#ereriweek

The cat looks at him with what almost resembles a frown. Those golden eyes stare Eren down from across the room as if judging him. The cat lets out a demanding meow, opening its mouth wide enough to show off its little teeth. 

Then, apparently disappointed that Eren doesn’t understand, it lets out a noise that sounds like it’s trying to throw up a hairball. “Ooh. Excuse me. It’s always a doozy figuring out this body,” it says. Its voice sounds vaguely female with an accent he can’t quite place. 

“Are you here to kill me? That’s a refreshing change,” he remarks. 

“Goodness, no,” the cat replies. “I am here to free you.” 

That’s all the cat tells him, perching by the door silently despite Eren's questions. At some point it gives a sigh, stretching out its paws before curling up to sleep. Eren drifts back off to sleep at some point, too, wondering if the next time he could get another kiss from Levi. 

Except that there is no next time. No-one comes to kill him at night, and instead he wakes the next morning to Mikasa bringing him some oatmeal and coffee for breakfast. She notices the panicked look on his face the moment she steps inside, pausing for a moment. 

“Is everything alright?” she asks, her eyes scanning him from head to toe.

“I don’t know.” Eren watches her every move as she places the food down. Maybe this is another trick his mind is playing on him, or just a beautiful dream, and soon he’ll wake to the sensation of being stabbed in the chest. “It’s really you, Mikasa?”

“Of course.” She rests a hand on his arm, her touch warm and real. “Did something happen at night? You seem upset.”

“No. Nothing happened.” He throws himself at Mikasa, wrapping her up in his embrace as tears stream down his face. “You’re here. I’m here. Thank you.” 

He doesn’t know how he’s been saved and he doesn’t care. Even if he’ll be punished for his actions, either with imprisonment or execution, at last he’s free. The watery oatmeal and bitter coffee are the tastiest meal he’s ever had, and though he remembers very little of the previous night, the image of golden eyes and tufts of orange fur inexplicably linger at the back of his mind. 

It could’ve all just been a dream. That’s what he tells himself for a long while. They head back to Paradis, which gives him plenty of time to think, and he decides that the cat must have been just a figment of his imagination. 

Even so, he’s different now. Nothing makes sense anymore. They’re just waltzing off like that, without Marley’s remaining factions even trying to stop them? The world around him feels like it’s made of little else than paper and ink, penned by an unknown creator and then stretched thin by an entirely different force. 

He tries to tell Armin and Mikasa about it, and though they seem concerned, they both assure him that with time, things will begin to make sense again. That’s the other thing, too - Armin and Mikasa seem to be the only ones he talks to these days, the rest of the soldiers merely background characters in their story, as if the author doesn’t even know their names. There are others, Eren knows this, but ever since coming out of the loop, it’s as if he’s been handed to an inferior creator. 

“Hey, I resent that,” the cat tells him. It’s appeared just as suddenly as before, perched on the seat across from him.

“Who are you?” Eren asks.

“I am the one who made you,” the cat says with a tilt of its head. “Anyway. You’re not safe in Paradis. There is a small island off the northern coast of Hizuru, and on that island, a house. With a couple of raspberry bushes in the yard. I’ve prepared that place for you.” 

“You’re not real,” he tells the cat. It remains unfazed.

“Neither are you. We are both but letters and words.” The cat winks at him and saunters off, its fluffy tail held high. 

He seeks out Levi later in the afternoon, cornering him in his quarters. “I’m not well. Mentally,” he whispers, frail and hesitant. “I think I’m going mad.” 

It feels like Levi’s been purposefully avoiding him for most of their journey, but now he allows Eren to curl up in his lap and cry until he has no tears left. At some point he starts carding his hands through Eren’s hair in soothing motions, letting him ramble about all the destruction and suffering he’d caused, about watching his friends die over and over and over again, about slitting his throat and stepping off the rooftop and waking at the beginning in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t even care if Levi doesn’t believe him, he has to get it all out. 

After he’s trailed off they sit in silence for a while. When Levi finally speaks up, he does so slowly, as if he worries he might spook Eren. “You’re not safe in Paradis,” he says.

“Am I real?” Eren asks, staring up at him. “Are you real?”

“You’re real. I’m real,” Levi assures him. He laces their fingers together, the warm pressure soothing Eren a little. “But we can’t stay in Paradis for long.

“Am I insane?” he asks next.

“I don’t know,” Levi answers, and though it’s not the answer he would’ve wanted to hear, it’s at least a truthful one. “We’ll find a doctor to examine you and make sure you’re alright.”

They arrive in Paradis the next day, and Eren is advised to stay out of sight just in case. He spends a good while going over the maps and trying to trace his path through Marley, figure out exactly how many cities he’d destroyed. No-one will tell him the exact number. He drags his fingertips across the yellowed paper, pausing briefly where the map ends just at the northeastern coast of Hizuru. 

There are a couple of larger islands there, more on the eastern side, but nothing near the north. Not that he’d really expected there to be anything. Even so, Hizuru seems like the safest and only choice for him right now. 

He tells this to Levi, who, after a moment of consideration, agrees. 

“It’ll be quite lonely for a while,” he warns Eren. “We’ll also have to stock up on supplies to make sure we manage through the winter.”

“We?” Eren asks, his voice small.

Levi meets his eyes without hesitation. “I said I would take responsibility for you, and I intend to do so until the very end.” 

Eren does not deserve such kindness and he knows it, murmuring his gratitude into the crook of Levi’s neck over and over again while clasping on to him with shaky hands. When he closes his eyes he still sees Levi’s dead body, sometimes crushed into the ground, sometimes twisted and snapped in half, all because of his actions. He tries to listen to the steady heartbeat under his ear and concentrate on the rise and fall of Levi’s chest, here where they’re both alive and real. 

In addition to resupplying, Eren does see a doctor, though much of their meeting consists of him either tripping over his words or zoning out. He gets a diagnosis of something - the doctor explains it more to Mikasa than him, her brow furrowed in concentration as she hovers over his shoulder. Eren’s also given a small bottle of pills to help him sleep after he admits that his nights are restless and plagued with nightmares, leaving him slow and ineffective during the day.

Physically, there’s nothing wrong with him. He’d twisted his ankle at some point, probably when he’d been rushed away from the battlefield, but it’s only a little sore now. Levi tries to tell him to rest and save his strength for now, but just sitting around doing nothing makes him feel even more useless and guilty than before.

“What do you think will happen?” he asks Armin one late night when they’re huddled together over maps and defence strategies. “To Marley and the Eldians?”

“At this point, who knows,” Armin sighs. “There’s not much of Marley left anymore. Instead of trying to wipe out one another we should work together to rebuild humanity. I’m not sure how many people will agree with that, though.”

They leave Paradis only a couple days later, heading south towards Hizuru. Eren takes his pills and his sleep is heavy and dreamless, fatigue clinging on to him for hours after waking up each morning. He likes to sit out on the deck and watch the waves, wind tousling through his hair and the whole world silent around him, as if nothing else exists but him and the endless ocean.

The sky stretches out above him into the horizon, and on those rare nights he decides to skip the pills he often finds himself studying the stars looking down on him. Dozens of tiny little lights among infinite darkness, constant and watchful, and under their gaze he feels more real somehow. It doesn’t even alarm him when he glances over at the helm and sees an orange cat perched there, its paws clutching the wheel like it knows exactly where it’s taking them. 

There is indeed a small island off the northern coast of Hizuru, insignificant enough that it doesn’t appear on any of their maps. Its shores are rocky with coarse gray sand, tall birch trees and aspens greeting them as they disembark. The ground is solid and welcoming under his boots as he makes his way along the indistinct path weaving amongst the tall grass, wildflowers tickling at his fingertips when he reaches out for them. 

On the small island, there is a house. It looks like it’s been there for a while, frozen in time while the rest of the world continues onward. Blue paint is peeling off from the exterior wood paneling, window frames dusted with specks of moss and dust. The yard is lush and unkempt, and from here Eren can make out some bushes that are teeming with what suspiciously resemble raspberries. There’s a gray bird perched on one of the branches of a large conifer nearby that lets out a chirp as he approaches, but other than that, it’s silent. 

The door creaks a little when he pulls it open, sunlight sweeping across the floor of the entryway. It leads him into a spacious kitchen with a large wood oven in the corner, the two chairs by the round table pulled out as if the house had been expecting them. There’s a small bedroom and bathroom off to the left, along with a ladder up to the attic. Though much of the furnishings are covered in dust, they’re otherwise in decent condition. He even finds plates, mugs, utensils, and a tightly closed tin of tea in the kitchen cupboards. 

“It’s chamomile,” Levi states when they finally manage to pry it open. “Fancy that.”

Chamomile is one of Levi’s favourites, and Eren knows better than to assume it’s just a coincidence. 

The two of them make their home there, and after ensuring that they have everything they need, he bids farewell to Armin and Mikasa. 

“We’ll come visit you before the end of the year and bring you more supplies,” Mikasa promises as she holds on to him like she never wants to let go. 

“Thank you,” Eren tells them, smiling even when tears roll down his cheeks. “Take care of one another.” 

He watches the ship until it’s just a tiny dot in the distance, the sunset painting golden hues across the sky and the earth and everything in between. The sound of the waves echoes in his ears even as he lays down to sleep later that night, strong arms draped around him and Levi’s steady breath fanning against his shoulder. Blissfully, he dreams of nothingness, and in the morning his first thought is how lucky he is to still be here. 

His home is here now, among the wildflowers and the tall trees, away from everything. This is not the future he saw all those years ago - this is his future, his ending, a world in which he gets to be just Eren instead of a soldier or a saviour or a monster. It still lingers, the knowledge that he has destroyed the world time and time again, but living with it becomes a little easier day by day.

The raspberries at the back of the yard are perfectly sweet and tangy, and he spends many afternoons gathering some in a basket to enjoy later. That’s where he meets the cat again, plopped down in the shade under the bush. It’s in the middle of licking its paw as it spots him, pausing its motions with its tongue peeking out a little. 

“Nice to see you again,” it says, stretching as it gets up. 

Eren sizes up the fluffy little animal. “Is it?” he asks.

“I think it is. I quite like you, you know.” The cat winds itself around his legs a couple of times before it sits down a short distance away from him. “This is the ending. Here’s where I have to leave you.” 

He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “You’re the one who pulled me out of the loop,” he says instead, crouching down to look the cat in the eye. “I don’t even know how to thank you for that.”

Those golden eyes flicker off to the side for a moment. “Yeah, but I’m also the one who put you in the loop. My apologies for that. I kinda wanted to try out something different.” 

“Who are you?” he asks again. 

The cat shrugs, which is a feat in itself since it doesn’t really have any shoulders. “A self-insert. A plot device. A cat ex machina of sorts.” It lets out a giggle. “I made this story. You two deserve a happy ending for once.”

The grass sways in the slight breeze around them and they’re both silent for a while. A part of Eren wonders if he could reach out and pet the cat’s little orange head without upsetting the balance of the universe too much. He decides not to risk it, though - he’s actually happy here, and collapsing the fabric of time and space would seriously interfere with his plans of surprising Levi with a flower crown later today.

“Where will you go?” he asks. It’s a fair concern since they’re surrounded by water and he doubts the little creature can swim very far. 

“Back to my own reality.” The cat gives a light flick of its tail. “We probably won’t meet again, at least not in this world.”

“What’s your reality like?” he asks. “Are there titans there, too?”

The cat laughs at that. “Thank goodness, no,” it replies. “There are some bad things. War, pollution, capitalism, that kind of stuff. But for now, I’m doing fine. Better than before, at least.”

“You and me both,” Eren states, and it’s true. He’s fine. Not completely whole yet, but getting there with each passing day.  

“Well, it’s time to go,” the cat states as it saunters off in the direction of the shore. It stops in its tracks after a few steps, glancing back at Eren with a curious glint in its eye. “I’ll give you one last piece of advice. When it gets chilly, remember to huddle for warmth. That’s, like, my favourite trope ever.” 

He watches the cat trot off, its tail swishing back and forth before it disappears into the foliage. There are little imprints left behind in the grass by the raspberry bushes, but other than that, it’s as if he’d been alone the whole time. After he’s filled his basket he picks up a couple of daisies near the corner of the house, wondering what color might go along well with them. 

They have potato stew for dinner, and afterwards when they’re sitting out on the steps enjoying some raspberries for dessert, Eren gently places a crown woven of daisies and bluebells on Levi’s head. 

“It suits you,” he says, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Levi rolls his eyes but still leans in to kiss him, tasting of raspberries. 

There’s a chill blowing from the east and seeping in through the windowpanes later in the evening, so they pile more wood into the oven and Levi brews them some tea. Eren accepts his mug with a grateful sigh, tugging his blanket aside a little.

They're free, just as he'd always hoped, but when he closes his eyes he sees Mikasa crumpled among the Marleyan soldiers with her spine bent in half and Armin's head crushed into the pavement. He sees the countless others, innocent collateral damage, their limbs torn apart and intestines splattered on the ground. 

He sees Levi, his entire torso and half of his head reduced to a bloody mess of bones and muscles and tendons, a blade still held in his severed hand. He remembers grasping on to that same hand for the very first time, remembers the tentative brush of chapped lips against his skin and the brief glimmer of hope he'd felt when they'd stood together by the shimmering ocean with cold water lapping at their ankles. 

Now there's just emptiness. Eren is so utterly alone even when surrounded by his supporters, and though he tries to throw himself into their work of building a glorious new Eldian empire, his efforts are half-hearted at best. The other half of him has been left behind among the mindless death and ruin he'd caused. 

It's almost a relief when he's killed only a couple weeks later while on his way home from the bar where he'd been spending more and more evenings lately. An insurgent corners him in an alleyway and stabs him in the chest, and maybe he's too drunk or simply just doesn't care enough to defend himself. His vision blurs into nothingness, and the last words he hears the man whispers into his ear are, "Long live Marley."

He blinks and he's on the battlefield again. There's something buzzing at the edge of his peripheral vision like an irritating fly, trying to get his attention, and without even thinking he reaches out and crushes it under his heel before advancing on his enemies. The shrill scream that emits from it sounds distantly familiar, but it's only later when all of Marley's forces are defeated and he goes back that it dawns on him that it's Mikasa. Her body is ground into a pulp, but he recognizes her from the familiar red scarf wrapped around what remains of her neck. 

This time around he finds Armin skewered on a dead soldier's blade, his empty eyes staring up at the sky. Jean is laying close by, both of his legs twisted in unnatural angles. He can't find Levi anywhere, but there's a good chance he's among one of the bodies of Survey Corps soldiers mangled too badly to recognize. 

He doesn't indulge in a drop of alcohol despite the many celebrations the Yeagerists hold for him. He stays away from dark alleyways, enlisting a couple of his most loyal supporters to act as his bodyguards whenever he goes out. He sits in his house, boards up the windows and tries to sleep, his dreams plagued by the dying screams of all those he'd slaughtered. 

Inexplicably, they want to make him king. The coronation is a noisy affair, festivities continuing for days on end. Through it all, he barely utters a word, even when they place the heavy iron crown upon his head. 

Their new Eldian empire suffers from a number of growing pains, especially considering that there are no other nations left to trade with. Eren signs one executive order after the other, hikes up taxes, commissions more infrastructure to be built, anything just to keep their kingdom afloat. Every time he looks at his hands as he scribbles down another hasty signature, he sees them covered in blood all over again. 

Try as he might, the already impoverished people don't care for his expensive reforms. This time he lasts around six months before there's a coup and he's thrown into the cells by the insurgents. They're a colorful bunch, made up of both Eldians and Marleyans who'd managed to escape the carnage, and understandably, they want blood. 

Eren and his closest advisors are executed by guillotine in front of a crowd of hundreds, if not thousands of cheering people. The blade falls with a clang and he clearly registers the feeling of his head falling down onto the wooden platform with a faint thud. Then, there's nothing. 

His eyes open, the end stretches out before him for the third time now, and he realizes that something is wrong. 

That realization is enough to make him halt in his steps. He's here again, ready to eradicate all life outside the walls. He's here again for the third time. 

Someone calls out his name, and before he can react, there's a blade sinking into the side of his head. 

The searing pain makes him cry out, and before he knows it he's tearing himself out of the titan's body. Strong hands grab on to him and haul him out fully, and then he's falling, tumbling to the ground. He can hear his own blood thrumming in his ears as he tries to catch himself. 

"Don't do this, Eren." Her voice is frantic, bordering on desperate. "It doesn't have to end like this."

It doesn't have to end like this. Fall back. Do not go further. He sends out the order to the Wall Titans as if on instinct, eyes falling closed as he concentrates on those words. Instantly the world around him slows down a little. 

He blinks a few times and Mikasa's face swims into his view. There's a thin trail of blood streaked on her face, unshed tears brimming in her eyes. This is not how it usually ends. 

"Mikasa," he rasps out. "Help me. I don't know what's happening."

She squeezes her mouth into a thin line. "Come on. We need to get out of here."

He's not sure what happens next, apart from Mikasa all but carrying him further away from the heat of the battle. They're joined by others along the way, their faces blurring into one another. One of them winds their arm around his waist to support him, and it takes him a moment to realize it's Armin. 

Eren lets out a pained wheeze. "Armin. I'm so sorry. For everything." 

Armin doesn't respond, merely casts a worried glance over his head at Mikasa. 

"We're almost there, come on," she urges them on, and the next time Eren raises his head, he sees they've arrived at the harbor. He's guided on to a large boat, Mikasa's grip on him almost painfully tight when he nearly trips over his own feet. 

There are people rushing all around him, and Armin is saying something about getting him into the cabin to rest, but he's interrupted by a voice calling out from behind them. 

"No." Levi's tone is cold and unyielding. "Place him in the brig. He's under arrest."

Armin takes a step forward. "No, he's not. I'm the Commander and he's one of my soldiers."

"Get him some water and clean clothes if you want to make yourself useful," Mikasa snaps and shoulders past him. For the briefest of moments, Eren catches Levi's eyes. They're frighteningly devoid of any emotion. 

He's propped down by a table in the cabin and someone wraps a blanket around his shoulders. Then he's left there for what feels like forever, during which he gets a chance to take a few breaths in an effort to clear his head. He's here, he's alive, his friends are alive. This is the real ending. 

There are faint voices carrying over from beyond the closed door, clearly arguing with one another. Probably about him. He turns around in his seat a little, taking in the bland furnishings and the various maps spread out on the table. They're in one of the cities by the coast, Eren supposes - he'd lost count of their names somewhere around Odiha. 

Mikasa comes back to him with some water and a steaming bowl of soup. "Here," she whispers as she sets the tray in front of him. 

Instead of digging in, Eren slouches against the back of the chair with a sigh. "I've seen what happens in the end. This isn't the right way." His gaze flits up to meet Mikasa's. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

She wraps her arms around him, her shoulders shaking. "It's okay," she murmurs, and Eren’s not sure if she even believes that herself. "Whatever happens, we will stand by you."

He doesn't ask how many soldiers they've lost, and judging by the strained expression on Mikasa's face, it's better not to bring it up right now. At some point during the evening she lets it slip that Hanji had sacrificed themselves in order to make sure they could go after him and something heavy settles in the pit of Eren's stomach upon hearing that. 

Mikasa stays with him, and though she doesn't say it, it's clear that she's been assigned to guard him. He desperately wants to ask to see Levi but he doesn't dare. Of course, Mikasa being as observant as she is, offhandedly informs him that they're busy arguing about what to do next. 

"I'll tell him you want to talk to him," she promises as they're settling down to sleep. 

"I don't even know what I'd say," Eren mutters from where he's curled up under the blanket. The last thing he remembers before drifting off to sleep is Mikasa sweeping a stray hair behind his ear and telling him that things will work out somehow. 

Hours later, in the dead of night after Mikasa leaves for just a few moments to get some fresh air, one of the junior recruits creeps in and pierces his heart with her blade. She says something to him in a condescending tone as he bleeds out, maybe calls him a monster or an abomination, but he's too weak to make it out properly. His last thought before losing consciousness is that he never got to even talk to Levi. 

He doesn't open his eyes. He feels the breeze against his skin, hears the familiar screams around him, but he still doesn't open his eyes. As long as he doesn't open his eyes he can pretend that he truly is dead this time. 

Someone calls out his name, again, and soon enough there's a blade sinking into the side of his head, again. 

"Don't do this, Eren," Mikasa implores him after she's pulled Eren out of the titan's body for the second time. "It doesn't have to end like this."

Eren stares at her. Instead of answering, he simply laughs. 

This time he doesn't even bother calling back the Wall Titans, and he and Mikasa have barely taken a few steps before one descends upon them. Mikasa screams as she's torn to pieces, and Eren knows he could stop it, but he doesn't. It makes no difference anyway. 

Go on, kill me, he orders, and the titan does as told. 

The world resets again, as it does every single time he dies, but now when Mikasa has extracted him from the titan he grabs one of her blades and slits his own throat. 

He's not sure what he's trying to achieve with it as he lays dying in her arms. She's pressing down on his neck, desperately trying to save him, but once again, it makes no difference. There are little drops of moisture falling on to his face - her tears, he realizes just before slipping away. 

Maybe this is his punishment, he wonders somewhere around his sixth or seventh time of dying. This is his hell, stuck in a cycle of destruction and doomed to repeat his mistakes over and over again. At some point he stops even trying to make it out of the battlefield. 

"It keeps repeating, over and over again," he tells Mikasa before she can get a word in. "I've lived through this same thing too many times now."

She looks at him with concern written all over her face. "Eren, it doesn't have to end like this. Come with me."

"It doesn't work. One of your soldiers kills me at night when you step out for a moment," he tells her with a sigh. "I've tried to overpower her twice now but she has backup guarding the door."

He doesn't know if she hears him because she's already hauling him up and leading him towards the harbor. Fall back, he tells his troops. Maybe he needs to try for a third time. 

"Congrats on being named Commander," he tells Armin when he wraps an arm around him for support. "You're exactly the right person for the job."

"What?" Armin asks with a furrowed brow, but Mikasa urges them to hurry, narrowly dodging a blow from a Marleyan soldier. 

They make it to the boat, and before Levi can interrupt them this time, Eren whirls around to face him. 

"I am sorry," he blurts out. They stare at one another for a tense moment before he adds, "I didn't realize it before, but this isn't worth it."

Levi doesn't say anything and doesn't protest when Mikasa and Armin lead him into the cabin. Blanket, arguing behind the closed door, bowl of soup, it all plays out just like before. This time, though, he finishes all of his soup, and as Mikasa goes to take the tray back to the kitchen, he wonders if he'll be killed right there and then. 

The next time the door creaks open, though, the footsteps sound distinctly different from either Mikasa or his killer. 

"Are you hurt?“ Levi asks, and Eren freezes. This is different. 

"I don't think so," he replies, praying that maybe this ending is the one where he's finally free. 

Levi sits down with him by the table, and it's only then that Eren notices the scars marring his face. "What happened?" he breathes out. 

The corner of Levi's mouth twitches upwards a little. "It's a long story," he states. "Perhaps you should be more concerned about yourself right now."

"It doesn't matter," Eren tells him. "I'll be here again soon."

Candlelight casting long shadows over his face, Levi merely watches him for a long while. "I have to leave you for now," he says at last, "but I’m glad you're alright." Before he goes he presses a featherlight kiss into Eren's hair, and though there are still unresolved issues between them, Eren feels something in his chest unfurl a little. 

He begs Mikasa to stay through the night, and she does, so when the vengeful recruit creeps into the room, she's met with a blade held to her throat. 

"What do you think you're doing?“ Mikasa asks, her voice laced with fury. 

The girl sneers at her. "That thing is not human. You have no obligation to protect it."

"That thing is my brother," Mikasa responds. "He deserves a fair trial."

"What he deserves is to be let out of his misery," she hisses, reaching for her weapon. 

Mikasa doesn't hesitate, slicing her blade cleanly across her jugular. For a moment she regards the girl's slumped body before turning towards Eren. "How did you know?“ she asks. 

"It's happened before," he starts off, but there's a flurry of movement and Mikasa's being tackled to the ground by the girl's backup. He snaps her neck before she can call for help and then advances on Eren. 

He lets out a weary sigh and closes his eyes, not even caring anymore. 

The next time he opens them, he’s back where he always finds himself. This time he destroys everything and everyone that crosses his path, just because he can. 

The Yeagerists greet him as enthusiastically as always when he returns, and while the people celebrate in the streets late into the night, he sits on the rooftop and watches the stars dotting the sky. He wonders what would’ve happened all those years ago if he’d known that they’d end up here, wonders if maybe being an oblivious prisoner inside the now-crumbled walls for the rest of his life would’ve been a better option. 

By the time he sees the first rays of the sun peeking out from the horizon, he steps off the roof into his death. It’s excruciatingly slow this time, his consciousness fading in and out and sharp pain flaring up from the base of his spine whenever he tries to move. At some point he thinks someone is trying to resuscitate him, but thankfully it’s in vain as he breathes out his last breath.

“How could any of you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?” he asks Mikasa the next time.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” she says, trying to pull him along, but Eren doesn’t budge. 

“No. We’re not doing this,” he says, both to Mikasa and his titans. “How? Tell me!”

“I don’t know how, okay!” she snaps. “I don’t know. But you can’t go on with this.”

He’s shot in the head by a Marleyan soldier before he can respond, and the last thing he hears is Mikasa screaming his name. 

It really doesn’t seem like anything he does makes a difference, so he finds himself going along with Mikasa more often than not. He tries to cherish those moments when he has Mikasa and Armin at his sides, and though he’s apologized to them a dozen times already, he does so over and over again. 

"Place him in the brig. He's under arrest," Levi says, as he always does when Eren doesn’t address him first. 

Armin takes a step forward. "No, he's not. I'm the Commander and he's one of my soldiers."

“You know what? He’s right,” Eren speaks up, meeting Levi’s blank stare. “Put me in the brig.”

They do so, and this time Mikasa gets him both a blanket and a pillow since there’s literally no other furniture in the brig. He wraps himself up and takes a seat by the wall, eats all the soup given to him, plays his role as he usually does. He’s tired, both physically and mentally, and at some point he drifts off to sleep.

He’s woken by the creak of the door’s hinges, and when he cracks his eyes open, Levi’s there, standing on the other side of the room. 

They’re both silent, Levi merely staring him down with his arms crossed over his chest. It’s not funny in the slightest, but Eren laughs, anyway. It’s all he can do.

“What’s so amusing to you about this?” Levi asks. 

Eren rests his head in his hands and draws in a deep breath. “I did love you, you know,” he remarks. 

Levi says nothing, merely pursing his lips. 

“I didn’t want this,” he whispers, pressing his fingers against his temples. “Any of this. You know what I want?” 

“What’s that?”

“Freedom.” He leans back, mouth quirking up in a smile as his gaze flits over Levi. “A house in the countryside, maybe with the ocean close by. A couple of raspberry bushes growing in the yard. Peaceful, slow mornings.” He pauses for a moment. “With you.”

“Shut up,” Levi growls. He slams the door shut when he leaves, and Eren doesn’t try to stop him. There are so many things he could say, but none of them would make a difference. 

Mikasa guards him through the night, both of them mostly silent, and when she excuses herself for a moment, Eren already knows what’s coming. He doesn’t resist when the girl sinks a knife into his chest yet again, looking at him dead in the eye as she does so. 

“You will pay for your sins in hell,” she tells him.

“Believe me, I already am,” he chokes out with a laugh as he feels the darkness pulling him under. 

Mikasa drops down next to him, a worried expression rising to her features when she sees that Eren’s still sitting on the ground. 

“Eren, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself? Can you stand?” she asks, all in one breath as she steadies him by his back. 

Eren doesn’t know what to tell her, so he slumps forward, limbs heavy and tired. What he does know is that the dull pain in his knees and hands has very little to do with the fact that he just fell down from the branches – it’s been there for weeks now, manifesting in short bouts at first, but rapidly growing into a constant ache with a tendency to flare up during practice, even to such an extent it can apparently make him screw up and fall down mid-step.

There’s the sound of boots crunching up dry leaves approaching, making Mikasa straighten up. “What happened here?” Levi’s voice questions from somewhere behind Eren’s back, thin and colorless as it carries over the crisp afternoon air.

“Eren fell,” Mikasa exclaims. Though Eren can’t see her face from his slouched position, he can sense the discerning glance that passes between the two of them.

It’s too much, so he staggers up, practically hearing how his knees screech under his weight. “I’m okay, just a bit disoriented,” Eren insists, dusting himself off. “Come on, let’s catch up with the others.” He pulls at Mikasa’s sleeve, and though she’s looking at him like he’s about to break any moment, she follows along.

He doesn’t get very far before hearing Levi call out after him. “Eren. A moment, if you would.” The request makes him halt, glancing between Levi and Mikasa, who, after a few seconds of heavy silence, shrugs and carries on, leaving him to face Levi on his own.

“Captain, sir!” He gives a half-hearted salute. Levi’s glaring at him with such intensity that he’d much rather slink off instead of enduring it. “I’m sorry for being so clumsy, I won’t do it again.”

“Why did you fall?” Levi inquires, circling closer. He looks Eren over from head to toe, eyes finally stopping at his hands that are tugging at the hem of his shirt nervously.

Eren laughs, the sound catching in his throat and coming out as more skittish than intended. “Told you, I was just clumsy and didn’t watch my feet. I’m okay, though, so, um, I’ll just go now.” He feels a little wobble in his left knee when he moves away, but Levi reaching out to grip his arm helps him keep his balance.

“Give me your hand,” he orders, and for the briefest moment, Eren can see a tiny flicker of concern in the downward curve of his mouth.

“I thought we weren’t doing the whole public displays of affection thing,” Eren remarks with a quirk of his lips, his hands staying exactly where they are. “You must be growing soft with age.”

All he receives in response is a subtly raised brow – Levi doesn’t seem to be in the mood for light banter, as he grabs on to Eren’s wrist and pulls it towards himself to inspect his hand. He touches over the back of his hand, brushing down from the wrist and pausing at the abnormally protruding joints of his fingers.

“These are inflamed,” he tells Eren, locking eyes with him briefly. He’s rubbing over Eren’s knuckles, applying only the tiniest bit of pressure, and Eren can feel some of the discomfort melting away.

“You think so?” Eren asks with a pleased sigh as Levi ghosts his lips over each knuckle, placing soft kisses at his skin. “I haven’t really noticed.” Now that Levi’s pointed it out, his hands do look a bit unusual.

“For goodness’ sake, how can you not notice? Look.” He links his fingers with Eren’s, and as Eren looks down, he can see the difference – his fingers look swollen and clumsy next to Levi’s. This should concern him, but he tells himself over and over again that he’s fine, it’s just a little soreness caused by the fall.

He tells this same thing to Levi, but he still makes Eren promise that he’ll get Hanji to check up on him, which speaks volumes on his concern. Eren does promise, but forgets soon after – there are more important things to focus on, he doesn’t have time to worry about something as insignificant as his weird hands.

Yes, it takes him longer to finish his lunch these days because the spoon keeps slipping out of his grasp and he’s also sitting down a lot more to give his legs some rest, but those are all minor inconveniences. Whenever he finds himself getting worried over it, he reminds himself that there are still titans to kill and territory to reclaim, so a bit of pains and aches are hardly the most pressing issue for him.

Their next expedition is what changes his mind on that, though.

While the rest of the squad trails behind them, he and Levi take the lead. It’s become sort of a norm for them to work together, with Eren as a titan while Levi’s on his shoulder, making sure he stays in control of himself. Everyone’s accepted this without complaints since Eren comes across as much more docile and communicative in titan form with Levi around.

"There's more coming in from the west," he hears Levi's voice warn him. "Are you okay, Eren?" 

Through his haze of bloodlust, he can only answer with a wordless grunt. Everything looks warped and out of focus through his titan's eyes, but he's faintly aware that his arm has been bitten off at the elbow by a couple of aberrants who are now lying in a bloody unmoving heap on the ground.

It'll regenerate soon, he tries to tell Levi with a twitch of his head. They’ve passed the need for spoken language a long time ago. Levi clings on to the shaggy brown hair for support once they set out again, and once he’s adjusted to the jerky movements under his feet, he trails his hand down the titan's neck, so close to where Eren's nestled at the nape. As his fingertips skim over the heated skin, Eren desperately wants to reach out from the flesh that confines him and hold his Captain’s hand for reassurance

"We’re going to be there soon, don’t worry," Levi murmurs into his ear. "You're doing great." The encouragement makes a ticklish joy wash over Eren, even in his current state.

His arm doesn't grow back in time to get rid of the titans coming from the west, so Levi takes care of them. Eren doesn't think much of it, not even when he's cut out back at their base and has to wait for a full day for his limbs to grow back, but he sees the looks passed between his friends, even though no-one dares to say a word.

Levi’s the first one to speak up, and even then it’s in the form of a terse order – go see Hanji. From his tone, Eren can tell that he’s saying this as his supervisor and there’s no room for arguing.

Regardless, he takes his time – a couple of weeks, in fact, until the constant ache he carries with him finally drives him to seek out the help of someone more knowledgeable about these things.

Hanji’s been all over the place lately, so simply getting in touch with her is a challenge. Her request for more research funding has just been denied, a fact that she laments to Eren as they sit down together outside the barracks. However, when Eren tells her about his ailments her displeased face lights up with new interest.

“Ooh, how cool,” she pipes up as she prods at Eren’s fingers. “I mean, obviously it’s not cool for you, but from my point of view, this is really interesting.”

He glances down at his knuckles, slightly puffy and redder than the rest of his skin. “What do you think is causing it?”

Hanji drops his hand down and leans back, looking over him from head to toe with a contemplative expression. "Hmm, I’m not sure. We could do a couple of tests on your muscle endurance and flexibility, both in human and titan form," she suggests. There’s that familiar enthusiastic glint settling in her eyes that emerges whenever the topic of discussion is on titans. "It'll only take one afternoon at most."

They get started with a few simple stretches, Hanji constantly hovering over him as he reaches for his toes and then up towards the sky. From there, what occurs is no different from their regular training sessions – she makes him run a few laps before moving on to strength training. At one point, she even instructs Eren to chop firewood.

"How is this a test?" he complains as he picks up the axe.

"I'm examining the range of motion in your arms along with your body’s response to repeated strain," she intones and taps at her clipboard with a cheery grin. "Now, chop chop." 

As she giggles at her little joke, Eren sets to work, swinging the heavy axe down. He feels the impact of it hitting the wood all the way down his forearms and winces at the sharp pain that radiates through his muscles. Though it’s a tiny reaction, Hanji notices it and jots it down in her notes.

Of course, what was meant as just one afternoon turns into several days, mainly due to the fact that once Hanji had made him transform into a titan for more experiments and then later cut him out from the nape it took him a while to recover. Even then she keeps close by, asking countless questions – does it hurt? Can he feel them growing? How does this feel? He tries to answer them to the best of his ability and as Hanji bends and twists his newly grown hand, a dull pain throbs up at his joints.

The more tests Hanji runs, the more her cheerful demeanor begins to falter, even though she tries to keep it up whenever Eren looks her way. His new limbs are even weaker than the previous ones, and after Hanji watches him struggle through a couple more exercises, she pats him on the shoulder and tells him that they’re wrapping up.

His knees strain and he has to sit down as he listens to Hanji drone on and pace back and forth. She’s spouting a bunch of nonsense with anatomical terms thrown in as she flips through her papers to busy herself. Eren interrupts her with a wave of his hand. 

“What does it mean, Hanji?” he asks, and she looks up from her notes at that. Where Eren may have expected to see pity in her gaze, there is only guarded interest.

“Your ability to regenerate seems to be dwindling,” she says. Something heavy settles in Eren’s stomach at that, his throat suddenly dry. He has no idea what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Hanji carries on talking, and he gets his concentration back just in time to hear her say, “…and once they do grow back, your new limbs are remarkably weaker and more prone to joint problems.” 

She grabs ahold of Eren’s hand, bending back his forefinger, and even though it’s a slight motion, Eren recoils at the dull pain.

“Can you do something about it?” he inquires.

“Well, I’m no doctor, but for now I think you should lay off turning into a titan to make it worse.” He’s about to protest loudly, which seems to be the exact reaction Hanji expected, because she’s quick to carry on before Eren can get a word in. “Take it easy for a couple of weeks and after that I can examine you again to see what the long-term effects are like.”

Eren almost wants to snap at her that he already knows what the long-term effects are like – they’re him falling down from the treetops during practice, they’re the gnawing ache at his fingers on chilly nights and the slowly emerging realization that he is becoming a burden instead of an asset. That his fate is to watch from the sidelines instead of leading the battle. 

Instead he doesn’t, only nodding along as Hanji recommends him a variety of remedies to help cope with the pain – hot baths, massages, and light exercise of affected joints among other things. Half of it goes in through one ear and out the other.

Once Hanji pauses to think, Eren interjects, “So, uh, can it be fixed or cured somehow? You know, instead of just relieving the symptoms.” He stares at his fingers, feeling Hanji’s gaze on him. “Or is it…”

“Irreversible,” Hanji finishes the sentence for him when he trails off. Her voice sounds stretched and tense, like it’s coming from miles away. “That’s quite likely, yes. The best you can do right now is to avoid causing any more damage.”

That one word buzzes around in his head as he tries to go on with life as normal. Irreversible.

Mornings are the most difficult – his fingers are so numb and unresponsive that he has to take a few minutes to loosen them out before even getting out of bed. The stiffness in his hands eases during the day, but the ache is still there whenever he has to grip on to something, not to mention the uncomfortable strain in his knees that increases the more time he has to spend on his feet.

Regardless of all this, he plans to carry on as usual, but it seems that Hanji has already informed his squad. They’re more careful around him now, and though it frustrates Eren to no end, he can still excuse it once he counts to ten and reminds himself that they only mean well.

One sunny afternoon when they’re getting ready for training, he hears Levi call out from somewhere on his left as he’s strapping on his 3DMG, “Eren, you’re on cleaning duty.”

The belt falls from his stiff hands as he turns around, brows furrowed. “But we cleaned all day yesterday.”

“And you are going to clean some more today,” Levi says bluntly. He doesn’t look Eren in the eye as he strides past him and in the direction of the training field. “Don’t think you’re getting out of all the dirty work just because we’re fucking.” 

Jean happens to be checking his gear within earshot and drops one of his blades on the ground with a loud clang, but his disturbed expression doesn’t even slightly amuse Eren.

He wants to punch someone, very hard. As he watches Levi go, he counts to twenty and begins unbuckling the straps he’d just finished fastening, fingers trembling half with the pain of the exertion and half with rage.

The entire headquarters is already sparkling clean, which leaves Eren to wander aimlessly around the hallways, dragging the broom behind him. It’s just a distraction, he realizes, and a poor one, at that – couldn’t Levi have ordered him to do something more meaningful? There’s no dirty work to be done here, and while Eren’s never particularly liked cleaning, it would still be better than loitering around with no purpose.

Once he rounds the corner to the kitchen, he groans out loud and decides that he’s had enough of pretending to clean. Instead of slouching around the halls like the ghost of someone who’d died of boredom, he settles in by the sink where there’s a large vat of potatoes meant for dinner.

He clasps on to the handle of the knife firmly as he begins to peel them, feeling the effect of each bump and ridge in his joints.

By the time the others return, he’s only halfway through. His hands are growing too sore to hold on to the knife properly, but he doesn’t mention it to anyone, merely slinking away and gladly allowing Sasha to finish the job. When Armin tries to ask him if everything’s okay, he cracks some self-deprecating joke and the conversation soon moves on to other topics. Jean can’t stop bragging about some cool trick he did with his 3DMG earlier, and for once Eren’s grateful for his yapping. Here, among his friends, he can forget his failing body, even if for a few moments – his wrist gives a small twinge of pain when he goes on to call Jean a horseface and clap him on the shoulder.

Though potatoes and scraps of questionable meat are their staple diet, everyone sitting at the table gulps down their portions eagerly, except for Eren. He can sense the bones in his fingers grind against one another at the joints, accompanied by a jagged ache that intensifies whenever he has to press down harder to cut at the food.

Whoever’s on cooking duty has left the potatoes a bit raw on the inside so it takes him longer to chop them up. In fact, there’s still one potato and a stringy piece of meat left on his plate by the time everyone else is finishing up with the meal. Even so, Eren leaves the table at the same time with the others, and when Sasha queries hopefully if she can have the rest of his food, he shoves the plate towards her, looking away as she scarfs down his remains in a matter of seconds.

Menial things like eating and putting on 3DMG have turned into something he dreads – though he’s not doing the latter one much these days. Still, he keeps up, quite poorly most of the time, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no-one catches him at his weakest with fumbling hands and creaky knees that threaten to buckle under him despite of his scrawny frame.

While the mornings are the most difficult physically, it’s the nights that get under his skin. Sleep eludes him, so he’ll lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, seeing nonexistent patterns and swirls in the wooden beams above. It’s usually well past midnight when he at last grows too restless to stay still and gets up, his bare feet making no sound as he tiptoes out of their quarters.

The door to Levi’s office is always unlocked, but Eren feels compelled to knock every single time. His nightly visits have become more of a rule rather than an exception, so he doesn’t bother waiting for the invitation to enter and instead slinks inside.

Levi seems to never sleep, because whenever Eren goes to him, he finds the man buried in mounds of paperwork. However, the moment he creaks the door open, Levi glances up from his papers at him. “Hey.” The soft gleam from the candle at the table illuminates his face in a way that makes him look more like a figment of his dreams rather than an actual person made of flesh and blood just like Eren. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” he replies as he saunters across the floor, trailing a hand across Levi’s shoulders that relax at the touch. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone and he’s rolled the sleeves up to his elbow loosely, exposing the pale skin underneath. Eren lingers by his side and casts a longing glance towards the doorway leading into Levi’s personal quarters. He tugs at the pristine linen collar, his voice scratchy as he queries, “Bed?”

On some nights Eren can convince him to follow suit, but this doesn’t seem to be one of those nights. “You go on ahead. I have to finish this,” Levi replies, his eyes still scanning over the lines of text but his free hand comes up to pet the side of Eren’s face.

This bed is too large for just one person, he thinks as he curls up under the covers and gazes in the direction of the dim candlelight. From here, he can see Levi’s profile as he works, the flame casting long shadows under his eyes. Eren watches him with sleepy adoration, content and warm in the comfort of the soft sheets.

“Read something to me?” he mutters into the pillow.

“What was that?” There’s a shuffling of papers, the sound carrying over pleasantly to his ears. He repeats the request, and hears Levi give a laugh, low and melodious. “You want me to read you old mission reports?”

Eren shrugs, and then remembers that he’s hidden in the bundle of duvet and pillows and all Levi can probably see of him is a tuft of brown hair. “Why not?” he says with a yawn. Since Levi’s being boring and doesn’t want to join him, he should at least humor Eren on this particular whim – he likes listening to Levi, especially when he’s talking to Eren and Eren only. His voice lacks its usual authoritative edge when it’s just the two of them.

As Levi begins reading the documents out loud, he buries himself deeper into the bed, eyes falling closed on their own. The words melt into one another, losing all meaning as Eren focuses on the intonation and the constant, soothing flow of silent noise.

The next time he stirs is when Levi climbs in next to him, hands coming up to brush through Eren’s hair as he tries to raise his head up.

“Shush. Go to sleep.” From somewhere beyond the haze of sleep, he registers chapped lips pressing against his and fingers stroking the back of his neck. It’s darker now, so he closes his eyes again. In his dreams, he remembers soaring among the trees, his knees strong and fingers adept at handling the 3DMG. Now, when he lies in bed, he can’t even tangle his legs with Levi’s as effortlessly as he used to.

“I don’t want to be useless,” he whispers into Levi’s shirt, and in the morning he won’t recall if he’d truly said it or if it had simply been a part of his dream.

“You aren’t.” Levi holds him tighter, cradling him like he never wants to let go. “You aren’t useless.”

His next visit to Hanji is much less strenuous than the previous one – after she’s quickly surmised that the condition of Eren’s joints isn’t any better, to Eren’s horror she starts talking about braces and splints. She knows a doctor who makes prostheses and orthoses for veterans, and though Eren repeatedly tells her that no, he doesn’t want anything like that, she takes his measurements just in case – from his hip down to his knee and then to his heel, from his shoulder to the tips of fingers.

As she uncoils the measuring tape and stretches it out by his elbow, Eren stares down at the length of his arm as he tries to picture a brace there, a visible reminder that his body is not strong enough to function without outside support, and for a fleeting moment he wants to run away.

Hanji’s grip on him is firm, however, almost as if she can sense the dread seeping out of him. She pats him on the shoulder after she’s done measuring him, and though it’s an awkward gesture, he appreciates her effort.

“I have something for you,” she calls out as she picks something up from her desk. Usually those words from Hanji are bad news, so he prepares for the worst, only to be proven otherwise when Hanji plops down a dark green ball of yarn in his lap and beams like the sun.

With a confused glance, he asks, “What is this?”

“It’s yarn,” she supplies, and Eren can see that, but the response doesn’t explain why she’s throwing it at him. As he examines the ball of yarn, Hanji produces a pair of wooden sticks, waving them in front of his face. “And these are knitting needles.”

He reaches out tentatively to take the offered needles. They’re made of dark wood that feels flexible in his hands as he twirls them around. 

“You don’t say,” he retorts, “but what am I supposed to do with them?” It’s a question with an obvious answer, but he needs Hanji to spell it out for him just in case he’s missing something here because he cannot fathom why.

“You knit. Here, let me show you.” Hanji sits down next to him and unwinds a lengthy strip of the yarn. “My grandmother has joint pain in her wrists and fingers, as well, and she says that knitting helps increase mobility and function.”

Eren amuses himself for a moment by trying to imagine an older version of Hanji armed with a pair of needles and yarn, with maybe even an eccentric pet cat by her side. Then, he tries to imagine himself knitting socks or mittens with his creaky joints and a temper shorter than a titan’s dick, but can’t conjure up any kind of a mental image because the thought is too absurd to consider.

“Are you serious?” he asks in a flat voice, causing Hanji to poke at his side with the needles.

“I am always serious,” she replies, and her expression is unusually concentrated as she ties the yarn around a single needle. Despite Eren’s disbelief, he follows closely as she casts on the first row of stitches, explaining as she goes. Though she does slow down after Eren asks, he still gets lost when trying to follow the movement of the needle.

It only gets more confusing after that, partially due to the fact that Hanji’s first five attempts at showing him the basic knit stitch end up in messy tangles as she huffs and puffs over the needles. Even though her grandmother is apparently a master of the craft, or so Hanji informs him amongst untying the bundle of knots that had somehow formed, that’s one skill that hadn’t been passed down in the family.

At last, with a couple of suggestions from Eren, she triumphs over the knots and shows him the knit stitch and the purl stitch. Her hands are quick and nimble now that she’s gotten the hang of it, and Eren can’t help but to feel dejected as he watches – there’s no way he’d be able to work the needles like that with his weak, bloated stubs of flesh some might call fingers.

Regardless of his feeble resistance, Hanji arranges his fingers to grasp on to the wooden needles. She holds on to the backs of his hands as she guides him to pull the yarn through the first loop. It’s a small movement, yet it still requires a great deal of precision, and if it weren’t for Hanji helping him along the row of loops, Eren would have thrown the damn thing aside by now.

They go on like that for a while as Hanji explains how different stitches can be used to form certain patterns – for now, she tells Eren to practice by knitting one row and purling the next one, alternating to form a smooth fabric. It’s simple enough that he can manage it when Hanji lets go of his hands, even though it takes him a bit longer to persuade his fingers to bend enough.

He finishes knitting the current row and then puts the needles aside as Hanji asks to take a couple of more measurements of his hands. Later, when he goes to leave, he tucks the needles and yarn by his belt and forgets about them almost immediately. Hanji gets strange ideas all the time, but luckily this is one of the more harmless ones that mostly just amuse Eren. Knitting does go along well with his elderly image, though – for fuck’s sake, he’s twenty years old and he already has bad joints. It’s people like Hanji’s grandmother, old folks, who have joint problems, not someone like him.

Later, he shoves the yarn and needles inside the hay filling of his mattress, near the head where his pillow obscures the small lump that forms underneath. He’s not embarrassed or anything, storage space is just rare to come by in their shared quarters, and he really doesn’t want to lose them. Though he’s not exactly eager to get to knitting, he knows that yarn isn’t cheap and to toss it away would be an awful waste, so it stays there, tucked inside his mattress and ready for him to use.

Winter is slowly creeping in, the chill permeating through to his very bones and making sharp pain flare up in his fingers and knees on most evenings. During a cloudless night spent mostly tossing and turning, he remembers the lump under his pillow. The woollen yarn is soft against his fingertips when he digs it out, careful not to make any noise. A couple of stitches have come undone from where he and Hanji had left off, but when he picks up the needles he remembers how she'd instructed him to hold them soon enough. 

Then, he knits. His hands are slow and hesitant, and the resulting stitches are a little messy, but it's a better way to pass the time than just staring at the ceiling. 

He's not sure exactly when he falls asleep, just that in the blink of an eye it's morning. The needles are poking him in the stomach uncomfortably and he's quick to shove them back into the mattress before heading out. Jean makes fun of his bedhead over the breakfast table and he flings a spoonful of oatmeal into his coffee, and for a moment it feels like just a normal day. 

Life goes on, as it always does, and with Hanji's tentative approval, he's cleared for training again on the condition that he doesn't overexert himself. It's easier said than done, the first couple of times leaving him hobbling on sore legs, but at least he feels more like himself again. On those evenings that he finds himself particularly strung out he digs his knitting project out from under his pillow, both his mind and the ache in his joints dulled for a moment as he focuses on twining the yarn around the needles in slow movements. 

Eventually he makes a thing. It's a lopsided rectangle of sorts, the very first couple rows of stitches much more loose and messy than the last ones. It kind of reminds him of a woollen coaster, and though it's not much, he'd made it all by himself. 

He knows that people knit all sorts of things, hats, mittens, other useful clothes, so the next time he sees Hanji, he inquires on how to do just that. She's not the best teacher, but she tries, explaining that more detailed projects require the use of four or five needles, sometimes of different sizes. There are written instructions for that sort of thing, and she manages to find a book on different knitting patterns along with some more needles from her collection, both of which she gladly hands over to him. 

"I tried making some cute hats for a couple of my research specimens once to brighten their spirits," she explains. "That's how I learnt that titans really hate wearing hats."

Eren decides not to ask, instead just turning his attention to the package on the table in front of them. It just arrived yesterday, Hanji tells him as she peels back the wrapping to reveal a pair of leg braces made of sturdy brown leather. The material is warm and flexible when he turns them around in his hands. They're thankfully made to wear under clothing, hidden from view, so he hesitates only a little when Hanji urges him to try them on. 

Nothing really feels different once they're actually in place, apart from the compression against his knees and shins. He's maybe a little more steady on his feet, he notes after walking around the room for a while, which prompts an approving nod from Hanji. She shows him how to unfasten and tighten them if needed, advising him to remove the braces before going to sleep. 

He does so that night, and instead of hiding the braces under his pillow he hangs them over the headboard. They look inconspicuous enough, almost resembling armor if he didn’t know their actual purpose. No one says anything out of the ordinary, not even when he picks up the needles and yarn to get started on a new project. 

Whenever he has free time these days, he finds himself gravitating to his yarn and needles. There's something oddly soothing in it, the repetitiveness and routine of knitting one row after the other, seeing his weakened hands able to make something, even if that something is just a simple coaster or a hat for a titan.

Eren's not making hats for titans, though, that much he decides right away. He wants to make something useful. Something warm to ward off the approaching chill of winter. 

Near the end of the little knitting book, he discovers instructions for a pair of socks. It seems quite complicated at first, but for once in his life, he decides to take it slow. After having divided the stitches evenly on to four different needles, he knits row after row, not really even having to think about it. Soon enough, he has the beginnings of a sock in his hands. 

The heel is the trickiest part, and he spends many evenings quietly cussing to himself as he undoes yet another attempt at it and starts from the beginning. Somehow there will be odd holes or dropped stitches or just plain old knots, and though at times he’s tempted to give up entirely, he draws in a deep breath and tries again. When he finally gets it right he can’t stop smiling to himself, his project now looking more like a sock than ever before. 

He finishes the first sock just in time for snowfall, and as he looks out the window and sees the ground covered in delicate white, he knows exactly what he wants to do with it. 

One sock on its own is not terribly useful, though, so he spends a week or so knitting a second sock. It’s easier now that he knows how to do it, and this time there are fewer holes and dropped stitches along the way. Soon he has a pair of simple green socks, and though they’re not particularly fancy, they’re warm and soft and made with the kindest of intentions.

It’s a blustery winter night when he knocks on Levi’s door, stepping inside with a modest package wrapped in brown paper held in his hands. It’s late but Levi’s still awake, seated by his desk and going through the latest mission reports. He glances up when Eren places his offering in front of him. 

“What’s this?” Levi asks with a raised brow. 

"I made it. Them,” he blurts out. 

It feels like time stretches out to infinity as he watches Levi turn the little package around in his hands. Finally he peels back the paper, revealing a pair of green woollen socks. Levi picks one up, his fingers tracing along the stitches as he glances up at Eren.

“Hanji mentioned that you’d picked up knitting,” he says, warm fondness laced in his voice. “Good work. I’m honoured that you’d make something for me.” 

“I figured they’d keep you warm during cold nights,” Eren explains as he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

Levi’s already pulling the socks on, his work now abandoned. “I thought that was your job,” he quips with a smile.

“Well, it’s always nice to have some additional warmth,” Eren replies, allowing himself to be drawn into a leisurely embrace. 

“I guess. You are already more than enough, though.” The words are spoken into the space between his neck and shoulder. “You always have been and always will be.”

It’s probably about more than just the socks, but Eren’s not in the mood for serious discussions tonight. Instead he convinces Levi to join him in bed, all but draping himself over him. The socks are soft against his skin as he laces his legs with Levi’s, settling there against his side as if he belongs there. 

Since his efforts so far haven’t been useful in the slightest, he decides that he has to take direct action. Whatever it is that’s hunting his sheep, he’s going to hang its head over his mantle. He just hopes it’s a wild animal and not his nearest neighbor a dozen miles down the road. 

He sets up his shelter behind the chicken coop, laying down an old blanket and a thermos full of coffee. His rifle is ready and loaded for whatever may stalk about from the woods, so all that’s left to do is wait for night to fall. Thankfully the weather is temperate enough for a stakeout, and Elsa is quick to curl around him to keep warm. 

It’s late enough that he’s downed all of his coffee when something at last emerges from the forest. A large figure rustles the very tops of the trees, far too big to be a wolf or a bear. Far too big to be any animal, in fact.

It’s a fucking titan. 

Here, where titans have never been spotted before. Here, in the middle of nowhere, with no military presence whatsoever. Here, in a place that Levi had specifically chosen as his new home because of those two aforementioned facts.

Of course it’s a titan. Of fucking course. That’s just his luck.

It’s easily ten meters, maybe even a little more, shaggy brown hair falling over its face and rows of sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Its narrowed eyes watch the sheep slumbering peacefully, and despite its size, its steps are remarkably light and careful as it advances on its prey. From what Levi knows about titans, this one seems more intelligent than most.

He runs, crouched down and keeping to the shadows in an effort to stay hidden for a while longer. His 3DMG is still in the shed where he’d chucked it all those years ago, untouched and the blades rusted in places. In a situation like this, it’s much better than just a rifle.

Of course it’s a fucking titan eating his sheep, because why the fuck not. Though he would sometimes like to forget, he knows how to strap into his old equipment and it takes him less than a minute to rush out again. Elsa is right at his heels, and when he commands her to stay back she only slows down a little, letting out an infernal growl as the titan turns its attention towards the two of them. 

If there’s one thing Levi’s missed from his time with the Survey Corps, it’s soaring through the air as if he’s weightless, the wind howling in his ears and the world below him merely a blur. He slices his blade across the backs of the titan’s legs in one smooth motion, circling around as it falls to its knees. Curiously enough, it doesn’t roar or scream. It whimpers, a high, pitiful noise, but the sheep scatter off in fear nonetheless. From here it’s easy for him to sink both of his blades into the titan’s neck, and though it’s a little messy, he finishes it off without a second thought. 

The damn thing collapses right on top of his newly reinforced fence, too. That’s great. At least the blood and the remains will evaporate into nothingness, but he spent a whole afternoon working on that fence. 

He lands on the titan’s back, and that’s when he sees it. At first he thinks it’s just a trick of the eye, his caffeine-fueled brain imagining things, but after the flesh near the nape of its neck melts away a bit more, it becomes unmistakeable. There is a human being inside the titan. 

Here is where he should go back to his cottage, back to his peaceful life. But he doesn’t. Instead he cuts through the bundles of tissue attaching the decaying corpse of the titan to the young man enclosed in its neck, pulling him out with shaky hands. The stranger is clad in tattered clothes, his limbs unnaturally thin and his expression somehow pained even with his eyes closed. He’s still breathing if the erratic rise and fall of his chest is anything to go by, so Levi sets him down on the grass and waits, his blade drawn and pointed at his throat.

The air is silent and heavy around them. There’s a gasp, then a shudder. The stranger’s eyes flutter open. 

“Who are you?” Levi demands.

The young man lets out a shaky exhale. “Don’t hurt me, okay?” he requests, his gaze fixed on Levi’s equipment. “Are you with the military? I’ll go with you willingly.” 

“No,” he merely says. “Who are you?”

“My name is Eren.” Hesitant green eyes flicker up to stare at him. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“You’ve been taking my sheep,” Levi points out. Though he doesn’t lower his weapon, he allows Eren to raise himself up on his elbows. “That’s not very nice.” 

Eren swallows, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’m sorry. I was just so hungry. There haven’t been that many berries or mushrooms this fall, and I’ve tried to hunt mice and birds but they’re too fast for me.” 

Levi’s done the same but with rats during his time in the underground. It wasn’t among the proudest moments in his life. Even years afterwards, he remembers the ever-persistent hunger churning in the pit of his stomach. 

“How are you able to do,” Levi gestures towards the remains of the titan, “that?” 

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” Eren assures him. “I’ve been living out here since summer but I’ll leave and go elsewhere after tonight. I don’t want any trouble.”

“No,” Levi says again. “Get up.”

He ends up having to drag Eren up since his legs can barely carry him, his strength seemingly drained from their confrontation. During their short walk to the house, Eren pleads him not to do anything to him, growing more frantic with each step. Levi’s never been good with people so at first he doesn’t respond, but when he spots tears brimming in Eren’s eyes he breathes out a long sigh.

“Calm down. I’m going to give you soup and then you’re going to take a bath,” he tells Eren as he hauls him up the front steps. Elsa is trailing somewhere behind them, growling low in her throat at the intruder until Levi motions her to cut it out. 

“What?” Eren states, baffled.

“And before any of that, you’re going to tell me exactly how and why you’re able to turn into a titan.” He pulls out a chair for his guest before going over to the stove to heat some of the leftover soup from dinner. 

“I told you, I don’t know,” Eren replies from where he’s slinked down to sit by the table. “I’ve been living beyond the walls for a couple of years now, ever since I found out I was like this. I don’t want to do anything bad to anyone.” There’s a quiet resignation in his voice, and Levi decides that the situation definitely calls for some tea as well.

“Where are you from originally?” he asks as he reaches for two slightly chipped but sturdy mugs. 

“Shiganshina. Near the south.” The words are spoken longingly, and that’s what Levi knows that Eren is definitely more human than monster. “I always dreamt of joining the military and seeing the world. Until, you know, the whole titan thing.”

“You’ve ended up pretty far from home.” After some thinking, he chooses chamomile tea to soothe and comfort, stirring in a spoonful of honey into his mug. “We’re hours away from the northern edge of Wall Maria.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs. “I wanted to get as far away as possible.” 

Levi can relate to that, though for different reasons. He sets the tea down on the table before returning to the stove, prodding at the lukewarm soup just to give himself something to do. During his life, he has made a number of stupid decisions, but somehow letting an unknown half-titan into his home doesn’t feel nearly as dangerous as it probably should. Eren is little more than skin and bones, and the way he’s hunched over his mug of tea, calloused hands desperately seeking out its warmth, somehow sparks the need to protect rather than to destroy. 

“You can’t keep stealing my sheep,” Levi tells him nonetheless. “They’re my livelihood.”

“I’m sorry,” Eren rushes in to say, his eyes wide and honest. “I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again.”

“No,” Levi interrupts him. “You’re going to drink your tea and eat your soup and take a bath. I’ll spread out a spare mattress for you on the floor.”

Eren blinks at him, flinching when the bowl of soup is placed in front of him. “What?” 

“If you really are sorry, I have a few odd jobs you could do around the farm,” Levi says, turning away when that eager stare becomes too much to handle. “And there are some wolves roaming the area, a titan guarding the sheep ought to scare them off.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, then a hoarse laugh. “Thank you. I don’t know how I could possibly repay you for your kindness.”

The ground below him trembles as the titan slumps down. Its lifeless eyes are still fixed on Eren as it draws its last breath. Through the sound of the rain and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, he hears someone call out his name. 

"Are you alright?“ He's being pulled up, then, strong arms holding on to him even when he cries out in pain after trying to stand on his own. "Can you walk?" 

“Levi?" he wheezes, peering at the familiar face in front of him. There's a bit of mud streaked over Levi's cheek and his hair is glued to his forehead by the rain, but he still somehow looks more beautiful than ever. 

"Come on, we need to get to a shelter," Levi urges him, guiding Eren to wrap an arm around his neck for support. 

They hobble off in the direction that they came from, or so Eren supposes. He can't quite tell where they are, and soon it becomes apparent that neither can Levi. All the trees and the rocks look the same with the rain beating down on them, and after a good while of tripping over the uneven terrain and trying to call out for the rest of their squad, they're forced to admit that they're lost. 

"Don't you have a compass or a map?“ Eren asks, more frustrated with the circumstances than with Levi. 

"Don't you have any common sense?" he remarks in an unimpressed tone. "Maybe next time wait up or at least say something to the rest of us before running off on your own."

He's right, and Eren kind of hates him for it, if only for a few moments. "You didn't have to go after me, that's your fault." 

"Yes, I did. You're my responsibility." Levi's voice doesn't waver in the slightest. "And since I'm the reason you're still alive, you should be thanking me." 

You're my reason for a lot of things, Eren thinks, acutely aware of all the places where their bodies are touching as he's plastered against Levi's side. 

They find the cabin purely by chance, a rickety little thing perched among the trees. Judging by the moss that's taken over the exterior, the place has been abandoned for years. There are a couple of rifle shells and what looks like a broken animal trap left scattered on the porch, perhaps left behind by whoever used to live here. 

It takes Eren a while to struggle up the steps with his injured leg, but he gets there eventually, grasping on to Levi with all the strength he can muster. He still has no idea where they are, exactly, but at least they'll have shelter from the storm for a while. There's a harsh chill in his very core that's settling in deeper with every moment spent out in the rain, and he very nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get inside. 

The cabin is sparsely decorated - a table, a couple of chairs, a bed. There's a large dresser by the back wall with its drawers pulled out and their contents thrown across the floor. It looks like the previous resident left in a hurry. 

Thankfully, there's also a hearth. Eren slumps down on a chair and watches as Levi makes quick work of building a fire, warm orange glow soon enveloping them. It's such a small thing to be happy about, but somehow watching the bright orange flames is already making him feel warmer.

"Take off your clothes," Levi tells him and proceeds to do the same. After receiving an alarmed stare, he continues, "We'll set them up to dry by the fire. Also, I need to take a look at your leg."

As if bound by an unspoken agreement, they both leave their underwear on. Levi manages to find some shirts made of coarse dark fabric for them, along with a blanket that he gladly hands over to Eren. He'll need it more, Levi insists, considering that he's injured in addition to freezing. 

Eren finds himself huddled in front of the fire with the blanket wound tightly around his shoulders, gentle warmth seeping up along his arms from where he's stretched them out towards the hearth. The sound of the rain against the roof is almost soothing now that they're inside. The wind howls aside, occasionally rattling the window panes, but the cabin is sturdy enough to withstand the storm. 

There's a moth-eaten piece of fabric laying on the floor that Levi rips up and fashions into a makeshift bandage. He wraps it around Eren's ankle with practiced hands, his touch lingering for a little longer than necessary as he checks that it's tight enough. Eren spends a while discreetly studying the concentrated furrow in his brow, and when Levi glances up, his eyes meet Eren's as if sensing his stare. 

"Doesn't seem like it's broken, probably just sprained," Levi says, his gaze sweeping around the cabin's interior. "We should rest here for a while."

"Where are we?“ he asks as he rubs his hands together in an effort to keep warm. 

"I'm not sure." There's only inches between them as Levi plops down to sit next to him. "Probably further up north from where we split up from the others."

"From where I split up," Eren corrects him with a sigh. "I shouldn't have gone off on my own. You were right."

"I often am," Levi states dryly. 

Darkness falls around them, shadows growing longer, and with fatigue tugging at his consciousness, Eren has to acknowledge the fact he's been ignoring so far. 

There is only one bed. 

It's perched there by the wall, spacious enough for one person but rather snug for two. It has a wooden frame that's seen better days, along with a slightly lumpy mattress that has a spot of mold near one of its corners. There are no pillows or a duvet, but he supposes they could scrounge up something from the remaining contents of the dresser. 

"You take the bed," Eren offers as he looks everywhere else but at Levi. "You had to practically carry me all the way."

"Don't be ridiculous," Levi scoffs from where he's adding more wood into the fire."We're both sleeping in the bed."

Even though sharing a bed with Levi is something he's thought about on many sleepless nights, the circumstances aren't exactly ideal. He limps across the room and flops down on the mattress, clumsy and hesitant. The bandage helps the pain in his ankle a little but he still has to be careful as he tries to find a position where he doesn't jostle the injury too much. Even then he tries to arrange himself on the very edge of the bed, leaving as much space as possible behind his back in an effort to make this less awkward. 

Levi seems remarkably unperturbed, piling up linens and clothing and whatever he can find on the bed to keep them warm through the night. Most of them are at least a little tattered but Eren tugs some over himself anyway. The mattress dips somewhere behind his back and he hugs his arms around himself, his eyes falling closed yet every single nerve in his body fully awake and trembling with restless energy.

He fidgets for a long while, trying to find a position where he remains an appropriate distance away from Levi.. The ache throbbing at his ankle isn’t making it any easier, either. Rolling on to his back, he holds back the sigh that threatens to escape him, acutely aware of the weight of Levi’s body on the other side of the bed, close enough that he could easily reach out and touch him.

Of course Eren doesn’t do that. Instead he lays there and stares at the ceiling for a while before flopping back on to his side and tugging the blanket tighter around himself. Maybe if he shuffles backwards just a little bit, only half an inch or so, he’ll be able to get more comfortable. 

“Stop moving around,” Levi tells him, and before Eren can react, he’s being pulled closer to the center of the bed. “You’re not gonna get any sleep like that.” 

“Oh. Well.” From where he’s laying now he can feel Levi’s exhale against his shoulder, his hand still lightly grasping on to the back of Eren’s shirt. “I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“You already have,” Levi sighs, more fond than annoyed. “Settle down and go to sleep.”

Eren really tries this time. It’s worse now, though, because Levi is right there, the solid warmth of his body tantalizingly close and almost daring Eren to reach out and wrap himself up in him. He can imagine what it would be like, nestled in the crook of Levi’s neck with those firm hands holding on to him and keeping him safe, the two of them hidden away here while the rest of the world continues to turn.

The fire in the hearth starts to dim at some point, and Eren is still awake. With the chill once again creeping in, he figures he can at least make himself useful and add in more wood. It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep, anyway.

When he tries to get up, however, there’s once again a hand grasping on to his shirt and holding him in place.

“I told you to stop moving around.” This time Levi sounds a little irritated, and, like Eren, fully awake. 

“I’m cold, I was gonna tend to the fire,” he protests.

“It won’t last through the whole night anyway. Come here.” Then, without hesitation, Levi’s pulling him against his chest, his arm leisurely draped around him.

“What are you doing?” Eren asks, his voice so high it nearly comes out as a squeak.

“Sharing body heat. It’s a legitimate survival tactic,” Levi explains, logical as always. 

Of course it is. Eren plucks idly at one of the stray threads coming loose from his blanket. They’re both silent for a while, and judging by the sound of Levi’s shallow breaths, he’s no closer to falling asleep than Eren.

When Eren speaks up again, it’s barely a whisper. “Is this gonna be awkward in the morning?”

“I guess that depends on what happens next,” Levi states, and it’s such an odd thing to say that Eren finds himself shuffling over to face him. His eyes are unreadable, studying Eren with open curiosity.

“What do you think will happen?” he asks, something bright and hopeful swelling up in his chest when he catches Levi’s gaze briefly flitting to his mouth and then back up again.

“I’m not sure.” His arm is still draped around Eren as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “That’s up to you.”

Eren’s never been more terrified in his life as he leans in to close the distance between them, pressing his lips against Levi’s in a tentative kiss. Most of his fear melts away when Levi crowds even closer to him, tilting his head to the side a little. He trails his hand upwards along Eren’s back, coming to rest in between his shoulder blades, his touch grounding and steady.

By the time Eren draws back he’s left out of breath, his heart pounding in his ears as he stares at Levi. All he gets in response is a raised brow. There’s none of the judgement or revulsion he worried he might face. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long while, now,” he admits in a hoarse voice.

Still lingering close enough that Eren feels dizzy, Levi asks, “Why did you stop, then?”

Then why is he here? Drowning his sorrows in too fine a port to be used for this pathetic endeavour? He had thought that in his thirties he wouldn't have to endure this sense of loss and heart-break he's currently feeling. Pathetic, really, losing himself for 'matters of the heart' as Petra had liked to call them years ago. Levi simply calls it pining over an eighteen year-old bird-brain who's chosen the wrong path because of some complex of grandeur.

No. No, that isn't it.

Levi would like to say that was the case but unfortunately he's come to know the brat too well to actually believe that. Not like those wipe-asses from Mitras or the Military Police.

Eren Jaeger has always been strong-willed and stubborn but his resilience comes from his unmovable moral compass and aspiration to freedom. Monster, they've called him more then once, disregarding his unwillingness to be used as a human experiment in his father's quest for freedom. Levi remembers the many midnight talks they've had in front of the fire in his office, when the brat would go on and on about a better world, a better life. If he has to be honest, the Captain has always admired the optimism the brat is capable of despite the misery, heart-break and tragedies he's had to endure in life, on top of finding out the truth about his father and how he's been used by him. In a remote part of his mind, Eren Jaeger reminds Levi of himself. Both monsters. Both strong believers of freedom and justice. The years have shown Levi a more cynical view of the world and of people but Eren seems to still have that pink-veiled naivete of childhood when it comes to ideals and utopias.

Levi knows that's why he rebelled, why he left behind everything he's ever known to keep fighting, only this time in his own terms. The only thing the raven-haired wouldn't have expected is Eren joining arms with his half-brother, especially after everything Zeke has done and deaths he's caused.

What would you say if you could see me now, Eyebrows?

The death of his old friend sits still sore in his chest and knowing that the brat – his brat – is now working with the man responsible for it almost breaks him apart. Almost. Though it feels like he's grieving the loss of Eren now on top of everyone else's, he knows the seventeen year old better than this. He knows him (for a second he wonders if that's true or he's simply trying to convince himself, creating excuses for someone he once held very dear and still might).

He's reminded of something that Kenny once said, an eternity ago, when his life teachings were beating Levi down to the ground every other day. “Life is full of choices, kid. Crossroads. And sometimes whichever path we take, whatever road we end up walking, is a life sentence. So choose well”. Probably one of the only smart, useful things Kenny has ever taught him.

Crossroads. Did Eren have to stand in front of that crossroad, doubtful of himself and who or what he was, alone? From Armin's and Mikasa's reaction they couldn't have known Eren was doubting his place in the world, in the war. Eren took the road he most thought right and walked it. He's still walking it. There's no turning back now and probably that's the road the brat will die on. A life sentence.

The scary thing is that, Levi doesn't think he might be wrong.

A choice with no regrets. Levi looks down into the deep-coloured liquid and watches hypnotized the light from the fire playing with it. He sees Isabel and Furlan. Erwin. Petra. Oluo, Eld and Gunther. And so many others. And he wonders. He doesn't want to see the brat's face in that glass of port, not tonight or ever, but he's afraid that if he doesn't make a choice now those bright eyes will hunt him for the rest of his most probably short life. He's always followed his brain and once a decision was made he's gone through with it every single time. It's not going to be different now.

A choice with no regrets.

When he gulps down the rest of the port and stands up Levi doesn't do it because of his quite concerning feelings for the brat. He doesn't do it to run away from his problems, neither to get into trouble. He does it because right now and probably until his life sentence is concluded this is the right choice to make.

With controlled gesture he places the empty glass down and picks up his civilian jacket and cloak before going for the door. He closes it without looking back. Without looking at his uniform neatly folded on the desk, the wings of freedom bright even in the darkness of the evening; without looking at the familiar neck-tie resting on top of it.

“Also mark down if you find any good chanterelle spots. Those little bastards are delicious,” Hanji says and is met with four identically oblivious stares. “Uh, you guys know what chanterelles look like, right?”

Armin nods. Mikasa fiddles with the buttons of her jacket. Levi wonders if it’s too late to go back to their cozy cottage and just have a cup of tea by the fireplace. 

“That’s a kind of liquor, isn’t it?” Eren asks with a frown.

“No, you’re thinking of chartreuse, idiot,” Jean sighs, “a chanterelle is a type of satin fabric.” 

“That would be charmeuse, actually,” Armin interjects.

Eren raises an unimpressed brow at Jean. “How do you even know anything about satin fabrics?” 

“Because I’m real smart,” he states without an ounce of hesitation. 

“Okay, just, pick any and all mushrooms you see, but don’t eat them before I’ve checked them over,” Hanji interrupts, a pained look on their face. “Armin, you go north with Jean. He’ll need all the help he can get.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jean interjects, and Hanji ignores him.

“Me and Mikasa will head west of here, you two take the eastern side.” He hands Eren a basket and a compass. “No slacking, I want to have mushroom stew for dinner today!” 

“I don’t even like mushrooms,” Eren mutters as they set out, basket clasped in one hand and the other reaching out for Levi’s as if on instinct. 

“They’re pretty good with lamb or deer,” Levi replies, his fingers easily slotting together with Eren’s. The forest floor is riddled with overgrown roots and mossy stones, so it’s best to hold on to one another for balance. 

Along with scanning the ground for anything edible, he keeps stealing glances at Eren every now and then. He’s happier these days, smiles more often, carries himself with a kind of grace so different from the bitter young man Levi had first met all those years ago. They’ve both come a long way since then, and if there’s anyone who deserves a peaceful life by the ocean it’s definitely the two of them. 

“Here,” Eren speaks up suddenly, pointing at a particular tree on their left. “Let’s head off the path here.”

“Why here?” he asks.

“Why not?” Eren replies, a grin on his face as he tugs him along, and Levi goes with him easily, as he always does. There’s a pine needle stuck to his hair that Levi’s tempted to pluck out, but then Eren ducks to avoid some branches and it’s soon joined by a little piece of moss. Much like nature, Eren is a force to be reckoned with, but also unendingly generous and kind to those he loves. 

They find a couple of batches of strange-looking mushrooms growing on a tree stump, and as per Hanji’s instructions, add them to their basket. A little further along they stumble upon a small clearing among the trees with plenty of morels, the only mushroom that Levi actually recognises. It’s the perfect spot to take a break, or at least Eren announces so.  

“Look,” he says, small red berries cradled in his hand. “I found these by that old fallen tree. Do you think they’re edible?” 

Levi picks one up and turns it around in his fingers, its surface somewhat waxy to the touch. The berry has a slightly tart smell to it when he crushes it in his palm, red juice seeping out over his skin. “They’re lingonberries.” He gives his finger a tentative lick, the familiar sour taste spreading across his tongue. “They’re edible but they’re kinda bitter on their own.” 

Since Eren is, well, Eren, he chucks the whole handful into his mouth at once, and after a moment of chewing, makes a strained face. “Wow, yeah. That sure is something.” 

He simply has to kiss Eren then, even though he tastes like lingonberries. It’s somehow sweeter off his lips, anyway. “They’re good when made into jam or pie,” he mutters against Eren’s jaw. 

“They’re a nice color, I guess,” Eren sighs, his arm coming to wrap around Levi’s shoulders. Some of that color is now smudged at the corner of his mouth, radiant red over tan skin, and though it’s a rather nice look, Levi can’t resist reaching over to wipe it off with his thumb.