*Daddy issues*
Galliard is quiet and pensive on the plane ride back to Trost, he's been quiet for the last two days, ever since they buried Sarge-he hadn't wanted Reiner's help, had tried to chase him away but not very hard, and they'd ended up burying the dog together-but this is a new level of silence and moodiness, and Reiner is glad when, once they're in the air, Galliard nods off on his shoulder.
Reiner shifts around to make sure he's comfortable and won't wake up with a strained neck, then stares out the window, watching but not really seeing anything as the middle of the country streams away beneath him. He'd known that things were going to change after going to Liberio, but he hadn't realized exactly how much.
~*~
"I have something to tell you, Porco."
Galliard glances up from his plate, where he'd been almost dozing. Digging a hole deep enough to satisfy his standards had been a grueling ordeal, and after getting back from the cemetery, he'd taken a shower and crashed out. Reiner had been a gentlemen and let him shower first, then cleaned himself off; by the time he'd padded into their shared bedroom, Galliard was sound asleep on Reiner's bed. Reiner had napped in the other one, and woken up a few hours later to Galliard sprawled on top of him, drooling on his chest. There'd been something achingly familiar about that, and Reiner had let him sleep for another half hour before waking him up. Galliard had perked up a little for dinner, but now that he's full, he's starting to sink back towards sleep again.
Erwin looks solemn across the table, and Mike reaches out to take one of his hands. Reiner lifts an eyebrow; Erwin is one of the strongest people he's ever met, and if he needs support for this, it must be something serious. He clears his throat.
"Should I excuse myself?"
"No, Reiner, that won't be necessary." Erwin favors Reiner with a smile. "This is something that could affect you too."
That catches Galliard's attention, and he sits up straighter, glancing at Reiner and then putting his fork down. "What's going on?"
Erwin sighs, and for a moment, looks older and more tired than Reiner has ever seen him, very much a man on the downward slope of life, just starting to be past his prime. Mike squeezes his hand, the muscles in his forearm rippling, and Erwin gives himself a little shake before beginning to speak.
"Your brother died in combat..."
"I know." Galliard's voice is tight and bitter. "I remember that phone call telling me about it very well."
"I'm sure you do." Erwin sighs again. "When a soldier falls in combat, they get a settlement from the government. A way of thanking them for their service. It normally goes to their spouse, but Marcel wasn't married, so..."
"So it went to Daddy." Galliard is radiating tension and misery from every pore, and Reiner touches the back of his hand, only to have his pushed away. "And he spent all of it on booze and hillbilly shit and now it's all gone. Why're you telling me this?"
"Because it didn't go to your daddy, Porco." Erwin meets Galliard's eyes, and there's a certain quiet dignity in his gaze that Reiner knows he'll be spending the rest of his life trying to emulate. "Marcel filled out a form to have it go to you."
The room goes so silent that Reiner can hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears as Galliard digests that information, and he can't even imagine what's going through his mind; all those years of working, of scrimping and struggling, and for what?
"How... why didn't you tell me?" Reiner has to admire Galliard's control when he asks that question; his voice is still taut and agonized, but he isn't shouting, and when Reiner touches his hand again, Galliard seizes it and grips it so hard that Reiner's joints squeal under the pressure.
Erwin sighs again, and this time, it's Mike who answers, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "You weren't eighteen yet when he died, so your daddy contested it. It's been tied up in court for years now."
Galliard closes his eyes and leans his head back, and Reiner isn't at all surprised to see tears perking up under his eyelashes. "That lowdown, stinking sack of shit... of course he did. Can't let the little fag boy have it, could he?"
"Hey." Reiner leans in, bumping his shoulder against Galliard's, squeezing his hand back. "Stop talking about my boyfriend like that."
Galliard makes a growling sound, but his grip on Reiner's hand doesn't loosen, and after a moment, he leans in against him. "Is it still in court?"
"No." Erwin shakes his head. "It cleared a few days before you came down." He glances down at his hand, joined with Mike's. "We were going to call you, but then..."
"You called first," Mike finishes, and Erwin smiles at him gratefully.
Another few moments of silence, and Galliard turns his head into Reiner's shoulder, making the nuzzling movements he does when he wants to be held but won't ask for it. Reiner gently pries his hand free and lifts his arm, letting Galliard tuck in against his side and holding him close. "So how much is it?"
"Your brother wanted it divided three ways. He set aside twenty percent for your mother..." Galliard snorts rudely and mutters something under his breath about that money going straight to his shit father, which Erwin chooses to ignore and talk over. "Ten percent to Mike and I, and the rest for you." He spreads his palms wide in apology. "Some of it gotten eaten up by court fees, I'm afraid. We tried to avoid that as much as possible, but it got pricey over the years."
"I understand." Galliard lifts his head and pins Erwin with his gaze. "After the court fees and thirty percent and everything, how much is left?"
Erwin names a figure. It's lower than Reiner would have thought, considering that it's the cost of a young man's life, but it's still a handsome sum. It's enough to make Galliard sit bolt upright, Reiner's arm sliding off his shoulder, and when he and Reiner glance at each, his eyes are wide and dazed, and Reiner knows they're both thinking about the same thing.
Galliard's internship.
~*~
Galliard barely stirs for the entirety of the plane ride, only startling awake when the plane lands and its tires bounce off the tarmac. He looks around wildly, scrabbling for Reiner's hand, and Reiner chuckles quietly and squeezes him.
"You're fine. We just landed."
"We're on the ground again?" Some of the fear goes out of Galliard's eyes, but he still makes a grab for one of Reiner's hands, and he lets him.
"Yeah. We're back in Trost."
"Oh." Galliard lets out a long, sighing breath and sits back in his seat, pinning Reiner's arm against the back of it. "Okay."
The plane doesn't taxi long, and they don't have bags to pick up, so Reiner breezes Galliard through the airport and to his waiting parked car. Reiner pays the parking fee-Galliard goes for his wallet and Reiner swats him away-and then they're pulling out onto the highway an Reiner realizes he doesn't know where they're going.
"Uh... where do you want to go?"
Galliard doesn't answer right away; he has his wallet open across his lap, and Reiner knows he's looking at the check Erwin wrote for him this morning, touching it as if to reassure himself that it's real.
"Gali?"
"Hmmm?" Galliard looks up, blinking, and then gives his head a little shake. "My place. Can you take me to my place?"
"Of course." And Reiner merges into traffic, trying to hide how much that response hurts. He'd hoped Galliard would ask to be taken back to Reiner's apartment, the place Reiner is slowly starting to think of as their place, rather than the cinderblock prison where he'd lived with Sarge.
There's traffic on the expressway, because of course there is, and Reiner has to slow to a crawl. Galliard doesn't complain about the delay, just keeps looking out the window, his gaze distant and far away. It worries Reiner; for all his secrets and aloofness, Galliard has never been terribly good at hiding his emotions, nor skilled at hiding them. This moody, introspective quality is worrying, and Reiner almost speaks up a dozen times before closing his mouth and letting things rest as they are.
Maybe Galliard is just tired.
They're creeping their way across an overpass when Galliard suddenly speaks up, his voice startlingly loud in the silent car.
"I was on a bus when I found out."
Reiner looks over at him; traffic is basically stopped, so he doesn't feel badly about taking his eyes off the road. "What?"
"When Marcel... when I found out he died." Galliard is still looking out the window, but Reiner sees his throat work as he swallows. "I was on a bus. To Trost. Erwin called me."
"Oh." Reiner isn't sure where this is coming from, but it feels like something that needs to come out. "Why were you on a bus?"
"I was supposed to meet him here." Galliard gestures out the window, encompassing all of Trost with a simple hand wave. "He was getting out in September, and I was going to get everything set up and Sarge settled and start school." Galliard swallows again, and Reiner can hear his breath rattling in his chest. "I had to leave early. In August. I was only supposed to be here by myself for about a week before he got here, but I had to leave early. So I was on a bus when... when I found out."
"I'm so sorry, Gali."
Galliard shakes his head. "Wasn't your fault." He lifts a hand and touches the skin under his eye, where his cheekbone juts out, and starts rubbing across it. There's a certain unconscious quality to the gesture that makes Reiner wonder if he's even aware he's doing it. "I got kicked out."
"Erwin kicked you out?" That sounds absurd, and the look Galliard shoots Reiner, like he's the stupidest motherfucker to ever walk the earth, makes it clear that he agrees.
"No. Erwin would never kick me out." He rubs at his eye again, his fingers rasping over the delicate skin. "My daddy did. He... he caught me kissing a guy."
Reiner has no words for that, beyond quickly swiping at the bridge of his nose, and then reaching across the car to put a hand on Galliard's leg. Galliard's muscles tighten under Reiner's palm for a moment, then he relaxes and reaches down to take Reiner's hand instead.
"So I left early, and I was on my way here, and Erwin called and told me, and I... I couldn't go back." Galliard looks down at his lap, and his grip on Reiner's hand is that of a drowning man, clinging to the only lifeline he has. "It was supposed to be better here. Marcel knew why I left early, and he... he was going to talk to our parents and smooth it over, but then he died, and I was here, and I couldn't go back!"
Galliard's voice has risen until it cracks, a strangled little yelp, and he takes a deep breath, scrubbing furiously at his face. "I couldn't go back. I had to make it work here."
"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that." And Reiner is, deeply and genuinely sorry that Galliard had to deal with all of that on his own, but also touched that he's sharing this with him. He'd wondered how Galliard had ended up in Trost, especially when Erwin and Mike are so supportive and kind, but neither of Galliard's uncles had been willing to tell the story. And it's better that they didn't. It's better that it's coming from Galliard. "I'm sure it was a struggle to get things started here."
Galliard laughs and shakes his head, the sound bitter and sardonic. "You have no idea."
Reiner waits, but Galliard is apparently done talking for now, preoccupied with his own thoughts, and when traffic picks up again, Reiner has to take his hand back to steer the car.
~*~
"You don't have much of a relationship with your daddy either, do you?"
Reiner looks up in surprise, nearly banging his thumb with the hammer he's holding. It's their last day in Liberio, and Galliard and Erwin have driven to the store to stock up for a goodbye barbecue and, Reiner suspects, to have a heart-to-heart talk in privacy. He and Mike have stayed behind, and Mike has been kind enough to let Reiner help with some cabinetry he's working on. Reiner has never done any woodworking before, but he's a quick study, and has already graduated from sanding to hammering in nails.
"Sir?" Neither Mike or Erwin had asked to be called sir, but Reiner finds that it just comes out of his mouth when talking to them, a title of respect that he can't help using.
Mike shrugs, and reaches out to gently correct Reiner's grip on the hammer. "You don't get enough force if you hold it there. Let it swing natural."
Reiner adjusts his grip and tries again, and this time, he doesn't even come close to hitting his hand.
Mike nods in approval. "Much better."
Then he turns back to the carving he was working on, and Reiner realizes he isn't going to ask the question again. Mike knows he heard it, and is leaving it up to him on whether to answer or not.
It still takes Reiner a few minutes, and several more nails, to screw up his courage and answer. "No, sir. I've only met my father once."
Mike raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything, and somehow, that simple lack of judgment makes Reiner want to tell him more. "My mom was seventeen when she got pregnant. My dad was thirty-three, and married. To someone else."
Mike nods. "I take it he wasn't pleased by the news?"
"Not at all." Reiner doesn't get into the rest of it; the money for an abortion that his father sent; his mother's refusal, and subsequent shaming from her family; their life on their own; his mother's later feverish devotion to religion and refusal to accept him. He gets the sense that it would be an old story to Mike, one he's heard before, and possibly lived himself. "I looked him up when I was graduating high school, though."
"You wanted to go meet him?"
Reiner shrugs, his chest and eyes stinging with old hurt that he thought was long forgotten. "I was eighteen, so he wouldn't think I was after child support, or money. I'd been accepted to college, I had a scholarship, I was going to make something of myself. I thought... I thought that maybe he'd want to, you know... get to know me."
And deep down, in some distant corner of himself that Reiner had barely understood then, he'd hoped that his father would accept having a gay son, and not hate him for something he couldn't change.
Mike is quiet beside him, waiting patiently for Reiner to continue, and after a moment, Reiner feels enough in control of himself to tell the rest of the story. It's a shitty story without a happy ending, one that only Bertolt knows about, one that Reiner hadn't ever even told Jean, but if Galliard has been brave enough to take Reiner to his hometown and introduce him to his brother, then Reiner should have the stones to tell this one.
But not to Galliard. Not yet. He needs to practice with Mike first.
"He... he didn't." Reiner realizes he's rubbing his nose, the way he always does when he thinks about this, and for the first time in years, admits what that means. "He broke my nose. Gave me this." He turns to Mike and points out the hump in the bridge of his nose. "That, and my looks. Turns out I look just like him."
Mike shakes his head, and drops a hand on Reiner's shoulder. There are very few people in the world who make Reiner feel small, but Mike does; his hand feels like a giant's, resting on Reiner's shoulder. "I'm sorry. You deserve better than that."
Reiner swallows the sudden lump in his throat. "My mom was furious about my graduation photos. I have a black eye and a nose that looks like a gourd in them." He looks away from Mike, unable to make eye contact anymore. "I told her I broke it playing football."
Because then, as now, that had seemed better than telling her the truth.
Mike leaves his hand on Reiner's shoulder for another moment, then lifts it and quietly returns to his work. The rasp of sandpaper and scrape of curls of wood falling away masks Reiner's rapid breathing until he gets it back under control, and once he does, he picks up the hammer and smacks the shit out of a couple of nails, driving them all the way into the wood with one blow.
"Have you told Porco this story?" Mike asks several minutes later, once Reiner has lost himself in the rhythm of the work.
Reiner shakes his head, not trusting his voice to work properly quite yet.
"You should." Mike glances up from his sandpaper, and his eyes are deep and sad, shadowed by memory. "He'd understand it better than you think."
~*~
By some miracle, Reiner snags a parking spot right in front of Galliard's building. He guides his car into it, then leaves it running, unsure if he'll be welcome upstairs. But then Galliard turns to him, and his expression is such a blend of anticipation and nerves that it makes Reiner want to gather him into his arms and just hold him for the rest of their lives.
"Aren't you coming up?"
"Yeah." Reiner parks the car and turns it off. "Of course."
The walk to the apartment building is a gauntlet of memories, of unsettled ghosts. Reiner notices the flower bed where Sarge crashed into the tulips after a tennis ball, now overgrown and with no evidence of the dog's swath of destruction; he sees the corner of the building where the bricks are slightly discolored, where Sarge always relieved his bladder; he even notices trash swirling in the gutter, one of Sarge's favorite places to sniff and investigate. Galliard walks with his head down, watching his feet and the sidewalk, and Reiner knows he's trying to shut out the ghosts that he doesn't want to see.
If it's bad down here, Reiner can't imagine what it'll be like in Galliard's apartment.
They ride the creaking, cramped elevator in silence, and when they reach Galliard's door, he heaves a great, exhausted sigh before digging in his pocket for his keys and letting them both in.
The apartment is silent and dusty, the feeling of neglect and misery palpable. Everywhere Reiner looks, there's a reminder of Sarge, from his two bed still frosted with grizzled white fur to the abandoned tennis ball sitting in the corner and moldering. It even smells like dog in the apartment, the scent faint, lingering in the walls and the fabric of Galliard's worn futon.
Reiner closes the door behind him, then nearly runs into Galliard, who's stopped just inside the door. Reiner can tell from the set of his shoulders that he's struggling, that he's fighting internal battles that he knew were coming but that he couldn't prepare for, and Reiner wraps his arms around Galliard's waist. He stays silent, just holds him, and Galliard leans back against his chest.
They stand that way for a few moments, until Galliard clears his throat and shifts in Reiner's arms. Reiner loosens his grip, expecting Galliard to pull away.
But Galliard doesn't! They talk about all sorts of things, and then Reiner gets some valuable intel! It's very dramatic and taut, and it ends with them having sex.
~*~
"Galliard. Gali."
"Hmmmm?"
"Do you want to go home?"
"Mmmm, yeah." The sound of yawning in the darkness. "In a few minutes."
"Okay." Reiner smiles, and keeps playing with Galliard's hair. "In a few minutes."
As they lay in the dark, with Galliard drifting off beside him again, Reiner makes a decision. There's something he needs to do, and if he's going to do this with Galliard, he needs to do it as soon as possible, to wipe the slate clean and begin things fresh and right.
He needs to make things right with Jean.
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Hi everyone 👋
The talk with Jean next chapter 🐴