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There is a roaring in his ears, almost as if he is underwater. It certainly feels as if he is— drowning, unable to breathe under the weight of what has happened.
Armin, his friend, his brother in all but blood, one of the last of his family that he hoarded under irritated glares and flimsy words–
His eyes are stinging, painfully dry like the fields of sand Armin had talked about before. Eren feels like the desert, inhospitable, empty, and harsh. He can’t tear his gaze away from the burned-out husk, the scorched flesh that smells like shit, the melted metal from the ODM gear fusing to the contours of the charred corpse.
He stares and he stares, and his chest is hollow. Caved open. What is the point, he wonders, of all of this fighting? He had started this war, this all but holy crusade against the titans to ensure that he lost no one else. To ensure that no one would have to bear the pain of his heart cleaving in two as he watched his mother crushed by that giant, smiling mouth.
And now he has lost another.
Eren had been blindsided. He had been stewing in anger and self-righteous determination for vengeance, for so long. He had forgotten, in all of this, that he simply wanted to break the shackles of his people, to ensure that his loved ones, the only precious ones that he had, could live their lives freely without the threat of titans. He wanted them to live without bounds, in this wide, wide world that was made all for them beyond the walls.
Now, Armin would never have that chance.
There is saltwater running down his cheeks, blood pooling in his palms where his nails have been digging into the meat of his hand. He is salt, in this one moment, made of the ocean and made of titan and made of human regret.
In this one moment, Eren is lost, and in this one moment, a man comes before him and vows.
Later, when everything is settled and they have returned to Sina, later, when Armin is alive (made of titan and thirteen years and the very same steam that had killed him), later, later, later.
Eren sits in his cell, listless, and imagines a window on the wall of his prison. He imagines a large one, like the ones in the Scouts’ old headquarters, and imagines he can see the blue sky with naught a cloud in sight. He imagines looking up, without any worries, without thinking that he has eight years left to live, without thinking of the horrific truth behind titans, without thinking of that man, who had a jawline and nose and lips so familiar it aches.
But Eren has never been good at denying himself, and is even worse at controlling himself, so he sits in his cell and thinks about the man who had promised to come back for him, who had promised to save him.
He thinks of Zeke, who had shaken him from the despair that had submerged him when he had been staring at Armin’s blackened body by simply existing, simply talking to him. He thinks of Zeke, with a face that looks so similar to the man who had doomed Eren to this half-life of thirteen years.
He thinks of Zeke, who promised to save him. Him, whom everyone on this island is calling Humanity’s Hope. Him, the one that everyone is cheering for, crying out for, begging for to save them.
Eren thinks, thinks, and thinks, until he can’t anymore, until he falls asleep to dreams filled with death and fire and blue eyes so bright and earnest until they’re hidden by glass.
And when he wakes, he thinks of him still.
They kill all the titans. At this point, it seems like mercy, and Eren can hardly summon any satisfaction at the thought that they are no longer surrounded by titans. He prefers to mull over other things, and whenever he does deign to think of titans, he can only muster a vague sense of pity for them overshadowed by apathy.
To him, titans, who had been most of his life’s driving force, are nothing now.
It brings a sardonic smile to his face, and he wonders if the Eren of a few months ago would even recognize him now. Sometimes, Eren doesn’t either.
He feels like he’s changed, like he’s emerged from the carcass of titan flesh all different. He certainly feels like a different person, when he sees how happy his comrades are and how easily they talk about the future. He goes with them to see the ocean, and he thinks the Eren of a few months ago would be ecstatic, would be running into the waves and marveling at the saltwater like the rest of them.
But all he can think about are the memories his father, Eren Kruger, and the rest of the Attack Titans had given him. He thinks about how his father had stood in this place, awaiting hell, awaiting a purgatory that would last until he was killed by his own people, and how he was given a tool that bestowed upon him borrowed time. He thinks about his father crushing the royal family under his heel easily, like they were nothing but ants, and he thinks about thousands of colossal titans flattening the earth just as easily.
He thinks about Marley, he thinks about the Warriors, he thinks about Dina.
And as he often does these days, he thinks of Zeke. Of a boy raised to be a weapon, a martyr. Of a boy who was lonely and yet so brave, so decisive in his beliefs it is almost like looking into a mirror. Of a man who discovers he has a younger brother and stumbles across that very same brother engulfed by grief. Of a man who sees that brother that he has never met before and vows to save him from all.
Eren feels the waves crashing around his legs, but he can barely feel the ocean’s warmth.
He thinks that ever since that fateful day, when he had been lost and then found by his big brother, Eren had lost the right to feel warm ever again.
People come. They present themselves as allies, waxing poetic about a strong Eldian kingdom in the future. But Eren has dead people’s memories in his mind, and has fiery visions of the end embedded in his spine. He sees that that is all they do, wax poetic. They present themselves as allies, when all they want to do is rob Paradis blind. They want to take, and take, and take.
Take their resources. Take their people. Take Mikasa. Take their power. Take him.
It is the last that makes a part of him sit up and take notice, if not for how transparent these people are. Throughout the course of his career in the military, he has had countless people wanting to kidnap and use him for their own gain. Eren has grown used to the concept of him being a tool, a weapon that people covet.
But these people do not stare at him like he is a weapon.
Yelena and her crew stare at him like he is a god, a being so out of their league they can do nothing but grovel at his feet. It is disconcerting, especially when he sees how that dogma is spreading, slowly and insidiously, amongst the ranks of the military.
It starts small, with Floch, who has always been obsessed with the need for something greater than him. Then it spreads to the new recruits in the military, who have never seen a titan, who have never fought one with blood in their eyes and fear threatening to break their ribs. They are recruited in an era where they have to fight no titan, where this was possible because Eren was damned by his own father who could not give up on the idea of a son who is a weapon.
They look at him and see a savior, a hero.
Eren looks back and sees them all perishing as they fight for either his side, or Paradis.
And when Yelena approaches him one night, when no one else is around and his feet are wet with seawater, when she is fervent in her belief that he is a god, just like his brother, when her gunmetal eyes are devoted and fanatic, he finds that he doesn’t want to look at all.
He no longer looks back.
Every night he is plagued by visions of the future. It aches and it aches, seeing what he becomes, what he ensures everyone becomes. When he wakes, it continues. Eren sees flashes of what has been and what will be in every waking moment.
Often, the present world around him fades to show him what will occur the next day, and the next, and the next. He no longer speaks as much as he did, once. Eren keeps quiet, unwilling to talk with his comrades, only to trail off as his vision is transported into the differing paths of the future.
And aside from the few concerned looks and probing questions asked of him, it is smoothly brushed off. Eren has always been skilled at brushing off others’ care, and his friends leave him be. Easily, with barely an explanation from him, Eren is left to drown by them all in the cesspit of memories and visions. The ease of it all churns in his gut and brings up bile in his throat.
He knows that the previous Attack Titans did not see the future this much, did not suffer under the weight of knowing this much. He wonders if it is because the Founder is within him, twisted and curling around his ribs and spine. Perhaps the Founder is bolstering the Attack’s ability.
Perhaps Eren is going insane.
Perhaps, he muses, staring out at the people he fought and bled for but no longer recognizes, he already is.
He knows that his dearest friends, his family, will betray him for the good of the world. Never mind that the world would sooner see them dead, never mind that there will always be a threat to their faux idyllic kingdom. Never mind that Eren had sacrificed, has sacrificed, and will sacrifice so much to ensure their continued survival.
Eren knows that they will spit on the weight of his love for them. He knows, but it is not time yet. So he goes through the motions, smiles at his betrayers, and dines with his killers. He convinces himself, hollowly, that everything he is doing– and will do– is for them. They are all he has, after all.
What is Eren without the Scouts and his comrades, what is Eren without them?
Then he thinks of a man who has never been far from his thoughts, even when it feels like all he can see is death and fire.
He pauses, sees Yelena watching him, and feels something settle in the seething waves in his gut.
In one of the first visions he has had, Zeke finds out that Eren has been using him all along, and he still sides with him. Eren had dismissed it when he first saw that, even when he had felt the truth of it in his bones.
If his friends, his beloved comrades could turn against him like he did not give up everything– his youth, his blood, his humanity– for them, then why would this man stand by him even after betrayal? They might be brothers, might have Grisha Jaeger’s blood in their veins, but they have not bled together, fought together, cried together. They have forged no bond between them, so it is impossible, to Eren, for this to be true.
Eren had taken this as a sign that his visions were faulty, that the future was not set in stone. From this, Eren had believed that he could change the future, that there was still a chance.
But so far, everything has passed, just like his vision.
Just like a river flowing down, everything has passed without going against the current. Eren keeps a list of his visions– in his mind, not written down, for that would be disastrous– and every time he marks a tiny little check when a vision fulfills itself, he feels the weight of the future dragging him down like quicksand.
(He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to die by their hand. Why does he have to suffer like this, why would they betray him? After everything he’s done for them, everything that he’s willing to do for them?
They would choose the world over him when he chose them over the world?
Traitors traitors traitors- )
Then he remembers Zeke.
Zeke, who had promised to save him. Zeke, who will defend him. Zeke, who is loyal above all.
If Zeke is truly on his side, then Eren will have to make… adjustments to his plan.
Eren breathes, his heart slowly picking up in renewed enthusiasm, and falls into step with his killers as they make their way to Marley.
He nods to Captain Levi, who had vowed to be the one to kill him a lifetime ago, brushes shoulders with Mikasa, who will sever his head from his neck, and smiles faintly at Armin, who will approach him only to get Eren to lower his guard.
He humors Sasha, who will die long before the others turn against him, listens to Commander Hange, who had seen him as an experiment first and a soldier second, and acknowledges Jean who will hate him above all.
He looks at the people who will betray him, and Eren ensures that they see him follow like a dog who doesn’t know any better.
And on a night when no one will notice, Eren leaves them behind to meet the man who will stand by his side until the bitter end.
There are not many places that Eren and Zeke can meet that will not cause suspicion.
Right now, Eren and the rest are moonlighting as tourists, so it is difficult to approach a Warrior without reason. So when Eren had talked to Yelena when he had made up his mind, he had asked her to prepare a disguise for him.
For the first time in a long time, Eren stares at his reflection, marveling. The blonde wig he has on is the same shade as Historia’s, and the dress hugs his body and softens the lean muscles he has. Along with the light makeup that covers the bags under his eyes and reddens his cheeks, Eren can hardly recognize himself. For the first time in a long time, Eren feels light.
It brings a grin to his face, and he links arms with Yelena as he floats toward the bar that Zeke is waiting in. Yelena is murmuring praises under her breath of his beauty, and Eren is giggling as he used to before Wall Maria had fallen.
He feels drunk on the freedom; it is like anything can happen– like he can do anything.
Perhaps it is because he can see the light at the end of this tunnel. Perhaps it is because a hand is outstretched before him, reaching out to him and trying to pull him out of the quicksand of hatred and fear.
Perhaps it is because Eren has been infatuated from the very first moment he laid eyes on his big brother.
Eren doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he feels better than he has ever felt in years. He certainly feels happier, and more playful than in the past few months. So when a man approaches him, entreating him to join him and his friends for a drink, Eren laughs.
A drink would definitely be welcome, but there is only one man that Eren will accept. So he smiles mischievously, and, ignoring Yelena who is worrying in the background, declares that he only likes large, blond men who wear glasses.
The widening of Zeke’s eyes and the flush that spread across his face and neck as he hears Eren’s words makes him grin.
Does Zeke feel the same as him? Does he feel the string that is wrapped taught around Eren’s heart, trailing towards Zeke’s?
Will Zeke support him in this?
And when they finally meet, when they are finally an arm’s distance away, Eren looks up into the blue eyes he’s been dreaming of for months and exhales in relief at the emotion pooling in them. In Zeke's eyes, Eren can see a whirlpool of wonder, joy, and affection. And with the certainty of rain after the clouds come, Eren knows that those emotions will bloom into a love that will transcend everything. Into loyalty that will last until the end of their days.
They spend a good portion of the hour drinking in their little corner, pretending they know nothing about each other. Which, Eren thinks, is the truth after all. But he doesn’t need to know Zeke’s favorite color or the scent of his aftershave. Eren already knows that this man will choose Eren over everything, and that is enough. It is enough for Eren to feel safe, for Eren to relax.
So Eren drinks, and drinks, and they talk about anything and everything. They talk of the weather, they talk of the sea, they talk of the stars. They talk of snow and they talk of books and playing catch and flying. And when the alcohol hits, Eren doesn’t force himself away from Zeke.
Zeke is nothing like the people in Paradis, and Eren clings to the man’s arm and tells him to bring him home.
Zeke brings him to his two-bedroom apartment, and when they fall, they fall together.
They are brothers, they remember, but Zeke, who had sworn everything to Eren once he knew the boy was alive, and Eren, who had seen nothing but death without Zeke, do not care.
Zeke smears the lipstick on Eren’s lips with a kiss and unzips the dress with a gentleness that Eren has never felt before. And as they touch, Eren sees the future change behind his closed eyes.
The next day, the Paradis contingent wakes to find that Eren is gone.