When Eren rolls over and reaches for Mikasa, he's surprised to find her side of the bed empty. The room is cold and a quick glance to the clock reveals it's nearly half-past seven and he wonders where she could possibly be so early. When his eyes skim around their bedroom and he sees all the lights are off, questions start to rise. He's still waking up and far too tired to play a game of Where in the World is Mikasa Ackerman? but he does so anyway, because, despite his exhaustion, she's worth it and he wants to know—curiosity killed the cat, or so the saying goes.
His hands reach over the side of the bed and begin to grope blindly at the wooden floor beneath their bed, fishing around for his shirt that Mikasa had pulled off of him with haste the night before. When he finds it, he slips it on and yawns loudly before standing, stretching his body, shuffling out of their bedroom with slow, tired steps.
Their small apartment is dark, although Eren realizes it's more from the shadow of the rain clouds outside than from a lack of sunlight. Standing in the hall, a bit clueless as to where to check first, he heads to the bathroom. The light is off but he turns it on for a moment anyway, seeing splashes of water around the edges of the sink. He touches her toothbrush with his thumb and, strangely, it's dry. He shakes his head, ignoring the onset of even more questions, and makes his way to their kitchen.
This light, however, is on. He can see a pot of coffee freshly brewed, mostly full and waiting to be finished off. He supposes it's habit for both of them to make an excess amount, as they tend to make enough for each of them and then some, sharing it much like everything else in their lives. He switches off the light, yawns once more, and continues to their living room, the last room in the tiny place they call home.
Although he expected her to be there, it still surprises him to see her sitting on the loveseat next to the window. He considers drawing her attention to him, thinks about saying her name, but instead chooses to watch the way she flips through a book on her lap, as though searching for something, an answer lost between the pages. She's wearing a large grey sweater and sweatpants, the red scarf he'd given her last Christmas tightly wrapped around her neck and nose; he notices she's wearing his wool socks and he considers asking for them back before deciding against it and acknowledging they look better on her, anyway.
She reaches for her cup of coffee resting on the windowsill without looking and nearly spills it on herself and her book. Eren can't help the chuckle that seeps out of him as he watches her fumble; she's normally so composed that seeing her in moments of normality is almost strange to him, despite the almost-three years they've been together. It draws her attention to him and she smiles, albeit it with a bit of color to her cheeks.
"You saw that, didn't you?" She closes her book, but not before dog-earing the page. "Why are you up?"
"Of course I did and it was hilarious," he answers, taking a few steps towards her. "And I was about to ask you that same question. It's only seven thirty, I'm pretty sure you should still be in bed. And by that I mean, you should still be in bed and sleeping with me."
She opens her mouth to answer before closing it with a sigh, turning her gaze to the window. It's clear to him something is bothering her, distracting her and keeping her restless. It hasn't escaped him the way she seems more absorbed in her own thoughts lately and when he glances down at the cover of the book, he notes it's a history book of sorts.
"Where did you get the book?" he asks, drawing her attention back to him.
"Library," she answers, setting it at her feet. She scoots over a little, closer to the window, silently inviting him to join her.
Eren hadn't initially wanted the loveseat so close to the window—he argued it would be more useful closer to their television—but she'd looked outside their window with such longing and had acquiesced so easily to his demands that guilt had eaten at him for days until the loveseat was delivered. Upon its arrival, he had requested to the movers that they place it as close to the window as possible; her smile of surprise and shock had been worth giving up a tiny bit of comfort for his sports programs.
And now, as he joins her on their loveseat, he thinks for a moment that she had made the right call in wanting it by the window: a drizzle has started and the few early risers heading off to work are pulling out umbrellas while cars and taxis drive by to unknown locations. Sometimes, when their favorite programs aren't on and they're too tired to go out, they sit and recreate the lives of people who pass by. He always finds Mikasa's stories for all the people to be so emotional and overwhelming, as though she puts a part of her soul into every weaved story; it doesn't surprise him, as she always gives pieces of herself away into everything she does.
"When did you even have time for that?" He goes to lie down next to her and extends an arm, pleased when she curls up on top of him and wraps her arms loosely around him. She's taking up less space and now he can drape his legs over the armrest. He folds both arms around her as though to absorb her and he feels the smile on her face against his collarbone. He's still tired, but it isn't so bad being able to hold her and rest elsewhere. "You've been up to something lately."
Her shoulders give a noncommittal shrug that neither answers his question nor confirms or denies his statement.
"Just tell me. I can try to help with whatever is clearly on your mind," he says. With a bit of prodding, he's sure she'll tell him. It always comes down to a combination of the correct words and right amount of begging.
Time begins to lapse between them, quiet and endless, and he feels his eyes grow heavy. Her warm body has just begun to lull him to sleep when she says, "I have dreams."
"About what?" His voice is heavy with sleep and he shakes himself a bit in an attempt to rouse himself up once more.
"Monsters," she murmurs into his neck, her voice a soft vibration against him, muffled more so by the raised edge of the scarf that loops around her slender throat. "Monsters that look like humans. Sometimes they're small but others are so big, they could crush us with a single foot. Their arms and legs don't match… Their mouths are wide and they're always reaching for something." She holds onto his waist and sighs a loud puff of air that tickles his neck.
Eren considers her words, opens his eyes lazily to glance down at her form, and says, "What do you think they're reaching for?"
"Me," she answers, then adds, "and anyone else who happens to be in my dream."
Unsure of what to make of her dreams, Eren feels a bit lost, unsure of how to answer her. His eyes fixate on the window behind her and he notes with mild interest that the rain has picked up. "What do you think would happen if they finally reached someone?"
"I don't know," she answers. "They feel so real but I can't recall seeing them anywhere… I thought maybe if I looked into some older history books I would find something."
"But you've found nothing." Eren reaches his hand around and runs his fingers through her hair, his blunt nails scratching gently at her scalp. "They're just dreams. Unnerving and weird, but not real at all."
"I think they were, though," she says. "Do you ever feel like you lived a life before this?"
Eren laughs despite himself and shakes his head. He slides his hands from her head to her back, trailing his nails underneath her shirt to draw shapeless patterns. She's not wearing a bra and he wonders what his chances are of being able to convince her to come back to bed at that moment are. "No, I can't imagine living another life. This one is stressful enough as it is. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
Mikasa bit down on her tongue, wanting to say more on the topic but feeling exceedingly ridiculous as the conversation went on. Eren didn't understand and she could hardly blame him. He wasn't the one having dreams of friends and family being hunted down by inexplicable creatures. She placed a kiss against his neck before drawing her scarf up further over her mouth and nose. "I'm fine. Let's go back to bed?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Eren replied, scooting himself out from underneath her. He tugs her hand to pull her up, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. He's holding her hand and leading her back to their room when he says, "Imagine that, a life where we're running away from being eaten by giants."
"Yes," Mikasa answers, her eyes glancing out the window once more before they leave. The rain has begun to pour, though Eren has not noticed. "Imagine that."