When Grisell pulled away, Eren couldn't help himself from asking.

"Why did you do that in front of her?"

His voice was strained, as though he had been thoroughly bothered. For a moment, he saw annoyance flash through her eyes before her mouth curved up.

"Listen," she said. "She was turning away from you, and... this is me trying to tell you that I really like you, Eren. I don't want her to get the wrong idea and be coy."

"You mean disinterested?"

"She was doing it on purpose."

On purpose?

"She wanted me gone," he scoffed.

"But there was just something about her," she said. "I could tell she liked you, but—she seems kind of self-absorbed. She never talks to the rest of us, it's weird."

"Hey—don't talk about her like that. She hasn't done anything wrong."

She threw him an annoyed look. "Why are you defending her? You don't even know her."

Eren didn't know what to say. Grisell was not even his girlfriend, just someone who sidled up to him often. He knew she liked him, it was painfully obvious after Armin pointed it out, and he supposed that he did feel some agenda to care for her as he did for everyone else, but every time she attempted to trap Eren into a confession or asking her out on a date, his head would throb.

Then, the image of a girl would come. 

A girl, standing under the stars.

Eren didn't even know who she was. Her pretty face was fogged by a distant memory, like walking through a rose garden in a dream. Every time he tried to remember her face, and her name, it only ever came up as a blank space.

On his birthday, the first to greet him would always be _____. Today, ______ should have come out with a gift and she'd sheepishly smile as he'd admonish her, telling her that she didn't have to go all out. In some memories, it was not a cake but instead, it was a new coat. A shirt that she had sown herself. 'You're always wearing the same thing,' she would say, almost complaining. 'Have a new one.'

He would have been just fine if it were only the two of them. Then she would spend the whole day with her undivided attention on him, as she always did. They always ate their meals together. They always went everywhere together. They were always together.

Why always? It felt like he had multiple versions of today. That was always a given—each day of his life, he felt like something was missing. It was that phantom girl; the faceless magnificence whom his heart secretly yearned for. He did not know who she was. And he almost felt weirded out by himself for wanting this girl when his priorities should have been centered around killing the Titans.

''Ren,' she would call him, and her voice was an ocean melody.

She was like one of the fantasies Armin showed him in that fairy tale book they so often read as children. A siren. She'd croon his name and he'd willingly walk into the ocean trenches just to catch a glimpse of her. She could drown him and eat him and he'd only be grateful that his bare flesh would feel the nip of her teeth.

"Look, I'm sorry," said Grisell, bringing him back to reality. "I guess it was a bad kiss, it was sudden."

Eren was startled by the anger and vexation in her voice. He'd disappointed her, he knew. He had spent the past few months close to her, allowing her to believe she was making his heart turn. And now she kissed him. On his birthday. That should have been special.

But the truth was, as soon as he saw your face, he forgot about her.

"Sorry," Eren said, but his voice was a hollow echo. He was not sorry at all, strangely resolved to believe that she did not even belong there.  "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"I don't understand you, Eren," Grisell said, biting her lip and glancing away. "It's like you're in love with someone, but you don't know who."

Eren thought about telling her otherwise, that no, of course, it's you! But that would be a half-lie, and besides, he didn't mind her company too much. He felt as though he was meant to love someone at that moment. But something felt frighteningly off, as if the sun rose at night and the moon ascended at day.

His head throbbed again. For some reason, the image of you burned into his mind. You had been looking away when he spoke to you, but for some reason, he was desperate to talk to you. That was why he had stayed although you wanted him gone. Eren regretted that if he had tried harder, you might like talking to him—even if you had dismissed him earlier.

Eren glanced at the laboratory door, fighting the temptation to open it. It wasn't as though he had any reason to bother you, or an excuse to enter your private space.

Who were you?

-

The only time you let Hange and Moblit call you to Eren was during a certain experiment when Squad Levi was hiding in the mountains before the coup d'état uprising organized by Erwin. You attached yourself to Moblit then, sitting quietly by the side as he collected the standard samples from Eren for analysis—a drop of blood, saliva, the usual. Hange had taken you on as an apprentice for many raw scientific exploits.

Eren couldn't stop glancing at you from his seat on the bed and you hated it.

Hange had tasked you to record his heartbeat with a stethoscope, just to make sure he was healthy after all the strenuous Titan experiments. You wanted to protest. You knew he was healthy. They could have made Eren count his pulse by himself but now you were given the order, you couldn't refuse.

You sat at his bedside, avoiding his eyes, and said, "Do you mind if I put my hands up your shirt?"

Eren, on the other hand, felt his brain stop working. "H-huh?"

You gave him a blank stare. "For the stethoscope."

"Oh," said Eren. "Oh. Yeah, that's fine."

You put the stethoscope on. It pressed into your ears painfully taut. Without looking Eren in the eye, you reached down and slid the bell under his shirt. Gooseflesh visibly scattered across his flesh as he felt your fingers lift his shirt, inviting cool air to sail across his stomach. Or maybe it wasn't the air that was causing his stomach to lurch. Your palm carefully snaked across his front, only lightly brushing against the hard muscles of his abdomen.

The cold bell pressed against his heart, inviting the song of his blood in your eardrums. A familiar melody, like water running on the river back in Shiganshina. His heartbeat was as steady as a steel gong, loud and firm.

Eren observed you, blinking languidly. The scrunch of your brows drew familiar lines. The way your hair looked in the sunlight complimented you well. Even the sound of your soft breathing felt like something he was acquainted with every day.

He shifted in discomfort.

"Don't move," you said rigidly.

"Sorry," he replied. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, as though he was about to combust. You realized that he was getting flustered. Even without ever knowing or touching you, he was still reduced to a puddle whenever you were intimately close—even if it was just for medical purposes.

His heartbeat was accelerating, running wild. It intimidated you to have your hands press down on such a vulnerable spot on his body. You wanted it protected at all times.

Eren stared at you, his mouth dry. He had no idea why, but he was embarrassed that you had to see him like this.

You dared not to meet his pupils. His breath, slow and ragged exhales, hit your cheek as he gazed at you with half-lidded wanting. You slid your middle finger underneath the hem of his shirt to hold it up. Your hand was now so near to touching him that he couldn't see your face without craning his neck down—but he could feel the pressure, feather-light, as your flesh met his. Eren inhaled, and your eyes flickered up to him.

At that moment, Eren saw many things in your despaired eyes. A thousand moments, converging into one look.

"[Name]," Hange said. "You're supposed to do it from the back."

"What?" you and Eren asked in unison.

"The back," Moblit repeated for them. "You're supposed to press the stethoscope on his back, not his front."

"Right," you said, your face burning. You couldn't look at him.

"But the front works too," said Moblit. "It's alright. As long as the BPM data is accurate."

You tore your hands away and removed the stethoscope. The bell fell into Eren's lap, and you yanked it away before stuffing it into your bag. Your face was a straight line, not caring, not willing to reveal anything.

"111 beats per minute," you said stiffly.

"That's an above-average heart rate, Eren," said Hange, concerned. They turned to him. "Are you sure you're alright? Your heart is suddenly beating really fast."

"M'fine," he mumbled.

God, he was such an idiot! You were going to think he was a weirdo for this, for sure. He could see it in your eyes: that you knew why his heart was racing upon your proximity, and you were uncomfortable with it. You were just a random Scout he barely knew, why was he getting worked up over you at all!?

You were only ever Moblit's assistant, charged to conduct science experiments. Like Eren was an irrelevant specimen; a reminder that you saw him as nothing more than a creature to be observed. He involuntarily hunched when he thought about it like it was a weight.

Hange approached him with a medicine cup in their hands. "Take this sleep syrup, Eren. It'll help you with your anxiety."

Eren nodded and looked away, his humiliation deepening. He was regretful that you had to hear that, as though he was a child who was constantly seized by night terrors.

"We need to record some of your nightmares, too," said Moblit. He gestured to you. "My assistant is a very brilliant scientist, and she believes that doing so will allow her to draw sleep waves from your brain."

That was a lie. You had only said that because you wanted to know if your plan was working, and if anything had changed in Eren's head.

"Um... alright," said Eren. "I often dream about my memories, but that's about it."

"Good memories?" Hange pressed. "Bad memories?"

"Uh... I don't even know if they're real, but they're good, I guess. Happy memories."

"Of what?"

A scenario abruptly flashed through Eren's mind like someone had flicked a resplendent light into his retinas. In the scenario, he was with you. He made the connection: you looked just like the girl he dreamed about.

His cheeks turned crimson. "The usual."

"That doesn't sound bad," said Moblit, not wanting to press on.

However, Hange was not as formal. They grinned at Eren. "A girl?"

Eren flinched. You heard him say under his breath, "I've got a girl."

It stung, but you pretended that it didn't. You quietly packed your things, zipping the bag with all your materials.

"Grisell, I presume," said Hange. "You're her 'Ren."

It was weird. Eren got the feeling that Hange had said those exact words before, but not about Grisell. They had been teasing him about a different girl, who also happened to call him by the same name. And in her mouth, it sounded right.

Eren's mouth moved faster than his brain.

"No—that's not true," he said. "She doesn't get to call me that. Only my girl does that."

For a heart-dropping moment, you wondered if Eren had met some other girl. Maybe it was Mikasa or Historia.

Hange raised their eyebrows, startled by his boldness. "Who?"

"I just—I don't know who she is. She's—a distant memory."

"It's the aftereffect of Titan shifting," they guessed. "It's making you incoherent and causes your mind to come up with your ideal partner. Maybe your Titan wants to mate or something?"

"No, it's—" he trailed off, gaze landing on you as you looked away. He didn't want you to think there was something abnormal about him. "Look, it's not a weird Titan mating thing!"

"Right," Hange said, unconvinced. "Assistant, what do you think?"

"It's definitely a Titan mating instinct," you answered.

It was a half-lie. Being a Titan and unconsciously connecting himself to the Paths made Eren's mind transcend onto some new plane of reality. A reality where you existed in his life. Of course, while he saw it in his head, he wasn't aware of its existence.

"S-sorry," Eren stammered, truly embarrassed now. "I don't know why—I don't even know what's happening."

You watched his eyes slowly wash over with the sleep syrup. Oddly, when he finally looked at you properly, his pupils seemed to have become bigger, like shiny green pennies.

You couldn't stand it. He had to be acquitted to slumber before he connected the dots in his head. But the more he became self-aware, the harder it was for you to pretend otherwise, like the two of you were directly proportional in the formula that was your lives. You were intertwined, whether you liked it or not. The more Eren knew of you, the more you responded against your own will.

"Sleep, 'Ren," you said, and he began to blink rapidly upon hearing your nickname for him leave your lips. His chest lifted, his stomach turned with a million butterflies, his heart skipped a beat and just about killed him.

"Wait—!"

"Save your strength for Shiganshina," you said firmly. "You need it when you take on the Armored Titan and the Colossal Titan."

The sleep syrup finally tipped his consciousness. You gently placed your fingers over his eyelids, and closed them, sentencing him to dream of a lovely girl he never knew in this universe—the one who was in front of him.

-

Moblit was dead.

Kind Moblit, who always checked up on you and made sure you were eating right, was killed in an explosion in Shiganshina. You never saved him. You could have, somehow. It had been twelve lives, and only now did you even ever think about him and all the good ways he impacted the Survey Corps.

It had been months since he died, with Eren's hair long enough to reach his jaw now as a testament to the passing of time, and you still couldn't get over it—the loss of the only friend you had. You couldn't save him, just as you knew you wouldn't save Hange in a few years. He had died to save Hange, yet Hange was going to die anyway. By then, you'd be alone.

The Survey Corps only had a few members left after the Battle of Shiganshina. You'd watched them all die. You spent the past few months interacting with them knowing that they would eventually be rotting unburied corpses.

And you had to carry all that grief and guilt alone. No one was there to comfort you. No one except the bottle of rum you were downing in Trost District's local pub. The bartender readily prepared all kinds of fiery shots for you. It was not the first time a member of the Survey Corps came to get drunk after another deadly expedition, and the return to Shiganshina had been the deadliest one yet.

You shouldn't have been alive, but you were. You had to stay alive to keep the universe intact.

The Colossal Titan's transformation had exploded, and Moblit pushed you into Hange, so both of you fell into a deep well. You had a temporary sprain in your foot to prove it. Right before your very eyes, you watched Moblit get torn apart by debris. His blood splattered on your face, his body parts and raw flesh scattering all over the burning district above. Your home.

You had no idea that this was how he died in previous lives. Hange never liked to talk about it, and now, you understood why. He had been such a kind soul, and he met a horrible end. You could have saved him, but you did not. He was meant to die, as Marco was meant to die, as Erwin was meant to die, as Hange is meant to die.

How Eren was meant to die.

No! You couldn't think about that. You were changing only Eren's fate. He was the only one from the original timeline who had died but would live this time. In the past eleven loops, many others that should have been sacrificed had lived, and you had been killed in their stead.

It was the law of equivalent exchange. Every action had an equal and opposite reaction. In chemical equations, every particle follows a law of conservation of mass. Just as the body naturally leaned toward homeostasis. Natural selection, even.

Now, you had completely removed yourself from the equation, and so far, everything seemed to be following every proper formula. Eren seemed less of a fighter now that you were gone. He was more distracted and muted, especially when he was with Grisell.

It hurt, knowing you did not belong.

It hurt, knowing that the only friend you had, Moblit, was dead after you had twelve chances to save him.

What hurt the most was seeing Eren with her. She played with his hair, hugged him when she sensed he was sad, and laughed with him as they joked about whatever it was they did. And if you were looking, she would sneak him a kiss on the lips.

Eren seemed more comfortable with life now that someone was loving him, and that someone was not you. It made you wonder if he was going to stop the Rumbling for her sake, and maybe they would be content to live their lives together.

It felt as though someone had pushed a knife into your heart, twisting it until you were reduced to painful tears. If Eren loved you, he would kill everything. If Eren loved her, he was more at peace. You didn't belong. You were a liability to Eren.

Maybe all this time, you were just a distraction to him.

Why not you? You wondered. Why were you not the solution to saving Eren? Fate and logic were cruel, and you were tired of trying to make sense of them.

Thus, you drank, hiccuping and crying at the bar alone. No one came near you. You were so obviously sick with traumatic stress and unspeakable horrors, that people were afraid to come near lest you slice their napes with a knife out of pure paranoia. It was morbidly hilarious. You laughed like a maniac into your drink just thinking about it. Like you would ever slice someone's neck after knowing what will or might happen to Eren.

Your head lulled. You were supposed to be the smart one. The world swam around you in shades of dim candlelight and earthy tones of muck. You could hear a waitress flirting with the old man on the other end, a bottle smashing as another man stumbled his way out. You wanted to vomit, but you didn't want to be a burden on the bartender, so you held it in, just as you held every other sickening thing in to accommodate everybody else even if you wanted to spill your guts.

You heard the doors to the saloon swing open. The talking quieted just a little, as if a prominent but unfamiliar customer entered, but you didn't care enough to look as you took another swig. It filled your mouth with bitterness.

Someone tapped your shoulder. You swatted it off without looking, assuming that it was some middle-aged creep who wanted to flirt. You rolled your arms and drank again, finally finishing the bottle as its contents were emptied to mere drops on your abused tongue.

"Woah," the person behind you said. "Might wanna slow down on the alcohol, no?"

You weren't listening. You couldn't tell if his voice was real, or if it was just a memory fooling you through the Paths. You filled the shot glass and threw your head back as you downed it, the acrid, sizzling warm liquid burning down your throat.

Your head was buzzing like your skin was on fire.

Someone confiscated the drink from your hands.

"Eren, stop," you groaned. "I need to drink."

He sounded amused. "So you do know my name."

He lifted your arm around his neck. He smelled just as you remembered, and felt just as you remembered.

"Why the hell are you talking to me?" you demanded. "I don't know you."

"You fought in the Battle of Shiganshina with me, and you still think we're not comrades?" he asked, shaking his head. "Listen, Hange said someone had to collect you. Especially since Moblit is..."

You didn't answer. He didn't come because he cared. He came to help you because someone had ordered him to. Hange had sent him as Moblit's flimsy replacement. Without Moblit to keep you in check, you spiraled. Of course, it was Eren who volunteered to help. Only Eren could ever set you straight after horrors, only he could make you feel a semblance of peace after reliving that nightmare on earth for the nth time.

Despite yourself, you let him put your weight on his body as you leaned to the side, tipsy. Eren waved the bartender away, telling him that he would pay your tab. The dark pub was spinning in circles, as irrational as your mind. You could hear some men laughing in a booth nearby, the scent of apple beer permeating the warm air.

When you looked at Eren, you were seeing two, three, four of him as a testament to how drunk you were. Just like how you've seen more than one of him throughout your time alive. You giggled, amused. Twelve Erens, how silly to even think of it.

"What's so funny?" he asked as he helped you off the tall stool. You stumbled, your shoes getting stuck on the footrest, and he had to help you angle it out until you were slumping against him.

You exited the pub, greeting the chilly night air of Trost as you trudged back to the Survey Corps headquarters. Eren walked slowly, and held your arm to accommodate your drunken speed. Only then did you answer his question.

"'Cause you can't stay away from me," you said. "It's psychopathic, this joke you keep playing on me."

"What joke?" he asked. "It's not like I'll kill you."

"No," you slurred. "Because if we become acquainted, I'll kill you."

"Huh? I don't think you're the one killing me."

"I ordered it before," you hiccuped. "I asked Mikasa to do it and she did it. I hate myself for it. I've successfully killed you many times."

"Well," said Eren. "Poor attempts, I guess, because I'm breathing in your face right now."

You scoffed. "That's because you died. You're dead and I'm dead and we live again because I'm so fucking useless. I can't do a single good thing in my lives—I'm so worthless, I hate myself!"

"I don't hate you," Eren said kindly. "I don't think you're worthless. If I did, I wouldn't be helping you right now, would I?"

Tears sprang in your eyes.

"Why do you do this to me, Eren?" you wept. "Why can't you just—just stay alive and be happy that way? Doesn't she make you happy?"

"Who?"

"Genevieve," you said. "You must love her a lot."

"Who's Gene... oh, you mean Grisell," he said. He scratched the back of his neck. "Love is a strong word to call it."

"You can handle it."

"Can you?"

Such a stupidly simple question, yet you felt as though you'd gotten slapped across the face. Can you handle the word 'love'? Why not just tell him straight out that you loved him? You felt like you were ready to, now. But he was with someone else, and your frustration only increased.

"That doesn't matter," you said. "I asked you."

"I... guess?" Eren said it questioningly, like he wasn't sure himself. "I mean... I guess she and I are on the way there. She wants me to be her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend," you repeated, slurring your scoff. A childish word. Those two syllables would never capture the amount of love you and Eren had shared. A word you would never get to call him, and it poisoned your heart. "She's been sucking your face off like a leech, and you aren't even her boyfriend?"

"No," said Eren. "I'm not."

"Wow," you said. You felt sorry for her because in previous loops, he had been practically begging for you. "You're a real asshole without me."

You hated her, hated Eren for slowly giving in to her, but most of all hated yourself for not letting him fall in love with you and being unable to speak. It was your fault, and somehow this was your hardest sin to bear.

You couldn't get rid of the way you felt. If it was something that could fade without reciprocation, it would have dissolved decades ago. You've tried time, you've kind of tried distance. You tried in the previous loops, when you had spent time apart. Though that wasn't distance. You knew him in every life. And it hurt, in every life. You circled each other like celestial beings, stars bound by gravitational pull.

Eren, Eren, Eren—his name rewinded, repeated in your head constantly. You were cruel to yourself most of the time: you allowed yourself to feel something, and it broke your heart over and over again, like it was part of the loops. Interacting with him rang the warning bells in your head, screaming to run, hurdling terrifying words such as danger, death, and heartbreak.

But I love him, you whispered back. I love him, I love him, I want him to love me too.

"Hey!" he said. "I try to help and the first thing you do is threaten me and call me an asshole?"

He had almost shouted it, because Eren was always louder than most people liked, and his voice echoed throughout the cold and empty streets of Trost District, like he was yelling at the moon. Your chest bubbled with laughter, not caring about the passersby veering out of your way and glaring at you, the young couple who reeked of a bar.

You didn't even know each other, yet you were falling in love with him again and laughing at his shitty jokes. Eren was such a pretty boy with his growing hair; it was outrageous to think you could look at him and want to tear your gaze away.

"Are you sure we've never met before?" he asked. "I think I knew you when I was little or something."

You shook your head. You had sobered up a bit, you remembered that you weren't supposed to interact. You had tried this in previous loops and now you knew it was futile. You and Eren were like magnets: always attracted to each other, always meant to interact, unable to pull away.

You thought this over as you walked with him. By the gods, it was so familiar. You had spent years being alone and even then doing this thing — just walking by his side — for the first time felt as natural as breathing. In Eren's view, everything else had felt artificial and incomplete—and now, with you, he felt as though he had found something.

Even without knowing you, he was attracted to you.

The streets were barren and the barracks felt warm as soon as you entered. You had your own room now because there were so few Scouts — when you flopped onto your bed, the springs creaked.

"Good night," Eren told you as he backed away.

You did not say anything back. You were already slowly drifting out, but you could make his silhouette in the dark room. His irises swept over your form, and his brows knitted. He swore he had seen you sleeping before, but it was odd, because he had never really spoken to you until tonight, and even then, you were drunk.

As you fell asleep, you heard the door open and then shut.

You heard Grisell on the other side, sounding thunderous, and you were painfully reminded that his heart wasn't yours in this universe. She took his hand before the door shut, and you took a pillow and faced the other way as you put it over your ear, not wanting to listen.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going out? What were you doing in her room at this hour?"

On the other side, Eren sulked. She was so controlling and easily jealous, that it drove him insane. It wasn't fair to him. He was not at all serious about her, and maybe you were right—he was an asshole for dangling her like a tin can tied to a string, but really, he never said anything that should have made her like him. Grisell technically wasn't his girlfriend, there was nothing that made him owe her anything, but she thought otherwise.

And for some reason, he imagined telling you that you were just as bad as him because you had once dated other people while he watched and seethed and threw tantrums out of jealousy and you didn't seem to care.

He hated it. For some reason, he found himself wanting you to care.

God, maybe he really was an asshole. His almost-girlfriend was in tears in front of him, and all he could think about was how pretty your eyes were when you looked at him.

If it had been you kissing him, it would have been different. He would have jumped at the chance to be in a relationship with you. If it had been you crying in front of him, then he would have been begging on his knees for forgiveness. He was just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

"Listen, I'm really tired," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Can you ask me again in the morning?"

Without waiting for her to reply, he side-stepped her and briskly walked away, wiping his hand on his sleeve.

-

The next morning, you replayed the memories of last night as you hunched over the toilet. The memory ended with you seeing her take his hand, and you felt sick to your stomach before hurling last night's contents out.

Hange, if anything, was relieved. So you were normal, so you could get drunk, so you were not just some creepy kid who conveniently knew the answers to everything. They told the other Survey Corps to let you rest, and they willingly left you alone. After all, your friends were not friends with you.

At breakfast, you trudged with a mope. Your hair was messy, your eyes had dark circles underneath, and you sat alone.

That was, until you made eye contact with Eren. Grisell was beside him, talking to him animatedly, but he was preoccupied with staring at you. She started laughing, leaning in to say something in his ear, but he turned his face away slightly and didn't laugh along.

Fuck! He had a girl on his arm, and he still couldn't leave you alone? Just what kind of sick fuck was Eren when it came to you? What if he got himself killed again? You felt a terrible pressure in your head that you wanted to relieve by either crying or screaming.

Eren didn't care his friends were wondering why he was looking at you. They had often spoken about you behind their backs saying things like "Isn't she familiar?" or "Was she in the 104th?" but forgot about it. He did not.

You were clearly sad. Like true twin flames, he knew exactly how you were feeling. He felt sad for you that he had turned away, that you were always alone, that nothing in life seemed to go your way. In a way he was also sad for himself, as if he had lost something that could have been exquisite.

He pictured you when he first saw you properly, and what an intristic person you were, and the subtle expression that came over you when you looked at him. But you never let him in, that was the problem. You seemed adamant on shutting everyone else out. It was as though you believed everything was your fault, and you didn't deserve to be loved.

For a moment he wondered if you had been in love with Moblit, but that seemed wrong. Everything was wrong — your being with him, his being with her. He wanted to say something to you, he wanted you to just look at him, but the exact moment you made eye contact, Grisell chose that moment to rest her head on his shoulder and call him Ren.

Eren was revolted, and had the urge to push her away as Jean heckled at them. You got up, ignored Hange as they asked you if you were alright, and left before he could even try.