[ Somewhere in his mind, there is a moment that doesn't slot neatly into any timeline of any reality that he consciously remembers: High above Odaiba in the middle of the coldest night, flat on his back, tears in his eyes, reaching for the stars and wishing more than anything that he could be allowed to fall into his crumbling reality and die along with it.

Whatever that's about, Maruki's not entirely sure. But it stirs in him with Eren nearby, one soul brought back against its will singing out to another.

He keeps his arm around Eren's shoulders for a few moments longer before dropping away as well, but his grin doesn't fade. He vaguely recalls being so filled to the brim with wretched sorrow– but why? Does it matter anymore, now that Eren's here? ]

I remember– too much, I think. Is this how it always felt for you to have so much in your head? It's confusing, to say the least...

[ Because for all the ways they were so terribly the same, that was never one of them. Not until now, shattered fragments of memories of dreams of realities of dreams of memories piled atop one another like so many flakes of snow. A certain mental unsteadiness as he tries to ease into it. He braces a hand against a nearby stall, just in case. ]