"When were you going to tell me, Eren?"

Eren was greeted with the sight of his mother sitting tentatively on his couch, hands folded in her lap. She had that motherly chastising look on her face, the one that spelled out that he had been caught red-handed like the many times he had snatched cookies off of the cooling racks before they were cool enough, or the one time he'd poured two liters of Pepsi into the Dracaena pot (or was it the Fittonia incident? He really had no luck when it came to his mother's indoor plants). It was the look he was given when she'd found out about something after he'd gone to considerable lengths to cover his trail. It was the look where she was a little impressed, albeit disappointed, that he'd gone through so much to try and hide it with the childish fear that he'd be in more trouble than realistic, but she still had to punish him for it because it was a no-no.

Like when he was a child and still doing things to get him this look on a near daily basis, his memory flickered through every single possible option that could have put him in this position as he slowly moved to sit down in the loveseat she had handed down to him. She watched him expectantly, eyes bright and unwavering like they'd always been.

If this isn't nostalgic, I don't know what is.

The biggest problem was, of course, that he could not figure out what he'd done. His mother offered him no opening, as normally the evidence of his fuck-up was nearby and she'd glance over at it until he got the hint and he'd apologize. Her eyes didn't move from his, and that screamed severity. He was fucked for something he couldn't put his finger on. He felt maybe it should be in the back of his mind, and maybe it was, but he couldn't find it.

"I give up," he sighed, throwing his hands up and shrugging. "You're scaring me. What is it?"

"I met one of your neighbors." She had a poker-face that reminded him strongly of Levi. Even the way she spoke reminded him. Was that the hint? "I didn't get his name, but he's short. Pleasant fellow, I guess if you can get past the eyes. He didn't show much emotion until the last second."

Eren groaned, running a hand through his hair. Definitely.

"Okay, what did he say?" His mother said nothing. "If you're waiting for me to fess up to something, I'm not gonna be able to, Mom. I have no idea what you're upset about."

He bit back the part where he wanted to tell her the ratio of how likely anything that came out of Levi's mouth once he found out she was his mother was bullshit. The look on her face was a good indication to shut up; her eyebrows were drawn down, lips pressed into a tight line. She certainly pleased he wasn't letting up on what she was waiting for.

"He introduced himself as 'the fiancé'," Carla said finally. Eren felt his blood run cold. "Eren—"

"No, Mom—"

"No, Eren." The finality in Carla's voice made his back snap straight, an instant reflex to her 'mom voice'. Mikasa was trying to perfect it, knowing what kind of reaction it got out of him. "Listen to me, okay?"

His teeth clacked when he snapped his mouth shut.

"Honey, I love you. I love you so much, and I'm not sure if you realize that," she said, softly, affectionately. She gave him a soft smile. Too understanding. "And I love you no matter what. I feel like you should already know this, but you apparently do not and I have to remind you." She paused, as if waiting to see if Eren would cut in again, and when he didn't, her voice dropped down a little further with, "I know you're gay."

Eren was seventy different flavors of sure he was dead, or at least dying. He could physically feel every single blood cell migrating away from his face, like ducks for the winter. The air in his apartment felt icy cold, even though he'd left the temp somewhere between seventy-two and seventy-seven. The sheer fact that Levi was the problem, that Levi was the reason for this entire talk, didn't leave his mind, though. He wasn't supposed to intervene in something like this. His preference was supposed to be something he was the one to tell people, or at least in his mother's case, keep to himself until the end of time.

He'd been silent for too long to pass it off as uncomfortable misunderstanding, but dammit was he going to try.

"I'm not—"

"Please don't lie to me," she said softly, maybe a little sadly. She looked like she was going to cry. Now seemed like a good of time as any for Eren to fling himself face-first off of the complex roof. "The only thing I'm upset about is that you won't talk to me."

If Levi just hadn't said anything—

He swallowed thickly, his nerves finally finding him. His mouth was dry, his hands trembling where they sat stiffly on his thighs, his eyes wide. There was sweat on his forehead, he was sure.

How long has she known? How long has she been waiting for this?

"Talk to me, please."

I'm a fucking idiot.

"Okay."

[-X-]

Levi set a mental timer the exact moment he heard the front door to Eren's apartment shut above him. He counted every single stupid fucking minute thereafter, waiting for Eren to show up in his apartment uninvited to give him a piece of mind. He held on to the hope that maybe the entire situation went well, that maybe Eren would thank him for causing a little misunderstanding. He was almost entirely sure that Carla had implied that she knew Eren was gay, or at least not straight. That was the main problem, he decided, not so much the fiancé part because he had faith that Eren held the brain cells to clear it up himself. The problem was that he'd probably given his mother the excuse to host a happy little intervention and he didn't like that being on his conscience.

Exactly twenty-nine minutes after the door shut upstairs, he heard the door shut again and then two pairs of footsteps, one heavier-stepped than the other, travelling down the stairs.

And exactly three minutes after the footsteps stopped, there was a rapping at his door.

Levi exhaled a breath he didn't remember inhaling on his way to the door. He reminded himself of Eren's two main modes—happy and excited, or angry and moody. There was a high chance he was going to be greeted with one of those. While he pulled the door open, the fleeting wish that maybe he had stuck around and eavesdropped on the conversation to get a good gist of what to expect passed through his mind and he disregarded it just as quickly.

He didn't expect to be shoved back roughly, the perpetrator knowing well enough to use both of their hands and what felt like full force to get him to move. Normally, he would've tried to hold his ground, but now he felt like dead weight, stumbling back as he grappled for balance and footing. Eren stepped in after him, slamming the door behind him.

There was the fire in those eyes, alright. The fire was twice as intense, twice as angry as he'd ever seen it before. It was annoying and exciting at the same time, something he thought he'd grown used to as far as Eren's reactions went.

"You fucking prick."

Eren's voice was deep, rough, trenchant. About eight different 'don't smoke' jokes popped into Levi's mind, the crude ones always the most tempting, but Eren's dangerous stance (feet shoulder-width apart, fists clenched, elbows slightly bent like he could poise to punch Levi in the face at any moment, back straight and confident) made him decide otherwise. The little shit wanted a fight. He hadn't come down expecting an apology, or an explanation. He was standing there, practically gunning for lights out, to be put to bed. Levi almost went through with it, because the brat's sudden confidence really pissed him off, but the defiant voice inside of his head told him not to indulge.

"Alright, just listen—"

"I am so fucking tired of being cut off," Eren seethed, taking the two steps to close in the distance between the two of them. He had to lean down. Levi cursed the cruel reality of the anger that was required for them to be in close proximity of each other. "Ever since that stupid ring bullshit, nobody's listening to a single fucking word I have to say! You know why?" Eren, of course, didn't give him time to respond. "Very good! You're why."

Levi resisted fighting Eren's temper in favor for letting him cool down, or at least try to. The boy didn't take the opportunity and his nostrils flared in what Levi was taking as another surge of anger.

He really shouldn't be allowed to think when he was throwing a tantrum.

"Is this part of the prank war bullshit?" he demanded more than asked. He was speaking slower, now, at least, and that was a good sign. "Telling my mom you're my fiancé? Do you get your fucking kicks out of forcing people out of the closet or something?"

Levi finally pushed Eren away from him, out of his face, out of his bubble so that he could breathe a little easier. He glared a little too harshly and earned himself a flinch from Eren. The brunette breathed heavily, hard, as though he'd just finished running a few laps around the complex. Levi determined that he didn't like this Eren. The way Eren could sometimes let his temper get the better of him was endearing to a point, but surely he could sit back and think about this a little more.

"Did she fucking disown you?" Levi pushed Eren right back and stepped into his personal space just like Eren had done to him a few seconds ago. Now that he'd composed himself, he could think about how to deal with this. He wasn't doing well at being rational either, though. "Did she slap you, Eren? Spit on you? Scream at you? Did she tell you she couldn't love you anymore? Because it sure as hell didn't sound like it, shit for brains."

The fire in Eren's eyes faltered, his scowl slacking. He took an unsteady step backwards and Levi watched as he jerked when his back met the wall.

"Well, no—"

Levi smiled bitterly and Eren flinched again, cutting himself off. "Your mother loves the fuck out of you and accepts you, and you've got the audacity to stand here screaming at me because you wanted to hide in the goddamn closet forever?" Levi heard himself laugh before he could stop. He abruptly dropped the smile and bolted his veneer of reinforced steel back up. "You're such an ungrateful little bastard. Do you know how many people out there would kill to be in your shoes right now?"

Perhaps aside from being pinned up against a wall in a markedly un-sexy situation, he amended, when he realized he really was pinning Eren to the wall. His arms blocked any potential escape the brunette may have planned.

Eren's head dropped and Levi resisted the urge to force his chin back up.

"I liked the way things were," Eren breathed, inhaling a few shaky times. Levi chalked it up to his adrenaline running itself out. "I could've just—"

"Married some lesbian who needed a beard too? Eren, I'm not sure if you're really that dense, but you do realize you were making your life much more complicated than necessary, right? I thought it was common fucking sense."

Eren's head snapped back up and he glared at Levi weakly. It wasn't the shitty excuse for attempted intimidation that had Levi slowly backing away, step by step, arms falling down at his sides, but the tears he could very clearly see welling up at Eren's waterlines, despite the brunette's disapproval of them. He's just as frustrated as you are, he realized as he stared at Eren, willing his expression to stay the same. He may have slipped even further into stoicism. Except he's confused, too, and probably overwhelmed and what the fuck did you just do? You made this headstrong idiot fucking cry? I have an idea, maybe you should dig out your useless fucking Guinness and see if there's a world record for being an ass gurgler, because holy shit, you've got it.

"You should leave," he whispered. He had to fight to tear his eyes away from Eren. Wait, that's not what I meant. "I mean." He drew a breath. "Just . . . Go back up to your filthy apartment and calm down, alright? The world's not ending, your mother still loves you, etcetera, etcetera."

He could've cringed at the way he lacked grace in his words now.

Eren pushed off of the wall, sniffed, rubbed his eyes with his forearm and turned to leave.

Levi couldn't manage his soft, "Sorry," until after the door had been shut behind Eren and he'd been staring at the now-empty place on the wall for exactly four minutes.

[-X-]

"You look like—"

"If I hear another uncreative variant of 'you look like shit', I'm going to rip your balls off and feed them to Mikasa's Newfoundland."

Jean's mouth snapped shut as he gave himself a moment to consider if it was worth it.

"Mikasa has a Newfoundland?"

"Yeah, his name is Dom and he's a dick crunching misandrist. Mikasa didn't even train him that way, he just fucking hates anything with a penis. I've stopped trying to pet him for fear of my life."

"Heh. Dom the cock-hater."

While Jean snapped to attention at Annie's shout of, "That does not sound like shelving, twat skanks!" and obediently returned to placing game cases in their rightful places on the shelves in the section devoted to the PlayStation 3. Eren exhaled a long sigh, probably a little too over-dramatic considering his situation, and Jean gave him a look.

The drag between Monday afternoon and Friday had been agonizing so far, and that was heavily due to the fact that he hadn't so much as spoken to or seen Levi. It was impossible to put the blame on the older man, of course, because Eren was the one avoiding him. He didn't know what to say, let alone how to react if Levi was still cold, probably unforgiving, and maybe ready to call him out on his shit further. It wasn't that he didn't want to see him or talk to him or dutifully receive and attempt to reciprocate insults (Yep, definitely a masochist). It was just that he had realized that he had gotten angry, sought out Levi for the purpose arguing, and like most people who've realized they've done something wrong, really didn't want to admit to it, much less apologize.

It wasn't like Levi had apologized, either. Not that he'd heard.

The man had managed to keep his stoic persona throughout the entire tiff, though, which was even more unnerving. That could mean that Levi really didn't give a fuck about him, which was probable considering he was usually the one to seek him out. There were more options but he was feeling particularly pessimistic today.

My fault, my fault, my fault—

"Seriously, why the long face? I refuse to listen to your, you know, feelings or whatever, if you make a goddamn horse joke."

"Maybe I don't want to talk about my, you know, feelings or whatever, with you," Eren replied, sighing again. "Just . . . Go back to talking about how attractive and perfect my complex's receptionist is."

He really didn't want to listen to Jean talk about Marco at all. He didn't want to listen to him describe a face he'd already seen several times, and how perfect his chin was, or his freckles, or his fucking nose for Christ's sake. He disdained to hear, on a fourth occasion, that Jean had actually gone to the complex to ask Marco out on a date, to which he 'eagerly' complied, as Jean put it. Evidently it had been very successful. Eren didn't fucking care.

"Well, he is pretty slammin'," Jean said, smirking. "Did I tell you—"

"Yes, Jean, you probably did." Eren made a face. "I was being sarcastic. I'd rather you not talk at all. Especially not about how happy you are with Marco. My fucks to give have left the building. Exited stage left. Hopped into their private jet to the island of Don't Give A Shit for a nice martini and some hookers."

"Shit man." Jean blinked twice at him. "You really are in a shit mood. Or you're taking come-back lessons from that Levi guy—" Eren visibly blanched at the name and Jean stopped. Fucking bull's-eye.

"So it's Levi. Come on dude, you're asking like you got your man-period or something. Did he dump you?"

"We weren't a thing." Goddammit.

"Sure, sure," Jean murmured, waving that off dismissively, uncaring. "You two get into a fight?"

"Sort of." No, he did not want to be talking about this with Jean. Anyone but Jean. He'd even talk to Annie right about now, but she was at the register boredly flipping through one of the magazines and probably didn't give a shit about his romantic drama. She was at least two years past the prime of her own problems. She'd just stare at him blankly and tell him to wait it out or something, just like she'd done with her own relationship. "Doesn't matter. Moral of the story is that I overreacted and now I'm too pussy to apologize about it. You happy?"

"Yup," the other male said, smirking. "You need a drink."

"I need a lot of drinks."

"Maybe we should all get together at your place Saturday?"

Oh no. No, that was a terrible idea.

It would attract Levi's attention, with so many people drunkenly stomping around in one tiny one-room apartment. He'd probably put in a formal complaint, instead of coming to talk to Eren about it to tell them to shut up, and Eren would get kicked right the fuck out. Yet . . . It was tempting. Maybe attracting Levi's attention wasn't such a bad idea. He could consider this getting even with him for the whole fiasco with his mother (even though he fully recognized there was nothing to really get back about; it was just the emotional turmoil he'd be compensating for).

Alright, it wasn't such a terrible idea.

"I'll invite everyone, and even Sasha," Jean stated proudly, winking. "She'll bring the good stuff, and the rest of us can bring the booze. Annie can bring her cousin and that freakishly tall roommate or fuckbuddy or whatever of his. The ones that work at the drive-in. We've got you taken care of man. We make a pretty great group for dealing with heartache."

"It's not heartache!"

"Oh, it totally is."

It totally is.

[-X-]

Levi hissed, slipping down into his totaled office chair. He'd finally kicked it so hard that something had broken and he was already looking into getting a new one (really, Hanji needed a new one, too, so it was the perfect excuse to use his company's beloved money to buy something that didn't make him feel like he broke his spine in a mighty war and was now suffering from sixty years of chronic pain).

Hanji watched him with a critical eye as he forced his shitty chair to turn, forcing it to emit a horrid screeching, before aggressively slamming down on the buttons of the mouse to his computer. He tried to pay her no mind, he really did, but with the way she was scrutinizing him, he had to stop glaring at his screen when the home page for Staples to return her stare. She, of course, being finely tuned to suiting Levi's mood swings and outburst, didn't budge. In fact, she smiled.

"You're upset," she pointed out. Painfully obvious, of course, but mostly painful for the chair. "But can you please not take it out on corporate property?"

He grumbled about it being his corporate property while he turned his eyes back to the computer screen. The webpage still hadn't loaded and he was about ready to throw the useless PC out the window. It was running Windows '98 for God's sake. No reasonable computer ran Windows '98 anymore.

"You've yelled at Mike three times, and he's only been here for an hour. You've broken a chair. You almost snapped at Krista earlier—you do realize that's a cardinal sin, right? I haven't seen you this depressed since high school."

High school was literal perdition. We don't talk about high school, specifically not my freshman hair. Instead, Hanji, let's talk about your freshman hair and your personal hygiene, or lack thereof.

"I don't need you pointing out my anger for me."

"I'm aware," she said, nodding and leaning back in her chair. Agonizing creak. "Levi, you've got it bad."

"Got what bad, Hanji?" The daggers he glared were dull, diluted. Sure, he could break a chair, and he could yell at Mike about giving incorrect change (he'd apologize for that later), but he was feeble when Hanji was making a point and he refused to admit to it. "Pray tell."

"Got it bad for Eren."

Levi clicked harshly on the menu, leading him to office chairs, before withdrawing into himself. He leaned back into his chair—not too much, because he was pretty sure the support was broken and he'd end up falling flat on his back—pulled his legs in closer to him, and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't look at Hanji, of course, he just stared at the loading bar at the bottom of his browser window. It struggled to move at an orderly pace, and that pissed him off even more. Internet explorer hated him as much as he hated it.

He hated a lot of things, he realized. He hated a lot of important things, a lot of trivial things, a lot of miniscule things that nobody else took the time of day to hate. But he didn't hate Eren, and he hated that. He hated that he didn't hate Eren's face, particularly his smile and his eyes. He didn't hate his laugh, and he didn't hate his voice or the words that came from it. When something like his sudden distance from Eren happened, it did something to a person. That something begrudgingly made him realize all of the little things he actually missed about the brunette.

So, of course, he's avoiding me.

He was well aware that it was a two-way street—he could have easily hunted Eren down, but then what would he do? As of now, there was not a single scenario he could think of that wouldn't end in Eren pissed off again. Levi didn't have much of a way with words, when it came to making someone happy.

"Whatever the case may be," Levi finally said, shaking his head and staring over at Hanji again. He wasn't going to admit to anything so easily. Fuck that. "You're a huge pain in the ass. If you're trying to make me feel better, you're excelling in doing the complete and utter fucking opposite."

She nodded.

"Right. Shall I show up at your door tomorrow evening with a couple bottles of Chateau Bonnet Rouge? I'll even bring an entire cheese plate over, for the added cliché. "

Ah. Hanji knew his every weakness, particularly that of his love for inexpensive wine. If she knew any more about him, he may have been forced to kill her. "Fine." He cast his finally loaded webpage a glance and frowned. He still wasn't happy. "If you forget the cheese I'm not forgiving you, though."