A/N: archiveofourown user miikasaa has an amazing drabbles series titled Elysian and this part is based off of the ending of a three-part piece (chapters 1, 14, 23). It isn't necessary to have read them to understand this chapter, but there are a lot of references from them in it.
"Did he ever marry?" Mikasa asks, pausing mid-word on her laptop to glance over at Armin. They're in his dining room, studying for upcoming exams, cramming last minute formulas and theories into their memory.
She watches him place his pencil down on the table to meet her eyes with hesitance—she supposes she should have suspected as much, for talking about Eren is almost taboo between them, between any of them.
In this life, Eren does not remember her; in their last life, she had not remembered him.
"No," Armin says quietly, thoughtful. "But he did have a son."
She's ashamed for the joy she feels that he loved another, never quite moved on from her in their last life. Certainly, she hopes, that despite not having remembered Eren previously, her past self would have wanted him to move on and be happy. The girl she is in this life does not wish the same.
She doesn't remember her previous life at all, only has the words of those who have remembered in this life. Armin, who she remembered immediately in preschool, had also triggered many violent and unwanted thoughts for such her as a small child. Her parents had talked her through it, promised all the "monsters" weren't going to hurt her again.
Now, at twenty-three, she knew the truth of their past and so did Armin, who hadn't remembered until sixth grade, almost seven years later.
"But he didn't marry?" she presses, her chest constricting painfully at the thought of him sleeping with anyone else, of loving anyone else enough to create a child with them.
Armin's eyes narrow and he replies, "No, but you did." It seems unnecessarily harsh from his normally docile attitude and he must see the emotions splay across her face, for he says, quietly, "I'm sorry. I still remember him watching you move on and have a family—a life—without him. It was very…difficult to watch him go through."
Mikasa bites her lip, runs a hand through her hair. "Did I…I had children?"
Armin hesitates once more before nodding and answering, "A daughter. You named her Carla."
Her eyes widen a fraction and there's little else she can think of to say besides, "Oh."
"I think Eren believed some part of you would remember eventually. Whether you named her that because you remembered the name or just wanted to, I don't know. But he died believing you would remember him at some point."
Ironic that Eren had remembered her when she could not recall him and now with the tables turned her only true concern is the very real possibility that Eren might not ever gain back the memories of her—of them—in this life. She can't imagine a life where she won't be able to fall into his arms again, to sleep by his side, to have a chance at everything they'd never gotten.
Eren must've felt the same way, too.
She watches Armin pick up his pencil again and go back to studying math, but she can't seem to bring herself to finish writing her essay. Instead, she finds herself staring at Armin, who keeps pushing up his reading glasses up to the bridge of his nose; she wants to tell him he looks quite adorable with them on and although she knows she shouldn't ask it, she does anyway—"You haven't found Annie yet, have you?"
His hand stops once more and she sees his knuckles turn a shade of white before he shakes his head. When he looks up at her, she's startled by the grief that's evident in them. "I haven't found her."
"I'm sorry—"
"—Yet. Whether I meet her in this life or the next, I'm sure I'll find her."
Mikasa takes the ends of her hair and twirls them around her fingers, asking, "Did you stay together last time?"
This seems to perk up Armin a bit, for when he says, "We never married, but we did live together," he says it with such excitement that she would never mistake him for anything but having been truly in love with her.
She regrets that she did not get that with Eren.
"How can Eren not remember me?" She looks at Armin, pleading in a way she has not in many years.
"Eren asked me almost that same question," Armin replies, slowly. "I told him that maybe there's no guarantees about the memories returning."
Mikasa thinks of Eren, of him distraught and begging Armin for the answer to the very question she'd just asked. She wonders if it hurts Armin to be placed in the middle, always the one to have to calm his friends down. As he picks up his pencil once more, her mind wanders, drifts off to try to imagine where the last few of their friends might be.
They'd found most of them—Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, and, of course, Eren. On their list of people yet to be discovered is Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie. Levi is also on the list of discovered people, for he always seems destined to be connected to her in some form—he'd been her cousin this time and Armin had told her he'd been similarly last time as well.
It isn't until a few days later when she's with Armin, grabbing a pastry from the new bakery across from school after their last exam, that Armin says, "Annie didn't want you to meet Eren. She tried hard to keep you away."
"Did she?" Mikasa takes her croissant and sits down at the table closest to them, Armin following with a strudel and sitting across from her. She splits it in half before eating it, deciding that it's decent and perhaps this new place isn't too bad.
"You were pretty persistent, though." Armin takes a bite of his pastry before laughing and saying, "Eren wanted your attention so bad… The first time he saw you, he tripped on purpose so you'd help him."
"Did it work?" As she runs a hand through her hair she laughs, trying to imagine Eren desperately vying for her attention.
"You helped him up, so I guess it worked." Armin smiled again, though it faltered and he added, "Mikasa, I'm telling you this because… Eren would've wanted you to know he loved you in every life."
The sigh that slips past her lips is inevitable and unavoidable. "I wish I'd remembered him last time."
She's watching over Armin's shoulder as he begins to tell her about his last exam, about how it was difficult and he was grateful they'd studied together when she sees a figure over his shoulder—the form shouldn't stick out to her but it does, because the blonde hair that appears from a bathroom door behind Armin catches her off guard immediately. When her eyes lock with a bright blue a moment later she's startled, though she supposes she's nowhere near as surprised as Annie, who has immediately directed her attention to the blonde across from her.
"Ah… Mikasa?" Armin's voice is quizzical and he raises a hand to flash it across her eyes. "Do you feel okay?"
"Armin?" Annie's voice is loud, far too loud for the quiet bakery, but the anxiety in her voice is apparent, as though she can't believe she's seeing him. There's a moment, brief and quick, where Armin's eyes widen before he turns. It's a split second before he's out of the chair and oh, the jealousy Mikasa feels at seeing them hug a moment later nearly eats her alive.
"I didn't know—I've been looking—" Armin's voice waivers and Mikasa thinks he might cry; the moment is far too intimate and she's embarrassed to be watching. She goes back to picking at her croissant, though not before noticing that Annie is wearing the bakery's employee outfit, a baby blue apron that she's surprised to see her in.
"Where have you been this whole time?" Annie asks, her voice harsh, but relief seeping through; she's kissing him with uncanny softness and Mikasa is embarrassed to find her own face flushing.
"I just started at the university here with Mikasa—oh!" Armin looks back at Mikasa and then to Annie and says, "She remembers."
Mikasa isn't sure if she imagines the way Annie's eyes soften or if it's a trick of the light, but says, "I remember our past. I don't…remember the life we had last time."
Annie nods, a quick, rushed motion before Armin takes her hand and he says, "Mikasa and I found everyone but you, Reiner, and Bertolt a long time ago… It took them all a while to remember, but most of them remember."
"Most?" Annie asks as she glances at Mikasa once more. "Bertolt and Reiner remember, too. They found me in high school. They'd found each other a year or two before."
"Eren," Armin clarifies after a moment. "He doesn't remember. But I'm glad…everyone else does."
"Oh," Annie says after a moment and Mikasa wonders if she's thinking of the last life where she'd tried to protect Eren from Mikasa.
"I think I should leave you two alone for a while," Mikasa finally says as the moment becomes far too uncomfortable to her; Armin and Annie have too much to catch up on and there will always be more time for her to see the pair later. It pains her, for she wants to stop and talk, to catch up, but it hurts more to see the feelings pass between the two; it is a reminder that Eren does not remember her, not yet, maybe not ever.
"Please, stay," Armin tries, but Mikasa smiles, waves him off. "We'll meet for dinner tomorrow? I think you two should…talk. There's a lot that's happened."
She leaves after giving the two a hug, albeit it awkwardly with Annie, before stepping outside, croissant forgotten. It's stupid of her, she thinks, as she's walking along the street, knowing full well that going to see Eren when she's worked up like this is an awful idea, but she misses him, his smile, his laugh, the overreactions to everything. After walking around for ten minutes, she finds herself in front of a flower shop and it's horribly cliché, she thinks, that he would work here, but he does, and she hesitates, unsure if she should enter.
She had been the first person to see Eren, but not the first to talk to him; she'd come in with Connie a little over a year ago when he'd wanted to buy Sasha flowers and had pleaded for her to come, said he needed, "A girls brain on these things," and she'd reluctantly agreed. They'd both been horribly shocked to see Eren behind the register, eyes bright and happy, who greeted them with smiles so large Mikasa was sure he'd remembered them.
Until, of course, he'd said, "How may I help you?"
Connie had spoken first, although it'd take him a while, and his voice had been shaking. "I, um… Flowers, for my friend. She likes wildflower-types…I think."
Mikasa hadn't been of any use to Connie that day and had, in fact, spent most of the afternoon staring at Eren so intently she was sure he'd ask her to stop; he dealt with her staring with a surprising amount of grace, although did raise a brow at her a few times.
Leaving him had been the hardest thing to do, and, before they left, she hadn't been able to resist asking him, "Do you li—go to school around here, too?"
Eren had smiled, shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'm taking a break right now. I finished my bachelors already but…I just wanted to do something relaxing for a little bit. I'm studying to be a surgeon."
Of course, she thought, for he never strayed far from the medical and sciences field. "Oh," she'd said, "that's nice. I'm sure we'll see you around."
He'd smiled, nodded, waved goodbye, and it'd nearly broken her heart in two to leave him there.
But now there is little she can do but pray that Eren is working today, hope that he's willing to talk to her and for her to see if maybe, just maybe, she can convince him to go on a date with her. While she isn't sure that Eren will ever truly know her in this life—after all, like Armin said, there seems to be no guarantees that they'll always remember each other—she resolves that if she can't make memories with her Eren, maybe she can try to make new memories with this one, this man who laughs and smiles and sounds just like her Eren.
With confidence that she does not truly feel, she opens the door to the flower shop, breathes in the magnolias and roses and smiles wide when she hears a voice, so warm and familiar, ask, "May I help you?"