Eren opened his eyes to the light from his digital alarm clock, reflected on the crumbly ceiling of his bedroom. He blinked several times against the faint darkness, trying to hold onto the face in his dream, but he knew it was a lost cause.

It had been a while since he'd had that kind of dream, at least a few months. It wasn't as overwhelming anymore, but he still couldn't help but feel troubled.

A glance at his alarm clock told him it was a couple hours before he was supposed to wake up. He sighed. He felt perfectly alert.

If Eren would sometimes jump awake in the wee hours of the morning, he would usually manage to fall back asleep. But now seemed to be one of those nights where he woke up restless.

Since going back to sleep didn't seem like an option, it was no use staying in bed. He got up and squinted as he turned on the small lamp that sat on his desk. After rummaging around in his closet, he finally came out with a pair of shorts. He promptly put it on, as well as his t-shirt and hoodie from the previous day. If he was going to sweat his heart out, he didn't need clean clothes. Grabbing his keys – and entirely overlooking his cellphone – he left.

Sometimes, after having one of these dreams, Eren felt like he was missing something important, and compelled to look for it without delay. Trouble was he could never remember what he was supposed to look for.

So, he ran. And while he ran, as his body was busy with the simple, mindless motions, he could shake off the dream-induced adrenaline. It helped clear his mind. It helped him think. It was the best way he'd found to let go of all the aimless energy these dreams left him with.

They used to wake him up about every other night as a child, often screaming and in tears. His parents had him go through therapy until it became manageable. It took a while, but in time the dreams finally became a rare occurrence, though they never entirely went away.

Oblivious to the familiar, mundane streets around him, he let his feet take him on his usual route, which went around the nearby cemetery. He didn't know why, but he always felt pacified by the orderly rows of tombstones, by the surrounding quiet. He'd told someone at school once, and they thought it was morbid, told him he was a weirdo. It was probably true, but he couldn't care less. Not anymore.

In his dream, something had been chasing him, trying to grab at him. He'd tried to flee, but it had been useless, and he'd been taken away. Eren could never make out what or who wanted to hurt him. But he knew, with the sort of clarity dreams sometimes gave rise to, that they always wanted to eat him, as well as his companions, if any were present in the dream. Companions he was supposed to protect. Companions he was often unable to save.

It wasn't the first time he'd had that kind of dream, and there were variations. Sometimes, he'd be the one doing the chasing. But in the end, it was always chasing or being chased.

They were always hungry.

As the cemetery came into view, Eren sped up. The white front gate was a ghostly shape in the dark as he passed it. Eren's feet took him along the narrow street that circled around the cemetery.

Just as he couldn't ever make out what was chasing him, the faces of his unfortunate companions always eluded him. They were all blurry, featureless faces, as if clouded by mist. When he was lucky, he'd remember knowing eyes, or the soft slope of a smiling mouth. But it scarcely happened, and he could never catch a full set of features. The details, like hair or eye colors, were hazy. Despite being able to tell these people were important to him – comrades, mentors he held a great deal of respect for, beloved family or friends, and even a few who evoked hurt and betrayal – it all slipped through his fingers as soon as he woke up.

Even when he called out to one of his dream companions, he could never seem to remember their names after waking up.

It used to drive him crazy as a teenager, and he'd never really made peace with his brain's inability to materialize faces to remember once awake. Even now that he was older and less prone to irrational bursts of anger, he still woke up confused. It was frustrating.

He passed the cemetery gates, quickening his step as he went for another round.

Someone had been calling his name. Even though he couldn't hear what they were saying – he never heard any sounds in his dreams - he'd listened with eager attention. Another thing that set this dream apart from others was the attentive, pale eyes mirroring his, a piercing gaze that seemed to see right through him. It had felt like that person's intense focus had been directed only towards him, nothing else. They were his beacon in the storm, and it seemed he was theirs, too.

But once again, he couldn't remember a face.

It wasn't the first time he dreamed of this person, but the misty figure, as vague as it was, had never left such a vivid impression. Even though he couldn't make out their eye color before, he could tell it was peculiar, because they were strikingly clear.

He blamed it on that guy, the one who'd found his wallet the previous day.

When he'd seen the stranger standing in front of his apartment building, even though he could only see his back, he'd felt a sense of uncanny familiarity. He was pretty sure they were someone he knew, but couldn't place them. When the man had turned around and Eren had been able to look at his face, it had made things worse. He didn't know that man, had never seen his face, but the feeling of familiarity only intensified.

He didn't see the man's eyes properly in the dying October sun, so he couldn't tell what color they were. But Eren wasn't about to forget his face.

He'd really gone and made an ass of himself. It was obvious that the man wanted nothing to do with him. Eren didn't even understand why he'd taken the trouble of bringing his wallet back to him. He'd seemed quite – unfriendly and unapproachable. Uncaring, even. The glare that seemed to be a permanent fixture in an already unwelcoming face didn't help – not that the stranger was ugly, no. His face was fine, but something about it gave off the feeling that its owner shouldn't be messed with.

Yet in the end, while the stranger had been elusive at best, he'd been perfectly polite and personable during the whole encounter.

And then, he'd run away like he couldn't wait to end their exchange.

This whole encounter had awakened a sharp feeling in Eren's mind. Familiarity, yes, but also something akin to relief, the kind you felt when meeting a friendly face after fending for oneself in a hostile environment for a while, maybe. Or even the feeling you'd get, coming home after a long, exhausting day at work. His whole body thrummed with it. Finally, it said. Eren had no idea where such a feeling could come from.

It hadn't felt right, letting that guy leave without properly thanking him, without digging deeper. But it was too late, now. He was gone, and Eren didn't even know his name.

The burning sensation in his legs and lungs propelled him out of his thoughts. He was breathless, and not exactly running at a leisure pace anymore. He hadn't even noticed he'd been going that fast. How many rounds had he done? The strain in his calves and thighs was too much to keep going.

He slowed down to a walk. White puffs of misty air that he could barely see danced before his eyes with each rushed breath. He looked around and realized he was at the back of the cemetery, opposite the white gates. He ran his hand through his hair. It felt sweaty. He'd need to wash it when he got back home.

It was still dark, and it was cold. He probably should've worn something warmer, but it was too late for regrets now. He had no idea what time it was. In any case, it was time to go home.

The cemetery was supposed to be closed at night, but the surrounding stone fence was old, and crumbling in several spots, like the one Eren was passing. On impulse, he climbed over the low wall.

Eren had never been in the cemetery, not even in daylight, even though he passed it every day on his way to classes. At this time of the night, it was even quieter than during the day.

The people who'd died in his dreams, friends and comrades, people he loved and respected. Had they ever had a resting place such as this one? He'd dreamt of the acrid smell of burning flesh, searing all the way down his lungs. Of huge funerary pyres. For the lucky ones who hadn't been eaten alive, he assumed. No wonder these had driven him hysterical as a kid.

He breathed in deeply. The air here smelled of freshly overturned soil, of wet grass, of decaying leaves. He'd have to leave soon. Now that he wasn't running anymore, he was tired and cold.

He stopped walking and looked at the nearby tombstones. Out of sheer curiosity, he walked towards the nearest grave and laid his hand on the headstone. It was rough and cold to the touch. He had to kneel and squint to read the engraved epitaph in the faint light from the nearby streetlamp.

In loving memory, it said, underneath the name of a stranger.

How fitting, he thought. He didn't know what his dreams meant, but even though they were creations of his mind, his attachment to the people he saw there was very real. And he hoped that one day, he would remember their names.

It was the next Saturday evening and Eren was supposed to be picking up dinner at the supermarket when he saw the man again. He was glaring at a bottle of iced tea like it had somehow personally offended him. And maybe it had. The man wasn't all that tall, certainly not tall enough to grab that bottle. It was sitting on the upper shelf.

Again, the peculiar feeling from before filled Eren's chest. Familiar relief, like the first time. Curiously happy to meet him again, Eren felt compelled to talk to him. Maybe that feeling was caused by the man's bearing, similar to someone he'd once known and had forgotten about. Again, it was like seeing somebody after being apart for a long time and missing them greatly, but it was ridiculous. He barely knew that man, so it was impossible, and Eren bit on the inside of his lips to stifle it.

He must have met him somewhere, and simply didn't remember. There was no other explanation for the overwhelming feeling of familiarity.

He needed to know.

Eren stood there and watched the man, trying to decide how to best approach him. There was no way he was going to let him leave like the first time. He had too many questions to ask.

He considered helping the man by grabbing the bottle for him, but for some reason, he suspected that he wouldn't take it well. He was even shorter than Eren himself, who wasn't tall by any means. Eren didn't want to risk exacerbating whatever insecurities that man might or might not have.

Eren studied the man's face. His eyes, now that Eren could look at them without seeming rude, were definitely similar to the eyes he remembered from his recent dream. Possibly even more than Eren had first thought – and he still couldn't make out their color in the store's much too bright artificial light. It was the glaring, he thought.

When he realized with a start that said glaring was directed towards him, he cursed inwardly.

"You again," the man said.

He sounded annoyed but resigned. Possibly a little angry, too. Eren couldn't help giving an apologetic smile.

"Yeah," he said.

There was an awkward pause, only disturbed by the cheesy pop music that was playing in the supermarket. It was stupid, but Eren was afraid that the man would disappear as soon as he averted his eyes. So, he returned his stare, feeling strangely exposed under that attentive, unfriendly gaze.

The man narrowed his eyes and broke the silence.

"Are you a stalker?"

Embarrassed, Eren did his best to keep smiling.

"I'm only trying to buy food. It's not my fault you decided to come here at the same time."

"Do you make it a habit to stare at strangers, then?" the man retorted, his voice dry and cold.

"Sorry," Eren said, "I was lost in thought and I didn't realize. Besides, you're not exactly a stranger. We've met before."

The man was frowning harder, which curiously, made him look less guarded.

"Just once," he said. "You don't even know my name, kid."

He was still glaring, but Eren felt like the man didn't look all that angry, after all. It was hard to tell, but he was starting to believe that it was just the way his face looked. It made him hard to read.

Eren could only hope the hope he felt wasn't written all over his own face.

"Now's the only chance I've had to ask."

Eren was surprised when the man broke eye contact and, instead of immediately trying to skitter away from the conversation, only shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching. He was muttering something Eren didn't manage to catch.

"Come again?"

"Nothing." The man's tone was distant as he turned back towards the shelves.

As if on cue, the palm of Eren's left hand started itching. He scratched it, but his nerves didn't abate. His hand found its way to the zipper of his hoodie – which was hanging open. He felt weirdly intimidated by this man.

The man was stalling, and it was only moments before he would attempt to leave. Again. Eren had to say something.

"You know," he said before shaking off his nervousness by clearing his throat, "I still haven't thanked you properly."

The man replied with a noncommittal hum, surveying the shelves as if they were more important than what Eren was trying to tell him.

But Eren was determined.

"My offer for coffee still stands. Or dinner," he said after glancing at his cellphone to check the time. "I was just buying something to eat."

"Uh-huh. Crappy supermarket sandwiches, my favorite."

Eren rolled his eyes at the sarcasm.

"Come on, I'm not that cheap," he said, quickly thinking of a few places in the surrounding area that wouldn't be too hard on his wallet. "Let's get pizza or something. I'm starving."

It was unnerving how comfortable he felt around this man whom he barely knew, and on edge at the same time. But when the man turned towards him, he was glaring again, and Eren had the feeling he'd finally had enough bullshit for the night.

"And then what?" His tone was sharper and his back looked tense. "Wine and dine, is that your plan?"

That was disconcerting. Was that really the vibe Eren gave off? No wonder the man didn't want to have anything to do with him if that was how it looked to him.

And the man was still talking.

"Because I'm not interested in snotty kids–"

"No! I just –" Eren said, cutting him off.

Surprisingly, the man stopped protesting, though his frown remained in place. Eren took a deep breath to appease the sudden embarrassment he felt. What was wrong with him today?

"I told you, when we met the other day, that I felt like it wasn't the first time. I only want to confirm it."

The man wouldn't stop glaring, and the zipper on Eren's hoodie was again subjected to some abuse.

"I just want to talk," Eren added, peering at the man nervously. "Only for a bit, come on. It's been driving me nuts all week."

The man's shoulders seemed to relax, though the shift was so subtle that it was hard to tell. He sighed and looked away.

"Is that what it'll take to get you off my back?" he said, sounding slightly irritated but almost subdued compared to earlier.

He sounded resigned again.

Eren nodded.

"Yes," he said. "If that's what you want."

It was okay, he told himself. He didn't get why he was so compelled to try and talk to this man, to learn more about him. But if this was his only chance, besides the one he'd already wasted, he wasn't going to let it go.

The man took a deep breath, pausing before he spoke again.

"Okay," he said.

A feeling like victory flooded Eren's chest. He couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

"You have one hour," the man added.

"Sure."

"No pizza."

Whatever you want, Eren thought, as long as you don't run away again.

"Okay," he said instead. "Chinese, then?"

"Levi," the man said.

Eren was confused by that answer, and it must have shown on his face, because the man soon clarified.

"My name is Levi."

"Football?"

"Nope."

"Okay, not sports then. Theater?"

"Ugh."

"Painting?"

"No time for extracurriculars."

"Volunteer work?"

"Nada."

Eren had been throwing various activities and locations at Levi for the past ten minutes, without much success. And Eren had a lot to throw. He'd tried about every single extracurricular activity that was available when he was in high school and had gone on to do the same in university. He'd also changed his major twice.

That was what happened when you didn't know where your life was headed. Eren often told himself that he was fine with it.

"Damn. What about jobs?" he asked.

They were waiting for their mezze, and Eren was not-so-sneakily trying to learn more about Levi. Until now, Levi hadn't been very cooperative. His answers were simple and to the point, when not outright monosyllabic. He didn't look all too happy to be here. When they'd sat down, he'd inspected his glass and silverware, as if checking for dirt or fingerprints. He'd put them back on the table without finding anything.

Eren glanced at Levi. He was sprawled on his chair, an arm thrown over the back, as if he was bored to death. His face was uninviting, to say the least. He looked rather sullen, offering Eren an irritated glare. But there was some kind of harmony about his features, something that made them easy on the eyes despite their sharpness.

Levi's demeanor made Eren nervous. The fact that he felt a little guilty for dragging him to the restaurant didn't exactly help.

"Pizza delivery," Levi said. "La Mama on East Maple. Quit five years ago."

That was better, but not really helpful.

"Never heard of that place."

"Starbucks. Church, near the station. Same time as the pizza thing."

"I've never even been there."

"And I'm an office clerk now. Obviously, we're not working together."

"So that's a no-go as well," Eren said.

He scratched his left palm. This was going nowhere. Why did Levi have to be so vague and closed-off about everything? Eren was starting to lose the last of his patience. And time wasn't slowing. If Eren, for some reason he couldn't explain, trusted Levi to keep his word, he knew that he wouldn't stay longer than he'd promised. There was no time to waste.

The waiter brought their meals then, distracting Eren from all the questioning. He felt ravenous, but made it a point to eat properly when he saw that Levi's table manners were a lot better than his own.

"Okay," he said when his initial hunger abated enough for him to focus on something else again. "Where did you say your office building was?"

It was hard, keeping his questions ambiguous enough to avoid seeming too nosy, but specific enough that the answers wouldn't be too evasive.

"Park Avenue," Levi said, somewhat reluctant.

Ah. Now, he might be onto something.

"Downtown? I go to school nearby. Lunch habits?"

"Homemade lunch. I eat in the park sometimes."

Eren sighed. That one was a dud as well.

"I don't. Too far from school. Lunch break is too short to walk there and back."

There was a pause in the conversation, and Eren sighed. He'd virtually exhausted all options. Levi hadn't taken part in any sports, arts or anything aside from regular classes in high school. He didn't know what to ask next.

He looked up, but Levi had averted his eyes. In the restaurant's subdued artificial light, his dark circles were more prominent than earlier. He had an interesting face, Eren thought. Sharp eyebrows, pointy nose. All angles, but with features that were somewhat delicate, youthful, even. With the neutral look they sported right now, they made Levi look like a finely carved statue.

He wasn't bad looking, and maybe Eren would even venture to say that he was somewhat attractive.

Because of his youthful features, Eren had first thought Levi was the younger one between them. But after talking to him, he now suspected that he was older than he looked. Possibly even older than Eren himself.

"How old are you?" he asked, curious.

Levi's eyes immediately went to glare at him again.

"What's it to you?" he said coldly.

"We could've gone to the same school," Eren said, surprised at the unwarranted aggression.

Why couldn't Levi relax a little and not be on the defensive all the time like that?

Levi let out a short sigh that sounded almost like a groan, but answered nonetheless.

"I'm twenty-four," he said.

"What?" Eren said, probably too loud in the small restaurant, because several other patrons glanced at their table before resuming their own conversations. "We're the same age," he added, voice going back to appropriate levels.

Levi was glaring harder than ever.

"I thought you were younger," he said.

"Well," Eren retorted, "I thought you were younger too, at first, but then I changed my mind. You call me 'kid' all the time," he added when Levi raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"You do look young, though," Levi said in a quiet voice that sounded almost soft compared to his usual tone, but maybe it was Eren's imagination. "Something in your eyes."

"Huh. I've been told that before," Eren said thoughtfully. "So, where did you go to high school?"

"Central high, in Riverside."

That was a suburban town Eren had never been to.

"I lived out of state until college." Eren sprawled back in his chair and closed his eyes, sighing. "I give up."

"I found your wallet in the park," Levi said, suddenly conciliatory, "so we've obviously passed each other at some point."

"It doesn't mean a thing if I can't remember seeing you there," Eren said.

Levi shrugged, and the conversation died down.

Eren was surprised when Levi was the one breaking the silence.

"You've sure been around," he said.

"What do you mean?" Eren said, frowning.

"All those things you've done – jobs, clubs..." Levi paused, eyes on his plate. "You've asked me because you've done all of them at some point, and there was a chance we could have met there. Right?"

Eren watched as Levi raised his fork to his mouth, pausing there before glancing up, into the latter's eyes. He was looking at Eren, quietly waiting for his answer.

"Huh, yeah," he said.

"Have you actually tried everything that was taught at school?" he asked, still staring.

Eren chuckled at that.

"You have no idea," he said. "School, sports club, you name it. I even enrolled at an ice skating camp when I was nine. My mom tried to dissuade me but I was a stubborn little shit." He felt a wan smile stretch his mouth at the thought of all he'd put his mom through. "She says I can't stick around long enough to actually enjoy anything though."

"Did you?" Levi asked, finally averting his eyes. "Enjoy anything."

Eren thought about it for a moment, pushing his food around his plate.

"I guess I have, well, at least some of them. Ice skating was nice," he added with a small frown. "But probably not enough to stick around. I just like trying new things, you know?"

Levi didn't answer.

"I..." Eren started after a bit, trying to find a good way to phrase the question. "Do you ever feel like you – like, there's something you should be doing?"

Levi was watching him with attentive, careful eyes.

"What do you mean?" He said.

"It's like, that feeling when you've got something to do – I don't know, taking the trash out, or remember to buy toilet paper before going home, whatever. But you've forgotten, and you've got that nagging feeling, you know? Except you know it's important. Not just an errand. More like bills, or taxes. Something that could have lasting consequences."

Eren felt breathless, as if spouting that nonsense had taken a lot out of him. He didn't know why he was talking about such a personal thing to Levi, who was essentially a stranger – though maybe that was specifically why. He was acutely aware that he wasn't doing a very good job at explaining, anyway.

Levi blinked, but didn't say anything. He was still watching Eren, who felt prompted to go on.

"What I mean is, I feel like there's something I should be doing. I can feel it in my gut," he said, "but I have no idea what it is. I can't even tell if I've ever known. That's how I feel, anyway," he finished lamely.

Levi gently put his fork in his plate, which was now empty. When Eren glanced up at him, Levi's eyebrows were twisted in a drop. But somehow, Eren thought he looked sad.

"So," Levi said, "you haven't found a purpose to your life yet?"

It took Eren a moment to answer, baffled as he was at how easily Levi could put words on the elusive feelings he had such a hard time explaining.

"Yeah," he said.

Levi's answer was quiet, muffled by the napkin he was slowly dabbing his mouth with, looking away as if lost in thoughts.

"It's okay, you know. You're still young."

Eren snorted.

"Like you're so much older."

Levi's narrowed eyes were back on Eren.

"Well," he said, "your hour is up. Thanks for the meal."

Levi was already getting up and grabbing his jacket. He was ready to leave. He was leaving and Eren would never see him ever again, unless chance brought them together one more time.

One hour, that had been the deal. Levi had been tense the whole time. It was obvious that he hadn't wanted to be there in the first place. Levi didn't look like he felt the same as Eren did. They were strangers to each other. Being friends was out of the question.

And yet, Eren couldn't bear the thought of Levi leaving like this, being out of his life for good without even trying. He didn't know what it was about Levi that made him feel this pull, but he'd enjoyed the time they'd spent together, and he wanted more of it.

Following an impulse born in the endless self-confidence and stubbornness his mother had often berated him for, Eren made a choice.

Levi was already out the door. Eren threw some money on the table, but took the time to grab his receipt – he would need it. He was almost running by the time he reached the street. He tried not to panic as he surveyed his surrounding. When he found Levi, he ran like his life depended on it.

"Wait!" he said as he caught up to Levi.

He thought the latter wasn't going to stop, but he did, and turned around as he waited for him.

It took a moment for Eren to catch his breath.

"What," Levi said when Eren took to long to speak.

Eren raised a hand in an assuaging motion. Levi was glaring at him.

"Sorry, I –" he said, still a little out of breath. "I have something for you."

Levi raised a somewhat derisive eyebrow, but didn't try to leave, waiting instead for Eren to produce whatever he wanted to give him.

Eren was rummaging through his pockets, until he found a pencil – a poor excuse of one, short and obviously broken on one end. He scratched his cellphone number on the back of his receipt, and offered it to Levi.

But Levi only glared at it, making no move to take it.

"No."

Eren felt frustration rise from deep within him. He almost wanted to grab Levi's hand and force the piece of paper in his palm, but he somehow knew that it couldn't be a good idea – with anyone, but with Levi in particular. Maybe he could slide it in his pocket, or maybe even – even stuff it into his mouth and have him eat it, but – no, that was his irritation talking. He didn't want to do that.

"Look –" he started, but Levi didn't let him finish.

"No. I said one hour."

"But –"

"I don't need or want your fucking number."

"Just let me talk, dammit!"

His words resonated in the empty street. Again, he'd spoken much louder than he'd intended.

Levi wasn't looking at him anymore. Despite the finality of his earlier words, he wasn't leaving – for now. Eren let hope fill his lungs. He breathed it in and spoke again, quieter this time.

"You don't have to use it. I just feel like – I don't know. I want you to have it. Just in case you remember something."

Levi was staring at the piece of paper in Eren's hand. The look on his face seemed conflicted, though Eren couldn't understand why.

"Come on," he said, "it's only a phone number. You don't have to call or text. No promise made, no pressure, no catch. You can even throw it away later it if you want."

Please, just take the goddamn paper, he thought.

Could Levi catch onto the slight note of despair in his voice? Eren didn't know. But when Levi snatched the piece of paper from his hand, quietly muttering something that Eren couldn't hear, he dumbly felt like he'd hung the moon.

"No promise made," Levi said

He exchanged a short glance with Eren, but didn't hold it for long. He was already turning around to leave.

"Goodbye."

Moments later, he was gone. Eren stood there, watching the corner where Levi had disappeared. He was confused, and suddenly felt exhausted. He didn't get Levi at all, that was for sure.

For some reason, Levi's parting words didn't sound so final.

Shaking his head, he crossed the street and went home.