Levi, Part 1
Levi doesn't know why on certain mornings the memories are stronger than on others. All he does know is that while most of the time they are merely a quiet buzzing noise in the background of his routine, sometimes they seem to be so near that it feels like being back there again. Back at that day.
By now he's used to waking up to the ghost of a warm and firm embrace, a beating heart against his own, so powerful and alive. A pair of protective arms will hold him tight, so tight as if they were all that held him together. As if they'd never wanted to let go again. Sometimes, mostly, the memories stop right there. Those are the good days.
On bad days…
On bad days, he'd blink open his eyes to the persisting echo of what followed. Stormy, hungry kisses, deep, so deep and breathless whispers into his mouth that beg him to continue. Kind hands going wild, desperately tearing off their dirty clothes, touching him, caressing him, exploring him, pulling him near, nearer, close, so wonderfully close. Skin against skin and further, deep-deep-deeper, slippery and greedy.
On bad days, he'd leave his bed to the image of flashing green eyes and the renewed sensation of falling into them, as if it was everything he ever wanted, all he ever needed. As if it was all Eren ever needed as well.
On bad days, Levi showers even quicker than usual, because he can't stand the reverberating sound of a door clicking carefully into its lock through the spray of scalding water, leaving him with so many questions and no answers. With no clue where exactly it all went wrong—at his initial kiss that started everything, or at his roughness that he can't change. All that remains is the emptiness of the bitingly cold room and the all-consuming helplessness in his guts.
On the really bad days, however, the memories are so strong that they seem like a roaring beast in his chest. Like some part of him is clawing at his insides, wanting to crawl out of his throat but being stuck there, making Levi feel sick.
Really bad days are always covered in mist.
When Levi woke this morning, he didn't have to check the view on the other side of his windows to know it was there, fogging his mind as well as the town outside. By now he can almost smell it. He can definitely feel it, a distinctive heaviness in his limbs combined with a prickle in his neck. It is as if it would call out to him, whispering reminders of blood and loss.
Taking refuge in habit, Levi goes through his early morning-routine, determined to ignore the persistent taste of Eren in his lungs that no amount of tea or time is able to wash away. The can with the Gunpowder nearly slips out of his fingers as he gets it down the shelf. Levi hisses a voiceless curse. Dragging in a deep, unsteady breath to collect himself, he presses his lips together, puts the Gunpowder back, and fastens his grip around the jasmine caddie instead, holding on tight.
Isabel liked jasmine tea too.
Farlan always teased tea was for little girls and drank it anyway.
Eren…
…lives only a few minutes away, Levi chides himself.
He hurries through his matutinal bathroom ritual as quickly as he can, forces down a flavourless breakfast, and opens the Sparrow to Hanji already waiting at the doorstep with the baker's son Frey. Hanji's eyes are apprehensive again, yet droopy, and red-rimmed as Levi fumbles with the doorlock. The mist affects them all.
"Wow, Levi, you look like shit," she croaks as he lets her in alongside a chilly gust of December gloom.
"Look who's talking. Did you get any sleep at all, four-eyes?" He thanks Frey for the delivery, and puts everything on the counter.
Dragging herself to one of the barstools, Hanji gives a small shake of her head. "Nope. Forgot." She rubs her eyes.
Snorting a brief hum, Levi fetches his apron and starts on the coffee plus another cup of tea for himself. The china is cold under his fingers as he sets it out on the brass counter before him, seemingly too fragile against the scenery outside. When the water begins to boil, the whistle of the kettle is weak and almost distant.
Hanji reaches eagerly for her coffee to toss it into her throat. Levi doesn't even need her to ask him for a second round. He only waits until the mug is set down onto the counter to instantly refill it.
"Thanks." Hanji yawns widely. "How long did Eren stay last night?"
Savouring the first, assuaging sip of his second cup of jasmine tea, Levi frowns. "How do you know he's been here?" His words come out quick and hasty. He stubbornly clenches his teeth as he forces his face into a calm mask.
Blinking eyes meet his, slightly out of focus, yet sharp, and all of Levi's hopes that Hanji might have missed his shallow breathing go to hell. "Don't give me that, Levi, okay?"
Steam rises hotly under his cool palm, and he puts his cup back down onto its saucer with a clanking rattle. "Midnight, I guess. Maybe eleven. Didn't check the watch."
"Any news?" she asks.
"No."
Resting her elbow on the counter to support her head, Hanji blinks against heavy eyelids. "Maybe you cou–"
"Drink your fucking coffee," he cuts her off.
She sighs, and they regard the gloom outside in dismal quietness. As soon as Hanji has finished her second fill of coffee, she begins to assault her morning bagel with an unruly amount of crumbs scattering to the floor. Alarmed by her silence that speaks enough of her tiredness, Levi adds a piece of invigorating nut cake to her bill.
"You forgot to eat yesterday too," he states as he hands the plate over. At Hanji's irritated gaze, something inside of him tears. Thin, she is too thin. "Do you want to starve yourself?" Levi snaps. "Is that it?"
She winces, but otherwise doesn't budge. Instead Hanji faces his glare, brown eyes clearer than before, voice firm. "It wasn't intentional, Levi."
He knows it wasn't. However, today is already shit, and apparently, his gab decides to make it even worse, against his permission. His heart hammers against his throat, pushing out words Levi doesn't want to say. "I won't watch you rot. Do you think it's a new experiment to try? It's not. It's ugly and it stinks, just like lacking hygiene. Take a fucking grip! Moblit wouldn't want—"
"Stop right there." Her words are quiet, but full with command.
They stare at each other, Levi panting, Hanji with that glare that even had Pastor Nick caving. Levi half-expects Hanji to add something to her order. To tell him off once more, or to rip off her glasses and strangle him over his own counter. He'd deserve it. Moblit is off-limits for debate until Hanji says otherwise. They also both know Levi won't let Hanji starve and if it'd cost him everything he has.
In the end, Hanji only takes a defeated breath and reaches for her plate. "Thank you for the food."
Frowning in a silent apology, Levi refills her mug. He execrates himself and his instinct that always makes him talk most when he should shut the fuck up.
Hanji inhales the cake within seconds before standing up and tossing back her third dose of caffeine. "I'll report back in later?" she says.
"Hm." He wants to say sorry, but where to even begin? He doesn't have to think about that, apparently, as she stands.
Wrapping her scarf around herself, Hanji assumes a resolute frown. "I'll shower today."
Biting on the inside of his mouth, Levi sniffs, and gives her a grateful nod.
She attempts a brief smile before shuffling back out into the white-grey, frosty void with a shrill chime of the bell.
When she's gone, Levi takes another deep breath and clenches his eyes shut for a second. Then her parting words sink in in a flash of flaring red, and make him curse as he already lunges for the door, blood going cold. "Shit, fuck!"
He has to stop this. Of all the people in the world, he should know better than to send Hanji into the shower, alone, just to appease his own nerves. As much as she'd be doing it for his sake, Levi doesn't want her to have a panic attack under the water. Not like this. Not when he's not there to help and make sure she's alright afterwards. Not to-fucking-day!
His head is out of the door only a heartbeat later. "Glasses!"
She hasn't gone far, though Hanji's figure is already a blurry, colourless smudge in the fog.
Levi doesn't want to say too much in public, so he simply shakes his head, staring at her, while people hurry by around them. "Please," he thinks in Hanji's direction, his left hand clenching tight around the doorframe until the wood begins to protest, and splinters pierce into his fingerpads. "Please. Don't do it like this!"
It works. Even through the obscuring mist, he can see Hanji's shoulders relax before she waves at him in understanding. Turning around again she heads off to HQ.
Well, Levi muses as he heaves a sigh of relief, at least he righted this wrong. After regarding the doorframe with scrutiny and coming to the conclusion that there's no harm done, he tends to his hand. Chips of wood stick out of his thenar and his ring finger. He presses his thumb against one of them, welcoming the following sting, as cushioned as it is by layer upon layer of calloused skin.
The nuthatch residing under Levi's roof flutters by with a chirp.
"Good morning, Captain." The voice from his right door neighbour greets him.
Snapping out of it, Levi blinks. "Morning Karl," he mutters back. Only now Levi feels the cold biting through the thin fabric of his shirt. He shudders and closes the door behind him. Then he goes into the staff department to fetch a medical kit with a pair of tweezers.
The wet cold keeps clinging to the air when noon comes and goes. It seems to lure in the customers so effectively that when Hanji pops in for a cup of Assam in the late afternoon, there's not a single free chair left. Undeterred by having to stand at the counter, Hanji accepts her mug with a thankful sigh and a plea for another piece of nut cake. Both vanish so instantly in her mouth again, that Levi can't help but ask himself when and how she nearly must have starved to death in her childhood. As always though, he lets the question slide, and with that morning still weighing heavy in his bones, Levi doesn't want to push Hanji to begin with. After an enquiring look at her empty mug he takes it for a refill.
With closing time approaching, the constant flood of customers begins to abate, then cease. Half an hour later, the café is almost empty again, exempt Hanji herself and a heavily flirting, yet shy couple in the back. They occupy two of the armchairs and are so undoubtedly besotted that Levi wonders how they still aren't all over each other by now. The man chuckles at something the woman has said, and Levi presses his lips together.
Eren laughed at him like that once too.
"Are you losing it?" Hanji asks over her third cup of tea and a third piece of dessert. Apple pie this time, and she actually takes her time eating it. She looks better than this morning, yet still far away from peachy. "And don't give me shit here, Levi. I can hear it."
"I'll live," he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. His respiration hasn't much slowed down all day long, keeping him slightly breathless.
"Mm."
It's unusal for Hanji to be this quiet, so Levi reaches for the apology that has been occupying his thoughts since the moment he plucked the splinters out of his palm. "I shouldn't have barked at you earlier."
She shakes her head. "It's okay."
It's not, but he nods, mind already trailing off again.
Eren isn't here yet. Maybe this will be the day that he won't come back. There've been misty days since Eren returned from the first expedition, but never this bad. It's like a grey-white wall on the other side of the windows. Levi swallows down the lump in his throat for the umpteenth time since he woke up.
"He'll be here," Hanji says calmly. "How often do I have to tell you that he'll be here every day?" She sighs when Levi avoids an answer under the pretense of having to fetch new tea from the back.
She isn't shaken off by that. "You still haven't talked about any of it, have you?" she calls after him.
Beginning to refill his tea cans on the counter, Levi doesn't reply.
The woman in the back giggles, and the ensuing activity of hands hastily reaching for clothes, indicates a date gone well. Finally, Levi thinks as they stumble out of the café, their cheeks flushed, their eyes bright and hopeful. They've been sitting in that nook for two hours at least. And someone truly deserves something good happening today.
This fucking mist!
Hanji only waits until the two are out of the door, and Levi has collected the empty dishes before she pesters him. "Seriously, Levi, this has to change. What do you have to lose?"
"I don't know," he admits. "Nothing…everything."
She frowns into her coffee.
"He asked for additional work again?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
Hanji rubs her tired eyes. "He's mucking the stables."
Levi nods.
"He'll come," she says again as she leaves. Still, Levi isn't certain of it until he hears the heart-quickening sound of familiar footsteps outside the door.
It's clear in an instant, that Eren is miserable, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. His shadowed eyes won't stand Levi's gazes for long, his fingers constantly move, and his whole body is twitchy with a restless energy. Everything that tells Levi to–
To what exactly Levi doesn't know. It's always been so easy to read Eren, but ever since that day it's like some blinds to a certain part of him have shut alongside the click of that door, keeping Levi out at all costs.
However, Eren is here now. That's all that matters. The pressure that's been weighing down on Levi's shoulders all day long, slowly starts to lift, as does the constricting tightness within his chest as his breath begins to ease too.
Hands buried deep in his pockets as the door falls into his lock behind him, Eren forces an unsteady smile before heading towards the table at the window.
While Eren sits down on his usual seat, Levi ponders over the decision on today's tea and food. It's the weekend, and he planned fried potatoes with bacon and eggs for later, one of Eren's favourites. Nevertheless, Eren might not stay for dinner tonight.
With that thought in mind, Levi takes a plate, approaching the cake display. After the rather busy afternoon, there's not much left to choose between apple pie and marble cake. With the knowledge that chocolate has always been a good choice, the pick is easy. Nothing tart to that, so jasmine tea it is. It's a good decision, apparently.
Though Eren frowns at the proffered food, he accepts it nonetheless, digging into the pastry with obvious greed. Always reliable, the chocolate does do its trick in easing the shadows around Eren's eyes, if not as effectively as usual. Apart from an occasional scratch of his fork and his cup rattling on its saucer, Eren remains silent while Levi prepares the café for the next day.
By the time he is finished, Eren still sits there, waiting and looking at Levi expectantly when he sits on the chair on the opposite side of their table. Eren's fingers are fiddling on the tabletop, yet the air between them seems to have lost its edginess, if not its awkwardness.
As they wash their dishes in the staff department, Eren is back to talking, or at least responding to Levi's questions and asking his own in return.
"How…" Eren frowns at his pause and clears his throat. "How was business today?" His hands are busy with wiping dry his plate while Levi cleans a cup. The quiet squeaky noises of the tea towel mingle with the splashing of water from the sink.
"Not bad," Levi replies, glad to have something innocuous to say. "Active afternoon. Hanji had no place to sit when she came in."
"Oh. That's good, I guess?" Eren looks up, setting the plate aside and waiting for the next item to towel dry. "It's good you have customers, I mean."
"It is." Levi empties the cup by pouring the water into the sink, and hands it over to Eren.
His fingers are careful not to accidentally brush over Levi's, yet they take over the cup with no hesitation.
Fishing for the second cup in the hot water, Levi searches for a new topic. Oddly enough, Eren's unease helps him more to overcome his own than anything else today managed to accomplish. "You already know the Exploration Squads will return tomorrow?"
Eren nods. "Hanji told me." His voice suggests a frown. "They'll probably be glad to escape the cold for a few days."
"Mm," Levi agrees, rubbing over a tea stain in the inside of the cup in his hands. "You scrounged some carrots for the horses, didn't you?"
"I didn't."
Something in Eren's voice makes Levi look up and detect the bright flush of an earlobe. Levi lifts an eyebrow, not completely able to hold back an amused smirk. "You pilfered them." It isn't a question.
Eren shrugs, scowling now and jaw set in a stubborn angle of determination. "So what. I didn't take the freshest ones. And they probably didn't enjoy a nice carrot for a year now. They deserve it after all the grass. Must be no better than living off protein bars for months, and the soldiers get a proper meal tomorrow."
Levi snorts as a wave of fond relief washes over his body. As unsettling as this day might have been, Eren's spirit remains unbroken, residing somewhere within that broody frame. He'll always be kind and fierce alike. Beautiful.
"Yes," Levi agrees. "They'd like that. I think I have some old apples to cut off for them too."
Blinking in irritation, Eren stills, and then smiles. It's not a full smile. It's guarded and already gone before really settling on his face. It's there, however, and even briefly reveals his dimples. "Thank you."
Ease lightening his heart, Levi offers a small smile back. He rinses the clean cup, and hands it over as well before pulling the plug out of the sink and wiping it dry.
Upstairs, Levi lights the fire, and when the flavour of sweet onions, roasted potatoes, savoury bacon, and buttery eggs fill the kitchen, Eren finally gives a grin that reaches all the way up to his eyes. He's the one asking for chess after they finished eating, and Eren sinks into the leather of Levi's armchair with an almost relaxed sigh. His posture is still bordering rigid, wary, and tense without the usual half tailor seat. His breath, on the other hand, is back to its normal pace and his previous paleness has shifted to Eren's usual, tanned and youthful complexion.
"How's Mikasa?" Levi asks, starting the game with a queen's gambit.
Shrugging at the question, Eren moves the pawn opposite Levi's moved one. "She's alright, I guess."
"Mm." Levi moves his second pawn and registers that Eren doesn't take the bait. Instead, he hesitates, chews on his lip, and moves the pawn in front of his king for only one single step, declining Levi's gambit.
His hair was damp enough that it was curling in his neck when he entered the Sparrow earlier. Now it's dry, the half-ponytail he's wearing these days loosened. Eren looks even wilder with his longer hair. Even more untamable. More masculine. Even when the unruly strands frame his face in soft hues of brown, copper, and gold.
Not allowed to touch, Levi lets his fingers sink into the short stubbles of his corduroy seat before leaning forward to move his left knight.
Eren moves his left knight too.
"Good," Levi says with a warm flicker of pride.
Meeting Levi's glance briefly, Eren's eyes wander downwards to Levi's mouth, and then dart back up before shooting to the chessboard with a wince that clenches around Levi's chest. Seems they're back to square one.
In his search for a helpful insight, Levi takes a sip of his tea, moves his bishop, and waits for Eren to react.
"So Hanji was here twice today?" Eren asks.
Levi leans back in his chair. "Yes."
Eren nods and notices Levi's enquiring frown. "She looked like she already had coffee when I went to her this morning."
"Mm," Levi says, for once glad to talk. "Sometimes I wonder how she got her morning dose before now. She's the one who convinced me to sell coffee to begin with."
Startled, Eren's eyebrows shoot up, the unease seemingly pushed away, at least momentarily. "Really?"
"Yes," Levi offers. "The initial plan was a tea shop."
"Oh." Eren frowns again, his fingers starting to twiddle with his nails. "What changed your mind?"
Levi wants to answer the question, but he cannot. He can not openly tell Eren that the café is inspired by a similar place they once visited together, right before everything turned into this shitty mess.
Not today. Not entirely. Not with the reason sitting in his chair, hanging on tenterhooks, and looking about to run at any second. So Levi diverts, because he has to. He can't have Eren vanish for good.
"Memories," he offers vaguely. "And people do like coffee."
"I never understood why," Eren says, scowling now, though his shoulders have relaxed once more. "It tastes awful." He looks so serious and indignant, and so much like a younger version of himself. It makes Levi want to laugh, yet the mirth stays stuck somewhere below his throat, to lay there heavily.
When Eren leaves for the night, a little bit earlier than usual, the mist has finally gone to make way for a freezing, damp cold.
Their goodbye is stiffer than usual, and when Levi closes the door to his flat, the silence presses loudly on his ears. The fire in the hearth hasn't burned down yet, but its flickering light doesn't seem to reach all the way into the room. Its warmth seems to be a treacherous one that won't make it all the way into Levi's bones.
The chessboard is still standing on the coffee table. Levi's own figures, that Eren has taken during the game, stand neatly in an ascending row. Whereas Eren's figures, on Levi's side, display an uncharacteristic, irregular mess that makes Levi frown. He's let his guards down, and hadn't noticed. Quickly Levi recalls the night, searching his memory for any other possible cracks in his facade.
Eren hasn't really fled the flat, yet it is clear that the evening has been more than uncomfortable for him. Once more, Levi wonders what Eren wants from him. Because Levi knows he certainly refuses to talk about what happened between them. Still, Eren comes back night after night.
Levi can live with his unrequited feelings. It's alright, it really is. He has learned to embrace it ever since Eren came back. He's learned to bask in the warm coiling deep in his stomach whenever Eren laughs, talks, or simply is nearby. Whether it is here, or in the café downstairs, with Eren looking into his tea, eating cake, smiling at a small goodness, or talking about his Trainees with a fondness that makes Levi's heart swell.
He has learned to thrive on their shared evenings, despite the nagging thought in the back of his mind that keeps on telling him every night that tomorrow Eren will fail to appear. Up until now, Eren always has returned. Even today.
Sinking into the comforting embrace of his armchair, Levi begins to tidy up. The leather is still shaped to Eren's form, and a sit encloses around him now, moulding to his own frame. The residual warmth eases the wish back into his mind to know what he did wrong. Levi wants to know how he appalled Eren so much back then that he ran.
He can only hope he wasn't too brutal. Eren pulled him closer after all. He didn't push him away, and even initiated lots of what happened that night. His expressive green eyes had pleaded for more as well. Eren's cries were more than clear about what he wanted, and going by the amazed smile on his face right before he'd come...no, Levi thinks. Eren certainly enjoyed all of that. On the other hand, Eren always has had a self-destructive acceptance of pain that might have made the damage itself seem much less hurtful than the aftermath.
Still, despite his impulsiveness—because of it—Eren would never do what he didn't want to do, especially not with such blatant enthusiasm. Which only leaves Levi with himself as the problem. Levi cannot change who he is. Maybe Eren never really wanted another man. Or maybe it was simply different from what Eren thought it would be. Not gentle enough. Not good enough. Not fulfilling enough. Maybe Eren saw something that night he didn't want to see. Or perhaps that one night stand was all that Eren wanted, and nothing more. Simply curiosity sought no strings attached.
It would certainly explain why Eren keeps coming back every evening. Levi would be alright with that decision too. Still, Eren obviously isn't happy with his life. Levi can tell this much. Eren looks too haggard. He is too restless, even for his standards. Something seems to be broken and Levi desperately wants to fix it. He wants his old friend back and have Eren laughing again as he once did. But where to even begin repairing the rift without pushing Eren further away than Levi already has?
With still no answer to any of his questions, Levi removes the last men from the chessboard to store the pieces in their box. Piece after piece. One thought at a time.
Afterwards he finishes his tea, washes the dishes, checks on the glimmering coals in the fire. Levi doesn't bother to change into his night clothes before he sits back down in his chair. No matter how tired he is, rest won't come easy tonight. Everything seems more appealing than to slip under the cold sheets of his bed which is much too big for one person. On days like this it seems to silently mock him for being such a sad, old wreck. Today he doesn't want to hear it echoing in his mind.
No, this chair is much better. It's a gift from Hanji. It's exactly the right size, it protects his back, and it carries the lingering warmth and scent of Eren. Levi breathes in deeply, feeling his muscles relax.
Hanji is right: Something has to change. If he only knew how.
The familiar weight of the jackknife in his hand is placating, its wooden handle smooth and reassuring against his palm. The heat of the glowing coals crawls over him, settling on the blanket and his shoulders, turning his limbs into lead with each inhale of comfort and home.
The nightmares won't reach him here. Not with Eren as his shield.
Letting his eyelids fall shut, Levi begins to count.