A/N: Some of these will be shorter, and some will be longer. This is AU, so keep that in mind. Thanks, and I don't own any of these characters.
Things that Eren didn't need, he threw out. Things that he kept were things that held memories to him. Most of them involved Mikasa, his beloved adopted sister. A small margin of them were from his mother and father, two very different characters somehow bonded over two golden rings.
Twirling his pencil in his hand, Eren's mind wandered away from his bare desk, save for a small desk light and a couple of textbooks. It wandered to a place where there was no pain, no crying, no negativity. And he sighed. It simply wasn't possible. His pencil continued spinning.
Eren's room was simple. And it was bare, just like his desk. He wasn't a very organized, clean person, but there was not much to be thrown around. Clothes of simple earthy colors littered the creamy pale carpet, jeans scattered one way or another. Mikasa hadn't done her weekly clear through of the mess of clothing and Eren sure as hell wouldn't do it. However, if anyone decided to peek in the drawer, they'd only see one or two shirts left, and old pants that he would never wear.
He wasn't abnormally dirty; the brown-haired sloth simply wasn't the cleanest. The scent of adolescent boy clung to him like it should, and his attitude was nothing less than a typical teenager.
Eren eventually threw the pencil at the paper, groaning and holding his head in feigned pain. He secretly wished Mikasa would come and tutor him, but she was busy, either studying or drowning away the rest of the world with her headphones.
He gazed at his accumulation of goods throughout his sixteen years living under the same roof, in the same room. Glancing past the rows of stuffed animals from more than ten years ago and the empty bottles of lotion from travels abroad, his eyes landed on something he hadn't seen in a while.
A small scrap of rolled up, laminated paper had caught his eye, and the familiar curl of old photographs seemed very nostalgic. Grabbing it and unrolling it, eventually the face of a young Mikasa and a young Eren grinning wildly with flowers tightly gripped in their chubby, seven-year old fists greeted the older boy.
He looked so happy with himself and his adopted sister. He looked like he lived in a world with no pain and no tears.
Crumpling the paper up, Eren threw it to a random corner in his room.
His life was too simple to constitute a happy past.
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