A/N: Sorry for updating at the speed of a cloud. Living sucks. There aren't really any torture methods in this one, but I'm angrier than a motherfucker, slightly homicidal, and hearing colors right now, so you get a nice, healthy dose of violence and Eren abuse. On a brighter note; thankie to the people who have favorited/followed so far~

Warnings: Cannibalism, quartering (sorta? kinda? ? if you can call it that? I'm sorry I tried don't hate me *facedesk*), attempted kidnapping, psychological abuse, homicidal tendencies


III

"There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory." - Josh Billings


Nake: You might want to be a little more careful around here.

That was the only warning he received.

Nake was an account managed by two people on Wings of Freedom. Both wore green cloaks with hoods that covered their faces in a shadow, but it was possible to distinguish which was male and the other female. Eren took a liking to them – merely because of the impeccable chemistry between the two, with the almost affectionate touches shared subtly between the two every now and again and the clever, albeit snarky comments – and decided to watch an old livestream the two held.

The chat box had been empty, of course, until the small zero in the top right corner of it flashed bold with the number one. That's when he received the warning, and frankly, he couldn't fathom if it was fear he felt or sheer surprise. Just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone, leaving Eren alone once more.

When the victim's eye had been gouged out by the woman's thumb, Eren clicked out of the livestream with a shaky sigh. He didn't know exactly what brought him back; it was his second, maybe third visit after he had discovered Psychescience, yet his initial response to the torture stayed the same. The churning in his stomach at the sight of blood or the feeling of bile rising in his throat at the gut-wrenching screams had dulled, yes, but what it dulled to, he didn't want to acknowledge.

There was an unfathomable sense of euphoria he felt when the victim would finally stop twitching and writhing in their place. There was the racing in his chest and the ecstasy in his blood once the whimpering had ceased and the body gradually became limp, only to be replaced by the plummeting anticlimax once the livestream ended. It was quite an ambivalent feeling, really; one part of him mentally castigated him for enjoying the sight, while the other praised him for giving in to the morbid curiosity that fueled his supposed nightmares.

That message, though, was what gave Eren an excuse to leave. The small voice in the back of his head mocked him for it, but he didn't care. There was something else that caught his attention; on the forum page that held a list of links to help start one's search through the deep web, a new one had been added, waiting on the very top for him to investigate.

How much you wanna bet it's another credit card generator?

Eren glanced over his shoulder at the clock on his bedside table. It was nearly eleven o'clock. He wondered under his breath, "Where's Armin. . . ?"

Not home, obviously. You're bored. What harm can it do?

But it's Armin, Eren would have replied, but he let the protest die on the tip of his tongue. His childhood friend did so much for him already; the least he could do was make sure he was doing all right. He glanced over at his nightstand where a small package containing a new webcam was placed. Armin gave it to him a few days prior – 'Knowing you, you'll refuse to buy one yourself until I'm off visiting Gramps and you're panicking over not being able to call me on Hangouts' - but he hasn't had the courage to connect it to his computer. It mocked him, almost, sitting there at his side, waiting for the day it could replace its brother.

Eren glanced at the time once more. It was getting late, and he had to go in at six tomorrow. . . .

Who cares? You feel a lot more energized running on two hours of sleep than you ever did on twelve.

He hated being played like an instrument, but he supposed that, in this situation, he didn't mind it too much. It was what kept him looking, kept his heart racing and his mind spinning with things other than anxiety or paranoia. He impatiently tapped his foot in a fast, unrelenting pace as he waited for the page to load, and just as he contemplated going out for a walk to relieve the agonizing itch in his body, it loaded up to another forum.

There was a chat box in the corner of the screen. It was completely inactive, save for an old message that was sent a few minutes ago – 'Okay, asshole. I'll see you in hell.' - and the list of people who were online (seven guests and two members). The website itself seemed to be a bidding site, though for what, Eren couldn't quite tell. Just as he had tried to click onto another page, there was the high-pitched ring of a message notification.

There were different kinds of fear, all of which Eren was familiar with due to his unfortunate experiences; like the realization that there was homework due for the class that started in ten minutes, or the mini heart attack one would get when they unknowingly click on a screamer. There was one fear, however, that he had only experienced once or twice before, and it was the fear that he dreaded each and every minute he spent on the deep web.

Needles: It's late. Shouldn't you be asleep, Eren?

He abruptly closed the tab. For a second, he merely sat there, tapping his foot impatiently, staring idly at the screen, until he deemed it safe to continue on with his daily business. It was then, when he loaded up Chrome, when static dispersed over the computer screen and completely distorted the image. Eren flinched as the piercing shriek of a metallic ring filled his ears, and he quickly removed his headphones, dropping them in the action of standing from his seat.

It took him a moment to catch his breath before he finally rendered what was happening and reached to unplug the power. The static immediately died out and the ringing ceased, leaving Eren alone to stare at the empty screen. Dead, gray eyes peered right back at him. The atmosphere suddenly felt heavy and thick with heat, and it wrapped its hands around his throat, stripping him of his ability to breathe properly. He promptly sped off to the small kitchenette for a glass of water.

At some point in time, once his body cooled down and his mind stopped swirling, the doorknob to the entrance of the apartment jangled in its socket. Jade orbs flicked over to the nearest clock. Half past eleven. Where the hell was Armin? There was shuffling behind the door that was followed shortly with a frustrated huff, then the quick rap of knuckles against the wood.

Armin should have been home hours ago. A rumble issued from that damnable voice, a muffled, quiet laugh that gave Eren the feeling of being doused in ice-cold water. If Armin's gone, then who else do you have?

Eren immediately reached for his phone, but he halted in his movements as his gaze fell upon the knife holder. An unfathomable exigency placed its loving hands upon his shoulders, leaned in to whisper intoxicating words into his ear, demanded something that he had subconsciously yearned for. He blindly unsheathed the blade from the wooden block it was kept in and skulked up to the front door.

The knocking came again, this time with a bit more urgency, becoming louder and louder still. Eren readied the knife in his hand. It felt strikingly comforting to have the smooth curves of the shaft fit in perfectly with the grooves of his fingers. It was nostalgic, even. Tranquilizing.

And undeniably infatuating.

Like the blood that splattered over his chest and arms with each and every stab. Like the euphoria of hearing their importuning whimpers gradually deteriorate until every last drop of vitality drained from their eyes. Like the strangled groans that left their mouth as the blade dug further into their chest, again and again, until the only thing Eren could see was crimson -

Just as suddenly as he had fallen into that hellish trance did he snap out of it; he processed the motion thrusting his knife a second before it came into contact with Armin's shoulder. The blond flinched with a yelp, then snapped, "You could have killed me, you jerk!"

It took a moment to render his surroundings before the pieces were finally placed back in their original order. Eren retorted, "What the hell are you doing out this late?! I thought you were a robber or something, damn it!"

Anger dawned upon him, threatening to veil him in nothing but white, but he couldn't fathom exactly why. Couldn't fathom why he felt the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest when he glanced at the blade. Couldn't fathom why he inwardly castigated himself as if he missed a golden opportunity.

"I forgot my keys and I thought you were asleep," with a small quirk in his brow, Armin queried, "Why are you even up this late?"

Sincerely wondering how long the human eye can hang out of its socket before it shrivels up, a voice answered, but he ignored it in favor of saying, "Wondering where you disappeared off to."

"You know that I've been working later shifts recently," There was the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice. Folding his arms over his chest, he huffed, "Seriously. What's up?"

"I am being serious!"

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"Think you're any better?" A mischievous grin spread across his lips as he hooked a finger on Armin's collar and tugged it to the side. The reaction was immediate; the blond yelped and shied away with a hand covering the marks that were revealed. "Who gave you that, huh? Co-worker or a friend? Man or woman?"

"The hell are you t- talking about? You're seeing things -"

"Armin, I know what a hickey looks like."

There was a vivid blush on Armin's cheeks now. He sped off to his room with a flustered squeak; "Shut up!"

"I'm gonna find out eventually!"

The door slammed shut, accompanied by a few muffled protests, and then the apartment fell silent once more.


"Now that I pay attention to it, sir – I hardly know anything about you."

Levi merely glanced up at him with a disinterested look on his countenance. He responded with a bored drawl, "And I don't know much about you."

He returned his attention back to the paperwork at hand. Eren bit his lip. Honestly, they didn't know much about each other despite having met a little over a month ago. Their schedule was the same every day; meet up, discuss their plan for that day, carry out said plans, and part ways by two-thirty. Levi didn't seem to mind it all that much – on the contrary, he seemed pleased with his productivity concerning his schedule, especially the way he'd finish a stack of paperwork on time to attend to other business.

Eren, however, felt the need to do a triple flip off a balcony. He hated that everything was the same – almost exactly the same – and it felt quite foreign, considering that his life in general was hectic. It wasn't a boring job, necessarily; no, he enjoyed being able to go up and about the store attending to much different tasks than he would have before. What bothered him the most, besides having an unusually set schedule, was the fact that despite spending so much time together, he hardly knew anything about the man.

Despite feeling slightly dejected at the response, Eren pushed, "That's because you don't ask."

The ravenet's silver-blue eyes returned to him. They scrutinized him, as if contemplating the right thing to say, until he eventually deadpanned, "I don't care enough to."

For some reason, that felt like a blade had pierced him in the chest. "I'm your assistant now, though," Eren shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I'm with you almost the entire day, every day, yet we hardly know each other."

"I'm happy with your company alone."

Just as quickly as that pain had struck him, it disappeared, leaving naught more than a very faint ache. "But I'm not happy with knowing nothing but your name and how much of a clean freak you are."

Eren knew the comment was unusually bold for himself, but he said it anyways, and instead of a scowl and an insult, Levi set his papers aside with a heavy sigh. "Quit pouting at me. We both have work to do."

Said pout only deepened. "That's not fair," Eren mumbled, sounding remarkably like a small child.

The brunet could have sworn that there was the faintest of smiles on Levi's lips, even if it lasted a mere second. "Fine." Levi shuffled his papers into a neat stack. "Okay." Setting those papers aside, he leaned back in his chair and rest his head upon one folded hand. "Tell me anything about yourself."

"Promise you'll return the favor?"

"Favor?" Levi scoffed, "That's an act of kindness. I'm not being nice. I'm trying to get you to shut the fuck up."

A look of sheer disappointment spread across Eren's face. "But sir -"

"Quit looking like a kicked puppy for once. All right. I'll give you something in return, but I can't promise you it'll be something you'd be remotely interested about. Is that fair enough for you?"

It was better than nothing, the brunet supposed. "Okay!" Levi's gaze lingered on his remarkably bright smile. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Absolutely nothing, really. I guess you could go for something about your childhood; that's an easy one."

His smile slightly faltered. "I actually . . . don't remember a lot of the things I did when I was a kid."

"Oh?" There was mild interest loosely laced into his otherwise unimpressed deadpan. "And what did the big, bad Jaeger do that made him block out his childhood?"

Eren rolled his eyes. "Nothing bad! I just don't remember it well."

His eyes narrowed. A small period of silence slowly slithered past, with Eren fidgeting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet as he wracked his mind for a memory that stood out in the haze. Leaning back in his seat, Levi sighed, "Then mull over it for awhile and come back to me when you have something that's actually worth my time."

Just as he had reached for his paperwork, Eren blurted, "It's not that easy!" The brunet flushed under the glare sent his way. "I mean – I just – ugh, never mind, you don't understand. . . ."

For some reason, this vexed him. "Don't tell me what I do or don't understand," Levi snapped. He avoided eye contact as he continued darkly, "I know what it feels like to block something out that you've done. I know what it means to force yourself to forget every single thing that's scarred you beyond repair; I also know how much it fucking hurts when, no matter how hard you try, it all comes crashing back like a damn waterfall."

There was a weight that lifted from Eren's shoulders at the statement. It was almost comforting; relieving. He murmured softly, "So you've . . . experienced it too, then. . . ?"

"Experienced what?" Levi inquired, glancing back up into the depths of those emerald orbs. He scrutinized his very being, looking for any and every answer as he continued, "The momentary 'memory loss' – for lack of better term – or the debate whether what you remember from your childhood actually happened or not?"

"I . . . don't know, actually." He turned his head to peer out the window, but he couldn't quite see anything, not when he was wracking his brain for a memory. Any memory. Just as he had done all those nights before, only to wake up the next morning with absolutely no recollection of what happened. "The first thing that comes to mind. . . "Are the times when I'd black out and wake up with blood on my knuckles and a classmate at my feet. His heart skipped a beat at the answer. "is that I used to fight a lot."

"I assume you figured out how to keep yourself out of juvie, then."

"I never did anything that bad!" He sounded a lot more confident that he felt. "It's been years since I've gotten into a physical fight, anyways."

Levi looked somewhat pleased by this. "Good. I'd rather not keep your bitch-ass out of jail. You're too soft and squishy for that kind of experience."

What kind of experience, a small voice wondered, would be worse than what we've already seen and done?

That made Eren's mind wander; it wasn't anything new, but it'd be the first time he would consciously contemplate the memory that he was cursed with. He felt dizzy – drowsy – as the image played in his head. He could almost hear the faint whistle of wind as the bat swung, landing heavily onto the boy's knee; the wet, deafening crack of his knee shattering upon impact; the begging and yelling that gradually deteriorated into nothing more than high-pitched sobbing. . . .

"What's wrong, kid? You're zoning out on me."

Levi's bored drawl reached his ears somehow. He absentmindedly responded, "Nothing. Just . . . thinking."

"You're finally thinking for once?" The sarcasm practically oozed from his voice. "And I thought all you had in that thick head of yours was nothing but a pile of shit, dust, and Skittles."

"All I ever do is think!" Much to Eren's chagrin, his retort sounded more like a whine.

Levi rolled his eyes. "Really? Enlighten me, then. What's got you staring off into the sunset like you've just had an epiphany?"

"I thought you didn't care enough to want to know anything about me."

"We made a deal, remember? If you were going to back out, you shouldn't have bothered asking. Either say something or get out of my office. I'm starting to get bored."

Say something? It was hard to form a coherent sentence when all he could do was focus on the incoherent sobbing that left that boy's lips. He could still feel the anger that overwhelmed his entire being. He could still remember the sweet ecstasy of adrenaline that pumped through his veins with each swing of the bat. . . .

. . . Every hit was another broken bone, another bruise that steadily blackened over time, and another undeniably fueling spark that sent his blood rushing. The awkward kinks in the boys' limbs were sickening, though that didn't stop Eren from swinging. Didn't stop him from grinding his heel into the white, bloodied spike that finally jutted from the skin, until the dull groaning turned into high whining.

There was an odd sense of euphoria that overrode Eren's senses as the spasmodic twitching finally ceased. It was almost as if he won a tournament of some sorts, leaving him so blissfully satisfied as he walked away from the limp body and the bloodied metal. Nothing could bring him down from that high, not even as the sound of sirens were racing closer to the scene, not even as Armin's fists weakly pounded against his chest with loud sobs that went along the lines of 'It doesn't matter what they did to me, what you did was wrong. . . .'

"Hey, brat. Oi – seriously. Snap out of it."

The world finally refocused, and with that came the claustrophobia that made his chest feel as if it was about to cave in. Breathing suddenly became ten times harder, as if someone had pressed a pillow over his face. Levi stood from his seat, and at this, Eren flinched and took a few steps back.

"Brat -"

"I need to go."

"No, you fucking don't -"

"I'm sorry -"

"Jaeger, I swear to God -"

Eren spun on his heel to leave, but as soon as Levi gripped his wrist, he burst into tears. It was inevitable at this point. H couldn't find it in himself to stop, or to even think, for that matter. All he could do was slump to the ground with a shaky whimper. To think that he committed homicide – to think that he actually took another person's life. . . . An innocent person's life. . . .

"I didn't mean it -" He didn't even realize that he had been muttering under his breath. "I didn't mean mean it – I didn't mean –"

Yes, you did, that voice was naught more than a silvery whisper; it was clear to Eren that it was mocking him at this point. You know what you did. You remember what you did. And you enjoyed it. You enjoyed every minute of it.

"I didn't – No, I didn't want to -"

His breath hitched in the back of his throat when he felt Levi's arms wrap around him. The action itself was slow and hesitant. After a moment's consideration, the older man's voice finally reached his ear as a low, soothing croon; "It doesn't matter anymore; what happened, happened, and you can't do anything to change it. But you're fine now. You're okay. There's no point in mulling over it anymore."

Yet despite acknowledging that, there was still the feeling of moths tearing away at his entrails, still the pain of fire burning in the pit of his chest. It was revolting, knowing what he did, knowing that he hurt another human being to such extent – knowing that he took what someone could have been over something as petty as bullying. The moths relentlessly bit and nipped at his stomach at the thought, leaving him with an overwhelming wave of nausea that sent his head spinning.

And before he knew it, he was resting his head against Levi's chest. It was odd, really; leaning against someone who was practically a stranger to him; depending on someone who showed nothing but sarcasm and spite towards him up until that very moment for comfort.

After some time, Eren found it in himself to say, "Sir, you didn't need to use the sympathy card just because I . . . because I . . ."

He trailed off with a soft murmur. Silence followed shortly after that. Eventually, Levi softly pointed out, "There's a big difference between sympathy and empathy, you know."

If the brunet didn't know any better, he would have pinned down that tone as something close to guilt. He pulled away a bit, starting, "Sir, I -"

"Shut up and enjoy it while it lasts."

For the first time in the month they've known each other, Eren heard something other than animus or boredom in Levi's voice.


Ambivalence is a bitch to deal with.

Eren wasn't entirely sure if he should be happy that he was able to contact Levi outside of work or if he should be concerned as to what compelled his superior to do it. He somehow ended leaving that office with Levi's contact information – Skype, to be exact – and a heavy weight removed from his shoulders. Was that even the correct way to feel? He vented his emotions to someone who was practically a stranger to him . . . yet said stranger didn't lose interest within the first fifteen minutes. Levi did sneer and blame him for the dust on his slacks, but he also offered his contact information.

Should he feel bad for accepting? Should be feel relieved that he didn't somehow lose the respect his superior may have had for him (assuming Levi had any)?

Shouldn't you feel pretty damn good right now? Who else, besides Armin and Mikasa, decides to let you cry on their shoulders like some bastard for twenty minutes? Eren pursed his lips at the statement. You should be taking advantage of him.

"But that isn't fair."

Life isn't fair, dumb fuck.

He buried his face into the palms of his hands as if to somehow hide himself from the world. "Shut up. The last thing I need is another Levi. . . ."

You enjoy it. No, you love it when I point out how fucking stupid you are.

Eren ignored the statement. For some time, he sat alone in the silence, with nothing but the sound of his own breathing to be heard. It was an infatuating kind of luxury that he relished whenever possible. Better yet, when he didn't bother replying, that voice ceased to continue. The amused response caught him completely off guard; you see? You don't even deny it, you masochistic little bitch.

"Scratch that. Levi isn't that much of an asshole."

Look at you, refusing to believe something so obvious because it hurts your poor little ego.

Eren slumped back down onto his bed with a defeated sigh. He reached over to his nightstand, retrieved his iPod from its charger and his earphones, and proceeded to set his main play list on shuffle. The slow, soothing music reaching his ears, soft and delicate, its beautiful notes lulling his mind to sleep. He switched his lamp off with a soft hum; if he could just fall asleep, even if it was just a thirty minute nap, he could avoid the adversary's lambaste, avoid some of the pain and suffering-

You love being the victim, don't you? You love all the attention you get from Armin and Mikasa over little things.

He should have known by now that it never lasted too long. Despite increasing the volume, he could steel hear the low, silvery purr that whispered its venom into his ears.

You love how much they stress out over you when absolutely nothing worth their time happens. Other people out there are driving themselves insane, are even watching their loved ones getting brutally murdered in front of them, and while they're being ignored, your friends are fussing over you because you can't handle a little bit of stress – and you adore that. Do you realize how much of an exploitative asshole you are?

A needle pierced into his chest and injected the inferno that was guilt and acrimony. It didn't matter how loud the music was playing now – it didn't matter that his ears felt like they were popping, like they were being torn apart by the sheer force of the notes – all that mattered was that he drowned out that voice.

You love being able to play the victim by lying about the things you've went through – and you love it even more when they believe your lies so easily. Are you ever going to stop using your imagination to make up new ways to get them to give you attention? When will you stop being an attention whore and realize that your problems don't matter? When will you realize that you're sucking the life out of your friends because you don't like going one hour without their undivided attention?

Eren folded the pillow over his ears, harshly pressing the fabric into his ears to somehow block that voice out. Shut up! He curled into a fetal position. Shut up! Warmth enveloped his face, the burning sensation gentle compared to the harsh stabbing in his chest. Shut up!

Amongst the music, he could hear faint knocking – it was faint, yet frantic, and he didn't realize how loud it really was until he removed his earphones. He then realized, by the small, wet spots on his pillow, that he had been crying. That small voice laughed at the realization, and upon hearing such a sickeningly sweet sound, he gripped his iPod and threw it across the room with all the strength he could muster. He furiously wiped his eyes on his way to the door, and as soon as it swung open, he was greeted with Armin's worried countenance.

"I heard yelling." Eren's brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"Armin's voice was oddly distant, as if he were talking through a thin wall. "Jesus, Eren," the blonde's soft hands cupped his face, his thumb gingerly pressing against the red patches under his eyes. "what did you do? What's wrong? Talk to me, damn it, what's going on?"

He could still hear the wretched echo of that voice in his ears, the memory of it barely audible to him now. "Armin, I -" You love how much they stress over you. "I'm fine. Nothing's going on." You love getting their undivided attention. "I promise you, I'm doing fine." Your problems don't matter. "I'm just tired, okay? Really tired."

"Eren. . . ."

He pushed Armin's hands away. "I'm fine." Despite how firm that sounded, he still felt hollow, still felt as if he could collapse at any moment. "I'm okay, I just . . ." You love being the victim. "just . . . want to take a nap."

"Are you sure? Do you need anything?"

"Well . . ." You exploitative asshole. "no, not right now."

Eren didn't give Armin a chance to reply; the blond's concerns were interrupted as Eren abruptly shut the door in his face. Sure, it was rude, but what else could he do? Sit there and let Armin fuss over him when nothing was wrong? Hell, he'd end up getting lectured at some point, and he didn't have the time – nor the energy – to listen.

He returned to the safety of his covers and reached for his phone. That's when he remembered that Levi had given him his contact information.

Use him your advantage, he could hear the voice murmur, though it was much more distant and weak than last time, as if it had lost interest in torturing him. He said to call if you needed to talk, and look at you; you're a wreck. The voice was a silvery – like it was pleased.

Then again, if he were to call Levi, he'd need to use the web cam that Armin gifted him, and that was a feat he didn't think he could achieve. The box still sat amongst the mess of trash, medicine bottles, containers, and stationary items. It was still sitting there, watching, waiting to be used. With the cold, unfathomable trembles of ants crawling along his skin that urged him to move, he pushed away his hesitance and finally opened the box.

Shortly later, after starting up his computer and bashfully covering the camera with a sticky note, he added Levi, who went by the user name Levi_Ackerman81. It was quite a generic name, considering, but he didn't dwell on it (though he did feel self-conscious of the user name he made up sometime in his antsy teenage years; HumanitysLastH0pe).

He couldn't fathom why he felt jumpy, like he was ready to flee at any moment, or why his eyes warily lingered upon the sight of the web cam that was perched innocently atop of his monitor. The upbeat music of the Skype call played for some time, and just as he was about to give up, the music stopped and was replaced by a voice.

"The fuck are you doing calling this late?"

Relief washed over him at the sound of that familiar voice – a voice that he wouldn't mind listening to, even if it was lambaste. There an echo, he noticed, that sounded as if Levi was in a large, empty room, or perhaps a public restroom.

"You said I could call if I needed to talk," Eren reminded him.

"I'd assume you'd be in bed by now. What do you need to talk about, exactly?"

Should he rely on Levi for comfort again? The feeling of moths worrying at his stomach erupted once more, the blurry memory of his brief crying spell abruptly popping up in the back of his mind. To relieve that discomfort, he said, "Nothing, actually. I just wanted to bother you."

Surprisingly, Levi laughed; even if it was nothing more than a ginger outtake of breath and the slightest sound of fatuous disbelief, it was still a laugh. "You wanted to bother me? If I was asleep, I would have hunted you down and choke-slammed your sorry ass."

"You always threaten me," A small smile played across Eren's lips. "but you never carry them out. I'm starting to realize that you're a hypocrite, sir."

"Are you challenging me now that you've actually grown a pair?"

"Maybe."

There was a faint tinkering sound in the background as he snapped,"Maybe? I don't like maybes, you dipfuck. It's a yes or no answer."

"Maybe," Eren repeated, and his smile widened at the small growl from Levi's end.


For maybe the third time that night, the large glass in front of Eren was refilled with the dark, sweet substance that sent his mind blissfully humming. His alcohol tolerance was surprisingly high – well, he hadn't drank that much yet – compared to Armin's. That was why the blond merely showed up to ensure that trouble didn't arise within the bar.

He was isolated, though, trapped in the hell that was his own mind while the people that surrounded him caught up with each others lives and made pleasant small talk. A stray droplet of water slowly slithered down the length of the glass. For some reason, the flavor of pumpernickel and the slight burn on his tongue became unappealing, and he pushed the coaster away without another glance.

"What's wrong, Eren?"

Eren glanced at Mikasa, who was nearly done with the Black Russian that she had ordered. She absentmindedly stirred the melting ice with the stem of the cherry that had came with the drink, though she ceased in the act as she turned her full attention to him.

"Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind right now." At least it wasn't entirely a lie.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mikasa abandoned the cherry stem in favor of cupping Eren's hand. "Really, Eren, you look like you haven't slept in days." Eren turned his head away and retracted his hand with a discomforted noise in the back of his throat. With a quick glance at the others, who were preoccupied with their drinks and companions, she inquired in an undertone, "Are you starting to remember your nightmares again?"

Since when have you remembered them to begin with? The voice snorted at the thought. Eren ignored it, as always – well, ignored it to the best of his ability. But it was always there, in the back of his mind, an inevitable being that waited for the right moment to arise.

"No, that's not the issue," Your problems really don't matter, it reminded him, the sound nothing more but a spiteful hiss. "I'm just tired as hell."

"You should go home and get some rest, then." Mikasa glanced at the beer across from in. "I could drive you home -"

"I'm not drunk, Mikasa."

"But there's still alcohol in your system."

"It's not enough to get me into an accident."

Mikasa pursed her lips, her mind working over the risks, until she finally tucked her chin back into her scarf in relinquishment. She sighed, "Be careful."

With that, he left the table with naught more than a brief glance at his friends. Surprisingly, Reiner was already starting to slur – and, in turn, would most likely make a fool out of himself at the karaoke station. That would be a fun sight. Eren slightly hesitated, but sleep happened to be a little more appealing than the chance to taunt Reiner when he had the energy to.

His car wasn't too far away, yet it was far enough to be out of range from the light that shone from the building. It was about eight already – Jesus, how long did he spend just sitting there and contemplating? - and the streets were dark and chilly beyond his liking. He slightly fumbled with the keys, though he realized that he had left the door open, and sighed in relief as he retired to the warmth of his car.

When he had finally jammed the keys into the ignition and brought the car back to life, a hand abruptly clamped over his mouth, accompanied by the chill of a gun pressed against his temple.

"Make any noises and I'll shoot, understand?"

Eren's chest burned as his heart slammed against his ribcage. Despite having a gun to his head, he wondered; would this man really shoot, if they were so close to a building? It wasn't silenced – he could see from the mirror – nor did the man bother wearing gloves. This man's confidence is what grounded him, to some extent; the risk was almost too much, his head was spinning uncontrollably, his heart pounding at a dangerous pace, but despite all this, there was only one clear though; get out alive.

He managed to somehow sink his teeth into the man's hand; in turn, there was a sharp intake of breath, and the muzzle was pressed harder against his temple. The mere threat of the gun, however, fed the urge to bite in deeper, to lock his jaw and rip the finger off, to leave the man maimed beyond repair. Fingernails dug into his cheeks, and he squeezed his eyes shut and bit with all the strength he could muster up.

The sound of bone cracking between his teeth and the strong taste of copper overrode his senses. The man behind him let out a loud, gut-wrenching cry, and as he withdrew his hand, Eren opened the door and stumbled out onto the street. Nausea hit him like a brick as he ran, sending his mind spinning uncontrollably fast, but he managed to keep it at bay. The sound of footsteps following closely behind him kept him stable enough to run, stable enough to refrain from breaking down in sheer terror and sprint until fire filled his lungs with each breath and his legs threatened to give out beneath him.

Eren was in an unfamiliar street now, somewhere near the southern side of the city, with the streets relatively empty compared to the central part of town. The footsteps behind him ceased long ago, but his body was sent on auto-pilot with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. As he tried to regain his breath, there was the shuffling of gravel under someone's feet somewhere behind him, and he turned to meet the blade of a knife.

He managed to dodge the blade with only a deep laceration in his cheek. The blood flowed from the wound, leaking onto his already bloodstained shoulders, sinking into the fabric to leave an unbearably warm and sticky sensation against his skin. He tried running once more, but his attempt was cut short as he was tackled to the ground. A rough hand weaved into his hair and shoved his face into the ground, digging sharp rocks into the gash in his cheek, and he whimpered as the man dug his knee into his spine.

Eren could feel the warm breath on the nape of his neck, sending disgusting shivers throughout his body. As the man gripped his left wrist and twisted it behind his back, he managed to reach over his shoulder with his right and dug his thumb into his attacker's eye. Blood soon met his thumb and a pained yell left the man's lips, but Eren didn't pay mind to it; he couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, couldn't see anything but red, couldn't feel anything but the sweet, intoxicating adrenaline that sent his blood rushing.

Somehow, he managed to turn over onto his back, and when the man raised the knife above his head, Eren latched onto his Adam's apple. He bit down into the spot as hard as he could, tasting the nauseating warmth of blood as he crushed the cartilage with a loud, sickeningly wet crack. The body above him stilled, but it wasn't entirely limp – no, the man was still alive, and that wasn't acceptable, not by the voice's standards.

At some point, that small voice could be heard in the back of Eren's head, above all other noise, and it controlled him in his shaken state. It urged him on, urged him to quench that unfathomable darkness inside him, and controlled him while his eyes stayed blank to the world. He managed to flip them over and pinned the man to the ground, who was still thrashing and letting out loud, strangled noises.

It took awhile to bring himself out of that nebulous state, to somehow regain control of his body. And that's when he realized what he had done; the man's throat was reduced to nothing more than a mass of ruined flesh. There were numerous chunks of skin gone, deep teeth marks that oozed blood, and messily torn skin on places that were too much of an effort for him to rip out. The man lay useless in a steadily growing pond of his life's worth, making naught more than a low gurgling sound in the back of his throat.

Eren would have screamed if the nausea didn't force the flesh, blood, and cartilage out of his stomach.


Can anyone guess who Nake is (are? ? )? Their official ship name was a little too obvious, so I used this one instead.