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Wintertime was spent with Reiner almost every day. Through the months of December and January, it was him I was with all the while; and so that was probably why, with every dark swirl of my hot chocolate, and with every crystalline frost on the glass, it was his face that etched itself in the littlest signs of the snowy season.
The rest of the week after the day we made the spring rolls, he took his reading of my recommended books seriously. He liked hanging out at the bookstore, and so Mr. Pascal always interrogated him about where he was already, what he thought of the piece of literature so far; and he would answer quite diligently. It wasn't until the end of the reading week that Reiner had started to show more enthusiasm from what he was reading.
We would sit during my lunch break hours on the lobby of the bookstore, him on the floor and me on the armchair, engrossed on our own paper-based escapades from reality. He'd sometimes look up to me and ask about big words he had encountered.
"What does 'dilettante' mean?" He asked, his eyes still on the book. To me, he seemed like a little boy, endearingly curious.
"It's a person who is interested only in the theoretical aspect of a certain activity," I explained. "They aren't really invested in acting on the interest."
"I need an example." He furthered. I adjusted on my seat and looked up for a thought.
"Let's say, if someone is interested in social issues, like..."
"The equality of the sexes," He suggested, making me smile the faintest at the corner of my lips.
"Yeah, like the equality of the sexes," I said, "And they're only invested in learning about it but they're not doing anything about it, like actually speak up for women- they're called a dilettante."
"So it's a negative name to call someone," Reiner's brows furrowed, nodding. "I see."
And he had many more questions after that. I should have found it quite unappealing for a man to be less knowledgeable than me when it came to vocabulary, but it felt good to be the one teaching someone valuable things- especially because I felt somehow at an advantage, even as a girl. Most guys would never ask a girl anything they feel that they are weak or less skilled in. But Reiner found it so easy to lower the pride of his masculinity and admit that he needed my help to understand things. It was a small one, but I enjoyed answering all of his questions.
"What's 'ennui'?"
"Boredom."
"Ostentatious?"
"Something that's very attention-grabbing."
"How about ephemeral?"
I looked at him, my bare feet warm under his torso as he lay there chest first on the floor. We had not even realized we'd gone that comfortable to each other as the hours passed by. When I took a while to answer, Reiner looked up at me, as if never minding how my toes were burrowing under his skin for warmth.
"Something that only lasts for a short time." I replied, my voice faint as it left me.
Reiner stared at me back, registering the word in his head. It wasn't until he answered that I had realized how long and blankly I was looking at him.
"What a pretty word for something so sad." He remarked, returning to his books.
Most pretty things don't last anyway, I wanted to say. But too much time had already passed since the last word from that conversation was spoken. Why did I even think it significant to utter?
YOU ARE READING
Right Where You Left Me | Reiner Braun
Fanfiction"We should have left it at that but we didn't. That was our gravest mistake, wasn't it? We crossed the line we ourselves drew." It wasn't in the cards for either of them. Not for him, who was a sworn soldier with a definite number of years to live...
