Early the next morning, Bertholdt was permitted to leave the hospital. He felt incredibly groggy and vaguely ill from all the medication that had gone into him the previous evening. The nurse finally removed the IV lines and allowed him to dress himself. In addition to his sweatshirt, Bertholdt should have asked for a change of clothes from Annie, he realized as he pulled his hoodie over his head, feeling dirty in his day-old clothing. A shower was in order once he made it back to his apartment. The nurse offered to cut the hospital wristband off, but Bertholdt insisted on keeping it as a small memento.

Annie and Reiner were waiting in the hallway. Though they had spent the night at the hospital with him, they seemed far more alert and awake. Unlike Bertholdt, they had avoided massive doses of Benadryl and epinephrine, and the nurse had not been hell-bent on waking them up every two hours. Bertholdt knew that the nurse was operating by proper safety procedures; nevertheless, he felt rather grumpy and intended to crash on his own bed the minute he arrived home.

Wordlessly they walked through the sterile white hallways, Bertholdt's feet feeling sluggish and unresponsive. Fortunately, there was a bus line that ran from the UW Medical Center along 15th Avenue, sparing him the ordeal of walking to his apartment. Annie had kindly fetched his bike from the chemistry building the previous evening, relieving him of his worry that his bike would be stolen if left out overnight. He stood beside Reiner as his boyfriend cleared their bill at the front desk, resting his head tiredly on Reiner's shoulder. Finally, he was free to go home.

Reiner grumbled something under his breath about the cost of health care in the States, but Bertholdt didn't quite catch what was said. He simply followed Annie and Reiner to the bus stop. On Saturday mornings, busses made fewer stops, and it was a slow twenty minutes in the chilly October air, before the 48 bus pulled up. It was completely empty save for the three of them.

Bertholdt fumbled in his hoodie for his Husky card, feeling his cheeks grow slightly red as he finally pulled it out of his pocket and tapped it against the reader. "Sorry," he muttered to the driver, before taking a seat between Annie and Reiner. He rested his head against Reiner's shoulder, his eyelids feeling impossibly heavy.

"Are you feeling all right, Bertl?" Annie asked softly, looking out the window as the bus rolled down Pacific street.

"Yeah, I feel okay… just very tired," he murmured. "The drugs that they put you on after an allergic reaction— they make you feel groggy."

Reiner reached to take Bertholdt's hand. "We'll be home in no time. You'll be able to sleep as long as you need."

"Not too long, though… I have homework to do," Bertholdt said, newfound worry causing his palms to grow slightly clammy.

"Bertl, you can easily prove that you were at the hospital overnight. Your professors can give you an extension if you need it," Annie reminded him, reaching up to pull the cord so that the driver would know to stop at the next intersection. A dull ping resounded through the bus.

Bertholdt would have protested that he did not need an extension, but his weariness won out. The bus lurched to a stop and the doors slid open with a lethargic hiss. "Let's go, Bertl," Reiner said gently, pulling Bertholdt to his feet.

It was a very short walk from the bus stop to their apartment. The cheery red roof of the complex shined weakly in the cloudy morning light, and Reiner ushered Bertholdt up the stairs, as if he was likely to trip and fall. Reiner fumbled for his keys, finally extracting them to unlock their equally cheery red door. Bertholdt half-walked, half-stumbled into his apartment, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in his own bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Annie asked hesitantly, remaining near the door.

"You should go home and sleep," Reiner suggested, sinking down onto the couch. "We didn't get much rest last night trying to balance upright in a chair."

"I feel fine," Annie said with a shrug.

"You don't even want to change clothes?" Reiner asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annie turned to face Bertholdt. "Bertl, do you want me to stay?"

"I… I agree with Reiner," Bertholdt said hesitantly. "You've done more than enough, Annie. You were the one able to take the EMT's call, you ran all the way there, you got me my hoodie, you spent the night with me. I… can't begin to say how much that means to me." Bertholdt enveloped her in an awkward hug, which Annie reciprocated.

"I'll see you two later then. Get more rest, Bertl, and don't worry about your chemistry homework. Your health comes first." Annie turned towards the door, giving Reiner and Bertholdt one of her rare smiles as she left.

Without another word, Bertholdt trudged to the bedroom he shared with Reiner. He flopped on the bed, curled up with his pillow, and let himself sleep off his grogginess.

—

It had been 7:00 in the morning when Bertholdt had been released from the hospital. As he blinked back into consciousness, the clock on Reiner's nightstand read 11:55. He wanted to fall back asleep, but something more pressing was keeping him from dozing off again. Bertholdt lay awake in the darkness of the bedroom, staring blankly at the white ceiling.

Bertholdt hadn't been completely alert through any of the conversation that occurred last night, and his recollections came through a thick haze of drug-induced amnesia. He could remember fairly clearly the events leading up to the visit now (it had been a professor who'd shaken his hand with peanut oil still on his palms). There was something else, gnawing at his gut, that he could barely remember.

Bertholdt Hoover, I swear, I know I love you when you scare me like this. If only I had a ring…

Bertholdt suddenly felt sick to his stomach. At the time, he'd been too dazed and confused from the medication to react. Reiner had said that, and Annie had stopped Reiner from saying anything more. He rolled onto his side, curling up into a ball as he hugged his pillow. He shut his eyes in a futile attempt to keep the memories at bay, memories of a man he hadn't seen in several years.

Bertholdt's heart was racing, the room was spinning around him, and it was hard to breathe— if he hadn't known better, he would have stabbed the EpiPen, still in his pocket, into his thigh. But this wasn't an allergic reaction, this was a panic attack. Normally he would seek out Reiner and curl up in the man's embrace until his fear was gone. That was no longer a possibility.

Reiner was going to use him, just as his father had used him and his mother. Why else would Reiner have chosen a moment when Bertholdt could not have possibly given his knowing consent? Bertholdt was always going to be the means to another's end. Yet, even knowing that he would always be used by others, Bertholdt had never expected to be the means to Reiner's ends. He felt incredibly disillusioned, as though the past four years with Reiner, the past four wonderful years, had all been a lie.

Thank God for Annie, Bertholdt thought as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. She had saved him from consenting to marriage under the influence of the drugs. My father would do a thing like that, Bertholdt thought angrily, his stomach tying itself into knots. My father would bide his time and wait until his target was vulnerable. Just like Reiner did. Reiner saw me full of drugs and knew that he'd never get a better opportunity.

He finally drifted into an irritated nightmare of a doze, waking again when the angry red numbers of Reiner's clock glared a 2:13. There was no hope of falling asleep again, and his stomach was growling hungrily. Apprehensively Bertholdt got up and made his way to the kitchen, casting a nervous glance at Reiner, sprawled out on the couch.

"Bertl… you awake?" Reiner asked, his words obscured by a yawn.

"Yes, Reiner, I'm awake," Bertholdt replied, pulling a slice of bread out of the pantry and slathering some Nutella upon it. "I got hungry."

"You haven't eaten a proper meal in almost twenty-four hours," Reiner reminded him, never leaving the couch. "You should eat more than just Nutella."

"The… medication gave me a bit of an upset stomach. This is as much as I can handle." Bertholdt stuffed the piece of bread into his mouth, almost gagging on it. In Reiner's presence he felt nervous. One of the few safe places in his life was gone.

Reiner got up from the couch, before wrapping his arms around Bertholdt in an embrace. He felt every muscle in his body involuntarily stiffen in preparation to flee. Reiner sensed this and let go of Bertholdt, instead choosing to inspect his face. "The medication they give you for anaphylactic shock must be something, then. Last night was terrifying. After you went to bed, I threw out the peanut butter. I'm never eating peanuts again, let alone keep them around when you're so allergic. All the times I could have killed you… it scares me."

Bertholdt could not help but relax slightly. Now that he knew how allergic he was to peanuts, he had spent a long time worrying about the peanut butter in the pantry. "Thank you," Bertholdt said cautiously, longing to lean into Reiner's chest. That place was no longer safe, he reminded himself sternly. "Now I have to worry about people touching me…"

"Be wary of what's being served at gatherings from now on… if peanuts, then perhaps you should decline handshakes and other contact," Reiner suggested. He studied Bertholdt's face for a long time. "God, Bertl, I'm so glad that you're alive, and I'm sorry."

Bertholdt breathed in sharply. Was Reiner apologizing for his behavior last night? Unsure, he asked, "sorry for what?"

Reiner looked away for an instant. "I'm sorry, that you couldn't rely on me. Annie was the one who got the EMT call— I was too distracted by Ymir's game. I missed both calls."

Bertholdt was unsure how to read Reiner's apology. Reiner must have assumed that Bertholdt did not remember his attempt at a proposal. But he did remember it, and if Reiner was not willing to admit it, then… it must reveal something about Reiner's personality, something that Bertholdt wished he had never seen. "It is all right, Reiner," Bertholdt finally said, pulling away from his boyfriend. "I'm going to begin studying. I… don't want to beg for an extension." With that, Bertholdt sunk down in Annie's chair, his pile of textbooks on the floor.

"You're studying already, and you're still wearing your hospital bracelet," Reiner said with a shake of his head. "Let me know if you need anything. You should take it easy."

I need you to take it back, Bertholdt thought as he paged through his physical chemistry textbook. I need you tell me that you weren't going to propose to me while I was compromised. I need you to not use me as my father did.