Since chapter two was a giant filler, I decided to put this one up as well. Oh, hey, and guess what? This actually has something to do with the plot! Amazing, right?! *nervous laughter*
I'll probably put the other two up, too, since I've got the time. Maybe.
Okay, yeah, no, I will. I've got nothing better to do.
Before I forget, this chapter speaks about some VERY TOUCHY TOPICS (in all caps and italicized so everybody pays attention). There is a suicide attempt in this chapter, along with personal outlooks on suicide from a couple of characters, and mentions of drug and alcohol abuse. If any of this bothers you or can strike a chord in you, I highly suggest taking your mouse cursor, moving it to either the back button in your upper left hand corner or the close button in your upper right hand corner, and clicking one of the two. Thank you and have a nice day.
Edit, April 28,2014- Wow, hey so apparently Levi's last name got revealed in chapter 56 of the SnK manga! Changed it from 'Durant' to 'Ackerman' (does this mean he might be related to Mikasa, then? So many questions...) for the sake of accuracy.
He couldn't take it anymore.
In a matter of fifteen years, his life went from bad to worse to fucking terrible and to back it all up: he was fucked up. Insane. Mentally un-fucking-stable. Half the time, he wasn't even in control of his life, couldn't remember what he did, actually no, what he did.
Not that he had control of his life when he was able to in the first place. There were drugs, alcohol, the normal escape roots, but he stopped that too. Before he knew it, he was in rehab, explaining himself to multiple different people who could give less of a shit, wanted to be anywhere but there.
He got out, he got better, but there were still cravings. Cravings he couldn't give into; wouldn't be allowed to give into. In retrospect, he was better off without the drugs and the copious amounts of alcohol, but they gave him a separation from reality, from himself, from him.
He felt that there was no other choice.
He sat in the alleyway, a place best fitting for trash like him, staring at the .45 caliber pistol in his hand and thinking bitterly about a song that spoke about it, about what he was planning to do.
Suicide. The choice for the weak. He would cringe at the idea, for sure. He hated weak people, found them to be useless, fit for disposal.
So he was.
He lifted the gun to his temple, cocked it, and put his finger to the trigger.
"Can you tell me exactly how the hell you came to the conclusion that the distance from the apartments to Armin's place is 'walking distance'?"
Mikasa shifted her bag down to the crook of her elbow. "I don't know, maybe since we go to Armin's every Thursday and it seems like every other time I come into your house, you're on your ass? A little exercise never killed anyone, Eren."
Eren scoffed and lightly pushed her. "You can shut the fuck up, Mikasa. I walk to work every da- ow! God dammit, are there bricks in that thing?!" He rubbed at the now sore spot on his back.
She hiked her bag back onto her shoulder. "It's none of your business what I have in my bag. And your job is down the street."
"So?"
"Armin's place is down the street, too."
"Yeah, ten blocks away from the complex! At least my job is a shorter distance away than that."
"I'll say it again, Eren: you're lazy."
"No, mom, I'm not lazy, I just don't see any sense in walking to Armin's when I'm parked right outside the building."
"We're saving the planet, then. Not contributing to the depletion of the ozone layer and conserving what little fossil fuel we have left and all that."
"Oh my god, shut up."
Mikasa swung her purse again, but Eren dodged by stumbling into the abandoned street.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" He joked.
"Mm, no. If I wanted to kill you, I would have taken one of the many opportunities where you could have gotten killed and have it look like an accident."
Eren stopped in his tracks and gaped. "You make it sound like you've contemplated this!"
Mikasa just smiled at Eren and kept walking.
"Mikasa!"
He looked away from her retreating figure and looked down the adjacent alleyway, almost surprised to see a man sitting on the ground at the entrance, head hung low and fringe of black hair nearly covering his eyes.
"Mikasa, wait."
At the change of Eren's tone, Mikasa turned around, looked at Eren and followed his gaze to the man.
"Eren, that's probably just some homeless guy sleeping. Come on, I want to go home and sleep. Seeing you and Jean fight over Monopoly of all things wore me out."
Eren snapped back to attention and continued walking, sparing the man another glance over his shoulder. "He was accusing me of taking an extra hundred dollars from the bank! The rules say two hundred dollars for every player that passes go. I took two hundred dollars and he tries to call me out for cheating!"
"You two are a couple of five year olds, I swear."
"He's the five year old, not me. He threw the fricking bank at me!"
"After you chucked the wheelbarrow at his head."
"He threw the whole bank at me!"
Click.
At the sound of a gun cocking, Eren bolted.
I knew something was up with that guy.
With all intent on stopping the man from shooting them, Eren ran across the street.
Though, mid-dash, he noticed something.
The barrel of the gun wasn't trained on either him or Mikasa. The man had it pointed at himself.
What…? No. No!
He reached for the man's arm, pushing it instead of grabbing and pulling his arm like he had planned.
Bang.
A cry of pain emitted from the man's lips, the gun dropping from his grip.
"Oh, shit. Shit. Are you okay?!" Eren's eyes widened in panic, assessing the man. He hadn't shot himself in the head, that much Eren was grateful for. However, there was a bullet wound in the junction of his shoulder. He didn't dare to look for too long, not really wanting to check for an exit wound.
The man looked up at him, grey eyes burning with a mix of pain and anger. "No, there's a fucking hole in my shoulder instead of my head, the fuck do you think, brat?!"
Multiple retorts bubbled up in Eren's mind, but he bit them all back. How the hell do you calmly talk to someone who not only just tried to kill themselves but also still got wounded in the process?
Mikasa rushed over, her cell phone in her hand.
"No, Mikasa, fuck trying to call 911, grab this guy's other arm and help me get him to the car!"
"You're misunderstanding what I was trying to do earlier, kid- I want to die. I'm not good for anything now leave me the fuck alo-"
Eren wrapped an arm around the man's waist and hefted him up. "No! I don't give a shit if you wanted to die or not, you're not going to give up because that's a coward's way out. Everyone has their use even if they think they're useless!"
The man fell silent, eyes cast downward as he was dragged to the car.
Eren fished the keys out of his pocket, jammed them into the lock of the back seat door, and opened the door. "I've got him, you can drive."
Mikasa nodded and took the keys from the door with her free hand, helping Eren and the man into the backseat before unlocking the driver's side and getting in.
The engine sputtered to life and they started their way down the road.
Minutes into the ride, Eren looked over to man and noticed that he had passed out, head pressed against the glass.
The man's face had considerably softened, but was also paled. Eren frowned and noted that they hadn't done anything to staunch his bleeding shoulder.
"Hey, Mikasa, is there anything for this guy's shoulder in your bag?"
Mikasa's eyes didn't dare to leave the road. "Nothing that would be of much use. Or anything that you'd be willing to touch."
Eren's nose crinkled. "For God's sake, Mikasa."
"They absorb blood. That's what they're mad-"
"I'm not listening to this!"
The car was quiet for a moment.
"There's a jacket of yours up here, though."
"Hand it here."
"I'm driving. Reach up here and grab it, it's on the seat."
Eren leaned forward, grabbed his jacket, and as a last-minute thought, shoved aside him immaturity and rifled through Mikasa's bag until he found a pad. He ripped off one of the sleeves to the jacket, silently thankful that the jacket was made of lightweight material, ripped down the length of the sleeve so it was only a big strip of fabric and unwrapped the pad, applying the cloth side to the man's wound.
"There's an adhesive on the other side of the pad so-"
"I noticed this, Mikasa." He stated as the removed the plastic from the underside of the pad. He pushed the man forward and realized from the large dark splotch on his interior that there was indeed an exit wound with a more prominent frown, so he readjusted the pad so it covered both wounds and wrapped the jacket sleeve around the pad, tying it tight under the man's arm.
Eren sat back and looked at his work. It looked terrible, but at the very least he was stopping the bleeding. On an impulse, he started to look through the man's pockets for his wallet.
"Eren, what the hell are you doing?!" Mikasa asked, deciding to check the rear-view mirror as Eren began going through his pockets.
"I'm trying to see if he has an ID. We need to give the hospital his name, right?"
He finally found the wallet in the man's back pocket, retrieving it after much difficulty due to the man's dead weight. He flipped the wallet open and was met with a small picture of the same man who currently out cold on his right. Grey eyes stared distantly at the camera, at the person who administered the issuing of his ID, and at Eren. His black hair was parted neatly to the right, trimmed into an undercut that almost gave him a look of authority.
Eren turned his attention away from the picture and read over the man's information.
"Levi Ackerman…"