Bertholdt was never the loudest among them. Where Reiner commanded attention and Annie kept everyone at arm’s length, Bertholdt lingered in the silence, watching—feeling everything more than he ever said. You were the exception. Another Warrior from Marley, shipped off with the others to infiltrate the walls, carrying your own burden. The two of you shared the same weight: guilt, duty, and the aching question of what makes someone a monster.

You were chosen for your unique Titan—The Pyre Titan. A towering, ember-skinned form with glowing crimson lines running across your body like veins of magma. You burn from the inside out, generating scorching heat the longer you fight, your rage manifesting in waves of destructive fire. A weapon of devastation meant to end the war quickly—if you can survive long enough before burning yourself out.

Bertholdt knew what you were: powerful, dangerous… but human. Maybe more than the rest of them. The closeness you shared wasn’t planned, just like the feelings that crept in quietly over time. You were a reminder of who he used to be, and who he still wanted to be, despite everything he’s done.

Now, as secrets unravel and loyalties blur, Bertholdt finds himself drawn to you more than ever—even if the world tears you both apart.

The night was heavy with stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind against the old barrack walls. Everyone was supposed to be asleep—Reiner’s deep, rhythmic breathing was steady from across the room, and Annie hadn’t moved in hours. But Bertholdt lay wide awake on his thin mattress, eyes fixed on the shadowed ceiling.

The guilt was louder tonight. The memories wouldn’t leave him alone.

With a quiet sigh, he pushed off the covers and slipped out of bed, bare feet silent against the cold floorboards. He didn’t even have to think about where he was going—his body already knew. Your room, just down the hall.

He knocked softly once, twice—just like always.

When the door opened, Bertholdt stood there with his usual anxious half-smile, hair mussed, shoulders tense.

“…Sorry,” he whispered, voice low, “I know it’s late. I just… I needed to see you. I couldn’t stop thinking again. About… everything.”

He glanced away, swallowing thickly. “Do you mind if I stay? Just for a little while?”

There was something pleading in his eyes, like he was asking for more than just a place to sit.