “I wasn’t that impressive.”
“I noticed you, though.” There was a silence, and Eren threw him a look that could have been playful, Reiner couldn’t be sure. “Did you ever notice me?”
“We never spoke.”
“I was different back then.”
Reiner’s gaze travelled the expanse of the other man’s body, from his long, dark hair to his dirt-covered trainers. “I can see that.”
Different was an understatement. That scrawny, friendless misfit seemed long dead. Thinking about it, Reiner felt a flood of embarrassment at how he’d acted while he was still in high school. Sure—he’d been popular, but he’d never felt like he was being himself, instead leaning into another, inauthentic projection of himself. The confident, benign jock—friendly with everyone but friends with relatively few. When he looked up, pulling himself out of his thoughts, he noticed Eren was looking up at him. For the first time, a smile tugged at his lips.
“I guess I’ve changed too.” Reiner said.
“You only graduated two months ago.”
“Yeah, but still—”
“Eren? The fuck are you doing?” Eren’s eyes drifted upwards, cool as ever. A man had stuck his head out the door, a scowl adorning his features. Presumably this was Levi. “Who said you could have a cigarette break?”
Eren took another drag. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry.
“What are you standing there for? Get back inside!” Levi was short and covered in tattoos that snaked all the way from the back of his hands to the nape of his neck. Diminutive as he was, he still looked like he killed people for a living. Or maybe just for fun.
“Just give me a moment,” Eren said, blowing smoke into the air, seemingly unmoved by his boss’s anger. Clearly Levi’s thuggish demeanour had ceased to affect him.
“Did I say you could have a moment? I said get the fuck back inside!”
Eren flicked his cigarette across the dusty ground. “I guess I’ll see you around.” He said to Reiner.
“Yeah,” Reiner said, “I guess I’ll see you around.”
He watched Eren walk back towards the glass door.
“Wait,” Reiner found himself saying. “What time do you finish work?”
The words had escaped his mouth without Reiner thinking them through—as if compelled by some invisible, impenetrable force. Maybe it was fate.
Eren turned around. One of his eyebrows, thick, dark and straight, was raised.
“I finish at eight.” He said.
Reiner dug his hands into his pockets. “Do you, uh, want to do something after?”
Eren blinked at him. Reiner felt suddenly embarrassed, unsure of why the fuck those words had left his mouth, seemingly without his control. Why had he said that? Why would he think that—
“Yeah.” Eren said, after a moment. “Sure.”
Reiner didn’t know what to expect as he watched Eren leave work, hands deep in his pockets. He’d been given enough time to agonise over his actions for the past eight hours. Strands of dark hair had begun to escape the messy bun Eren liked to sport, brushing against the nape of his neck. The sun was beginning to set, the dust and pollution tinting the sky with an unusual hue—a muddy sort of purple.
“Hey,” Eren said. Reiner couldn’t be sure whether or not he was pleased to see him.
What had compelled Reiner to ask Eren to meet him? He couldn’t be sure. Well, he supposed he did have an idea. It was because Eren was attractive. Nauseatingly so. In that conventional, turn-heads-on-street kind of way. In that could-be-a-model-if-he-actually-cared way.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I can’t go to mine. My mama—”
“Don’t worry about it. We can go to mine.” Eren met his gaze, briefly. “My brother works late nights, so it’s cool.”
Eren lived on the edge of town. As they drove out, the town darkened around them, and as they stopped at a red light, Reiner clocked the skeletal woman sitting on the curb, rising shakily to her feet. She began to approach the car, her dress riding up her bony legs. She tapped at the car, waving through the open window.
“You two boys up to anything fun?”
“Nah.” Eren said, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing.”
“You sound pretty miserable, honey. Sure I can’t take your mind off it?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Eren returned flatly.
The woman kissed her teeth. “Whatever. Shoulda known you were a couple of homos.”
She walked away from the car and the light turned green.
“That was weird.” Reiner said, watching her retreating figure.
“I don’t think it’s weird, really.” Eren said, one hand on the wheel and one draped out the car, cigarette jammed between his knuckles. “Just sad.”
“How much further out are you?”
“We’re nearly there.”
The apartment Eren shared with his brother was above a butcher, one which had long since closed shop for the day. Eren parked his car, tossing his keys between his hands. The door was chipped, layers of paint peeling off in clumps.
“Ignore the rancid smell of meat.” Eren said, grimacing as they walked up the stairs. “You get used to it after a while.”
Eren’s apartment was surprisingly spacious, if sparsely furnished. It was clean, too, with a window staring over the street below; clearly Eren’s brother had higher standards for cleanliness than Karina.
“Lots of books.” Reiner observed.
“They’re all my brother’s, not mine. Do you want something to drink?”
“What do you have?”
Eren shrugged. “Beer, I guess.”
“I’ll have a beer then.”
Eren withdrew two cans of beer from the fridge, pressing one into Reiner’s hand. With both cans under his arm, he leaned over the stove. There was a crackling noise, and flames leapt from the counter, tinting the end of Eren’s cigarette a fluorescent orange. Reiner looked away.
“What does your brother do?”
Eren cracked open his beer, taking a few long gulps, then wiping his red mouth. “He’s a journalist.” Reiner nodded. Eren certainly wasn’t one to dress up his words in a veneer of politeness—
Reiner wasn’t quite sure whether or not this was a bad thing. He sipped at his beer.
“Can I have a cigarette?” Eren nodded, tossing him the packet. “…Do you have a light?”
Eren groped around his pockets for a few seconds, then groaned. “Never mind.” He grumbled. “Come here.”
“What?”
“Come here.” Eren shifted towards him, tilting his head up. Reiner flushed. Eren placed the cigarette between his lips, then, the grip on Reiner’s chin tightening, he pressed the glowing end of the cigarette to the end of Reiner’s.
“Inhale.” Eren said. Reiner obeyed. A pair of marbled, pale eyes blinked at him, then tore themselves away.
“Thanks.” Reiner said, his voice breathy.
Normally, Eren presented himself as aloof and detached; this had been a recent development in his personality, the cause of which Reiner was still speculating. His demeanour while giving head, on the other hand, was vastly different.
Occasionally, his teeth would graze against the skin of Reiner’s cock, making his eyes roll into the back of his skull. It wasn’t the first blowjob he’d received; a couple years back, Sasha Braus had given him head in the bathroom during Annie’s New Year’s party, and the few sexual encounters he’d had with women had involved some kind of attempt at oral sex. None, however, had gone above a particular threshold of pleasure, and hadn’t lasted long either.
But this? This was different.
Reiner’s dick hit the back of Eren’s throat, making him gag, and Reiner’s vision go white.
“Fuck,” he said, through pants. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.”
In an act of cruelty, Eren pulled back, dragging Reiner back from the brink of orgasm. He could have cried from the loss of contact.
“For fuck’s sake.” He breathed. Eren blinked up at him, a line of drool rolling down his chin. Perhaps it was that sight, so debauched and perfect—maybe that had been the point of no return with Eren. The point of no return, when Reiner realised that perhaps they’d both been put on this earth to make one another miserable. But at that point, he knew nothing of the future—of time, in all its relentlessness. In its stubborn insistence in moving forward, and only forward.
His hands tangled in Eren’s hair, dragging him back towards him and thrusting into his mouth. Eren choked, hand jutting out to grip his leg, his grip tightening until Reiner was sure it would leave a bruise. Tears had begun to spring in the corners of his eyes, tipping Reiner over the edge. He came hard, and Eren swallowed, digging his nails into the flesh of Reiner’s thigh.
Eren pulled back, panting. He wiped his mouth and fell back into the sofa.
“Where’d you learn to suck dick like that?”
Eren shrugged. So, there it was again—that feigned indifference—the indifference Reiner thought he might have just managed to break through.
The point of no return.
When had it come?
In retrospect, it was still difficult to pinpoint. But maybe that was the beginning of it.