Tattle-Tale Scars

This fanfiction contains mentions of self-harm and suicide. If this is a trigger, either consult someone dear to you to talk to or do not read this fanfiction

The first time Eren noticed them he thought it was an honest fluke. Perhaps it was nothing more than the light from the sun playing tricks on his eyes. Levi never left without his jacket but that day it was hotter than usual; and no one in the group could stand the heat and had to tear off at least one layer. To the stoic man, it was his trusted survey corps jacket, adorned with the patches of fallen comrades in its' pocket. So when he stepped close to the titan shifter during an inspection of some sort, Eren's emerald eyes drifted to his wrist, where small, thin, and very pale lines criss-crossed across the skin, dancing across the light colored canvas. But it was just a glimpse; as if Levi knew exactly what Eren was looking at, he took his arm away from the younger boy's line of vision.

The second time had also been an accident, except the sight lasted just a bit longer and the lines were a little more noticeable. They were in the lance corporal's office (for some reason Levi allowed Eren to stand around by his desk) and as the older man was writing, on occasion his sleeves would bunch up. Those were the moments where Eren would see the damage. They were redder; darker, with the skin around them puffed up and agitated. Obviously, whatever had caused this had been recent, seeing as the tan surface was still raw. But Levi had then suddenly yanked his jacket sleeve back down, once again, as if he knew what Eren was up to. But he didn't acknowledge whether or not Eren actually saw them, instead just went back to work.

The third time Eren saw them, he knew they were there and what exactly they were. The pair were sitting next to each other in Levi's poorly lit room, content with each other's presence now that they were officially going out, and Eren had slipped down just enough so his ass was still on the seat, taking a break from putting paperwork in their correct piles. His eyes once again, as a force of habit now, drifted to Levi's right arm, where the jacket sleeve had slipped and the angry, red lines were once again visible to those who want to see. They looked more fresh this time; a bright red, as if they were still scabbing over. They're cuts, Eren made a mental note to himself, nodding softly as he swallowed a lump in his throat, but where did he get them?

It wasn't like lance corporal Levi to get hurt, and if ever he did he got everything taken care of to not see the mess of things later. But these lines, these cuts, were just left there on his skin, as if he didn't seem to have a care in the world about them. And compared to the first time Eren saw them on that hot day outside, there were more of them. It was as if they were multiplying.

Now, Eren wasn't one to meddle about with people's personal affairs (especially Levi's) but, his brain just wanted to know what was eating away at his superior officer like this. He cleared his throat, "Lance corporal?"

The older man made a noise in the back of his throat to signal that he heard the other, but no answer came. He glanced over at Eren, who was fiddling with his hands in his lap, and sat back. "What is it, Eren?"

Another lump. "Um, not to be...butting in on your life, but...what are those, sir?" he asked as he tentatively pointed at the man's right arm. He lifted his eyes in an attempt to meet Levi's, but the latter just pulled his sleeve and looked away. The brunet cocked his head to the side, trying to look at the soldier. "Levi?"

"They're...they're nothing," he replied, sharply covering his arm with his other hand. He met the teen's eyes for a split second. "Nothing. Absolutely...nothing."

Eren was taken aback. Levi had never acted like this; even toward his closest friends and fellow soldiers. The lance corporal moved to the bed in the corner still cradling his arm. He refused to allow anyone past his walls. "Levi—" Eren began, getting closer to the bedside.

"I'm fine," Levi ground out. The brunet noticed that he began holding his arm with a stronger grip. "Don't worry about me."

As much as Eren wanted to know, he wasn't going to question him anymore. So with a shrug, Eren climbed into the bed himself. "Okay. If you say so." He laid back against the pillows and felt Levi get closer to him. It felt nice to have the older man finally begin to warm up to him.

"They..." Levi began, swallowing thickly while Eren began absentmindedly running his thumb over his lover's upper arm. "They were intentional." Eren hummed lightly as Levi gripped his shirt. "I did them myself," the older man tried again, trying to get Eren to snap. "I hurt—" he gasped, "—myself."

"I know," Eren said, his tone light and playful. "I heard you the first time."

Levi stared at Eren's collarbone. "You're not mad? I mean, Erwin—"

"Do I look like a grouchy blond commander with a titan's fist shoved up his ass? I think not." Levi smiled and looked up, feeling the warm touch of Eren's lips on his nose. "We all have our ways of reacting, like you have your ways of coping. It's fine. I'm not mad. If anything, I'm a little hurt."

"Hurt? You?"

Eren shook his head. "How long?"

The older man stiffened. How long ago had he started this dirty habit? After witnessing death for the first time or was it after Erwin found and saved him? Nine years then, right? Or close to ten. Either way too much time had passed. "N-nine years." Damn. He stuttered.

Eren nodded carefully. "I see. Why?"

This time, the silence was longer, seeing as Levi hadn't even tried to answer this time around. He just kept his gaze down at the mattress. He couldn't begin to explain that he self-harmed because he felt responsible for the deaths of many different people. He couldn't save them in time and the titans had just eaten them. Levi gasped as the titan shifter suddenly and carefully lifted both of the lance corporal's sleeves.

There were more lines on his right arm, showing off his left-handedness, however there were still some on his dominant arm, more sloppy and jagged than the others. This was the first person other than Erwin that was looking at his skin, and since the older blond had seen them, Levi had created more. Eren lifted his arms and kissed them lightly. "Remember that I don't hate you," he said softly, rubbing Levi's arms reassuringly.

"You said you were hurt. Why? Why are you hurt when I'm the one doing this?"

Eren leaned down and kissed his lover. Their lips met softly, warmly, lovingly, and the older of the two felt tears prickle in his eyes. He never cried, he told himself, no matter how badly he was damaged. "I'm hurt because you wouldn't tell me about them. I...I love you so much, Levi. To think that you would hide it from me of all people." He kissed Levi again. "It just...breaks me. I don't like to see you like this. It pains me."

Levi bit his lip, wound his arms around the brunet and buried his face in his chest. The tears finally escaped, but he made no sounds. Eren rubbed his back in soothing circles, whispering sweet nothings to him.

The fourth time he saw the cuts there were very few recent ones; Levi was obviously holding back. By then however, most of his right arm was coated in lines—pale and red—but he wasn't about to almost kill himself by using a shaky hand. Eren had asked to see his arms and Levi complied, feeling a little guilty since he had still taken a blade to his skin. But the younger boy just smiled and kissed him, telling his superior soldier that he was proud of him.

The fifth time, they were in the showers and Eren had let his eyes shift to Levi's arm, where he saw that they didn't hold any new agitated lines. But then he looked down and noticed the angry scars on the sides of his thighs. The hot water spray opened up some of the more recent ones; blood flowing down his body into the drain. The thing that hit close to home was that there were so many of them this time. It seemed like he didn't even care.

Eren didn't talk to his lover that night.

The last time he saw them he knew that there was no chance for any more harm to be done. New splotches of red littered both of his arms and legs. Eren knew why. Their last expedition had ended in a failure and so many people had lost their lives. Sure, Eren had taken it hard ("Jean! Jean! Goddammit, you fucker, wake the hell up!") but he never would have imagined that Levi felt this devastated. The deep gash on the underside of his wrist, right over the vein, told him otherwise.

Eren didn't cry. He was upset, of course, but he had a feeling this would happen sooner or later. And he had done his fair share of crying. It didn't bother him that much.

So when Armin walked in on him in his bed, why did he lose his composure when the blond asked, "Eren, what are those lines on your arms?"

WHY DO I BOTHER TO WRITE SNK IT ALWAYS MAKES ME SO UPSET.

So I know a lot of people (including myself) that go through self-harm. It's not the best thing in the world, so why in the world did I write a sad fanfic about Levi killing himself and cutting and whatnot?

I honestly don't know.

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ArAndAr?