It was a rare moment in which the two could relax witht heir friends, without thinking of work or bills or other sundry tragedies of new-found adulthood. Mellowed by good beer and good company, the pair of them laughed at Hanji's stories to the sounds of Mike strumming hisguitar absently off to the side, and Nile swearing vehemently at Mario Kart just off in the living room. Erwin watched his twin laugh so fully, and so genuinely, and was awash with fraternal affection for his younger twin that he reached over without thinking, winding an arm about his shoulders and pulling him into a quick peck on the forehead.
The scent of petrichor was thick and suffocating in spite of the sharpness of the early morning air. Rain dampened his hair, ran down his neck and drenched the inside of his collar as he lowered his head to stare at his twin. Like this, he could pretend he was only sleeping, but even the broach of that lie caught in his throat like a jagged pebble, and Erwin's chest tightened as he leaned down to smooth the flaxen hair from his twin's brow and press a kiss to the cold forehead.
"I want to believe you're just asleep," he murmured against his skin. "My only consolation is that he's there whenever and wherever you wake."