The next two weeks seemed to drag on, despite the fact that Eren didn't have much time for himself.

With November gone, the end of year holidays were looming near. Eren had doubled his usual shifts at the store, and he was busy studying for his exams. He'd d taken on spending time in the local library whenever he had time earlier that year, but it was impossible these days. Most of his waking time was filled with present wrapping, and the library closed at six every day. So, he studied at night. Not that he slept much at all.

He was so busy that he didn't get to spend much time at his apartment either. He couldn't say he cared. He wasn't especially fond of the place, anyway. It was small and a little worn out, rough around the corners with paper thin walls and noisy neighbors. It had never been home. Home was with his mom back in the country. Nevertheless, it was functional. It had been good enough since he'd moved in.

But these days, his apartment seemed unwelcoming. The heater was broken, and despite his increasingly desperate calls to his landlord, it had yet to be fixed. The sun warmed the place during the day, but as soon as it set, the warmth disappeared, leaving Eren to freeze his ass off. Too cold at night, too run-down during the day. Too empty at all times, despite the fact that Eren had managed to cram all his stuff in the tiny, single room.

Because of the cold and the upcoming exams, it was hard to fall asleep at night. While it prevented the nightmares, it didn't help with unwanted thoughts.

Eren had tried texting Levi at first, but Levi hadn't replied since the dim sum restaurant, not even once. After a while, Eren had decided that maybe it was better to give Levi space and let him decide when to get in touch. If he ever did, which seemed less and less likely with each passing day. Eren was starting to think he'd made a mistake.

It was fine, he told himself, if Levi wanted to be no more than friends. Eren didn't mind. He had thought about it, before he had kissed Levi. He'd believed he would be fine with never letting Levi know, as long as they remained part of one another's life. He would remain silent about his feelings to avoid complications. He'd truly thought it'd be okay.

But that night at the restaurant and afterward, as they were walking home, something in Levi's behavior had led Eren to reconsider. Looking at the resulting mess, he must have misread the mood. But Levi had kissed him back, hadn't he? It confused Eren to no end.

He'd consider himself lucky if Levi ever talked to him again.

He couldn't even blame Levi. It wasn't Levi's fault if Eren had thought he was sending mixed signals. He'd even warned him the second time they'd met. He'd only implied it, but he'd still made it clear that he wasn't game for anything of romantic nature. But of course, Eren had to ruin it all. Wine and dine, indeed.

He didn't regret trying to convey what he felt to Levi, even if it had been an awkward, clumsy attempt. Keeping his feelings to himself hadn't been the greatest idea to begin with – he knew himself to be way too impulsive for that. He just wished Levi would agree to talk about it – or anything else, really. It'd be best if they did, but to be perfectly honest, Eren would be happy if Levi wanted to pretend it had never happened. Eren might want Levi in more ways he'd like to admit, but he mostly wanted him around, at least sometimes, more than anything else. Even if it meant he had to keep his feelings to himself.

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. He wanted Levi around all the time. As hard as he was trying, Eren couldn't pretend otherwise.

And so, Eren was going on with his life, trying and failing not to think about Levi all day long, and playing catch up with his runaway sleep.

The gigantic trees were too tall to allow much sunlight. The air rushing around his ears smelled of moisture and rotting leaves, of horse and fear. He couldn't see the faces of his companions, but they all had the same tense air about them as they rode through the forest. Four of them were surrounding Eren. At the front of their party, a lone rider was leading them. The man – captain, Eren suddenly knew, he was their captain – was facing forward, away from Eren. Just like the others, he couldn't see his face.

He was the main reason Eren felt even remotely safe in this place. Eren knew he was the strongest of them all.

Eren didn't know which, of the familiar strangers around him, the uncanny situation he was finding himself in or the utter lack of sounds around him, gave rise to that strange thought. But somehow, he suddenly knew he was dreaming. It was unusual, though it had happened before, but it didn't matter. Just like he knew that this was all a dream, he also knew that he was powerless to alter its course.

Something was running after them. Eren could hear it, could even feel the heavy footsteps, reverberating through the air, so massive and formidable that he could feel the vibrations through his teeth. It was one of those hungry things, but this one was different. He would meet this one again, but to his dream self, riding through the forest with the others, that knowledge was part of a dark future yet to come.

Others were chasing the thing, trying to stop it's marching upon their small group of riders. He could hear several soldiers zipping through the air behind him. Eren somehow knew none of these people would survive the confrontation, and it filled him with dread. There was no way to change the past, and yet, he found himself wanting to stop running and help. And just like him, the people riding along him ached to fight, to avenge. But that wasn't their mission. Their leader wouldn't let them forget.

A choice was offered to him. A decision had to be made. Now was a test of trust. Eren could feel himself grit his teeth and forge ahead. Despite his doubts, he wanted to believe in his companions, in these people who barely knew him but would give their lives to protect him. And they would – yet another thing he wasn't supposed to know. They would die trying to protect him, and he would miss them. Grief filled his mouth with a bitter taste.

His dream self seemed torn and uncertain about his decision, but Eren, with the lucidity brought on by this dream of events long past, knew that he aspired to be like them. He envied the trust they had for each other, trust that had roots so deep, weaved by shared experiences and longtime companionship, that it didn't need words. He aspired to trust them and be trusted by them, with the same kind of unwavering certainty that had nothing to do with friendship and blood ties, in return. He wanted to believe that he could have with his squad the same kind of bond he'd forged with Armin and Mikasa.

He turned his eyes forwards and was met with a pair of wings etched in green fabric. The cape of the man riding at the front was billowing in the rush to escape their pursuer.

More than anything else, he wanted this man's acknowledgment. Eren's admiration for the captain, who was cold and distant but would sometimes speak of Eren in cryptic but weirdly approving terms, kept growing with each passing day. He knew that, more than the symbol, he would follow the man to the bitter end and beyond.

Was it a trick of the light, or maybe his mind playing games with him, filling in blanks with random pieces of information retrieved from recent memories, treacherous synapses mixing the old and the new to create the realm of Eren's dreams? He didn't know. But when they next crossed a rare patch of light that the thick foliage let in, it revealed a glimpse of dark hair – proper black, not dark brown like he'd thought at first.

He moved forwards, as if catching up and riding past the captain. He saw his face, fine features and attentive grey eyes that looked right back at him, and recognized him.

The dream fractured.

In the scattering fragments, he held onto that piece of knowledge like a man underwater seeking the light, wishing to bring it back with him to the surface where fresh air was waiting, to the waking world.

He opened his eyes to bright red and white lights from the adverts right next to his window, making strange shapes on the cracked paint of the ceiling. Red, like danger and the smell of fresh blood that hadn't quite remained in the land of his dreams. White, like the blinding sun peeking through the leaves, bright like the clarity brought on by a flash of lightning, akin to a revelation.

He sat up in his bed and was hit by a wave of dizziness. His head felt heavy, his mind not completely awake as he got up to fetch himself a glass of cool water. He took long, greedy gulps. The fresh liquid going down his parched throat brought him relief but didn't manage to entirely clear his mind.

Stupid dream, he thought. Stupid brain, unilaterally deciding to put Levi's features on the face of a stranger that had nothing to do with him. He drowned the last of his drink. He was pouring himself another one when an uncanny thought came to his mind.

He'd recognized Levi the first time they had met, but he'd never figured out where he'd seen him before then. Had Levi always been in his dreams? Was that where he'd seen him? Had Eren always been dreaming of him, unable to see his face?

No. It was ridiculous. His brain had simply taken advantage of the fact he missed Levi to sneak him into a random dream. He'd dreamt about Levi before, but those, as steamy and confusing as they'd been, had nothing to do with the creatures of his nightmares. Besides, he'd been closer to Petra at that point in time, so why couldn't he see her face as well?

With that thought, something deep within Eren froze.

How did he know Petra's name? How could he know? How did she even have a name? Petra, whoever she was, just like every single person who appeared in his dreams, was a figment of his imagination, a creation of his brain to fill in for the things his subconscious was trying to tell him. She wasn't real. She couldn't be real.

But, he wondered, if she wasn't real, if he'd never seen her face, why could his mind conjure soft brown eyes and light hair that caught sunlight? Why could he suddenly remember her face, after all those years? Why did he know how her voice had sounded? What her hands, gentle but holding enough strength to kill if needed, grazed by accidents on a laundry day, had felt like? How she'd shared the trust Eren had envied with him, despite her doubts?

Why could he remember how she'd died?

Eren's grip on his glass faltered and he dropped it. It fell against the edge of the sink, but he didn't notice it breaking, didn't notice the shards scattering on the floor.

He could remember now – no, not remember, he just knew, because how could he ever forget something he'd known all along? The knowledge had always been there, hidden yet available in case he wanted to look – he simply never thought to just look.

His head hurt, and he felt faint. There was so much of it, and it was all flooding his mind like an overwhelming tidal wave and he wasn't –

– scared. They all looked scared, drawn weapons held in hands rendered white-knuckled by strain, and he was sad. Sad because he'd thought, he'd hoped he was part of the squad, one of them. But more than anything else, he was scared too, afraid that after all, he was really a monster. Afraid of losing control and hurting someone and being killed. Maybe they were right to be scared. Maybe they were right and he just had to accept –

– Petra's haunted eyes as she apologized for her distrust. He wanted to tell her, to tell all of them that it was okay, that he understood. He couldn't find it in himself to resent them. They had every right to be wary of him. The captain had been very clear about that. The bite mark on Petra's hand was an angry red. It seemed to hurt. He wanted to cradle her small, bruised hand in his and brush away the pain. Of the whole squad, she'd been the one who'd made him feel the most welcome, and he knew that –

– the captain wasn't afraid. He remained calm, trying to assuage, to protect. He would always protect, always –

– protect, of course, and when he couldn't, he would try to cheer Eren up with lame jokes. He had the shittiest sense of humor, yet always, Eren would laugh, even if he was sad, even if he felt hollow. Because even after he'd failed protecting his squad, the captain had never given up on Eren and had kept trying, always. So Eren would keep trying as well, because this was his captain, and he wanted to give him the best he had, he would always –

Eren blinked into the quiet darkness of his apartment to sharp pain in his hands and knees. He was on the floor, a few pieces of glass digging painfully into his skin. He couldn't remember when he'd fallen down. He kneeled back and raised his hand, staring at his palms. He was bleeding. So much blood. So much –

– blood. All around him, it was only death and gore, and he felt like retching. But the rage he felt was stronger and it couldn't end like this, couldn't –

– understand the weak-willed who thought living within walls would protect them. He'd stared death in the eye and knew that there was no safe place in this world, no respite from despair, no. All that was left was rage and determination and he would kill them all and he would avenge and –

– protect everything that mattered to him because what else could he do –

He managed to get onto his feet and turn towards the kitchen sink before throwing up. It was only water, whatever little amount he'd drank earlier. It stopped abruptly, and he coughed.

He turned the water on with a shaky hand, smearing blood all over the faucet. He let the water wash away the tiny pieces of shattered glass at the bottom of the sink. He wondered if he'd be washed away, too, if he left it on long enough to fill the room. He couldn't help but snicker at that incongruous thought, because there was no way he could –

– reach out, despite knowing it was useless. He'd tried breaking her out of her crystal prison, but nothing had worked. He couldn't get any reaction out of her. She just stood there, eyelashes drawing shadows on her cheeks, untouchable, lost to the world. It hurt. It hurt so much. Why, Annie? Why did you –

– destroy wall Maria, killing so many and reducing humanity to this, sentencing everyone to a slow, painful extinction within a cage? The piece of knowledge hadn't registered at first – so much was happening. Then, for a short, sharp moment, the excruciating sadness caused by lies and betrayal filled him, making his eyes prickle and spill out. But already, his jaw was clenching, and the hurt was replaced by overwhelming rage. They would pay. He would make them pay. He bit into his hand and –

– ran, ran as fast as his short legs would take him, and it still wasn't fast enough. He was too small, too powerless to stop the titan from –

Eren gasped and coughed, feeling as if he was underwater and was struggling to reach the surface. He couldn't breathe. He didn't notice he was falling, didn't feel the pain of his awkward crash against the floor, nor did he mind the tiny pieces of glass digging into the side of his face.

A pitiful whine escaped from his lips. "Mommy," he said, unable to stop the sobs from tearing through his chest, no more than the tears that were pouring down.

But no, some distant part of him thought, his mom was sound and safe in their small townhouse, probably asleep at this hour. She was fine. She had to be.

He needed to call her, to check on her. Make sure she was okay. He had to –

– save Armin. Everyone else was gone already, and he had to, needed to do something, to save someone. He couldn't let Armin die. Ignoring the excruciating pain where his right leg had been, he sat up and launched his grappling cables. Everything hurt, even the friction from the air rushing against his skin, but –

– so many, dead, so much grief and his head couldn't possibly withstand –

He felt something cutting into his temple when he tried to curl up on the floor. He couldn't stay like this. He couldn't bring himself to care right now, but he knew he'd have enough trouble trying to explain his state at work.

Every move was strenuous, but he managed to sit up. Not trusting his legs, he crawled towards his bed, further cutting his hands and knees. He collapsed onto the sheets, aware that they were toast anyway, because he was smearing blood everywhere. He didn't have it in himself to care right now.

His phone was on a stool by his bed. He reached out but blood made his hand slippery, and the phone fell to the floor. He knew he had some tissues nearby, but his fumbling around brought nothing, neither tissues or phone. It was so dark here, and the –

– rage inside him threatened to overwhelm and spill, desperate and bordering on rapture. He managed reigning it in, shaking as he focused on regaining his bearing. His eyes met Captain Levi's. They were shining with something he couldn't decipher. He didn't understand anything anymore, but –

– Levi's face, undergoing a subtle shift, and then he was smiling, rare and precious, and he knew he was staring, but he wasn't the only one. Even –

– the feeling of Mikasa's arms around him was grounding. She annoyed him sometimes, being so overprotective. He wasn't a little kid anymore. But he loved her. She was his family. She and Armin were his anchors in a world that was cruel. Without them, he wouldn't –

– Armin. Armin reading, Armin shaking and crying, Armin, face sporting that sad smile of his that rarely managed to reach his eyes, Armin smiling at him for real and coming up with a plan when all seemed lost, saving everyone, Armin dead, dying, and grief that seemed like it belonged to someone else, and –

– there was nothing he could do this time. There was no dying in Armin's place, no swaying the Captain's decision to give the injection to the Commander. But Mikasa, she was standing tall, eyes hard like concrete, towering over Levi, blades in hand, and she'd always been so strong and beautiful, even as a child, and Eren couldn't help but admire –

– Levi's form as he flew through the air in a swirling motion, perfect and lethal, and sliced a titan into bits and pieces –

– Levi's hand, steady on Eren's shoulder, silently reminding him that he wasn't alone –

– Levi's eyes, calm and attentive, more expressive than most people would think, watching, listening with seemingly infinite patience, telling Eren without words that he was cared for, that he mattered –

– Levi always there for Eren to rely on, protecting him –

– Levi, face conflicted, drenched in blood –

– Levi, standing tall in the sunset, the wings of freedom billowing at his back.