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Reiner turned the two coupons between his fingers. The paper was colorfully printed, promising "2 for 1 – Entry to the new gaming center" in bold letters. It had opened just last week and he immediately had thought of Eren. The sparkle in his eyes when he immersed himself in games, the passion with which he mastered each level, to the point of complete exhaustion, as if his life depended on it.
Reiner had imagined Eren laughing enthusiastically there, trying out one game after another and then enthusiastically telling him about them. He had kept the coupons like a little treasure, with the vague hope of suggesting them to him today.
His gaze wandered to Eren, who was sitting at the other end of the classroom. The rain was leaving streaks on the window. Eren stared thoughtfully out into the gray sky, as if he were seeing worlds no one else could see. The cold light emphasized the sharpness of his features. Even so—lost in the afternoon light, his hair disheveled—he struck Reiner as simply beautiful.
He absorbed the sight. He didn't know if it was the way Eren always charged forward, no matter how many times he fell or simply that unwavering fire within him. Maybe it was both. Reiner admired him; not only for his strength, but also for his weaknesses, which he displayed so openly, as if they weren't a flaw, but a part of him.
Reiner had never found the courage to tell him what was going on inside him. Never. There had always been that voice holding him back: he'll laugh. He'll reject you. He doesn't belong to you. And then, a few weeks ago, Eren had suddenly been with Mikasa. It had hit him harder than any blow.
On the one hand, there had been relief: the certainty that he'd spared himself such blatant embarrassment, that he'd never have to experience how cruel a direct "no" would sound from Eren's mouth. But at the same time, a burning, agonizing uncertainty remained. What if he'd said yes? What if for a moment, just a tiny moment, something had been possible?
But now it didn't matter anyway. It only took one look to see how happy Eren was with her and how Mikasa looked at him as if there were no other person in the world. Reiner couldn't hate what was so real and unmistakable. He could only watch. And wonder what it would be like to be looked at by Eren the way Mikasa was every day.
His fingers tightened around the coupons until the paper crackled. Eren might be with Mikasa now, but he was still his friend, right? And friends did things together, after all. It would only be one afternoon. Just the two of them, like before.
He took a deep breath, shoving the coupons into his pocket as if they were a talisman giving him courage. The school bell rang, chairs moved, voices filled the room as everyone filed out into the gray afternoon. Only Eren remained sitting by the window for a moment, as if trying to organize the last of his thoughts.
Reiner stood up. Every step felt like wading through wet sand. But he forced his legs forward, forced his mouth into a smile that shouldn't have felt so heavy.
"Hey, Eren?" Reiner stepped up beside him as the other students left the classroom. He tried to keep his tone casual, as if his whole heart wasn't invested in the answer. "Do you want to hang out this afternoon? Maybe we could go to the new gaming center?"
Eren turned to him and smiled briefly. For a little moment, hope pounded in Reiner's chest, but then Eren shook his head. "Not today, sorry. I already have plans with Mikasa."
He felt as if someone had pulled the ground from under his feet. But he forced himself to nod silently, his mouth curling slightly into a smile, as if it weren't that important. "Oh, right... sure. No problem."
Eren leaned back and began to talk, completely carefree: "I want to surprise her today. I got special tickets for the cinema, you know, for that movie she's been talking about since last week. And afterward, we're going to that shop with those sweet pastries—she absolutely loves them even if she would never admit that. I thought we'd get something there and then walk around town a bit. I really hope she'll enjoy it."
Reiner's chest tightened painfully. I would be happy, he thought bitterly. I would be happy for even the smallest sign from you. I would be grateful just to walk beside you, no matter where. But those words remained unspoken, trapped in his throat.
Instead, he forced himself to say quietly: "That sounds really nice... she'll definitely be excited."
Eren grinned, his face lighting up with that carefree glow Reiner loved so much. "You think so? I really tried hard. Sometimes I think I might be overdoing it, but... it's definitely worth it for her."
For her.
That stung worse than he wanted to admit.
But his smile held, even though it increasingly felt like a crumbling mask. "No... really. She's really lucky. You're someone who does anything for the people you care about."
"Heh," Eren said, standing up. He patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner, oblivious to the crack that was just tearing through Reiner's chest. "Thanks, man."
Then he picked up his backpack and turned away, his thoughts apparently already back on Mikasa.
Reiner stayed behind. He was still smiling, that practiced, unwavering smile. But as Eren disappeared among the other students, he felt his chest tighten, as if something inside him was slowly but inexorably breaking apart.
As Reiner left the school building, the cold wind whipped his face. The rain had started again, a fine drizzle that immediately seeped into his clothes. He pulled his collar up, simply wanting to go home, but his gaze fell on a group of students gathered laughing under the awning.
Bertolt stood among them. With a few boys from the chess club, their schoolbags casually slung over their shoulders, they chatted over each other, telling jokes. Bertolt laughed, that quiet, somewhat reserved laugh that Reiner knew so well.
For a moment, everything seemed as it had been before. But then Bertolt raised his head and noticed him. The laughter died. His expression became serious, almost withdrawn. A brief nod—nothing more. Then he turned back to the others.
Reiner stopped, as if someone had frozen him mid-stride. Since kindergarten, they had done everything together. Sharing the walk home, cursing over textbooks, talking about trivial things, but also about those that weighed heavily on their hearts. Bertolt had always been there. Until the day he hadn‘t.
A good year ago, he'd confessed his feelings to Reiner—with a trembling voice, his eyes fixed on the floor. Reiner had had to reject him. Not because he didn't like him. But because his heart had long since belonged to someone else. Eren. But he couldn't tell Bertolt that. He'd just silently shaken his head and since then, nothing had been the same.
Now they were strangers, nodding to each other in the hallway, as if the years of closeness had been only a fleeting dream.
Reiner lowered his head and stepped out into the rain. Cold drops ran down his forehead and he felt the emptiness in his chest only grow. He had no one left.
Reiner zipped up his jacket as he started for his way home. The sky was gray and heavy, as if it had no desire to hang over the city any longer. A cold wind blew through the bare branches of the trees and swirled withered leaves across the sidewalk. They danced briefly in the air before landing wet and lifeless in the gutter.
His footsteps echoed dully between the houses. He was alone; as always, when he wasn't allowed to be by Eren's side. But today the loneliness felt even harsher, almost piercing. He thought of Eren's shining eyes when he'd spoken of Mikasa. Of the warm smile that wasn't meant for him.
"She'll definitely be thrilled." He heard his own voice and felt how empty it had really been. A liar, he thought. A coward who didn't dare say what was truly burning inside him.
A drop fell on his neck. Then another. The rain grew heavier, but he kept his pace. He didn't even raise his head. The weather was perfect. It reflected exactly what raged inside him: heavy, cold, relentless.
Reiner sighed, dug his hands deep into his pockets and moved on. The world around him slowly blurred, as if it had no room for someone like him—and somewhere in the distance, Eren might be laughing. But not with him.
As Reiner unlocked the front door, he was greeted by the pleasant warmth of the hallway and the familiar background noises. From upstairs, he heard rock music, presumably from Marcel's room, when footsteps were already clattering on the stairs and Porco came bounding down. His green jacket was still half-open, but his hair was perfectly styled, as always.
"Oh, you're already here." Porco's voice echoed down the stairs. Reiner raised his eyes wearily. A broad grin lingered on his stepbrother's lips. "I’m already gone. Pieck is waiting. We're going to dinner and after—" He paused, stroking his hair. "Well, let's just say she won't forget this evening." He gave a crooked laugh and winked, proud as always when he talked about Pieck.
Reiner took off his shoes without a word. Normally, he would have hurled a sharp remark back, something about Porco's bravado or how he was exaggerating again. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. The rain was still in his bones, and there was this heavy, invisible weight in his chest that crushed every syllable.
Porco bent down toward his shoes as he continued: "Oh, and by the way—I borrowed your bike today. I thought it would be faster than the bus. Well... now it's got a flat tire. You need to take care of that."
For a moment, Reiner stared at him. The words sank in, but they triggered nothing in him; no anger, no impulse to hurl a snarky remark at his brother. Just this leaden tiredness. He nodded slowly. "I'll do it. Have fun... and best wishes to Pieck," he said quietly, with a faint smile.
Porco paused. He'd clearly expected a sharp reply, perhaps a snort, a roll of the eyes. Instead, he got a quiet, faint echo that didn't sound like Reiner at all. He studied him for a moment, his brow slightly furrowed, as if he'd noticed something unusual. But he just shrugged, grabbed his jacket and opened the door.
"Thanks," he murmured before disappearing.
Reiner climbed the stairs slowly, the steps creaking under his weight. His gaze was lowered; he just wanted to get to his room, to his bed, somewhere where no one would see him. But as he passed Marcel's room, his gaze lingered for a moment.
The door was half open. Rock music drifted through the crack, muffled but clear enough that the bass made the wooden floorboards vibrate slightly.
Annie sat on Marcel's bed, her legs loosely crossed, looking at a CD case. Marcel stood beside her, grinning broadly and explaining something to her. Annie nodded attentively, smiling slightly, as if she found his enthusiasm contagious. For a moment, everything between the two seemed so natural, so easy.
Reiner blinked. She'd been here a lot lately. He kept finding her near Marcel, sometimes they sat together on the bed, sometimes she stood next to him while he sat at his desk, sometimes they lay on the floor, talking about music. Nothing loud, nothing conspicuous, and yet you could sense that something was building.
A part of him wanted to smile. It suited Marcel to have someone like Annie by his side. Someone who understood his calmness instead of trying to break it. But at the same time, it made Reiner's throat tighten. Everyone around him seemed to belong somewhere: Porco to Pieck, Marcel to Annie, Eren to Mikasa. Only he was the one left out, the one no one really needed or missed.
"Reiner!" Marcel's voice was bright and full of energy. Reiner saw his other stepbrother reach for something and then wave two colorful pieces of paper in the air. "I was supposed to get you the tickets. For next week, that metal band!"
Reiner stepped closer and Marcel, beaming, pressed the tickets into his hand. "Here, it really wasn't easy to get hold of them. But I'm happy to do it for my little brother."
Reiner stared at the printed paper in his hands. The band's name jumped out at him like a thud. It was Eren's favorite band. Several weeks ago, he'd asked Marcel if he could get two more tickets—hoping to ask Eren if he wanted to accompany him afterward. Back then, Mikasa hadn't been part of the equation. Back then, he'd thought there might still be a small chance.
"Are you okay?" Marcel's voice pulled him back. Reiner blinked, forced himself to nod. "Yes... thanks." His fingers tightened around the cards, as if he were clinging to them.
"Great! Then I won't keep you any longer." Marcel grinned and turned to Annie. He sat down on the bed next to her and Reiner turned away.
He walked down the hall and entered his own room. He closed the door behind him, quietly, unnoticed. Then he carelessly tossed the cards onto the desk, as if they weren't there as long as he couldn't see them directly. The backpack fell next to his bed before he collapsed onto it with a muffled groan. The mattress gave way under his weight, the pillow cold from the unheated room. He placed his arm over his eyes, but the darkness wasn't enough to suppress the pain pulsing within him.
A soft, broken sound escaped his throat. At first he tried to suppress it, but the wall inside him already had too many cracks and finally broke under the pressure. His chest heaved. Tears ran down his temples and onto the pillow. Thick, hot, unstoppable.
Reiner pressed his hand over his mouth so Marcel and Annie wouldn't hear him. The music would probably be too loud anyway, but he didn't want to risk it. His sobs wouldn't stifle. He felt empty and at the same time so full, as if everything inside him were about to burst. Everything he had wanted seemed to be washed away in an instant and he was left alone in a room that suddenly felt colder than any autumn night.
His fingers clutched the pillow, his breathing unsteady. He wanted to stop, wanted to release the pressure in his chest, but the more he fought it, the stronger it became.
Why is it never enough? The thought pierced him. Why am I never the one chosen?
Images passed before him like knives: Eren talking about Mikasa. Bertolt turning his back on him. Porco laughing as he talked about Pieck. Marcel explaining the band to Annie with sparkling eyes. Everyone seemed to belong somewhere, everyone had someone. Only he remained. Always him.
I have no one…
It echoed in his head, over and over again, until it drowned out everything else.
He turned his head, his gaze grazing the nightstand. The drawer was open a crack—he knew what was inside. A small, inconspicuous packet that had belonged to his mother. Sleeping pills.
She had become ill when he started high school. Nights filled with coughs, sleepless hours during which he had heard her footsteps through the house. The pills had at least given her some peace, a few hours of sleep she so desperately needed. But in the end, even they hadn't been able to help. She died anyway.
When they had been clearing out her things, the half-empty pack had fallen into his hands. He hadn't been able to throw it away, not knowing exactly why. Maybe because it was a piece of her he wanted to keep. Maybe he couldn't let go completely.
But now… now it seemed as if they were calling him.
A tremor ran through his hands. He closed his eyes, heard the pounding of his heart, the rain beating against the windowpane. It would be so easy. So quiet. No more struggle. No more pain.
For the first time in a long time, he felt something like peace in his imagination. A last resort. Perhaps the only one left to him.
He pushed the drawer open further. The pack lay inside, inconspicuous and small, completely unobtrusive among the other odds and ends he kept inside it.
He took the pack out, heard the slight clinking of the pills inside. For a moment, he simply held them, as if the weight alone could crush him. Then he slowly turned them and poured a few into his palm. Small, white, round. They seemed completely harmless and yet it was as if they were opening an abyss before him.
Reiner stared at them, motionless. His thoughts wandered to his mother. What had she always thought when she held those little pills in her hand? Had she been relieved because she knew they would at least give her some sleep? Or had there always been fear, the silent worry that even sleep wouldn't bring salvation?
He should have asked her more often how she was. But now it was too late. Everything was too late.
He reached for the half-empty water bottle next to his bed as the rain drummed louder against the window outside.
He raised his hand to his mouth. But as he parted his lips, Reiner hesitated for the briefest of moments. A flicker of doubt, a fleeting whisper of something deep inside him. But it wasn't enough to stop him. With a final, shuddering breath, he tilted his hand, allowing the pills to tumble past his lips and onto his tongue. The taste was bitter, a cruel mockery of the sweet relief they promised.
He tilted the bottle back, swallowing down the pills with the last bit of the tepid water in several desperate gulps.
It didn't take long before the outlines of his room blurred, everything losing its clarity, as if he were looking through water. With every breath, he felt himself sinking deeper into the pillow, as if the mattress wanted to swallow him whole.
For the first time in weeks, he felt no burden, only heaviness pulling him down into silence. The voices in his head slowly fell silent, as if someone had turned off the sound. He didn't fight it. He let go and letting go felt almost like peace.