Reiner is laughing. Actually laughing. It’s been months since you’ve seen him like this — calm.

You’re sitting on the hood of his car, parked near a small path that leads to the sea. Your feet are swinging slightly as the afternoon sun warms your skin. He’s standing in front of you, arms crossed, shaking his head like he still can’t believe whatever dumb joke you just made.

“You’re impossible,” he says, but there’s a smile stuck on his face. Wide, genuine, a little crooked.

“And yet,” you start, grinning, “you keep hanging out with me.”

He shrugs, pretending to think about it. “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

You watch him for a second. The lighter mood suits him—the soft stubble, the relaxed shoulders, the way his eyes don’t look so heavy today. When he notices you staring, he clears his throat, suddenly shy.

“What?” He asks, looking away.

“Nothing, Just… you look good when you’re like this.” You say without even thinking.

Reiner blinks. Once. Twice. His ears turn a light shade of pink.

“Oh,” he mutters. “Uh. Thanks.”

There’s a comfortable silence as he steps closer, resting his hands on the hood beside you. Not trapping you—just close, almost familiar.

“I like days like this,” he admits quietly. “When things feel… simple.”

You bump your knee against his thigh. “Then we should have more of them.”

He looks at you, his honey eyes locked with yours. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”