Lights of Reincarnation

Rivaille is a drug dealer, running from his life practically every day to support his mother and father. But when he finds a lamp in the dirty sewer-and meet a boy who can supposing grant desires, who was he to resist? But the boy is more familiar than he thinks, and Rivaille can't tell why.

~X~

"Quick! There he is!" A gaggle of low and angry voices echoed through the dirty alleyway, and Rivaille sucked in his breath and made a sharp turn, lowering himself into the dirty hole in the ground, pressing himself against the soaked bricks of the sewer.

Footfalls echoed above him, and Rivaille squinted against the meager flash of sunlight that came through the small opening that he had carelessly left behind. Shit, shit shit-

He cursed himself, but didn't dare breathe, for fear of making a single noise. They had discovered that Rivaille had cheated them of their weed, and had taken all their money, and now were on the prowl, searching for the small slight figure against the maze of the alleyway that only he knew.

"Is that a sewer hole?" A voice suddenly pips up, and Rivaille can almost feel the hands reaching towards the hiding hole, when a man's voice snaps-"he couldn't have gone down there. It's too damn small."

Rivaille almost snorted in disbelief, but for the sake of his life, kept quiet, biting his lip and shivering with disgust at the moss that was pressing against his back and soaking his shirt.

There was a thumping of footsteps, and Rivaille waited a bit, trusting his instincts that were screaming someone is still here and sure enough, a beat of heavy silence, then at last, light footsteps followed the rest of the group. He finally let out the sigh that he'd been holding, smirking as he fingered the thick bills in his pocket. He'd gotten a good catch today.

Honestly-how stupid could people get?

There were rumors about Rivaille floating around the district-

"You know that drug-dealer? The one with the long black hair?"

"Yeah-I heard that he cheats everyone of their money."

"Don't trust him."

And yet, people went to him anyway, succumbing to his ridiculously high prices. And what did Rivaille leave them with? A sprinkle of weed, barely enough to fill one sixth of a pipe.

He winced in disgust as a small strand of moss fell from the ceiling into his hair, and he hastily got off of the wall, shaking the back of his now-damp shirt out. He dragged a hand through his tangled hair-he'd let it grow out, so it reached his shoulders in black waves, which was usually remarked as a strange silver color in the sunlight. But who the fuck cared about that now?

He'd really let himself go too far.

He put on his shoes again, toes protesting. He'd had the worn out flats for over a year now, and despite what people said about his height, he was still growing. But he didn't dare go to a shoe store-people would notice him. So when he went into the market, he had to go in disguise, usually as a cloaked merchant traveling for food and wares.

His family was in deep debt-his father was a gambler, and because he would always come home drunk, Rivaille didn't dare say anything-or he would've been flayed and beaten by that worn leather belt that his scars knew too well.

Rivaille grimaced as he felt water slip between the folds of fabric in his shoes-he'd put them there because they were beginning to crack too much.

There was a pile of rubble ahead, which surprised him, because-nothing ever falls into the sewer. Unless someone threw it out, that is.

His eyes narrowed and he increased his pace a little, wanting to see what was in the midst of the wreck. He was so intent on going there that when he tripped over something hard on the ground, he wasn't prepared, stumbling into the rubble. He shot his arms out to break his fall, but nevertheless scraped the corner of his mouth, breaking the skin. "Shit.." He groaned, feeling the split. Blood was already starting to trickle out, and he could feel bits of dirt in the cut. "What son of a bitch-" What the fuck did he trip over?

Swiveling around, he started sweeping his feet the way that he'd walked, pausing when he hit something sharp. He approached with caution-who knows, it could be a knife-and swore that he saw a gold gleam, but quickly dismissed that, thinking instead of fool's gold.

He first poked it cautiously with his foot, and when there was no reaction, he used his hands, brushing away the bits of grit and dirt that had piled around it.

It was gold.

A brass lamp-those antique ones that you see in Egypt-lay in front of him, and he could see himself reflected over and over again on the surface, bleeding lip and greedy silver eyes a thousand times. He gingerly held it up, turning and rotating it in the faint light that he had. And even with the dim light source, the lamp gleamed and shone, and Rivaille knew that this was real, solid gold. He would be rich.

He wouldn't have to deal with drugs anymore.

He could go back to his family.

He hastily looked around for something to put it in-he would be mad to go out in the open with this-but found nothing. Looks like he would have to go ahead in the sewer after all.

Creeping forward quietly, he looked around to see if there were any other dangers-or more gold-but there was none. As Rivaille walked on and on, he even found himself getting lost, even though he'd been in here more times than he could remember. His feet were getting cramped and tired, and his bony fingers were trembling with the solid weight of the lamp.

Finally tired beyond his wits, he fell down, collapsing by a broken crack and feeling his stomach growl impatiently. When was the last time that he'd eaten?

Rivaille fingered the bills in his pocket. He could leave the lamp here, and go get food…No. It wouldn't be worth it. He had to go on, go home, sell the lamp, be done with everything.

But as he tried to get up, he fell back down again, back hitting the wall harshly.

"You're useless!"

"Filthy gutterboy!"

"You're a worthy match to your parents. Think of it. A gambler and a whore, producing a filthy drug dealer. What a perfect family."

And they all would laugh, a high pitch giggling and screeching, and Rivaille would always cover his head from the rotten fruit thrown-that he would later eat for himself-and screw his eyes, telling himself over and over to be strong-he was worth more, he would live.

"Are you lonely?"

"Ah!" Rivaille yelped, looking around him. There was no one there. Maybe it was his imagination, but the lamp sparked brighter.

"I'll be your friend."

"I have no need for fucking friends." Rivaille snapped. "Where are you?"

"You can call me Eren."

"….where are you?"

"Guess."

"I'm in no mood for guessing games!" Rivaille growled. "Where the hell are you?"

"Impatient, aren't we?"

A hint of humor was in the voice now, and Rivaille could hear a laugh. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

"Are you going to sell the lamp?"

"How-"

"Would you keep the lamp if it meant getting a friend?"

Rivaille opened his mouth, but the no that he'd been so fixated on wouldn't come out.

"You're only fifteen. Not twenty, not thirty-relax and live a little."

"How old are you, then?" Rivaille snorted. Fuck. I'm going mad after all.

"Do you want to see me?"

Rivaille squinted, sweeping his gaze all around. "Sure, why not?"

There was a definite laugh that time. "First-promise not to sell the lamp."

"No way." Rivaille snapped. Who was this boy to tell him what to do? "

"…Fine. Then I'll go away now."

"You do that." Rivaille said, trying in vain to stand up again. But this time, he swore that there was something heavy on his legs, but when he looked-there was nothing there.

"Oy! You!" He hissed. "Come help me up!"

There was no reply.

Rivaille cursed. Maybe he would be immobile for the rest of his life-he tired to flex his toes, but they wouldn't move. A stirring of panic filled Rivaille's chest, and he knew, somehow, that the boy was the cause of all of this. "Fine!" He sighed. "I won't sell the lamp!"

There was a moment of silence, and a few light footsteps, and a slender hand came into Rivaille's vision. Pale and white, it was adorned with three rings on each finger-except for the fourth. Rivaille took the hand reluctantly, and he realized that the moment he touched him, there was a feeling of weightlessness, and he got up easily, feeling more energized than he had ever been. The boy was dressed in an Arabian garb. A half shirt that exposed his tan stomach-wait, how the hell did someone get tan in England-and a low slung cloth that was used as a belt, a pair of loose pants billowed around his legs, but were clenched tightly at the ankles by another strip of cloth. There was a strap slung around the boy's hips, and as Rivaille looked-there were three bottles on there, each of a varying color that Rivaille couldn't name for the life of him.

"You're even younger than I am, brat." Rivaille sighed, looking around. "Where's the lamp?"

"I am the lamp." Eren spread and twirled his fingers in a exotic fashion.

"…Fuck you. I don't believe that." Rivaille spun around, still looking for it.

"Are you wishing for anything?" Eren called after him.

"Wish? You're practically 14, brat. Get with it."

"But you can wish, no matter how old you are, right?"

Rivaille growled threatingly at him, and the boy took a step back, the soft sound of fabric occupying the empty sewer. "Fine. Fucking give the lamp back."

"What's your wish?" Eren's eyes grew desperate and pleading, and Rivaille couldn't help but sigh.

"Fine. I wish that the lamp would appear again. Happy?"

"…..Anything but that." Eren said, clasping his hands together. "Please."

"…Give me all the money I could ever want or need!" Rivaille scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Surely you can't do that!"

Eren snickered. "Well chosen."

Three days later

"…I still don't get it." Rivaille said aloud from the balcony of his new mansion. "How the fuck did you do that?"

Eren, who was sitting on the railing, smirked. "Don't dirty your mouth, my lord. You're an aristocrat now, right?"

"A bachelor, technically." Rivaille mumbled, staring at the gaggle of girls down below.

Eren followed his gaze, and smiled sadly. "You're going to get married, right?"

"Not if I can help it." Rivaille admitted. "But a wife is customary for a lord, right?"

"Oy, oy! Don't look so down!" Eren poked his cheek. "You can always marry me!"

"..You're a man."

"So?" Eren blinked.

There was a moment of silence, where the two stared blindly at each other. Suddenly, Rivaille groaned. "You're impossible."

"You know you love me~"

"Get off, brat!"

At dinner that night, Rivaille's mother inspected the gleaming silverware suspiciously, and Rivaille sighed. "Mum, the fork is not going to come alive and bite you. It's fine. Eat." He took a bite himself to show her, almost grimacing at the overly rich taste of the pork rib. Was this how the rich always became so fat?

"But, Rivaille." His mother patiently said. "You never know if someone's going to poison you or not."

Rivaille opened his mouth to retort, to say that her way of thinking was useless and idiotic, but he couldn't say it, and instead shoveled another forkful of meat in his mouth, almost choking on the oily flavor. Eren was upstairs-he was residing currently in his room. Rivaille had found out from a very early point that for some reason, Eren only appeared to him, so it was baffling how the things he made were real, but he was unreal to anyone but Rivaille. Sometimes he wondered if this was all a dream and he would wake up, dirty and caked with mud, in the dripping sewer one day.

But he'd pinched himself over and over, and he felt the pain. But there was no one who said that you couldn't feel pain in dreams.

His father had been out gambling again, late into the night. But they usually didn't eat dinner together anyway, so it was almost always just Rivaille and his mother. But none of them protested or said anything about it, because they couldn't. Nothing would change, anyway.

Rivaille took a sip of wine, inhaling the sharp grape aroma. He didn't particularly have a taste for alcohol, but wine was something that he could tolerate. He snuck a peek at his mother, who was now holding up a spoonful of soup and examining it thoroughly. "Mum." Rivaille said, exhaustion clear in his voice. "It's just soup."

"But-"

"This is food. That I bought."

"That the cook prepared!"

"The cook is one of our closest friends!"

"He could secretly be wanting to kill us!"

Rivaille fingered his cravat in agitation, then stood up abruptly. "I'm leaving."

He stalked to the door, swinging his dark jacket on. He prided himself inwardly for purchasing it, because he could make small meaningless grand entrances, feeling the dark fabric sweep around his ankles. Secondly, it made him look taller. That was worth the thousand coins he had spent, right?

The glossed door slammed closed behind him as he walked out of the house and into the snowing streets. He upturned the collar of his jacket and blew into that condensed space, feeling warm air spread. "…Are you really fine with this?"

"Gah!" Rivaille jumped back. No matter how many times Eren did this, he was still surprised at hoe suddenly and quietly the boy would appear. "What do you mean?" He scoffed. "Why is she so fucking paranoid?"

"Maybe she has a good reason to be." Eren said quietly, looking down.

Rivaille blinked at him for a long moment, then pulled his jacket tighter around himself, and started walking down the streets again, feeling cold snowflakes land on his eyelashes.

"Rivaille. Don't do this." Eren's voice was pleading.

"Why the fuck do you care?" Rivaille snapped, not looking back at him.

"Because…" Eren's voice trailed off, and he didn't say anything else. Rivaille finally inclined his head, glancing back at the boy. "What?"

"My mother…died."

"…I thought you were a figment of my imagination."

Eren laughed quietly, the sound was full of exhaustion. "Who knows? I might as well be, right?"

Rivaille didn't say anything, but looked down at the cobblestoned streets, tracing white patterns with his foot. "…You…can grant any wish, right?"

"I try." Eren smiled.

"Make me a perfect family." Rivaille decided, twisting on his foot to meet the others surprised gaze. "Give me a father who doesn't cheat or gamble-give me a mother who isn't so fucking paranoid-and-and-give me a perfect personality."

"I can't change your personality." Eren's voice was sober. "You won't remember me anymore, then."

"All the more reason to, right?" Rivaille chuckled, the sound sounding forced to his own ears.

"…Are you sure about this?" Eren breathed, looking anxiously at the other.

"…Yeah." Rivaille closed his eyes, feeling a bitter sting behind his closed lids. "Give me a perfect family."

"….After this, one last time, then…it's over."

Rivaille had a hard time decoding Eren's words. "You can…only do this one more time?"

Eren nodded. "Three times."

"So the first was the money.." Rivaille breathed.

"The second-family." Eren finished for him. "And the third is yours to make." He added quietly.

"But after that, I'll disappear."

Rivaille thought about it for a moment. "…Family." He decided finally.

Eren smiled, and even though the boy was younger than him-or so Rivaille thought-his eyes were so opaque and...transparent-full of a depth and suffering that even Rivaille'd never experienced. "Your eyes are beautiful." He said without thinking, reaching a trembling hand to touch Eren's face. He felt warm flesh beneath his fingertips, and Eren hesitantly leaned his cheek into the touch, sighing softly. "And your eyes are silver." He replied, breathing.

"They're black, idiot." Rivaille bluntly said.

"They reflect the moon." Eren half-opened his own eyes. "And…me."

Rivaille couldn't find anything to say after that, and they just stayed there, quiet and unmoving. To any random passerby, Rivaille would look like he was standing there, hand reaching up and touching nothing. But he and Eren knew better. And that was all that counted.

"Rivaille!" The worried voice of his mum was the first thing he heard when he walked in the house. "Are you alright?"

"Mum?" Rivaille asked in shock. Behind him, Eren gave a sad smile. "Are you wearing your gown?"

"Ah? This?" His mother turned around and smiled dolefully at him. "I just decided to wear it, because you bought it for me, Rivai."

"You look pretty." Rivaille smiled.

"Why, thank you!" His mum reached out for his jacket collar and turned it down again, so that the fabric flared out. "So do you. Now, sit down and eat dinner. The cook prepared this for us-and the food would go to waste, wouldn't it?"

"Y-Yes." Rivaille murmured.

"And your father called." His mum put a hand to her chin. "He said something about coming home early today. He has a present for you too, Rivai!"

"Coming home early?" Rivaille asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" His mother looked at him in surprise. "Are you not used to that, Rivai?"

"N-No, it's just…unexpected." Rivaille admitted.

His mother chuckled. "Well, let us try to enjoy it, then!"

There was the deep ding of the doorbell, and the door opened to admit his father, wrapped up in his scarf. "I'm home!"

"Welcome home, dear!" His mum called, walking over to give him a hug. Rivaille found himself enveloped in their arms, and to his horror, found tears threatening to fall.

To his surprise, Eren walked over to him and hugged him tightly as well, a tear trickled down Rivaille's cheek, and he found himself sobbing. His parents hurriedly asked what was wrong, and Rivaille shook his head, smiling through his tears, saying "everything's alright, I'm fine-I just have allergies, that's all"

That night, Rivaille slept in his parents room, wrapped up in loving and warm arms that he thought he would never feel. Eren stayed in his room, hovering on the balcony railing that was overhanging the city. "Hey Rivaille, don't you know?" He smiled and opened his arms, taking deep breaths. "You had told me that you were just so in love with me, I'm wondering if it was just a joke."

And while Rivaille slept in embracing arms, Eren was held by the freezing cold, slashing invisible scars over and over and over on his skin.

A week later

"Mum, it's fine!" Rivaille snapped.

"No, you need to make sure that this stitch is perfect!" His mother fussed, bending over him.

"I'm fine!" He repeated, trying to stand up. His father came in the room and pushed him down again. "Rivaille, you would do well to listen to your mother."

"What?!" Rivaille shrieked. "But you never agree-"

"Rivaille. Hold still and let me stitch it." His mother held up the needle threatingly, and Rivaille had no choice but to comply as she fixed oneloose thread on his jacket.

"I'm going now!" Rivaille quickly called, fumbling to put his shoes on.
"What time are you going to be back?" His mother replied, walking over.

"ten!"
"That's too late!" His father roared. "Eight's your curfew!"

"Curfew?!" Rivaille gaped.

"Curfew."

"I…fine!" Rivaille snapped, running out the door. He gasped in relief as the cold winter air surrounded him. "..I told you." Eren's quiet voice sounded, and Rivaille rubbed a hand to his temples. "I…."

"It's okay." Eren laughed. "Regrets and bitterness make the sweetness even better, right?"

"Who the fuck told you that?"

Eren's smile grew distant. "A short person." His voice held a loving tone in it, and Rivaille looked at him in disbelief.

"The third task expires today, you know." Eren said quietly, looking at him. "And then I'll disappear."

"You won't disappear." Rivaille said thoughtlessly, gripping the hem of his jacket-the stitch that his mother fixed with white thread standing out clearly.

"You have everything you want. Now it's one more." Eren started humming a tune.

"What song is that?" Rivaille asked in curiosity. It was beautiful.

"Eh? This little tune that my lover taught me."

Lover. Rivaille felt a stab in his heart. "Lover?"

"Yes." Eren smiled-and Rivaille saw that all other times were fake, because none of the other expressions had looked as beautiful as this one.

"What's he-she-like?"

Eren chortled. "Ah, I wish you could meet him. He's superior, full of himself, a cleaning freak, obsessed with order-and-and-he was fearless." His mouth trembled.

"And I loved him. Loved him so, so much." That was the first time that Rivaille had seen Eren cry. He looked on in surprise as the boy's mouth crumpled, and a quick streak of something that could've been snow slip down his cheek.

Hey Rivaille, don't you know? Rivaille leaned closer to Eren, so close that their breaths mingled.

You had told me that you were so in love with me-Their lips were almost touching now-

That I wondered if it was just a joke. Rivaille kissed Eren, feeling the others lips against his. The feeling was cold, yet warm at the same time, and Rivaille felt a emotion he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to feel.

Eren kissed back for a moment, cupping Rivaille's face and hair in his hands. And Rivaille wondered why Eren seemed so familiar to him, seemed to used to everything. It was as if he knew every inch of his face, as if he'd done this-

A thousand times before.

"No…" Rivaille whispered against Eren's lips. The other pulled away from him, surprised. "Don't leave me." He desperately said. "That's my third wish."

Eren laughed for a moment. "Hey Rivaille, don't you know?"

"What?" Rivaille breathed.

"You told me you were so in love with me, that I wondered if it was a joke for the sake of your own entertainment."

A flashing of brilliant lights, a sickening crunch, and Rivaille couldn't think anything else except for-don't go.

~X~

Rivaille screamed. It was as if his body was breaking into a thousand pieces, and it was as if a sheet had been lifted from him, and he could finally move.

"His heart's stuttering! Someone!"

"Rivaille, hang in there!"

"Someone get Eren?"

Get Eren? Rivaille thought dimly. Eren's right here, right?

"Hurry!"

"Corporal!" he knew that voice. "Corporal! Don't leave me!"

"E-Eren?" His voice was rough-was it even his?

"Corporal! Corporal! Corporal!" Eren's voice broke with each repeated word. "Rivaille!"

"I-I'm so madly in love with you-" Rivaille sighed. "It's not a joke, I promise."

"Don't think about that now!" Eren pleaded. "Open your eyes, Rivaille! Rivaille!" He heard a sobbing, choking sound.

Rivaille desperately peered up at the world. Eren was bending over him, face screwed up in pain and fear. But that was the moment he was the most beautiful, Rivaille thought.

A jacket-A cloak-A emblem-Wings of Freedom, Rivaille realized.

"We'll meet again….Eren." He closed his eyes.

"Rivaille! Rivaille! Don't leave me! You promised, remember? You promised! And you always keep your promises! Rivaille! Please!" Eren's voice had reached the point of screaming as Rivaille's eyes closed.

Goodbye,

Eren.

~X~

"Gah!" Rivaille jerked up. "No-No-it can't be-"

He stumbled quickly out of bed, not caring if he was dressed in his pajamas. He knocked over books as he passed, but for once, he didn't care about that, hurrying to a room at the end of the hall. He yanked open the spotless doorknob. "Eren!"

A thin figure rose from the bed. "Rivaille?" He asked in confusion, voice groggy. "It's three a.m in the morning! We have work tomorrow too!"

Rivaille stood there in shock. "You're alive." He breathed, voice cracking.

"Of course!" Eren scoffed. "Why wouldn't I be?" His eyes softened in the faint light that Rivaille could see from the window. "Did you have a dream again? Come here, you can sleep with me."

Rivaille stiffly climbed into Eren's bed, feeling the other wrap a pair of arms around his waist and kiss the back of his head gently. "It's alright, I'm here."

"A dizzyingly…cruel…dream." Rivaille murmured, holding Eren tightly.

Hey Eren, don't you know?

I'm so madly in love with you that it scares me.

I'll never leave you.

And that's a promise.

…I swear that this was not supposed to be a angst fanfiction. I swear. But somehow..this happened. *motions violently* Anything, this was written in celebration for 300 reviews on my other Rivaere fanfiction! ^^ Sorry for the long wait for this…but for the most of you, who are probably a bit confused (yeah sorry)

Here's the "timeline"

Before-First, in canon SnK universe-Rivaille and Eren are living. Then Rivaille dies. (wahhh why)

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Currently-Next, Rivaille gets reincarnated as a drug-dealer living in the sewers of Germany. He finds a lamp-and actually, Eren is a figment of his imagination, because he hasn't died in the SnK universe yet. (I'll leave you guys to speculate how Rivaille got rich and changed his family on his own) and soon, dies in a accidental car accident, screaming something about "not going". People called him-"insane and seeing things." So, in this world, Rivaille basically had a disease-where you see things that really aren't there.

.

After-Finally, Rivaille and Eren get reincarnated in a modern universe-quite like Earth. They're currently working at a publishing company together.

…yeah. I hope those make sense to you guys…XD Hopefully your brains aren't spinning…but..

yeah.

Please review!

K.K