Nights would pass and Reiner would wake with the familiar taste of metal—a gun or blood, it was always hard to tell. Nevertheless, the sensation persisted. No amount of brushing his teeth or gargling water could tear the memory from his mouth. And so as the sun would rise each morning, Reiner could be found leaning over his sink, the bags in his eyes painted darker with each sleepless night, staring down hypnotized as the water circled the drain.
Five years. Five years since it had all ended, since the curse was broken and so too was every sense of self that Reiner had clutched onto so tightly. Yes, he worked with the Alliance and tried to broker peace between Eldia in the world. But everyone in the meeting rooms could see through him and know that it did not matter if he spoke or not. He was not the smartest in the room, nor was he the leader—on the former Warrior side Pieck and Annie had filled the roles respectively, Armin and Jean for the former Scouts.
Reiner sat still as a testament to the destruction Marleyan propaganda had wrought on the minds of the young. It was less common now, but he could still recall hearing whispers from young Eldian children who pointed as he walked by, talking about how he had been brainwashed. That may have been the technical term someone had eventually identified, but it made Reiner feel like a specimen more than a human.
The first few years, Reiner had gotten by well enough. The Alliance had been practically forced onto the boat together to survive until anyone could even consider peace. During that time, it seemed as though things could improve, seemed as if they could return to friendship. After all, Jean and Connie were friendly again in their slightly-irritating-yet-all-the-more-endearing way. Pieck became more talkative, Annie was less brutal in her words, Armin listened and understood without judgement.
And then they landed in Paradis and it was as if that time was all for nought. Jean and Connie ran home to their families—Reiner couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the warmth with which they were welcomed. Armin, Annie, and Pieck stayed close to the still beautiful Queen Historia, their opinions and insights becoming more important with every passing day. Even those that remained in Paradis felt out of reach—Gabi and Falco had made a home with Levi, who, despite his words, seemed to really care for the younger teens. Reiner saw them a few times, always feeling that the time spent was an obligation on Gabi and Falco’s part.
Was that all he had become at this point—the albatross choking his friends’ attempts at happiness?
It was the nights such as this where the chasm threatened to swallow Reiner whole. It was these same nights, though, where he would force himself to look at himself in the mirror. Force himself to examine the dark bags hanging under his eyes, the places where he had missed shaving, how easily his lips downturned into a frown. Most importantly, though, he would force himself to meet his own gaze.
Depending on how close to morning he had when up, how much sunlight was peaking through the small window by the sink, his eyes were either pools of black or dotted with speckles of honey-brown. When the all-encompassing darkness could be found in his reflection, it was hard not to see the vision of others there. He could see in the depths the half destroyed face of Porco, feel his heartbeat ringing in his ears as he watched Marco’s spine crack, hear as Bertolt was defeated; each memory could flood back to his body in an instant as he stared into his own darkness. It seemed sometimes as if he were still the incapable, blinded, mutilated, hated enemy that deserved each bit of pain that crossed his path. It was these thoughts that made his mind drift to whether he could go through with it this time around.
That was only some nights though. Other ones, ons where enough light was shining through, Reiner could see himself truly. Instead of the horror and pain he had wrought unto others, Reiner instead saw someone who despite all that had happened in his life was still here. Someone whose will to live had somehow overcome the despair. And while the claws of those thoughts could still sometimes dig deep, Reiner could see in his reflection the reasons why he was still here.
Sometime during these nights, Reiner had decided that when he would see color in his eyes that the day ahead would be more than simply bearable. It was a simple thought, really, and though it didn’t always work, it was more sustainable. Walking around, even mindlessly, felt lighter and easier. Afternoons spent holed up talking about the minutia of policies and peace seemed to tick by quicker. He could even bring himself to chit chat and joke around with the others even if occasionally the smile he forced on his face felt heavy.
And yet, he still smiled.
Another year ticked by, this time the new year spent with the group he could perhaps honestly call friends for the first time. Jean and Connie were unabashedly plastered, Pieck had drank nearly the same amount as them but still was able to at least pretend to have her wits about her. Levi had brought the kids over for the small celebration, Gabi now challenging the reluctant Armin to their fifth arm wrestling match, both Onyakapon and Falco standing by as the referee.
Reiner could feel tears start to form at the corner of his eyes at the perfectly normal and purely joyful sight before feeling a sharp elbow dig into his shoulder blades and a monotone voice, “Stop that.”
“Happy New Year to you too, Annie,” he turned, blinking a few times to try and refocus his eyes once more.
She looked up at him, her gaze still as solid as when they were children but now colored with something new, something akin to hope. “Stop sulking in the corner like a big baby.”
Reiner frowned, somewhat glad that she hadn’t yet targeted the core of his feelings and was instead poking fun at him as usual, “I’m not sulking.”
“You’re looking at this all like it’s just gonna disappear—that’s sulking.” He stopped breathing for a moment as she said that. Of course Annie would understand perhaps better than anyone else, the only other one tossed back and forth between Marley and Paradis in that way.
“You think this can last?” The question was simple but honest, one that Reiner himself could not even begin to answer.
“I don’t know,” she sighed, her eyes trailing back over the rest of the group, “But it feels more solid than anything else we’ve had. Better, too.”
“Yeah.” Reiner stood for a moment beside Annie, not knowing what else to say. She could be right, she could be wrong. In truth there was no way of knowing what the future would hold and certainly no way to plan for it. All Reiner could do was say, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”
He put the glass he had been holding down suddenly and turned on his heel to find the nearest restroom, only distantly hearing as he left, “Didn’t need to tell me that.”
Locking the door behind him, Reiner could feel his head swimming, the panic that he usually felt in the middle of the night beginning to seep in. It took a few minutes until he could finally feel himself breathing again, feel the rise and fall of his own chest.
Finally, he looked up into the mirror, seeing no darkness clouding his eyes and his mind, only the color and the promise of something better.
“Today will be better,” he whispered at himself, before changing, “This year will be better.”
He repeated the oath a few more times until he could return back to the rest, and push through to the other side of it all.