#colossal-regret

Bertholdt fidgeted visibly, now, trying his best to throw subtle hints that he needed to leave. He’d gotten pulled into another aid mission which was supposed to take only a few minutes, but was taking longer. Curse his inability to say no. He’d at least mentioned that he had somewhere to be, to which the teacher replied it would just take a second…

Seeing his anxious movements, the woman finally released him to go to his free period. Bertholdt quickly gathered his things and zipped out of the room, long legs carrying him through the halls and eventually out the door. He couldn’t make Reiner wait any longer. Bertholdt already felt bad enough for not texting him, after all, but his phone had died. Who even knew where his charger had gone.

He practically jumped out of his skin at the loud voice in the parking lot, raising a hand over his heart to feel the poor thing racing to catch up with his thoughts as he realized who it was. It seemed Reiner’s all too noticeable air was still about him. He not only stood out in crowds with his charisma alone, but the deeper tone of his voice in an empty parking lot may as well have been thunder in daylight. Out of place, but in an odd way at least it was comforting.

          Amber eyes narrowed mischievously. “Aloe vera, eh?” he teased in a surreptitious voice. “Are you offering me a rub-down, Bertholdt? Because I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested…” Reiner threw his head back and barked in laughter at his companion’s expression. Priceless, as always. Large hands patted the hot expanse of metal beside Reiner, offering a spot on the hood of his car. It was an old, tan Chevrolet Suburban, an oversized car that matched the driver’s sense of self-importance. It comfortably seated seven people (nine if you squeezed two into the trunk), and it was affectionately referred to by his friends as “the Tank,” mainly because Reiner would plow through traffic with maniacal zeal whenever he was behind the wheel. Sure, the cost of gas alone could feed Reiner for a month, but it was worth it. He loved that car, as well as the memories he had managed to forge within it.

          “Guess we’ve got a period to kill,” he mused, squinting into the sun. It really was pretty relentless, the way it beat down upon the asphalt. For a moment, he contemplated changing out of his shirt and into his jersey – at least the fabric would breathe more effectively. But this particular garment – along with his pads and helmet – were all thrown indiscriminately somewhere in his back seat, and he deemed himself too lazy to slide off of the hood, amble around the side of the car, and go digging for the damn thing. Nah, he would just endure the heat. If Bertholdt kept his little promise, it would be worth it in the end, huh? Reiner grinned wryly.