For the rest of the night, after searching and searching and failing to find Levi in the club again, Eren dejectedly went home and ruminated on what he could have possibly done to frighten him off. He analyzed every action, every word, every nuance of their interaction. However, at surface value, he was coming up empty.
He had been so careful to let Levi take the lead, because he knew he wanted to get closer to him, but had been too afraid to initiate anything. He hadn't dared to make any mention or indication that he was interested in the dancer just in case he spooked him or came across as just another brainless, lusting client of The Dollhouse. When Levi had taken his hand, he hadn't moved, had barely breathed, had just sat back and watched it happen with his mouth agape and his heart in his throat. And yet something had made those dark, doe-like eyes of his widen, his face to go pale, and his legs carry him away as far from Eren as fast as he could.
The boy flopped onto his bed, still in his clothes, his mind too restless for him to think about sleep, though it was nearing two in the morning. Once he heard the poof of his body against the mattress, Alastair wasted no time and once he decided that Eren was going to be still for more than a minute, he left the end of the bed and crawled up onto the boy's chest, settling down and tucking his paws underneath him. Eren began petting him distractedly, trying to soothe his nerves.
"I don't get it," he said to his cat. "I know I didn't do anything, not on purpose. I tried to be so careful. All I'd said was I thought that maybe he had given me his hat so I could see him again, he said yes, that was true and that he did, and then he just took off." He screwed up his face, trying to think, and after a moment, pointed out, "Right before he ran away, he wasn't even looking at me. Yes, I'm sure of it. He was looking at my chest, almost looking through me. So it wasn't something that he saw that scared him. Maybe it was something he felt, or thought. But the events don't match up with his extreme reaction. There was literally no reason for that. One minute he says he wants to see me more, the next he's running away."
Alastair glared at Eren's hand when he ceased petting him, but otherwise offered no response. The boy sighed and resumed his petting. "Don't ever get crushes," he told him, "It's not worth it. This is why I stick to books. And cats. At least when you don't want to be near me I know why."
Then again, sometimes his cat did freak out for no reason at all, or at least, for no reason Eren could see. Then, upon further investigation, it would turn out that Alastair had heard something outside, like a car door slamming down the street, or a couple of squirrels fighting in the tree that overlooked the apartment complex. Noises he had heard but Eren hadn't. Perhaps that's what scared Levi? Had he been like Alastair, hearing something that the boy hadn't?
Eren groaned. No, that couldn't be it. He hadn't heard any strange noises that could have indicated a threat. He was overanalyzing and running on too little sleep. He wasn't going to be able to do anything about Levi tonight. He would return to The Dollhouse tomorrow and ask what had happened and how he could fix it. He didn't want to lose the dancer's trust when he had just gotten it.
The boy gasped to himself suddenly. Hadn't Jean said the first night they had gone to the club that Jouet only performed sparingly now? What if he couldn't get a hold of him tomorrow? Eren threw his arm over his eyes. Oh no, what if it was many days or weeks before he could see him again? Or what if he avoided him forever?
No, he couldn't afford to think like that. That wouldn't happen. Either way, all he could do was return the next day and hope.
However, when he did return the next evening, Levi didn't perform on stage. Other girls Eren had seen before were there, but the dancer he wanted to see was nowhere to be found. Despite Jean's assurances that this was normal for Jouet, Eren didn't want to hear it. He stayed late that night, even forcing himself onto the dancefloor, fighting the anxiety that welled up in him when surrounded by so many strange people in the foreign heady atmosphere. Without Levi, he didn't feel like there was a place for him there, and the wrongness of it all twisted his stomach into knots and made his skin itch. But nevertheless, he pushed his way past gyrating bodies and judgmental looks until he found three of the dancers, Rose, Lola and the other cold blond girl he had seen before, as well as on stage that night, whom it turned out her name was Angel. However, as soon as she saw Eren, Lola bolted in the other direction, looking as if she had just seen a ghost, and she vanished behind a door marked "staff only." Eren sighed in frustration. Well, he supposed he would just have to talk to Rose and Angel instead. But when he asked, they said hadn't seen him that night either.
"What was up with Lola just now?" he asked instead. "She seemed scared of me."
"Not sure," Angel said flatly, shrugging one shoulder. "She's an odd one, that one. Maybe that's why she and Jouet are so close. They're both strange."
"What do you mean?" Eren inquired.
Rose explained, "She usually comes in late on nights Jouet goes missing," Rose informed him when Eren pointed this out. She had to shout over the blaring music to be heard. "None of us know why. For all we know they could be having an affair we don't know about."
Those words settled like ice water in Eren's stomach. An affair? Well, it could be true for all he knew. As much as he liked to pretend inside his head, he didn't know Levi that well. Perhaps he did have a thing going on with another dancer. But Angel had already steered Rose away from him, mumbling something in the other dancer's ear and casting a suspicious look at the boy. But Eren was too distracted to notice.
Why would he tell him that he was interested in him? Why would he tell him he thought he was pretty and wanted to see more of him? Something wasn't adding up. And Eren wasn't going to stop until he got to the bottom of it. Even if he had to come back to this club and dance on this vile dancefloor every night, he would. He wouldn't judge Levi, wouldn't assume, not until he explained to him what was going on.
As Eren left that that night, he laughed at himself and shook his head. If someone had told him a week ago that he would be balls deep in drama with a stripper at a club, he would have called them crazy. Even crazier was the fact that he was already so desperate to know whether or not Levi was okay, despite having known him for such a short amount of time.
Jean was right. His heart was too soft. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from caring about people to the detriment of his own well-being. It was like asking his cat not to stalk his toys or pounce on moving objects; he would be fighting his very nature. And Eren didn't have the strength or the desire to do that.
000
This was the worst the voices had been in a long time.
Granted, Levi had in a way, built a tolerance to them. That is, he had become used to their presence. Like one adjusts to background noise in a room, he had accepted the voices as background noise in the best case scenario. They were there, they constantly chipped away at his sense of self-worth, and they weren't going away. It was to the point where he could barely remember what life had been like without them. But occasionally, they became a deafening chorus of screams, laughter, and horrible words in equally as horrible voices.
And Levi knew it was tied directly to how he was feeling at the time.
With Eren, he had felt like he was on top of the world. So excited had he been at the prospect of this pretty new client, of all the money he was giving Levi in tips, and how bright and calming the light that bled from him was, and how it was unlike anything he had ever seen before in any other person, that he had entered into a state he found he sometimes experienced. It was so wonderful; he had tons of energy, and felt like he could do anything. It was like being on a caffeinated high, but much more intense. His desire to sleep was often one of the first things to go, and he could stay away for days at a time with no problem, his mind racing and his hands trembling, his body feeling like a livewire. He often went on cleaning binges inside his little apartment, or found himself applying for dozens of new jobs, working out excessively, and even sleeping with multiple partners over the course of a few days. Twice he had engaged in some kind of orgy with partners of both sexes, uncaring how he was used, as long as he got to fuck and get fucked. He had come home with bruises and even welts once from those experiences, as well as had been covered with so many fluids both inside and outside of his body, but hadn't even stopped to take care of them, too invested in engaging in his next venture. However, he hadn't noticed the pain, both physical and mental, until it was far too late.
Very much like now.
When he had met Eren, it had triggered one of those episodes. For three days he had gone without sleep, instead obsessing over what he could do to draw Eren in closer to him. He had come up with new dance routines in one night, practicing them for hours and hours until the sun came up, and then practicing throughout the day until it had been time to go to work. He hadn't eaten much beyond a granola bar here or there, and hadn't washed beyond that one shower he had taken the very first night Eren came to the club. He was determined to reel the boy in, and when the two of them had danced the other night, Levi had felt like he was on top of the world. It wouldn't have taken much to convince him that he could fly if he tried hard enough, or that he and Eren would be together from then on. The voices had also become strangely muted, probably by Eren's presence, and probably just from the rush of his own adrenaline and serotonin blasting through his system, drowning every other negative thought and feeling away.
Then, the voices had returned, and when they did, it was like someone had turned up the volume all the way. After taking a back seat for so many days, they were back with a vengeance, determined to scream, taunt, and torment Levi every single detail of everything he had ever done wrong in his life. More specifically, everything he had messed up in his venture of trying to woo the pretty boy with the even prettier eyes.
When the serotonin ran out, it always ran out hard.
It was the third day since the depression had hit him, and the third day since he had set foot inside The Dollhouse. He had tried, he really had, showing up as he always had…however, he had arrived to work three hours late and still managed to forget to shower, eat, and had really only remembered to get dressed. The club's manager had greeted him in the doorway of his dressing room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed into little slits. And Levi knew he was in for it, already instinctively drawing his shoulders up towards his ears and dragging his feet. He stopped once he was in front of him, too scared to meet his eyes, but beginning tentatively, "I can expla"-
"Save it," his manager growled, holding up a hand.
Levi's jaw clamped shut, his teeth clicking audibly.
The other man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think I've heard every excuse in the book with you. There's nothing more you can really offer me. There's only so many times someone can miss their alarm, or feel sick, or be out of town for emergencies. If you don't get your shit together Jouet, I'm going to have to let you go."
Levi had shaken his head frantically, feeling his knees go weak with terror. "Please don't, don't do this. I can't go back on the streets, I just can't. I can't live that life again."
"Not my problem," he said coldly. "My dancers need to be perfect, and the only reason that you're still here is because when you're on your game, you rake in more money than all of the other dancers combined. But the way you are now, you barely make enough to break even with even the lowest paid dancer. If I toss you back out in the garbage filled alley I pulled you out of right now, no skin off my nose. You can just go back to whoring yourself off for whoever will have you."
The fear that filled Levi was indescribable, images of dark, lusting hands, horrid pain, and hunger pangs so debilitating that he was too weak to resist whatever happened to him flitting through his mind at rapid fire. At that, he really did fall to his knees, body going practically catatonic on the spot. He only panicked more when his mind failed to supply him with a proper response, something clever he could say so that his manager would give him another chance, but he was coming up empty. But the other man wasn't going to give him the chance to reply anyway.
"But given the fact that it would be a stupid financial decision to toss you out just like that, against my better judgment, I'm going to give you one more chance," he said, "Just one, Jouet. You fuck this up, you don't get your ass in gear and stop coming to me stories of how voices in your head kept you in bed all day, and you're out. Got it?"
Levi didn't respond verbally, still in shock and barely hearing him. Instead, tears slowly welled up in his eyes, before rolling down his cheeks without him reaching up to wipe them away.
And now here he was, still in bed at nearing four in the afternoon, unable to even lift his head from the pillow. Part of it was his how bone deep exhaustion catching up to him, as he had slept for an entire day straight and yet it still didn't feel like enough, but more of it was his own mind weighing him down more than any lack of rest or food ever could.
He didn't even care when he heard his front door opening, barely even noticed the sounds of feet padding down his hallway to his room, or even bothered to lift his head from the pillow when someone appeared in his doorway.
"Oh Levi, again?" said a woman's voice. He then felt cool fingers touching his forehead, brushing back his hair, and this prompted him to peel open his eyelids. She gasped. "God, your eyes are so glassy. Ugh, and your hair is greasy- when did you shower last? Yeah, you must feel like shit, the house is a fucking mess, there's pizza crust in the corner of your kitchen, and there's dirty dishes for miles on your counter. Oh hon…"
It was Lola. But that wasn't her real name, of course. She didn't have to use her stage name around him, like he didn't use his around her. She was the only person he trusted at the club, and the only one who seemed to give enough of a damn about him to check on him when he didn't show up for work without giving any notice. He sighed as she stroked his hair, being kind enough to do so even though it had to feel so disgusting.
"Glad you're here, Petra," he whispered hoarsely, sounding as if he hadn't spoken in days. It was quite possible; he couldn't remember the last time he had said anything to anyone since he had had that conversation with his manager. "Here for the end."
She tilted her head. "The end? The end of what?"
"I wish it was the end. I can't- what's the point? Just let me die, please. I appreciate you coming over, but I'd like to wither away in bed. Die with the- well, go down with me."
"Levi, what are you talking about? I'm not letting you wither away, that's silly."
"Thank you for coming, Petra. I'm sorry." He tapped at his head with his fist, "Song... er.. Song of hunger is difficult to… er... It's difficult to take care of the baby. I want to set. The sun, bright, sets when the moon... Wither...I'm gonna wither into the static... I came from the hole with the other demons. So I'll set into it and leave."
Petra sighed. Sadly, she was used to these strange sentences from her friend. He often talked like this when he was in this deep, dark depression, but sometimes they came out when he was at the other end, when he was so wild and crazy with almost a rabid excitement. One time he was claiming he was going to have sex with every person in town while in the next breath saying the sky was going to swallow them because the moths were all dead. It was enough to give her a headache and make her feel like she was living in an alternate reality, but she forced herself to keep her wits about her. She placed her free hand on her hip and leaned close down to her friend's ear, saying, "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to help you get up, you're going to take a shower, and then you're going to eat something. Then we're going to clean the garbage up off the floor and the sink because I know when you snap out of this you're going to be horrified at the mess you've left. So come on baby, up you get."
He didn't resist her as she pulled the blankets back from his bed, but he also didn't help her as she lifted him up into a sitting position. It was then that she realized with a pang of disgust that his sheets smelled strongly of urine, and she wondered if he had even bothered to get up and use the bathroom since he had laid down in it. Probably not, considering. He was limp as she tried to heft him onto his feet, his muscles only barely reacting to the stimuli around them. She was lucky that when she slung an arm of his over her shoulders, his legs held him up, and when she prompted him to walk, his feet moved automatically. He was staring at nothing, still muttering things that made absolutely zero sense to her, and no matter how much what he was saying made a chill go up her spine, she resolutely ignored it and led him into his bathroom, one step at a time.
She eventually got him undressed and into a shower, but knew she wouldn't be able to close the curtain because Levi would just stand there in the spray looking around like he had no idea what to do. Today he was trying to step out of the shower, shaking the water off his face like a dog and growling, "Tainted, dead I know I'm dead. Shut up…um- we have a flight to catch. Enough, enough, enough already!"
He was scrubbing, no, clawing at his ears, as he was trying to wash them away, like they would disappear as easily as soap lather down the drain. Petra pulled his hands away from his ears, soothing the redness he left behind with his nails with her own fingers. "Levi, hold still. Let the water wet your hair."
He didn't listen to her, of course, pressing a palm over one ear and intermittently pounding at his forehead with his other one. She sighed again, choosing instead to wash around his hands.
Petra hadn't known that this was going to be what her friendship with Levi entailed. At first, it had started out normally; he was experienced as a dancer and she wanted him to help her get better. From there on they had started going out for drinks or going to the movies. From then on, she had developed a bit of a crush on him, knowing it was a bad idea. Dancers weren't supposed to become friends with their coworkers, much less date them, because many of them were into illicit activities. Who knows who could turn around and stab you in the back because you had told them too much about yourself?
However, the first time he had taken time off from work and no one knew where he was because he gave no reason for his absence, that crush shifted into something else, something far more benign. That first time she had ever entered his apartment thanks to the spare set of keys he had entrusted to her and seen the uncharacteristic squalid state of it, followed by his unwashed self holing up in his room and muttering nonsense to himself, needless to say, her crush vanished. In its place came a desire to protect her fragile friend. It was a weakness of hers, she supposed; she couldn't resist wounded things that needed someone, especially when it was clear that they had no one. And Levi had been doing this more and more over the past year.
"Sweetie, we really need to get you to a psychiatrist," she said, soaping down his body. "I know I say this every time this happens and you never listen, but you need to see someone to get this under control. Never mind the fact that you could lose your job, I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourself. And more than that, I don't know how much more of this worrying over you I can take."
When she shut off the water and wrapped a towel around him, she realized she did love him on some level. She just wasn't equipped, practically or mentally, to help someone like Levi. She herself had already come close to being fired by The Dollhouse's manager for being late to work on account of helping Levi through his states of depression, and she was certain she wouldn't be given as many chances as her friend had to improve, as she was much more replaceable.
Once she got him dressed, a difficult feat as Levi had frozen stiff and refused to cooperate, fighting her as every bit of clothing was slid over his skin, she coaxed him into the kitchen, deciding she could make him something for supper. She sat him at the table, before putting a pot of water on the stove for boiling.
Levi had pointedly forbidden her from telling anyone about his illness; Petra herself didn't know the extent of it, just that he had days where he couldn't function and said some really crazy shit. She had no idea what could possibly be wrong with him, but she also knew that any time she brought it up during his lucid moments, he refused point blank to see a doctor or anyone that could give him meds.
"I've tried anti-depressants before," he remarked to her on one occasion, "I hated how they made me feel. I was angry or sad all the time, and I felt like I was living in a fish bowl, everything was so warped and alien. Getting off of them was even worse. I simultaneously wanted to murder everything that breathed in my direction and was too scared to turn the lights off for the three days it took for my brain to regulate itself again. I couldn't tolerate the dark, because I couldn't be sure when something was going to manifest from the dark corners of my room and attack me. It's happened before, you know. So I had to stop the meds."
To Petra, it seemed like he scared of taking anything that could cloud his brain or control it in some way. Combined with all of his other fears, and the darkness that seemed to be constantly trying to fight its way out from his insides to his outsides, leaking like a perpetual vapor, as he put it, she was honestly amazed he was still alive, and hadn't taken his own life from the sheer fear or madness induced by some of the things he told her he saw.
She talked to him the entire time she cooked, figuring even if he wasn't listening, some part of him might be soothed by the sound of another human voice. She knew she had to be careful of what she said though; sometimes the wrong thing could set off a tirade of his incoherent, disjointed thoughts, and more than once she had accidentally said something that ended with him plastered into the corner of his room, crying, hiding from "the void" as he had explained to her. She definitely didn't want to go through that again, as the night had almost ended with her calling an ambulance in her panic.
So, she stayed on safe topics that night, droning on about her night at work he previous evening, how small the crowd had been since it had only been a Thursday night and how tonight was sure to be much larger since it was Friday. To her pleasant surprise, Levi had sat, completely docile, at the table, minus the fact that he had gotten his socks on his feet and his shirt was hanging off one shoulder before he had given up trying to wrestle it off. However, he was remaining quiet, his eyes flickering to her once in a while, but mostly staying fixed on no point in particular. The phrase "thousand yard stare" came to Petra's mind. She had never truly seen one until she had met Levi.
Luckily, soon after, the supper she had made was finished, and she brought it over for him at the table, bringing him a fork and some water as well. However, he made no move to take it, still staring unblinkingly at nothing.
"Come on sweetheart, you have to eat something," she prompted, trying to get his attention by tapping at the plate. When it had no effect, she said, "Come on, I know you're hungry, I hear your stomach growling from over here. It sounds like it's trying to eat itself. Even if you don't feel hungry, I'll bet if you have a bite that'll change."
Petra heard him sighed, watched his shoulders rise and fall as he did so. He blinked a few times, as if he had just awoken from a nap he hadn't meant to take, and he shook his head. Levi's eyes never focused on the plate, instead flitting around the kitchen, as if vaguely wondering how he had gotten there. His mouth opened, and Petra hoped that finally have something to say that indicated that this black depression was clearing from his head, but instead he began singing, "You torture saints with a single glance, make them think they ever stood a chance…"
"Levi please, could you listen to me for a minute? You have to eat something, and soon. I don't have much time before I have to start my shift, and I don't want to leave you here like this."
"Devil devil."
"Oh God, I don't have time for this."
Her hands shaking with frustration, she just barely managed to put some of the food on a fork and place her friend's hand around it, before tremblingly guiding it to his lips. He took the bite into his mouth, chewing it for a moment, and the taste did indeed seem to clear the tiniest bit of fog from his eyes. His pupils still had a hard time focusing, but something in his brain clicked, like two wires finding each other for a brief instant, sending a spark between them, and told him he needed to eat, that it had been far too long since he had. So, he ate a bit more quickly, Petra letting her shoulders drop the tiniest bit in relief.
He made if halfway through his food before her lost interest, putting the fork down and turning his head away, like a child trying to tell his parents that he was full. Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn't. Petra figured he could probably fit more in his belly and definitely should, but at the moment she simply didn't have the time to push him. So, she wrapped up the rest and put it in the fridge, doing her best to scramble around and clean up while she could while she was up.
Before long, she saw with horror that she was supposed to have left for the club twelve minutes ago. Petra began to make more noise in the kitchen as she moved faster, Tupperware clanging and things banging in the kitchen. "Ah shit," she hissed, "Oh Levi, I'm so sorry, I have to leave. My God, our manager is going to kill me."
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Levi give a full body shudder, and he began to shake his head, his breathing picking up. He then began to mumble in a rapid whisper, "Static- static eating crows…he doesn't- can't know about the pit. Crash and die, crash and die, I can't see the end…. take back the vapor. Take him out of the static. Stop touching me."
"No one is touching you, Levi," she explained, hurrying even more with her cleaning up.
"It's bright. Bright, sight, first star I see tonight."
She ignored him, patience wearing thin, and then immediately feeling guilty for the fact that she was running out of patience. Petra was ready to say damn it all and call a therapist for Levi and then carry him kicking and screaming to his appointment if need be. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that, not only might the appointment end in failure with no results being achieved, but Levi might be so angry over something he would see as a betrayal that he might never speak to her again. And not only would she be saddened by that, but seeing as Levi didn't have anyone else that cared about him enough to check on him and see if he was still alive, but she felt that it was a risk she couldn't take.
So she kept her mouth shut.
"He's bright," Levi said when she approached him again, helping him up out of his chair. She held him by the waist and slowly but surely began to steer him back to his room, trying to move them along as fast as she could.
"Who is?" she wondered, though she wondered why she bothered to ask, knowing she wouldn't get a clear answer.
"The dark is scared. Scared, flared…get off the stage, er, it's him. He's bright."
She shook her head. Of course.
Once in his room, Petra helped him back in bed, putting the covers back over him again, basically leaving him how she found him. He was still mumbling various odd sentences, thankfully not fighting her, eyes unfocused on his surroundings. She brushed his hair back as she promised, "I'll be back first thing in the morning to check on you. If you need me before then, call me, okay?"
Levi wiped at his eyes and yawned, "He's bright."
"I know he is," she said, insides twisting with the need to get away from this craziness and get to work. "Now please stay here and out of trouble while I'm gone."
Her hands shook as she retracted them and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Levi blinked owlishly, tilting his head at her as if wondering who she was and what she was doing there. Petra didn't dwell on it, knowing she had to leave right then and there as she had five minutes to make a twenty minute drive. But when she turned away from the bed and began to walk towards the door, she heard Levi utter something that sent a chill up her spine and halt in her tracks.
"Eren's an angel...we demons, they kill. I should be shot. I don't want to hurt him."
It was convoluted but the clearest thing he had said all evening, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. But before she could turn around and ask him what he meant by that, he fell silent, and Petra didn't have time anyway. She quickly jogged out of the room, out of the apartment, and into the night, her heart lodged in her throat.
But this was how it always was. She always entered Levi's home with the best intentions, and always left feeling with the feeling of darkness clinging to her skin.
A/N: The lyrics are from Devil Devil by Milck. I hope you guys enjoyed! I have to give credit once more of Eveningstargazer piloting most of Levi's disjointed dialogue, she's the reason it's so stellar and creepy haha.
