When Eren awoke to an empty bed, his heart sank like a stone. Levi was gone. Gone.

Had it all been a dream? A sick dream that had taunted him with only his innermost desires? There was no sign that Levi had ever been here, or that they had... well... you know. The bed was made, covers tucked carefully around Eren, instead of in the rumpled state he remembered it had been in. There was no indent in the pillow beside his own, either.

That made it even more evident that he'd dreamt everything.

But then he noticed the rest of the room. It was clean. Eren had never been that into cleanliness—not that he was dirty, but his floor was always covered in a layer of clothes and there was always at least three plates and chip bags on his bedside table. All of that was gone. His floor was clear and looked to have been vacuumed. His room practically sparkled.

Butterflies rose in Eren's stomach. "It wasn't a dream," he marvelled, so glad he could just about cry with relief.

"Oh, you're awake," came the familiar voice of Levi from his doorway.

Eren looked over, a smile spreading over his face. Levi looked tired and kind of pissed off—those things never changed, even in a different lifetime. It was strangely comforting. Levi was still the same. So was Eren. So was everyone else. Maybe it wasn't just love that had transcended worlds, it was everything. Though, if it was, then surely the bad things had followed them here too. That thought kind of scared him.

"Levi Heichou," he breathed.

"Eren," Levi said firmly, "we need to talk."

..

Five minutes later, Levi and Eren were seated at Eren's freshly wiped kitchen table.

Eren was nervous to say the least; there had been something worryingly serious about Levi's tone of voice.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Eren, this won't work."

Eren's heart plummeted. No. Not after everything. Levi had come to Eren of his own accord. There was no way he could back out now. Eren would not be taken away from Levi again. "What do you mean? You can't be—you can't be breaking up with me. Wait, were we together in the first place?"

"Eren," Levi repeated. God, there was something about the way he said his name that caused the hairs on the back of Eren's neck to stand. "That's not what I mean."

Eren breathed in relief, while Levi continued on,

"What I mean is that this—this spontaneity won't work out. We were only drawn to each other because we were lonely and desperate as hell. It was never supposed to be love—not even an illusion of it. But that changed when you died, Eren. It changed and the next thing I knew I was here in this world, remembering my life back there. Before I knew it, it turned out we were soulmates. That ridiculous concept this world has that you have a destined lover from a far off land. Except that it's real. And now, after so many years, you've remembered. I tried so damn hard to keep away from you, to not bring this burden onto your shoulders. But it all turned into nothing but pointless effort when I met you again last week. I don't even know why the hell I bothered. I can't stay away from you, Eren. Not now that I've gotten a taste of what I was missing. But if we go on like this, acting like nothing's changed since those first days, it can never work out. It'll probably just end in death like the last time. That's why we should go slow and try and get some other kind of love. It's different here. The air—the people—you. Here there's that freedom we constantly sought, but died before we could get it. We don't have the looming fear that were about to be eaten, and there are no walls around us. Don't you think is about time for us to stop living in the past like this?"

Eren considered Levi's words. He spoke the truth—they would get nowhere with this. If they... restarted, so to speak, maybe they could finally find their forever, whatever that was. "I... agree."

"Good." Levi looked away, eyes glazing over. He was staring at something Eren couldn't see. "I'm not saying we should forget the past. We should remember it for what it was, and it can serve as a reminder. A reminder of how lucky we actually are here."

"I won't forget it, ever. I won't forget those moments we shared," Eren whispered. "Never."

"Me neither," Levi replied, a strange wistfulness in his voice.

"But... what will we do now, Heichou? How do we begin anew?"

"Didn't I say not to live in the past? With you calling me that I don't think we can do anything."

Realising his mistake, Eren sheepishly scratched his head. "Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"To your last question"—Levi reached into his pocket—"here." He handed Eren a neatly folded piece of paper.

Eren looked at it. Written on it in a neat penmanship was a phone number.

"You can start by putting that into your phone and texting me," Levi told Eren pointedly.

As Eren hastily programmed the number in, Levi got to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Eren asked.

"Home," Levi replied, making his way to the kitchen door. "You have class this morning, don't you?"

"Shit! I completely forgot!"

After checking the time on his phone, Eren discovered he only had twenty minutes before his first lecture. Dammit.

"You better hurry, Eren. Or else you'll be late."

"Yes, sir!" Eren said automatically.

"We aren't in the Survey Corps anymore. Theres no need for formalities like that."

"Yes—I mean, I know. It just slipped out."

"Bye, Eren."

"Hei—Levi, wait!"

Levi looked over his shoulder just as he was about to leave. "What is it?"

"One day soon we should, uh, go for a coffee—or tea!"

"Alright," was all Levi said before leaving Eren all alone in his overly clean apartment. He realised without Levi, it seemed overly empty in a way it never had before. Eren himself felt empty inside, like he was missing a part of himself that he never even knew he had before it was gone. That part of him, he knew, was Levi himself.

But, he took solace in the knowledge that he would see Levi again soon. He had his number now, for god's sake. That was definitely a good sign.

Eren thought back to Levi's words. It's different here. The air. The people. you. Here, there's that freedom we constantly sought.

Levi had never mentioned an I. Did that mean he considered himself unchanged. Was that, Eren wondered, a good thing?

And had he himself really changed? Eren didn't feel so, but maybe there were things he couldn't notice. 19 years not not remembering who you were could do things to a person.

Levi had remembered for nine, though. He'd had a lot of time to stew over things, but Eren had only had a few days.

Eren had noticed everything that was the same about things, whilst Levi noticed everything that was different. Was that in their gap in experience or their differences as people? He didn't know, it was just a strange thing to note.

And then, Eren remembered, he had a fucking lecture in fifteen minutes!

He swore several times as he dressed and gathered his things. When he finally left, he was sure he'd be late by at least ten minutes.

As Eren sprinted down the street, lungs burning, he couldn't take his mind off Levi. Off of Levi's words.

And Eren was sure of one thing: they could surely find their forever.