The Book Store (Ereri/Riren) |COMPLETED|

Epilogue

Levi

At the time, I was convinced I absolutely needed to choose her, that if I didn't she might vanish again, that the pain her absence caused was the worst of them all. I gave up Eren to keep from feeling that again, but the pain his absence caused cut me deeper, hit me harder, was the true worst-of-them-all. Every minute of everyday was painful and agonizing, like someone was slowly pushing the point of a screwdriver into my chest, and I found myself wishing the person could get it over with and pierce my heart already. Or when you hold your hand under the tap while it gradually gets hotter, except I was unable to pull my hand away, and I wasn't able to get used to the feeling either.

Some time that evening, the day I referred to as Eren's Disappearance, Hanji came back and found me in the park, sobbing and curled into myself on the ground, unable to move because of my heavy feeling limbs. After minutes, she managed to get me to speak. I simply said his name, then Petra's name. I'm sure at the time I made sense to myself at least, but now I didn't even know what I meant. Hanji didn't know either, so she had tried calling Eren, and when she got no answer she called Petra, who followed Hanji's directions and arrived at the park. Together they managed to calm me down, and then we called Erwin and he drove us to Eren's apartment. At the time I was still wobbly, my head was still clogged and I barley knew what was happening. Eren was the only thing I could focus on. And when I tried calling him to open his door, a robotic voice had told me my number was blocked. I immediately hopped out of the car and dialled Eren's apartment number on the keypad outside several times without an answer. By then the sun was nearly set; I had spent longer than I thought at the park, crying to my selfish self.

All hope was lost when we arrived at the airport and seen that all planes to Germany had left twenty minutes before.

For the next while, I lived with Petra in my apartment. She took the spare room and did her best to keep me busy during days. But when she wasn't there to keep me occupied, I would go through Eren and I's old things, partly to remind myself of how beautiful he was and to relive our time together, and partly to torture myself. Looking at the old things only made the pain stronger, like it was laughing at me, taunting me. Yet I knew I deserved it, so I continued to do it.

I constantly wondered if he still read the book I gave him, still wore the sweater proclaiming his love–his old feelings for me, missed the way I would wake up early in the mornings to make breakfast for him, along with his favourite beverage of chocolate milk. I wondered if he missed the way I would brush my fingers along his jaw as we kissed, or the way I would run my fingers through his hair to put him to sleep. I soon decided I was the one who missed doing all of those things, while he probably moved on, maybe with another guy, one who wasn't a complete asshole. One that he deserved.

One spring morning, when I was making tea for myself in the kitchen, Petra appeared beside me. She asked me a simple question: "Will you come back to Germany with me?"

I think I dropped my tea cup when I heard it, then I demanded her to ask me again. She did so with a smile, then for the first time after my numerous questions about where she disappeared to, she told me it was Germany, for a reason she still wasn't ready to tell me. That didn't matter though. We said our goodbyes and made promises to visit, then with the help of her parents, moved our things and got a small place for ourselves. I met her parents again, who seemed shocked that neither of us were in a relationship.

The pain didn't subside just because I was living in the same country as Eren. If anything it spread and heated, engulfing my entire being just as a fire would. I would sit on the couch, staring at whatever was in front of me and focusing on breathing; it was hard when there was a constant pain lingering on your chest, like a crater opening and stretching, pain licking at the edges in an agonizing way. When Petra would offer comfort, a hug, a touch of the hand, I would decline. I didn't deserve it. I deserved to wither and cry, burn up and let the crater consume me completely.