Memories kept coming, though what had been a flood at first now looked like a leaky kitchen tap. During classes, he would lose himself in a new fragment that had just surfaced without prior notice. Or his mind would wander down memory lane while he was vacuuming some empty office at night, and hours would pass him by in a blink.
School was not an issue yet – he'd managed to borrow notes from someone. He had to cancel some of his shifts at the store in the past week though, but he would get more hours than usual thanks to the holiday season anyway. As for his cleaning job, he worked his shifts alone. There was no one to witness him spacing out in the midst of mopping floors.
Eren had never been smart, but he wasn't stupid either, and he worked hard. He didn't think he would downright flunk his exams, but he could've done with the additional studying. And what if a memory came right in the middle of an important test? He hoped that the distraction caused by the memories would be over before they came around.
But if Eren was now over the initial shock and able to go on with his life, the emotional toll was high. His short nights were plagued by nightmares, and he was exhausted. There were too many painful memories. Too many questions with no answers, causing too much frustration, filling too much of the brain space he was supposed to use poring over books. What were these 'memories', exactly? Had they been real events? They couldn't be. There was no trace of man-eating giants or walls in the history of mankind. Were they events from the future then? From another universe? He didn't think he was losing his mind, but the looming shadow of madness was impossible to completely banish from his thoughts.
More than once, he wished for Armin to be by his side. Armin would've had at least a few hypotheses. Eren missed them all, Armin and Mikasa especially, but the others as well. He knew now, why he'd never been satisfied with his life, always eager to look for new things to try. To fill the void within him that their absence had caused – a void nothing could ever hope to fill.
He sometimes wondered if there were other people like him in the world. Other people who remembered – or who would, possibly, someday. He'd found Levi, so it wasn't impossible, right?
Eren hoped, and waited.
He should've been busy enough to keep himself occupied, with the memories, his part-time jobs, school, and the exams looming on the horizon.
His phone was an old model that was long past its prime. The thing could barely even surf the web these days, and most game apps would have it stutter and freeze. It was a pain in the ass, but at least, texts and calls would go through. That was all Eren needed.
Of course, it was all but useless when the one person he wanted to hear from wasn't texting him.
When Eren wasn't lost in thought, he couldn't help but glance at his damn phone every half hour. He would have thrown the thing against a wall if it wasn't his only link to Levi. He kept it close to him at all times, just in case Levi called. He'd been fiddling with it for the best part of the last few days, taking it out at work and during classes, hoping for a notification. Levi had made it clear that he wanted some time, so Eren hadn't tried to text him. He knew it was out of his hands now. All he could do was wait.
He missed Levi so much he sometimes felt like he couldn't breathe.
Seeing Levi had grounded him in an unexpected way, more than his frantic call to his mother on the day he'd gained these new memories. When he finally got a grip on himself after the first onslaught in the middle of the night, he'd been confused and scared, not knowing what was real or not. He hadn't been in his right mind then, but he'd called her before even thinking how it might worry her.
He'd called her again, a few hours after Levi had left his apartment. He'd felt better and tried to ease her concern, but even now, she was still worried. She'd been texting him more than usual since then.
His phone buzzed. He jumped to retrieve it from the old stool he used as a bedside table. He was disappointed to find that it wasn't Levi, only his mom, and immediately felt guilty about it. He swiped the screen with his thumb and raised the phone to his ear.
"Mom, hey."
"Hi, baby," she said, and Eren's heart broke at the affection in her voice. "How are you?"
Eren went to sit at his desk. He'd been studying – or trying to.
"Fine," he lied, trying to hide the tightness in his voice. "How are you?"
He could almost hear her smile on the other end of the line.
"Fine," she said, "but worried. Lately, you've been – I don't know. Anxious."
Eren sighed. Of course, nothing escaped her.
"It's been a tough week. But I'm better now."
His mom snorted.
"At least, you're honest about it," she said. "You do sound tired."
"I am," Eren said. "I haven't been sleeping well. I think exams are stressing me out."
She chuckled. "I know studying is important, but don't overdo it, okay?"
He made a noncommittal noise.
"Yeah. You shouldn't worry so much," he told her, hoping to hide how hard it was lying awake at night, hurt by mere memories that might not even be his own, how hard it was simply getting out of bed in the morning. "I'll be fine, eventually."
He'd held onto this thought like he would a lifeline. He didn't dare let his hope that Levi would call get him through each day.
"I know, but I'm your mom. It's my job to worry about you."
"Yeah." Eren pondered for a bit. He knew what he was about to ask would only worry her more, but there was no way around it. "Mom?"
"Eren?"
Eren realized he was fiddling with his pen. He put it down on his desk and intertwined his hands on his lap.
"Is still okay for me to visit for Christmas?"
There was a pause on the other side of the line.
"You know I'm always glad to have you home," she said, but she sounded hesitant. "Are you sure everything's all right?"
Eren opened his mouth, ready to say everything was fine, but something else poured out before he could think about it.
"I just," Eren said. "Mom, there's – I've met someone."
There was a blank in the conversation.
"You know," his mom said, "it actually explains a lot."
"It does?" Eren said, frowning.
His mom hummed thoughtfully.
"It does," she said.
Eren waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't.
"I'd love for you to come home for Christmas, but don't you want to spend time with them instead?" she asked.
Eren's heart broke again. He knew how important spending time with him was to her, especially during the holidays. He was her only child, as well as her only family left since his grandparents had passed away. Giving up on a Christmas with him must have cost her so much. His throat was tight when he replied.
"I don't know," he said. "It's – it's complicated."
"I see," she said.
Eren thought she would ask for details. But she once again surprised him by dropping the subject. She asked instead whether he'd already told his manager at work, and if he wanted her to transfer some money into his bank account to pay for his train ticket.
"It's okay," Eren told her. "I have enough money for now. We can discuss it when I'm home."
"All right, baby. About your friend," she said, trailing off.
"Yes?"
"Maybe they could come along," she said. "If they're not already busy."
Eren couldn't repress the affectionate smile on his face.
"I told you, it's complicated," he said, and he could tell she was about to protest, so he quickly added: "But I'll make sure to let them know."
"Okay. Love you."
Eren's throat tightened.
"Love you too, Mom."
It was only after they had hung up that he noticed he had a message from Levi.
I have to talk to you, Levi's text said. When can we meet?
Eren didn't want to seem eager.
Lunch, tomorrow? Wherever you like?
The next day was a Sunday, and Eren didn't have to work then.
He was surprised when Levi's answer came less than a minute later.
Let's just talk.
Then, right away:
Please.
Eren's anxiety rose then. 'We need to talk' and its many variations were always foreboding in books and movies.
But something else in Levi's texts, as bare as they were, spoke of unstated urgency. Eren glanced at the time in the corner of his phone screen.
I'm free right now, if you want.
Not even ten minutes later, Eren was joining Levi at the cemetery bench. Levi was already there, standing in front of it, back straight. He was facing away from Eren, staring ahead.
Eren still didn't know where Levi's apartment was. He'd suspected Levi lived close for a while, but he now realized that it had to be closer than he'd thought, for him to get there so fast.
Levi could get cryptic at times, which made it hard for Eren to read between the lines and understand what he really meant. He'd only said he wanted to talk. That was what Eren had been telling himself since before he'd even left his apartment. Yet Eren couldn't get rid of the thought that he might never learn where Levi lived. Maybe it was the last time they saw each other. It seemed like a terrible waste. Just talk, huh. Did Levi even realize how anxious these words would make anyone?
But when Levi turned to greet him with a curt nod, Eren could see that the lower part of his face was hidden in a thick scarf – the same scarf Eren had given him a not even three weeks earlier. Seeing him wearing something of his made Eren's heart fill with affection, and in spite of everything, hope. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.
Levi sat down, and the only thing Eren could think of to say was: "Do you really want to have a long-ass conversation in this cold?"
It was freezing.
He waited for Levi to answer, but the latter was only staring at the ground. Whatever Eren could see of his face was artfully blank. For the first time since they'd ever met, Eren was hit by the notion that Levi wasn't the best at expressing himself. It was a strange but reassuring thought.
"Eren."
His voice was muffled by the scarf, and he pulled it down. His mouth was set in a thin, tense line.
Eren got the hint. He sat down as well, and waited for Levi to talk. But Levi didn't say anything else for a while. Something about the stiffness of his face, about his bearing, had Eren's insides freeze, more efficient than the surrounding cold.
"Yes?" Eren said.
For a moment, Levi was still as a statue, tragically beautiful in the terrible lighting the nearby lamppost provided.
"Have you ever wondered," Levi said, "whether you were born for a reason?"
Levi sounded resigned – and suddenly, Eren wondered if Levi was dreading this conversation. He carefully watched Levi's face as he answered his question.
"I don't believe in fate," he said.
Levi nodded. He didn't look surprised, as if he'd been expecting this specific answer.
"But," Eren continued when Levi didn't speak, "sometimes, I can't help but think about it."
A short sigh was Levi's reply.
"Of course," he said, voice uncharacteristically soft. "Of course, you would."
They fell silent for a while. Eren hid his hands in the sleeves of his coat and tucked them under his arms.
"When my mother died," Levi said without forewarning, "I thought about it a lot, too. Our life had never been easy, but it wasn't bad because we were together. I didn't mind not having much as long as we were together. And then she died, and I was truly alone. Alone in the world, and so angry. It was so unfair."
Eren was hit by an overwhelming wave of sympathy. He knew what Levi meant. He knew so well that he'd kept having nightmares about it in this life, in this better world where his own mother was alive and well, even though he'd forgotten how he'd lost her once.
Levi turned towards Eren, exchanging a glance with him before staring at his hands in his lap.
"Then after a while," Levi went on, "I started wondering if I'd done something to deserve such a punishment. If that was my lot in life. Even though I don't believe in fate either."
Eren nodded, heart in his throat. Levi never deserved to feel like that.
"But sometimes, you wonder?" he ventured.
"Yeah," Levi said.
Eren could sympathize.
"I've thought about it lately," he told Levi. "Fate."
Levi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He hid his mouth behind his joined hands. He was frowning.
"Yeah?"
Levi's eyes were focused and attentive, intent on Eren. He cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious. "Maybe," Eren said, "you and I were supposed to meet because of some manner of fate. Or maybe it was by chance. It's not important though, is it? I'm not sure about you, but I don't care. All I know is that I'm the one who has to deal with whatever life gives me. I'm glad we met. Even if I'd had a say in it, I'd still have wanted to meet you."
Levi's eyes, pale behind the reflected light, didn't leave his. The look they exchanged was charged, significant. Eren felt like he was being appraised.
Levi was the one to avert his gaze.
"You seemed pretty perturbed last time," he said.
"I'm better now."
Levi snorted, but it held no humor.
"Yeah," he said. "What were the nightmares about?"
At that moment, Eren's hand choose to start itching again.
"Same as usual," he said, shrugging as he slid a couple fingers under his sleeve to scratch at his skin.
"The same you had as a kid?"
"It's nothing," Eren said. "I'm fine, now. I was just –"
"So you say, but here we are," Levi said, his face inscrutable.
Eren shrugged.
"Didn't you go to therapy for this?" Levi went on. "You told me that you barely remembered your dreams these days, but you didn't look like you were fine last time. So," Levi said, turning on the bench so that he was facing Eren again, "quit the bullshit and tell me what happened that made the night terrors come back."
"Is it really that important?" Eren said. He wasn't sure what talking about it would achieve.
Levi remained silent for a bit, staring at the ground. When he raised his head to look at Eren, there were no emotions at all on his face. Nothing remained of the frown that had been there moments before.
"Tell me, Eren," Levi said, quiet and slow. "What are your dreams about?"
Levi wasn't even blinking as he watched Eren's face, waiting for his answers. Eren felt like Levi's gaze was tearing at his insides, looking for a secret to uncover. But he didn't look away.
"I dream," he started, "of loss. People die and I'm unable to save them. I dream of betrayal, and rage. My own, usually. I dream of friendship. I dream of dying." He stopped then, letting the memory of that day wash over him and dissipate. "Most of the time, though, I dream of you."
Levi was still staring at him, perfectly still. Eren kept talking, voice tight.
"You probably have no idea how much I always looked up to you. How much you inspired me. You went through so much shit. I don't think I could have endured what you had to go through."
Levi's face was finally moving. The frown was back, and his eyes were wide when he averted them.
"You would have," he said, voice weirdly tight, like pushing the words out of his windpipe was more difficult than usual. "You did."
"I had help," Eren said, shaking his head. "I was never alone. Not like you were."
"No."
Eren's eyes shot up to look at Levi.
"What do you mean?"
Levi's hands were stiff, resting on his knees. He was frowning, but something in the quality of his gaze made Eren watch closer.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Levi's skin looked even paler in the weak light.
"No," he said again.
Eren frowned in confusion.
"No to what?"
Levi turned to look at Eren. Quiet, he gazed into Eren's eyes as if he meant to uncover the secrets of the universe.
"I wasn't alone," Levi said. "Not when it mattered."
They stared at each other. Eren waited. Levi was building up to something.
"Eren, there's something you need to know," Levi said, eyes not leaving Eren's. "You might resent me afterward. I wouldn't blame you."
Levi, pale face bathed in the blue aura of this winter night, was still as a statue. So still, as he spoke next, that Eren could almost believe he was made of ice, frozen and cold, if it wasn't for the small puffs of warm hair coming out from his parted lips.
"I remember, Eren," he said. "I've remembered everything since I was twelve years old."
Unlike his face, which was devoid of all emotions, Levi's hands were bunched into fists, so tight that his knuckles appeared white. And yet, he didn't avert his eyes. As if keeping constant eye contact with Eren was of the utmost importance, the only way he could properly convey what he had to say.
"I knew who you were the moment I met you. I knew this could happen, and I kept agreeing to meet you," he said. "I lied to you. I'm sorry."
Levi's carefully constructed facade of boredom and annoyance was crumbling under the tension, leaving room for the blankness of emotions much too strong that he didn't know how to deal with.
"Sorry?" Eren asked. "About what?"
Levi's face seemed to reflect confusion for a second, but it soon turned to cold marble once again.
"You remember, don't you?" Levi said in a deceptively quiet voice.
Eren didn't really understand what Levi was getting at. It was obvious, wasn't it? Was it really all that Levi wanted to know?
"Yes?" he said.
"Do you remember the fucking walls, Eren?"
Eren nodded, surprised at Levi's tone. He sounded exasperated in a way only Levi could be, calm but lethal. But there was something raw behind his words, behind the way his quiet voice had cracked just so on a few syllables.
"Yes," Eren said.
"And what do you think caused your memories to come back?" Levi asked.
The words were sharp. There was venom behind them, and Eren was surprised to find it wasn't directed at him.
He might have taken too long to answer, because Levi started talking again. "You started remembering the moment we met, didn't you? You thought we'd met somewhere, but you couldn't remember. I knew, then. I knew it would harm you."
Levi was speaking through clenched teeth, and Eren was surprised – and a little anxious – to see his eyes gleam in the pallid light.
"I knew I should cease all contact, but –"
"Look at me," Eren said, cutting in before Levi could say any more. "Please," he added.
Levi raised his head, and sat with his back stiff as a board. His face, at last, was displaying a small, heartbreaking frown.
"Levi, I knew."
There was a moment of silence.
"You –" Levi started, but trailed off, looking unsure of what to say.
"I knew as soon as the first memories came back, or at least, I strongly suspected that you remembered, too. You had to remember, or you wouldn't –" Eren said, but changed the course of his sentence suddenly. "And before that, I thought you remembered where we'd met, and were lying about it."
Levi had gone eerily still. He was staring at Eren, but Eren didn't think Levi saw him.
When it was clear that Levi wasn't gonna move or talk, Eren gently took one of Levi's gloved hands in his own. It seemed to bring Levi's mind back to the present.
Now that he had Levi's attention back, Eren started speaking again.
"I wasn't so sure at first," he said. "Well, actually, right after I remembered, I thought, you had to know. Or you wouldn't be there, sticking with me. But when I thought about it more, I wondered, what if you didn't? I didn't have any proof, and it was only a possibility."
Levi's fingers were stiff and cold between his. He still seemed a little shocked, so Eren started gently rubbing his thumb over Levi's knuckles.
"When were you sure?" Levi asked.
Eren wouldn't have heard him if it weren't for the surrounding silence. Levi's voice was a mere whisper.
"The last time," Eren said, "I called you 'Captain', and you didn't react. But it wasn't what made me sure of it."
Levi's eyes shot up to look at Eren's face.
"What was it, then?"
Eren couldn't help but smile.
"It was the way you always listen. You're doing it right now, actually."
Levi blinked, but seemed otherwise unperturbed.
"I am?"
Eren nodded.
"Whenever I talk, you look me right in the eyes, always attentive, with your focus on me only. It used to be like that too, before."
Both of them knew Levi didn't need an explanation to understand what Eren meant by 'before'.
"You listen like my thoughts have weight," Eren said, "like my opinions have value. Like I matter."
"I never treated you any different than everyone else," Levi said, frowning at their joined hands.
"I know," Eren said. "And that exactly why it was special, to me."
Eren followed Levi's eyes to their gloved hands. He couldn't touch Levi's skin, couldn't feel his warmth. He wanted to, but it was too cold to take them off.
"The others – either they treated me like a monster, or acted like I couldn't suddenly turn into a titan and kill them all. It was one or the other. But you were different."
He gave a light squeeze to Levi's fingers.
"You treated me like a human being, but you never let me forget what I was. You gave me room to make my own choices."
"Why do you sound like you're grateful?" Levi asked.
Eren looked at him, eyebrows raised in candid surprise.
"Because I am," he said.
"You can't," Levi said. "I don't –"
" –deserve it?" Eren said.
Levi's frown deepened.
"I don't." Again, he was facing Eren, eyes locked on him. "Eren, I led you to your death. I was supposed to protect you."
"I thought you were there to watch me and stop me in case I suddenly went on a rampage – or something," Eren said.
Levi shook his head.
"I was your guardian. My job was to keep you safe."
Eren fell silent. He'd always thought Levi was supposed to kill him if he misbehaved, so to speak.
"I died knowing that I couldn't fucking protect you," Levi went on. "I've been trying to live with that knowledge ever since the memories came back, and when –" Levi stopped then, voice breaking on the last syllable. He was no longer looking at Eren. "You didn't remember me and I knew I should leave, but –"
Eren didn't understand what was happening at first. Levi's hold on Eren's hands turned bruising, and he closed his eyes. His shoulders were hunched, his head lowered. Eren could barely see his face at all. Levi let out a stuttering sigh, breathing hitching softly, and Eren finally realized that he was trying very, very hard not to cry.
"Oh no, no, don't," he said stupidly before letting go of Levi's hands and wrapping his arms around his shaking frame in an awkward hug. "It was never your fault," he said. "I was always going to remember. I wanted to." His own eyes were wet. He felt guilty for not realizing sooner how lonely it had to be for Levi. "If anything, I'm sorry it took me so long."
Levi didn't respond, and kept his face hidden against Eren's shoulder, muffling stilted sighs. Eren had to straddle the bench to hold him properly. He didn't expect Levi to hug back and hold him tight.
"It's fine," Eren went on. "We're fine."
He felt Levi's wet sigh against his neck and tightened his hold around him. He kept talking, reassurance and nonsense, aware that he was babbling and not caring in the least.
Levi seemed to settle down after some time, only sniffling softly. Eren had fallen silent, relishing the feel of Levi's solid weight in his arms. He was about to ask him if he felt good enough to move to a warmer place when Levi spoke.
"You were special, too."
Eren was running fingers into his hair, gentle and soothing, hoping to bring comfort. He didn't stop as he thought about Levi's words.
"Was I?"
He could feel Levi nodding against his coat.
"One of the only persons stubborn enough to not let me isolate myself. I think you were the only one who could. The only one who cared enough."
"That's unfair," Eren said. "Hanji –"
"They had their own shit to deal with. So did you, but you made me feel like I was just as important more than once."
Eren didn't say anything, but Levi was right. They'd both been singled out then, for different reasons. Levi was a hero to most, a savior, and Eren, a monster as well as humanity's last hope for survival. There had been understanding there. Some sort of kinship.
Levi suddenly snorted.
"What's funny?" Eren asked.
Levi's hand was inching across Eren's back in a regular, slow motion. It was a little distracting.
"You were such a fanboy at first," Levi said. "Yet you never put any kind of pressure on me."
Levi's hair was centimeters away from Eren's nose. He breathed it in, taking in Levi's scent that mingled with the cold.
"I didn't want to be the annoying kid you'd been asked to babysit," he said, eyes on the nearby wall. "At first, because you were my childhood hero, and then because I respected you. I wanted you to like me."
Eren could feel Levi's smile against his shoulder.
"You don't realize how much you gave me then, without asking for anything in return."
"You're being unfair again," Eren said. "I mean, you gave attention, companionship, the occasional guidance. You gave me support when my friends couldn't understand."
Levi's sigh vibrated against Eren's coat. Eren removed his arms from around Levi's frame. He took his hands and scooted back so that he could look at his face.
Levi's hair was falling over his eyes, sticking to his wet skin. It was getting longer, Eren thought. He gently brushed the hair away and looked at Levi's face.
His eyes were puffy, dark circles tinted red by the tears and the cold. His nose, too. Crying didn't suit him, making his complexion blotchy. Eren finally gave in and took one of his gloves off. He ran his thumb along Levi's sharp cheekbones, wiping the tears away.
Levi's eyebrows were knitted in a conflicted expression.
"What's wrong?" Eren asked.
Levi blinked, and the look was gone from his face.
"Nothing important," he said.
But Eren knew better. "Oh, come on," he said, a small, encouraging smile on his face. "How long have we known each other, seriously?"
Levi's gaze was intent on their hands. He was shivering.
"What's going to happen now?" he asked.
"I don't know," Eren said. "What do you want?"
Levi's hands briefly squeezed Eren's.
"I should be the one asking you that," he said, mouth pressed in a tight line.
"Shouldn't we discuss this?" Eren said. "That being said, I can tell you what I'd like to happen right now."
Levi was looking at him again, attentive.
"I want to take you back to my place and make you tea," Eren said. "I wish I could draw a bath, but I don't have a bathtub. And then, after we're both warm and safe, well." Eren's smile was rueful. "We'll see then."
Levi was silent for a bit.
"No."
Levi wasn't done being confusing as hell. Didn't he want this? Had Eren read him wrong?
"No?" he said. "You don't want to?"
But Levi was shaking his head.
"Let's go to my place. It's closer," he said, getting up. "Besides, the tea you have at home sucks."
"Is that what you want?" Eren asked as he followed suit.
"Yes."