the only thing is, he's pretty sure he's dead. there was an explosion, and then there was nothing—and then he was here, on this train, surrounded by other dead people. some of them aren't dead, presumably, but everyone he's checked so far has been dead, so he's beginning to think it's time to just get the fuck out of here.
just as he's about to move on, he goes from looking into the face of one dead man to another.
it's impossible to put a name to what he feels in that moment, looking into the eyes of the only man he's ever loved. it's been close to five years since that man died. is this some kind of afterlife, then? if so, why are all these people dead again?
it doesn't matter. just for right now, he doesn't give a single fuck if they're actually dead, or if he's actually dead, or if this is hell, or if they were just on their way there. Erwin is standing there in front of him, touching his face with his remaining hand.
it's warm. his eyes are clear. his voice is strong. he's bleeding, but they're all bleeding. this can't be real, right?
he grasps Erwin's arm with both hands, like he can brute-force it into being reality. he stares in agonizing disbelief into his eyes, unblinking, as if the illusion might slip away if he closes his eyes.
he can't speak. he can barely even breathe. is he really going to let himself be fooled so easily and so thoroughly?
apparently so. his heart can't take the alternative. ]
no subject
the only thing is, he's pretty sure he's dead. there was an explosion, and then there was nothing—and then he was here, on this train, surrounded by other dead people. some of them aren't dead, presumably, but everyone he's checked so far has been dead, so he's beginning to think it's time to just get the fuck out of here.
just as he's about to move on, he goes from looking into the face of one dead man to another.
it's impossible to put a name to what he feels in that moment, looking into the eyes of the only man he's ever loved. it's been close to five years since that man died. is this some kind of afterlife, then? if so, why are all these people dead again?
it doesn't matter. just for right now, he doesn't give a single fuck if they're actually dead, or if he's actually dead, or if this is hell, or if they were just on their way there. Erwin is standing there in front of him, touching his face with his remaining hand.
it's warm. his eyes are clear. his voice is strong. he's bleeding, but they're all bleeding. this can't be real, right?
he grasps Erwin's arm with both hands, like he can brute-force it into being reality. he stares in agonizing disbelief into his eyes, unblinking, as if the illusion might slip away if he closes his eyes.
he can't speak. he can barely even breathe. is he really going to let himself be fooled so easily and so thoroughly?
apparently so. his heart can't take the alternative. ]