No More Wishes (Cheating!Reiner X Bertholdt Fanfic)

Part 6

He was so close to breaking down.

However, Reiner believed that he had hid it well enough. It was only when Sasha had scurried into in office deliver a file had he realized how contorted his expression was.

"Mr. Braun? You holding up okay?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah." That was a lie; he'd been staring at the same documents for over half-an-hour, unable to register the words on them. His head was overwhelmed with anxieties and speculation. Reiner was aware of his penchant to exacerbate small issues, but being consciously aware of his shortcomings didn't translate to fixing them. He was completely distracted with worries of his husband.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You're scowling at the budget plan, Mr. Braun. And although I know nobody likes to read them, you look pretty distressed."

Reiner blinked. His hands rose to his face to examine the lines of worry. Strangely enough, he hadn't realized how much his facial muscles were aching from exertion. Sasha grinned.

"You should eat more. Helps with stress."

"Speaking of eating..." Her giggly mood mellowed Reiner's temper. A small smile carved itself onto his face. "Did you see the kind of money we spend on board meeting bagels? We should seriously reconsider how much we're shelling out to the local bakery."

Sasha's face fell. "You wouldn't dare."

"I've been hearing rumors about people sneaking three or four bagels out of the room when no one's looking..."

Her fist came pummeling down on his desk. The bang caused him to jolt back in his chair. "No! Listen, how else are people supposed to sustain themselves during the work day? Some workers come in with just a coffee for breakfast because of the commute! There's a linear, positive correlation between productivity and the size of a breakfast! Not only that, but it boosts morale and helps out a small, local business!"

Reiner's hands flew up to signal a surrender. "Alright! Ok, I'll keep my mouth shut." His grin grew at Sasha's exasperated and firey expression. Never argue with a marketing major.

"Good." She straightened her back and fixed her blazer. "I'm glad we came to an agreement." Before turning around and walking out, she added, "I was serious, though. Eat a little more. You shouldn't overwork yourself."

...Overwork, huh? It was hard to find the line between pushing and overextending. Work was always comforting: methodic, finite, disciplined. No area for letting thoughts run wild. No room for contemplating the unnecessary or involving messy and abstract feelings. When he was adding numbers, reading reports, or writing sales pitches, he could go tunnel-minded. Tune out the noise in his head. Work was his solace from the tempests he invoked on himself.

When the door closed behind Sasha, Reiner slipped the budget plan underneath some books. Right. That was what he needed now. Work. Uncomplicated, formulaic tasks. Numbers didn't have double meanings. Didn't remind him of his accumulating guilt. He could stave off the torrent of emotions and retreat into his little haven, even if for another hour.

Another hour away from his thoughts.

Wouldn't that be wonderful?

***

"I'm home."

"Welcome back."

Hearing his husband's voice immediately eased Reiner. His shoulders relaxed and the tension dissipated from his bones. The relief was akin to scratching an itch that had been driving him crazy all day. It was the reassurance of knowing that Bertholdt was still here, in his life, thereby eliminating the imagined outcome that his anxious thoughts inevitably lead to.