Chapter Text
Eren’s memories are ignited by touch.
He’s five when the new neighbours move in and his parent’s invite them to dinner; the couple has a boy his age, and naturally his mom is set on them becoming friends. Eren is not shy but awfully quiet for a child, they say, while Eren himself can only think of the flashes he sometimes get when his dad puts him to bed before storytime.
The parents sit and drink happily while Eren and the new kid sit on the carpet, Eren’s toys all around them. His name is Armin and he doesn’t say anything either, but shoots glances at Eren every now and then and when Eren doesn’t stop him, starts playing with a puzzle set. Eren realizes one of the pieces is right by his left elbow and, in a gesture of good faith, hands it to Armin. Their fingers touch, and Eren pulls back with a start as he can suddenly see Armin much, much older, a real adult with haunted eyes a weird haircut. Armin reaches out and holds his hand, teary-eyed, and they still don't say anything, but just know.
Eren is eleven when he finds the stray cat he’s been seeing in posters all over his neighbourhood. The cat is nothing special, black and white and a bit on the fat side, if you ask him, but he recognizes the shiny red collar around its neck. There’s no ransom money on the posters and he almost shrugs and walks away, but he can just feel the scolding he would get from Armin, so he dutifully brings the cat home and rings the number printed in bold, black ink.
The lady that comes to pick up the cat thanks him profusely, rambling about her daughter crying every night, and that’s when he notices the little girl behind her, looking at him warily. He hands her the cat that’s still in his arms, and when their hands touch he’s glad for the girl’s reflexes, quite impressive for her age, because his head is suddenly spinning and he most definitely would have dropped the poor cat on its tiny head.
Mikasa looks much better here; having a loving family did wonders for her. She’s still on the quiet side, but her eyes have a brightness he had never known before.
Eren is fifteen when he’s told he has anger issues and sent to some kind of bullshit therapy. It makes sense to him; Mikasa is still alarmingly strong and Armin is still a genius, so of course he still would be the I-have-issues friend.
He’s arriving at football practice one day when their coach announces a new kid is joining their team, his name’s Levi, and by the way, Eren, you’re on the bench today, and Levi will be taking your place.
Later on Eren will thank the gods for his short temper and inability to follow any of the steps his therapist advised him to control his anger. Football has always been his moment of escapism, of feeling free, and there’s no way some random kid on tiny legs is going to take that from him, no matter how nice his eyes are.
He mumbles something rude as soon as the coach turns around, but Levi hears him, and soon enough they’re hurling insults at each other, Eren with his hands already in fists while Levi crosses his arms, apparently unimpressed by Eren’s coarse vocabulary. Eren tries punching the Levi but the new kid is fast; so fast he not only dodges Eren’s blow but also gives him one of his own, and Eren steps back as if he just got hit by a bullet.
He touches his cheek automatically but doesn’t really feel the pain; he’s too busy wondering how come Levi’s eyes are still the exact same shade as they were before.
With Mikasa and Armin, he recalls touching them a lot, back then, so it’s no surprise to him that they both remembered too, after the first touch. With Levi, they never got the chance.
As he starts crying now, in the middle of the stupid football field, he swears he can feel his heart bursting as Levi touches his hand to his mouth, remembers, and runs to Eren just like he wanted to, so long ago.