Notes:

This is the first chapter of what I intend to be a longer story. I just wanted to say that a lot of the side characters included (Erwin, Hange, etc) may be described in a somewhat bitchy way, but this is only because they are being viewed from Levi's bitchy perspective. I love those characters and hope to see them become more complex in later chapters.

Hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment! I'll respond to everything.

Levi knelt in the grass, the sodden ground quickly soaking through his tight black pants. The sky hung overhead like gauze, too heavy for even thunder. Dense, misty rain fell all around him, enveloped him, swallowed him—almost obscured the bitter tears that ran down from the corners of his eyes and off the tip of his perfect nose. What the fuck was this?

What the hell had happened to him?

More like...

What the hell had he done to him?

Stoic, but not quite comfortable; cockiness refined almost to the point of self-confidence, but still cut with too much defensiveness to truly come off that way. This was the way Levi held himself as he waited for the train, clutching his leather jacket to his chest. He cursed himself for having decided to wear it. He'd already sweated into the armpits and would need to have it dry-cleaned.

What, was he supposed to be some bloody prophet? The past week had been nothing but rain; endless, moody, gelid rain, that coated the soles of his boots with mud. Now he could hardly breathe it was so hot out. The air hung heavy like in a tropical greenhouse, but instead of the fragrance of exotic flowers, it was ripe with the fug of the city. A bus moaned as it chugged past the station, leaving a thick trail of exhaust in its wake.

Levi shifted his weight, adjusting the plastic bag that had begun to dig into his forearm with its handles. It was heavy with various sorts of liquor. Apart from his leather jacket, it was probably the most valuable thing on him. He couldn't have cared less about how much cash he'd spent on it. No, the value in the thing was its ability to transport him to other places. Levi already knew he was going to get hammered tonight.

It was just that kind of week. Life as a broke artist wasn't always as easy as it seemed.

Eventually the train arrived and Levi sidled on, doing his best to avoid bumping arms with the other passengers. The windows were open and it still felt like he'd stepped into a sauna—a rank one at that. Didn't the city have the money to air condition these things? What the hell else were they doing with all the money they'd pulled from the arts this year? Levi almost cracked open his gin right then and there. He and his escapism and an ongoing relationship in these sorts of situations.

Somehow he resisted and at last they pulled up to the station where his date was supposed to be waiting. Irritating as it was, he had consented to hitting up a party with her last week. He'd been jaded about relationships for what felt like forever, but hell, she was just quirky enough to warrant a second try. She was some kind of self-taught intellectual who made an actual point of boycotting university; a social libertarian, as it was. They'd already had a couple arguments about it, which was at least better than awkward silences. Meeting her was better than drinking alone. Going to a party was better than heading home and staring at his heap of blank canvases in the dark.

But nobody had to know about that.

He saw her waiting near a line of buses. Levi remarked that she hadn't come on her own. Her brown ponytail swung from side-to-side as she lectured some guy wearing a ball-cap about god-knows-what stance she was currently taking on god-knows-what esoteric theory her favourite video blogger had just released a new rant concerning. Levi swung his leather jacket over his shoulder and did his best to saunter carelessly towards the two of them, wincing at the dampness under his arms. No doubt about it; tomorrow was going to be a cleaning day.

"There you are!" Hange remarked, nodding at Levi with a hyper smile. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought Jean along to keep me company on the way here. Oh. And we also started drinking already. Sorry!"

"It's not a problem," Levi said as nonchalantly as he could, given how irritated he had begun to feel. "Lead the way."

Hange whirled around and took up her conversation with this Jean guy immediately. Levi walked behind the two of them, doing his best to subtly peel the plastic off the top of a two-six of vodka through the bag. It had come with a pair of brand-stamped kitchen tongs—some kind of annoying promotion—and as a result, half of it was encased in stiff plastic wrap. It took him nearly two blocks before the cap was unscrewed, the bottle stealthily raised to his lips, and the fiery liquid doused down his thirsty throat. He closed his eyes and smiled, for real this time.

See, it didn't really bother him that his date had shown up with another guy. When he really thought about it, his level of investment in the situation was extremely low. When he really really thought about it, he was actually relieved to be able to drink in silence, droning out the sound of their voices with the taste of distilled rye. When he really really really thought about it, all he really cared about was that stack of blank canvases waiting for him back at his apartment alongside the unopened paints and the jar of brushes that hadn't been touched in a month. Hange was more of a distraction. A cute distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

To Levi's, and perhaps Jean's relief, they reached the house party five minutes later. The moment they stepped over the threshold it was as if Hange noticed Levi—like, really noticed him—for the first time since his arrival. She tossed off her shoes and seized his arm, almost dragging him straight into a pillar.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," she giggled, patting him conciliatorily. "Let me give you a tour."

"Is this even your house?"

"No! I've never been here before!" she cried, grinning at him maniacally. "But there are so many people I want you to meet. People who I think will adore you."

Levi grinned back, with equal if not greater mania. "Nobody is showing me anything until I get a proper cup to drink out of."

"Eeeerrwinnnnnnnnnn!" Hange hollered, waving madly to a blond man playing guitar in the other room. "Get Levi a cup, will you?"

Erwin, if Levi had heard right, put his guitar down with a good-natured sigh and rose to his feet. Levi was appalled to find that Erwin was almost three heads taller than himself. Half the room craned their necks to inspect the source of the kafuffle and Levi relinquished any hope that remained of presenting himself to these people with dignity.

"Just this way," Erwin said lightly. Levi didn't like his tone. It was neither familiar or rude. It was the kind of lukewarm friendliness that always put Levi on edge. It made him self-conscious of his rougher roots. It made him feel like he didn't know what to say.

Thankfully, it didn't seem like Erwin expected a response. He strode into the kitchen and in a business-like manner proceeded to explain to Levi not only where the cups were, but also where the mixes were, the sliced lemons, the frozen sliced lemons, and the cappuccino machine.

"Thanks," Levi grunted, snatching a red solo cup and filling it halfway with vodka.

"You're sure you don't want something a little more..." Erwin raised a bushy eyebrow, "homey?" He motioned to the cupboard full of glasses.

"Oh, I didn't see those," Levi lied, topping his drink up with water. "Too late now."

Truth was, Levi didn't trust glassware from other people's households. It was impossible to tell how well they washed their dishes. It appeared like these folks had dishwasher, but by the looks of it, it hadn't been serviced in a while. The dish rack next to the sink was crammed with plates and Levi thought he spotted a speck of tomato sauce on the side of one of them. It made him shudder.

Erwin led him back into the front room. It was early but the house was already packed. It was interesting to remark that most of the guests sported a similarly intellectual vibe as Hange. Denim was outmatched by various corduroys and felts, and in spite of the heat, everybody seemed to be wearing some kind of jacket or vest. Even though the owners of the house possessed more short glasses than Levi had ever seen outside a bar, everyone seemed to be drinking wine. Avant-garde jazz droned from somewhere upstairs, mingling strangely with Erwin's guitar playing.

Even Hange seemed somewhat of an outcast in this scene. It wasn't that she wasn't smart enough to match the highfalutin conversation—it was more that she was too intelligent to hide hear zeal the same way they did. Her wild gesticulating was nearly clownish against their eloquent poise. Levi felt himself warming up to her slightly.

He downed the rest of his glass and retreated to the kitchen for a refill. Maybe if he got drunk enough, he'd even start to think she was sexy. Lying in a field last week, they'd made out a bit, and as lonely and bitter as he was, he just hadn't had the spirit to take it much farther. He couldn't quite tell what it was. Maybe she was just too goofy for him. Or maybe he was just too jaded to feel anything anymore. He hadn't even been jerking off much those days. When his inspiration faded, it faded in all areas. What did the psychologists call it... inability to feel pleasure?

He might not have been able to experience pleasure, but he could sure experience pain. He took two shots on the spot and wove his way down a hallway to escape Erwin's atonal serenading. Levi knew he should probably locate Hange. He was her plus-one, and they were sort of dating, so he didn't want to be a complete dick and ditch her. It's just, the house was so packed with people it was hard to see where she had gone.

He wandered down a set of stairs into the basement where a new sort of music greeted his ears. It still wasn't the driving rock he preferred, but it carried more of a tune than what he'd heard so far. Somebody was singing and, unlike Erwin's, their voice had a kick to it. It was rough and expressive. As hard as it is to describe sounds, it sort of reminded Levi of coarse sand. He reached the base of the stairs and immediately froze.

A skinny boy was sitting on a stool, drooped over the microphone he held sloppily in his left hand. A full head of chunky brown hair obscured his face, but Levi could make out the shape of his mouth as it formed the lyrics to the song. Resting the boy's lips looked incredibly soft, it was unbelievable the contours they were capable of twisting into in order to convey the emotions in whatever he was singing. Whenever he rose above a certain pitch, their corners dipped downwards into an ecstatic grimace. Not once did he look up.

Levi thought he had accidentally stumbled into a grunge bar from the nineties. Glancing around, he was astonished to find that he was in fact still in Erwin's basement. The relics of an old coffee table sat off to the side, mostly obscured by a messy stack of DVDs, and a brocade sofa housed a couple who were smoking a joint. Whoever had set up the sound system had arranged the speakers around a tower of enormous bins that looked like they could have been stuffed with soccer gear or puzzles. Even the guitarist and the drummer seemed to blend into all of this, what with their sweatpants, their beer guts, and their unfinished energy drinks. No, the power of the illusion stemmed entirely from the boy who had, at least in Levi's mind, taken centre stage.

Levi was so enraptured he hardly noticed that Hange was standing next to him. The song seemed to intensify and the room slowly filled with more people. The boy bent over, clutching the microphone like a dying paramour, and screamed a final note that almost stopped Levi's breathing.

Levi was so sure that the boy was going to do something consistent with his stage presence, like hurling the mic across the room, or shuffling off to resume whichever drug habit he practised whenever he wasn't writing dark, mastermind lyrics, so when instead the boy tossed back his head of hair and heartily laughed, Levi almost dropped his drink. It was so unexpected.

"I'm really sorry about that," the drummer snorted. "You can all leave now."

"Shut up, dumbass!" the boy shouted, tossing an empty beer can at the drummer's head. "You guys are supposed to have my back!"

"Get off the stage," one of the stoners heckled from the couch. "It's Mikasa's turn."

"Fine." The boy threw his hands up into the air. "That's the last time I'm singing for any of you losers."

Nobody acknowledged the jib. Most of the room had turned their attention to a bewitching girl with a jet black guitar, almost as jet black as her hair, who was plugging in. Levi couldn't understand what was wrong with them.

"This is Mikasa," Hange explained. "She frequents Erwin's jams. Just wait until you hear what she can do with a fretboard."

As Hange chattered on about the manifold cultures originating out of Erwin's basement, Levi leaned against the wall and surveyed the boy through narrowed eyes. Levi was lucky he was always so dour, otherwise she might have surmised something was wrong. His emotions constantly swam beneath a mask of bored indifference, but right now, they were thrashing like sharks. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. His body hadn't felt this way in a long time. He was fucking terrified.

"You know what I mean?" Hange asked brightly, staring into Levi's face.

"Um," Levi muttered, nervously licking his lips. "Excuse me?"

The boy had finished helping his bassist pack up and the two of them were making their way towards the stairs. If Levi didn't move, the boy would pass right by him.

"I was just asking you about—" Hange paused. "What are you looking at?"

"Hey," Levi suddenly grunted, reaching out and grabbing the boy's arm. The boy turned towards him distractedly and his emerald-green eyes were caught in the glow of one of the potlights. Levi was immediately impaled with regret. The boy was clearly on his way somewhere and wanted anything but to be waylaid at the base of the stairs by some old, short creep.

"That was good," Levi managed to murmur, turning away as if to resume his conversation with Hange—but Hange had disappeared. God damn her!

It took Levi a moment to realize that the boy had not moved. Levi glanced back and looked into two green orbs the size of saucers.

"What?"

"You really think so?"

"Fuck," Levi muttered, taking a sip of his drink. His hands were shaking. Wasn't alcohol supposed to numb you? So why did it feel like every inch of his skin might detonate at any moment?

"What was that?" the boy asked loudly. It seemed he had completely forgotten his bassist, who was waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"I said it was good," Levi snapped, turning to meet the boy's look head-on. "What, are you deaf?"

Levi was astonished to see a grin beginning to stretch itself across the boy's face.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

"I'm Eren," the boy said, sticking out his hand like a cheesy showman. "Pleased to meet you."

Levi rolled his eyes. When it became clear that Eren wasn't going to back down, Levi rolled his eyes again before shifting his drink to his left hand and reaching out to meet Eren's joust. The moment their palms touched Levi felt his breath catch in his throat.

"L-levi."

At that second Mikasa's drummer ripped an ear-shattering fill and the band dropped into a groove. Eren's bassist was shouting at him from the top of the stairs but clearly the boy couldn't hear. People were hurrying down to catch Mikasa's performance and Levi caught sight of the bassist throwing up his hands in defeat before Eren leaned over, obscuring Levi's view with his head of shaggy hair.

"What?" he shouted in Levi's ear. "I didn't catch that."

"Levi."

"Whaaaaaat?"

"MY NAME IS LEVI!" Levi bellowed, feeling his body contort with frustration. Just then a troop of girls rocketed down the stairs and crashed straight into Eren's behind.

The boy was driven flush against Levi. Their chests, their abdomens and their hips pressed together into a wonderfully attuned contour. In this fleeting instance, Levi realized not only how slender Eren looked, but how slender he felt. It was so crowded that nobody but Levi would have noticed the way Eren lingered there just a little longer than was necessary. Truly, to anybody else, it would have appeared like nothing more than an unfortunate blunder on the girls' parts. But for Levi, it was suddenly as if he had been given superpowers. The way Eren leaned inwards, his soft lips catching strands of Levi's hair; his fingers tracing Levi's waist as he asked if Levi was okay, his sandy voice suddenly awkward and heavy—Levi perceived it all in vivid detail.

It was the more social aspects of the contretemps that went over Levi's head. Instead of numbing his body, the vodka seemed to have numbed his mind. It suddenly seemed entirely natural for the two of them to be laughing together guiltily—guilty for what, he did not know—despite the fact that they were two men who had only just met one minute ago, and Levi never laughed.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm nineteen," Eren shouted over the music.

Okay, so at least he was over eighteen. But still.

"That's pretty damn young."

"What?" Eren yelled.

Levi was tired of shouting. He fixed Eren with a look instead. There were entire stories inside his eyes.

"Come on." Eren grabbed Levi's wrist. Without one more word, the two of them fought their way back up the crowded set of stairs, down the hallway and out onto the porch. As they passed the kitchen, Levi snatched his gin from the countertop.

They burst outside like restless finches. The air was ripe with the smell of crab apple blossoms. Levi wove his way to the banister and assumed a lopsided lean.

"Why don't you sit down?" Eren asked, patting the bench.

"It's all covered in leaves and bird shit."

"What? No." Eren gave the bench a brush. "It's fine."

Levi inhaled slowly. It was true that the bench looked mostly alright, but there were other reasons for avoiding sitting down beside this nineteen-year-old boy. Whichever damns had been built around Levi's sexuality for the past year were being cloven open. He feared that if he caught a hint of Eren's scent one more time, or stared into his big green eyes too long, he would be incapable of driving off the urges he had to do things to him. To taste him. But just what would such an outgoing, friendly nineteen-year old think if another man—a man considerably older than himself—leaned over and kissed him? Levi had already forgotten what had happened at the base of the stairs. He was too drunk to remember. Fuck, he was too drunk to question what any of this meant at all.

"Where did you come from?"

Levi looked over and found that Eren was gazing at him with a completely novel expression. Who was this kid? He was so unpredictable.

"Get that look off your face."

"Why?" Eren questioned, somewhat stubbornly.

"You're in a rock band," Levi protested. "You aren't supposed to look like a lost puppy dog."

"You are such a hard ass." Eren sighed dramatically and got up, joining Levi by the railing. "Whatcha drinking?"

"Gin."

"What kind of gin?"

"Hendrix gin."

"What's it like?"

Levi turned and gave Eren a look. When he saw that the kid was being entirely serious, he sighed. "Didn't you have to be somewhere? I thought I saw your bassist—"

Levi was interrupted by Eren leaning over and nuzzling Levi's neck.

"What are you doing?" Levi choked.

Eren's lips brushed along Levi's neck and he buried his face in Levi's hair, inhaling deeply. Levi dropped the gin with a clunk. His entire body went rigid with desire. He could feel his cock burning in his pants like a poker taken fresh from the fire. He hadn't felt like this since he had been—well, since he had been around Eren's age.

"Back off, kid."

"I'm sorry," Eren stepped back, his chest rising and falling. "Oh wow, I'm so sorry. That was fucked up."

"Are you drunk?"

"Not really," Eren said glumly. Levi was amazed the kid didn't lie. He would have jumped on such an excuse had it presented itself so handily.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm so sorry!" Eren almost shouted. "I don't know what came over me!"

Levi felt as though he might rot into the banister. Shaming Eren felt like trampling newly sprouted flowers. Not to mention the fact that there was a visibly glaring hypocrisy making itself known in Levi's underwear at that very moment.

"You like the way I smell?"

Eren paused. "What?"

"Do you like the way I smell?" Levi reiterated, walking slowly in Eren's direction. Levi was shorter but the power in his eyes was devastating. Eren began to tremble.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Is that why you got so close?" Levi was now near enough that their noses were almost touching.

"Well yes, but..." Eren looked away, avoiding Levi's lancinating gaze. "I like whole lot more than that about you," he finally whispered.

Levi reached up and gripped the back of Eren's head, yanking him downwards. The moment their lips touched Eren's shyness seemed to evaporate. The boy kissed back feverishly, moaning into Levi's mouth. Levi slid his hand downwards and palmed the bulge between Eren's legs.

"Oh my god," Eren groaned frantically.

"Keep it down," Levi choked, pushing Eren behind an enormous vase. He was old enough to have had his fair share of questionably public screws, but never with another guy, and never with someone almost seven years younger than him. Really, the whole thing was so odd that if Levi hadn't of been drinking he might have assumed it was all a bizarre dream.

Levi had just begun to undo Eren's pants when he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and slammed back into the stucco. Having forcefully swapped their positions, Eren unbuckled Levi's pants and proceeded to sink to his knees. Levi was too drunk to protest.

Levi was in one of those rare states of mind where it didn't matter howhe was touched, he just knew he wasn't going to last long. Eren's mouth was indeed quite soft, and his hands were long and slender, and just the sight of Eren jerking himself off as he sucked Levi's cock was enough to drive Levi over the edge. No matter how Levi squirmed, Eren held him in place, and so when he came, he came right in the Eren's mouth, moaning uncontrollably through clenched teeth.

After a moment he looked down and saw Eren wiping his mouth. The boy's hand was still on his own cock, which had cum bright and pearly all over the paneling in between Levi's feet. Levi shivered as a fresh wave of desire washed over him. Unfortunately, his knees gave out and he sagged to the ground. The alcohol was finally beginning to take its toll.

"Come on, let's get you inside," Eren said cheerfully. He made sure they were both zipped up before hauling Levi up by the armpits and leading him back into the house. The party was in still in full swing and Eren led Levi through hoards of guests.

"Oh dear, is he alright?" Hange inquired, weaving over from the kitchen.

"Just a little too much gin," Eren said.

"I'm fine," Levi mumbled. "Just need to get to the train."

"Oh no." Hange crouched down and poked Levi's nose. "You're not going anywhere by the looks of it."

The two of them helped Levi up a staircase to the second story and into a little decorative guestroom. It seemed like the rooms in Erwin's house got classier with each floor. This one even had tiny dried flowers in glass orbs.

Levi sprawled on the bed without even checking to see if the sheets looked clean.

"I'll get him some water," Hange offered.

"It's okay, I'll get it," Eren said firmly. "I'll take care of him."

"Take care of him?" Hange studied the boy's expression for just a little longer than was regular. Just as he began to squirm, her eyes travelled to Levi's collapsed form and back again. Then, she pushed up her glasses and smiled deviously. "Okee dokee."

Once she was gone, Levi groaned into the pillow.

"What is it?" Eren asked worriedly.

"She knows."

Eren frowned. "Well, I don't know—"

"She fucking knows. And everyone down there saw."

"So what?" Eren demanded. Then, after a moment, he said more gently, "But I don't think they saw."

"They at least saw how drunk I was."

"How drunk you are," Eren corrected. "Here, let me get you some water."

"Who even are you?"

Eren ignored the question. He returned one minute later and handed Levi a glass.

"Did you drink some?" Levi asked.

"I'm not drunk, remember?"

"I know, but you..." Levi felt himself actually blushing. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

Eren looked down. "I didn't mind."

"Are you gay?" Levi asked bluntly, setting down the cup with a clumsy clunk.

"I'm not sure." Eren paused. "Are you?"

"No." Levi rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his palms. "I don't know," he eventually corrected with a groan.

They talked about a lot more things which Levi couldn't remember the next day. Eventually Eren was gone, and Levi was asleep, and the next morning he woke up more hungover than he'd been in months. He was horrified to find that he had slept in his dirty socks, but even more horrifying was the realization that he had forgotten to get Eren's number.

END CHAPTER 1