Levi's Pov.
~Present day~
"The numbers are on the rise. Every day, dozens of caballines come down with glanders. The situation is getting out of control and the experts suggest assisted death." I type down in the deserted room. I pull out a cigarette from my jacket and light it up, the familiar taste hitting my mouth. The smoke rises in the air as I take one last look at my the latest article written with some special individuals on my mind.
The high school lab is empty of students for now, since everyone is currently on recess and will not bother me for a while. I sigh and try so hard to be engrossed in my paper, because every time I look at my surroundings, a deep feeling of disgust and angst washes over me like a cold shower. Everything looks like a cruel war just ended and the great depression started. The chemicals on the shelves are either dry or expired, the sinks haven't been working for years and I will get some bile in my mouth if I dare to look at the moldy, washed out, full of fly excrement portraits of some scientists. This is exactly what Goya would paint if he lived in our time.
The sound of the typewriter dominates the whole atmosphere, while a few books about equine physiology lay around me. Alas, it's a quiet place and I can write my next work in the primordial silence I need.
"Are you seriously smoking in a high school lab with an inflammable substance not even 3 inches away from you?" A high-pitched yet unfeminine voice makes me jump out of my skin. As I was saying, an almost primordial silence. My colleague's face pops right by my side, with zero regards about personal space or boundaries. Her hair tickles the side of my face and her shoulder dig into my back without mercy. This lunatic will cause me a heart attack soon enough. Well, that's Hanji for you. She tries to grab the cigarette from my hand, but her eyes drift to the paper still attached to the writing machine.
"Why are you writing about equine diseases? Are you a veterinarian?" She frowns and leans over my shoulder further.
"You abnormal woman, it's not about horses' diseases per se. It's a metaphor regarding the crimes against humanity of the Military Police. Their symbol is an unicorn, so I've been working for the past month on making this subtle enough so that the censorship won't notice it. You always take things too literal." I try to explain some sense into her thick skull. She just shrugs and walks away from me.
Perhaps I'm making a fool out of myself again. Hanji was hired here way before I landed in this mess, so she knows how to be valuable to the Scouts better than I do. Back then, she was the first one to put up with my tantrums and we have been tolerating each other ever since.
"I'm a scientist, what do you expect? I trust the clear words, numbers and facts" she talks with pride in her voice and I held back a smirk.
"Well, scientist is a rather big word for a high school biology teacher. Calm down, Newton, before you blow up the school." I sigh and go back to my article, giving it a spell check.
"It's you who is going to blow up if you keep smoking in here! One little spark from your cancer stick in that jar will cause a small Hiroshima in here" and she points out the jar with a complicated name next to my right arm.
Hanji is truly a crazy, vicious woman. Just what the doctor ordered for the Scouts...The other members from the Survey Corps told me that Erwin bailed her out of jail after she was caught by the police in one of those weird gender mixing depraved parties or something. Not like I trust those rumors anyway, and even if they were true, it's not like I am the saint here either ...so who gives a shit?
„Please, it's like you don't even know the state of public propriety. Don't tell me you trust the Titans to make something actually useful..." Hanji, however, simply doesn't give up.
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't be careful! There are kids in here, for God's sake."
"I bet my month's ratio of bread nothing will happen if I drop it in this jar." I mutter, squint my eyes and give her a defiant look. I held my cigarette above the recipient and I almost feel her rolling her eyes.
"I am perfectly aware of your artistically "craving for the sweet relief of death" aura, but you can't be talking seriously. Levi, I thought I was reckless, but hell you are plain stupi -OHMYGOD"
She doesn't finish as I drop my cigarette in the jar with a flame symbol on it. The liquid inside is a muddy green and we both wait for some disaster. The tension is so heavy, and I start to be a little scared. I wonder for a nanosecond how did I make this far with this stupid brain and with no real life skill when...
Of course nothing happens and the cigarette is put out by the liquid goo. I snort, as if something would ever work in this place...
"Good luck with your subtle article, Levi," she breaks the silence, " no one is going to understand it anyway." I scoff at her
" Even if it makes it to the newspaper, how many are truly going to notice your efforts? Three people? Maybe four? Not everyone is living in the highest spheres of hints and suggestions." she takes some photographs from her desk and shoves them into her bag.
"Erwin likes my article" I tell her trying to lick my own wounded pride.
"Erwin pretends to like everything you write because he doesn't want to lose his second in command. Everyone knows this regiment would be finished if you went back to...you know" And in that moment everything I ever revealed to Hanji about myself comes back to bite me tenfold. Well, that's what you get for hurting her precious scientist pride.
" Forgive me then, oh wisest one, for ever doubting your ancestral wisdom. How can I, a mere philosophy teacher, understand anything about your rules and data?" I spat with so much irony in my voice that I make her laugh. She grabs her bag and coat and slams down something right by my nose. It's a radio.
"Keep your half-hearted apology for yourself, Socrates. I have important business to do while you chase wild geese. Or should I say horses? Anyway, see you tonight at the meeting, hope you figure out by then how to take that stick out of your ass and relax a little." She waves at me and slams the door down with such force I am surprised the whole wall doesn't collapse behind her... After I watch her leave, I get back to my writing just as the radio plays some song I don't admit to like.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
I bite my lip and try not to think about it. I try, I really do, because those memories...they are just too much and so far away...I would wonder sometimes if they truly did happen...
~10 years ago, in that faraway place~
"My darling dearest Fate,
I don't know which game you are playing.
I don't know how everything is going to fail and turn to ashes.
I don't know how I will get back to a gray and bitter, numb life again.
I don't know and I don't care at all. This week finds me good, yet on another writer's block. I have been continuously crossing out phrases on the typewriter for a while , my essays are on hold with no sign of clever words to say, but this time, I can't be bothered about it . My wish to write a smart analysis on Thomas Dylan poetry must be put aside for now, and everybody in this house never miss a chance to scold me for having lost a certain drive I used to have.
But, to be honest with you , all the poetry I want to write about is right here in front of me. She is perfect and as she sits with her naked back turned to me, I consider writing a 1000- word ode dedicated to her ribs. Her smile puts a shame on the classics, her eyes humiliate the romantics and her skin makes the postmodernists look like a bad joke. I am, as the great minds say, sardonically screwed because of her.
Because, for once, everything is as it should be. And I have no clever comebacks, no shitty jokes and no grunting noises regarding the loud yet calm mess that I'm in. I'm TRULY not bothered by the dirty dishes, the full to the brim ashtray or the big pile of clothes on the floor.
Because, for once, the mess on the outside is a mirror to the peace I have on the inside.
Because, for once, everything falls into place. I'm not wondering without direction anymore, I'm neither lost in life nor scared of living it. The sea is familiar, the music is familiar, and the warmth of her back is very familiar. The lack of food and the plethora of alcohol is also very familiar.
Because, for once, I'm happy. And I know you are going to kick me hard in the balls and take back everything I care about and more, but I told you already.
I don't mind. I'm the one cheating on fate this time.
Because, after all, it's better to have a bitter happiness than a gray, dull life. "
I lean down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, when I am snapped out of the spell with brute force. Guess I will finish this letter later.
"Levi, it's the fifth time I tell you to stop changing your pose. And keep those papers against her back, for God's sake, otherwise we will sit here until the water is freezing and taking care of your sick asses is the last thing I want." Farlan says as his paintbrush runs across his canvas. One hour ago, he walked in on us sitting in the bathtub and told us not to move, he returned then with his easel and painting oils and sat on a stool that has seen better days. So here we are:
We are sitting in what was supposed to be a bubble bath if we had better soap. I guess beggars can't be choosers, especially when I wouldn't even choose anything else to be different anyway. The water is lukewarm, her impossible long soft hair is up in a bun, leaving her neck bare and I am hunched behind her, using her pretty back as support to write this dreamy letter. The words are messy because of her spine, the edges of the paper are damp and the fountain pen I used has stained my wrists and fingers in deep blue ink. She is playing with a black small portable radio, changing the frequencies until she finally finds something nice:
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
She sings along quietly, almost like a whisper, while her voice makes her skin, my skin, the water and all the atoms in the room vibrate in pleasure. We have goose bumps all over us and as I sit with her in that tub, surrounded by pots of spider-plants and English Ivy, the tiles are begging for a good scrub and we look like a demon next to a diaphanous creature. Guess which is which…
"Farlyyy, why don't you ask Isabell to take a picture of us and use it as reference like any normal painter has been doing since 1890?" My girl says frowning and pouting in bittersweet annoyance. We both turn our head to face Farlan who is so focused on his work you could probably slap him and get no reaction.
"Because I'm trying to do it under pressure like a truly talented artist. Where would we be if Rembrandt waited for the invention of the photo?" He puts some black on the canvas and stares at us like a hawk ". If by the end of the month I'm still an ordinary painter, you have my world I will poison myself with these paints." He mutters with the bottom lip in his mouth.
"I thought art was supposed to viciously tear down the old, outdated days we have, don't you think so, Levi?" She turns around to look at me with two big orbs as endless as the pits of hell.
"Oh my, look who is talking. May I remind you who in this house tried to eat bad meat last week because they wanted to play the piano sick with trichinosis like Mozart? You are not the brightest star, dear" Farlan talks back like a wounded animal and she laughs not too loud, not too forced.
Luckily she resumes her singing soon enough, before everything has a chance to fade into an argument.
We haven't even bothered to turn back the watches. In our nice, crowded little house it has been 3 pm for 7 colorful days and I couldn't ask for something bette...
"Everyone, come quickly, it's about to start!" a red-shaped tornado yells while slamming the door open. Isabell is breathing heavily with a wide grin on her face, and her yell wakes up all of us from this spell like a ray of sunlight when you're very, very hangover. Farlan puts his brushes aside, and me and her get out of the tub shivering and wrap bath robes around our pruned skin. The three of us are quick to follow the steps of our youngest girl.
Isabell jumps up and down while Farlan doesn't even try to calm her spirit . She has such a pure heart and she looks like any moment she is going to spin around and transform into Peter Pan and fly out the window to Neverland.
I chuckle at the thought, but I have a feeling that in 50 years she is still going to spread her gooey spirit all over our bad joints and grey hair. She is the nicest child of this world and I feel guilty that we all expect her to act mature and understand Platon or some bullshit. I and Farlan used to really make fun of her until we realized we are the dumb bitches for expecting a 16 year old to understand the French Revolutionist Wave. We were really ridiculous...
We reach the tiny, minuscule, excuse of a TV in the other room. We plop down in front of an impossible small screen and silence if deafening. The TV antenna is fixed, there are figures moving on the screen and it's a wonder this thing is still working considering how many times we kicked it, fell over it, and there was also that time with me and my girlfriend...
"There it bloody is, took them long enough!" Farlan mutters between his teeth and lights himself a cigarette. We are all so squished to see the screen we can barely breathe, but it's a price we pay with smiles on our faces.
Two dove wings, one blue and the other white, overlapping each other, appear on the screen. They sit in front of a cross and announce the commercials starting before returning to their usual schedule. Wings of Freedom is perhaps the most beloved TV station in the whole Paradis, partly because it is forbidden and you have to spend precious time finding the right frequency. It's not like we really care about the Survey Corps. They talk all day about manifests, urging us to fight the Titans, making us feel guilty with their cheap bravery and pride over some stolen documents.
It's not like we dislike them, everyone wants to throw over the regime one way or another, it's just...after all this years of empty promises, loud chants and failed revolutions, we more or less embraced the comfort of this hidden place by the sea. It's easier, after all, to feel freedom through a western forbidden book than by rotting away in political jail.
~The Present~
"Any objections, fellow colleagues?" Erwin's voice booms in the teacher's room. Everything is in complete darkness, like all the secret meetings the Survey Corps holds. Our leader can't risk us getting caught, so all the precautions are required. We are already decimated, we are few and we are weakened and we can't afford losing anyone anymore. So here we are, ten people around a big, cherry wood table, with nothing but worries to feast on.
The planning and manifesto always happen in pitch black, at the school, deep into the night. The next objectives consist mainly of discovering some shady business the church does, keeping a close eye on the students whose parents work for the Military Police and sealing some deals with gun smugglers. The usual. I sit on Erwin's left side and I wonder how much longer are we going to ignore the real issues. I can smell the tension in the air, and I'm sure he can too. There is one thing we haven't discussed yet.
"Sir, I have one issue. " A relatively new member says. Those brats seem to have a secret fetish to make these meetings as long as possible and to prevent me from going home to enjoy a nice cup of tea. He's lucky I can't see his face, really.
"Are we planning to do something about Mike's disappearance? We can't abandon a comrade like that…" and there it is. He says what everyone has been thinking for the past week. Mike Zacharias was captured on the last raid we held, by those cursed Titan pigs. The way he struggled in their arms while we couldn't do anything except run like cowards…it was sickening. It still makes my guts churn. And believe me; no one liked Erwin's silence about this whole ordeal.
"I have been thinking about this day and night. If you believe that Mike's disappearance doesn't bother me, you are idiots. But we have no lead, no clue. We can't afford to run around like headless chicken, and that's final." I can hear our commander release the softest sigh. We are all tired and want to go home.
"I thought this regiment was not about running like cowards…" the voice in the dark angrily objects. I give him 3 months before he learns to keep his mouth shut, that is, unless the police shows him a permanent dose of discipline.
"This disobedience will not be tolerated! NO, we are not running like cowards, we are spending our resources wisely! What are you proposing? That the whole regiment just storms into a random political prison, so that the shoot all of us at once and finish the Scouts for good?" and with that, it seems that the meeting is over. These gatherings always seem to be the same: we talk about damages and loss, we leave feeling miserable, and then, the next day, Erwin manages to charm us all over again with some well-placed manipulation. Freedom blah-blah, humanity needs us, fighting for our dreams makes us better than everyone, so on and so on. I already know what he is going to say even before he opens his mouth, yet, for some reason, I never leave his side. Just like a scared lapdog.
It's because I'm afraid. Afraid of being on my own. Afraid of working for nothing, afraid of being strong without something to be worth the sacrifice. I can't even make it to the convenience store without an in-depth analysis for reason, will and meaning. And our commander figured out a long time ago what I crave and gives me tiny sugar-coated pieces of purpose with every meeting he holds.
If Erwin didn't manage to make sure I never leave his side, I would certainly go back to…
~10 Years ago~
It's just... humanity really likes the taste of the forbidden apple. Myself included.
The screen goes black and we finally indulge in our treat with our eyes as big as saucers: the ultimate reason we still have this TV and also the name of the book I will one day publish: the Marlboro commercial starts. It feels just like we see it from the first time, how some man plays with his horse, how he reeks of freedom and rides nonchalantly through fields, woods and other dreamlands. I can almost feel the wild breeze and the endlessness I righteously crave. He definitely lacks cowardice as he befriends that big black beast, and we all take a deep breath as the commercial hits its peak. You can bet that every kid in this country wants to be the Marlboro man, girls included, adults included, titan subordinates included. I am totally bewitched by this capitalist commercial that probably annoys the people overseas. As quickly as it started, we see the sunset that marks the end and the Marlboro logo appears on the screen. Even if I wanted, I couldn't find a pleasure as guilty as this commercial and since I've seen it the first time I have been left so disappointed every time I drag a smoke from my cigarettes.
With each drag, I still hope to wake up on a horse in a foreign field with her behind me, hugging my waist .
We need so little to be truly mesmerized. We all release a pleased gasp and fall backwards on the rug, staring at the ceiling. I sigh and hug my baby to my chest and she tangles her legs with mine. Farlan and Isabell scoot closer to us and I bet we look like a modern Renaissance painting with all those dreamy looks on our young faces. Isabell is delighted. Farlan is so happy. My lover looks like she is ready to float and I imagine the cover of my future book so hard I can almost see it in my hand and smell the fragrance of the freshly printed pages.
I know I should scold my miserable brain for even daring to think it, for daring to think that this imbecile regime will be defeated one day and this world will be Titan-free and that I will live to see it happen. But I will, someday, write a ton of pages and people will read my work , not only those who live in Here , this place lost in colors and with no clocks working, but millions and eons will read my diary, sigh and think 'this book is everything I wanted to say but didn't know how or had the guts to do it'. And they will put me next to Anne Frank and write my quotes on the back of their photos. I'm ashamed of wanting this, but I can't help myself :
A deep, dark, crimson red hard cover with gold around the edges.
In the center, with sturdy letters, it writes THE MARLBORO MAN OR THE PROMISE OF WESTERN FREEDOM by Levi Ackerman.
On the first page, after a short biography, a few words are written:
Dedicated to Farlan, for never letting me regret my choices,
To Isabell, for showing me an ungodly amount of kindness,
And to my dearest wife (I am an imbecile for even daring to dream this), for holding my hand in this never ending chaos I gladly embrace now.
And then, the rest will be history and pretentious assholes will butcher every word I will write in pompous literature study sessions.
What a dream, really.
"I'm buying a horse right after we overthrow the government!" Isabelle mumbles and buries her face in the other girl's bare back.
My girlfriend laughs whole heartily and leans a little to whisper in my ear:
"Well, I can't say we are all capable of taming horses. Especially our Socrates right here." And she places the sweetest peck on my earlobe. I can't resist a mean comment so I respond with a nice placed line.
"I don't think it will be much of a struggle considering I managed to tame a bunch of dumb fucks like you and make you act half civilized" and I throw her a small smirk. She smiles back but I feel something is not quite right with everyone. Have I just declared war with the most stubborn woman on Earth?
Before I knew it, I am pinned down by a mean blonde with dark-lined eyes wearing a red bath robe eaten by moths. Farlan and Isabell hold down my limbs while SHE straddles me viciously. Her smell is like a sea breeze mixed with candy liqueur and I am really starting to wonder whether she had parents of her own or she just appeared from some sea foam of this place like some kind of perverted, reckless version of Aphrodite. Not that she isn't just that.
"Mr. Ackerman, I think we really need to take you away from my bookcase, 'cause it looks like you are starting to develop a superiority complex from all the philosophy books you think you understand. You are no leader dear..."
"You are nothing but a big bro!" Isabell interferes with the same enthusiasm. That's it folks, I am utterly doomed and this is my demise.
" Talking about taming your comrades...you are just as wild and giddy as the rest of us! Isn't this why you came here? To escape the iron fist of the titans? You don't like taming at all, Levi, so you really, really shouldn't enjoy doing something so horrible to us..." the woman above me says, her voice really low and sultry.
"Well, someone was definitely having a different opinion about taming last night, you brat..." I manage to reply while struggling to get out of my friends' grasp. Farlan really tries to hold back his laughter while Isabell looks like she finally realized where all that weird sounds come from.
" Would you look at that Farlan, Isabell? Seems like our dearest captain is really pushing on my nerves. I really think he's in for some nice, little punishment. What do you think guys?" She whispers mischievously while the others give her a small and eager nod.
"Levi, you better say your prayers while you still can..." Farlan jokes while he holds one of my arms and legs in place. I see her raising her red-painted claws at me and I feel shivers down my spine.
"You idiot, if you think for one ...second...to...tickle me...I swear I'll..." I manage to say those empty threats , that, obviously, fall into deaf ears.
"You'll what honey? Hmmm?" she half- moans while giving me a look that most likely puts a snake's gaze to shame. " You'll throw me some of Socrates' ancient wisdom? Say that I'm ignorant for not knowing Dostoevsky's The Grand Inquisitor by heart? Call me a bad girl?"
This is it. This is how I die.
"Oh baby..." She continues.
"RHEA PLEASE DON'T TICKLE ME!" I yell in desperation. If she weren't wanted by the Military Police, those filthy Titans should really consider putting her in the position of The Grand Dictator. She is truly amazingly terrifying and I can't believe I'm thinking this, but... she makes being her prey actually seem fun, especially in...other contexts.
"... I don't know how to be good..."She finishes her declaration of war and all hell breaks loose as 3 idiots all start digging their fingers into my sides and neck. There is absolutely no use in resisting and I have to succumb to her enchantments again and again as I have been doing so naturally since I came here.
. Everything has been so tranquil this week, I feel high and lost like child in a field of tulips. In our tiny fragile house, everything is in order. There is a mess in all the rooms, with poems on the walls, papers and drawings on a fridge that works whenever it pleases, and you can never get lost. I always know where to find Farlan, Isabell or our broken mugs. If there is a bigger storm around, sometimes the sea enters the house and here goes a whole fun fiasco you only see in stories. It's a pleasant mix of enjoying the thunders and wondering how long will it be until the floor will swell and crack for good. I never could've imagined that the Garden of Eden is made of bad wood, coffee stains and empty cheap booze bottles.
I know, my dearest Fate, you will ruin this, but I will bow down to you completely, as I'm doing right now, and openly put my trust in you. Because you might disagree, but I still know you too well. You have the peculiar beauty of a coffin hanged by a night sky.
You have a rotten innocence, a floral-scented guilt that doesn't let me breathe.
You're the perfect mix between a graveyard and a paradise.
Rhea, you are the Fate I always wanted to surrender to.
Yours, truly forever,
Levi
A/N: Hope u like this chapter. Leave a review! Also please notice. The chapters with odd numbers are levi's story and the chapters with even numbers are eren's story. You could read them separately depending of what you're into, but at one point the plot lines will merge. Don't worry, I will mark it. Anyway, have a good day.